#growing out of a version of yourself who still exists for SO MANY PEOPLE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

prettieinpink · 1 year ago

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MAKING FRIENDS ♡

Friends add so much value to your life. Especially ones that you like, and there is a positive healthy exchange of support and love in between. However, some of us do struggle to create meaningful friendships that last. To start this post, I will start by talking about how friendships are essential to becoming the best versions of ourselves.

Friends help us in many ways, even if they don’t even do it directly. We discover new things about ourselves just by talking to them, we have a sense of belonging and build our self-esteem. It’s not impossible to have these things and be alone, though being alone for extended periods can fester feelings of social isolation & loneliness.

As someone who’s experienced both, usually, these feelings can make us spiral deeper as it is just the tip of the iceberg. Humans need daily communication to feel sane, which has been proven again and again.

If you decide to invest a lot more time, effort, and energy in friends, there’s bound to be an overflowing amount of rewards. Hanging around the right people can open up new opportunities for yourself drive you closer to achieving your goals and help advance your skills.

This being said, if you invest in the wrong people or neglect your friends, the opposite will more than likely happen. Remember that the people you allow in your life can influence you, whether for better or worse.

REDEFINING YOUR MINDSET TOWARDS MAKING FRIENDS

Your mindset is so crucial to making friends. It can either help you or not. Another thing is that your mindset towards life, in general, can either repel or attract people to be around you.

Firstly and importantly, do not get attached to people you barely know. Don’t overthink about them, change yourself for them or get anxious waiting for a reply. Seriously, detach. Little things like replies or if they’ll like you, should not bother you. The concept of it bothering you should not even exist in your mind.

Secondly, do not think of humans as assets to support your growth. This is just so icky and once you get that materialistic perspective on friendships, it just becomes harder to create meaningful ones. While friends can help you grow and achieve your goals, they will drop you once they realise they’re being taken advantage of.

Thirdly, stay true to yourself. A bit of common advice, yet not widely followed. Never, ever, make the effort to change yourself for someone to like you a bit better. If someone doesn’t like you for just who you are, they’re not meant to be in your life, forcing it causes unnecessary & avoidable circumstances.

Fourthly, quality over quantity always. When you get older especially, it shouldn’t be your priority to gain masses of friends. Most likely, not all of your friends like you because it’s harder to invest in all of them and causes you to neglect them.

However, having quality friends who help you grow and succeed will never stop serving you in life even if that friendship falls out. Plus, you are too busy achieving your goals every day to entertain everyone you know.

Lastly, do not allow disrespect just because you’re friends. They will test the waters to see how much you can tolerate, then you allow them to, they’re just going to get more extreme with it. Identify disrespect in ‘jokes’ or casual conservation and call it out. These people are praying for your downfall.

That being said, just because it is not happening to you, don’t allow it. Once you establish yourself as only wanting respect, you’re going to get treated like it.

DEFINING YOUR INNER AND OUTER CIRCLE

Your inner circle consists of people whom you are close to, and have healthy and positive relations with them. These are the kind of people who you’d go to for emotional support or to celebrate great successes in your life.

Then, you have your outer circle. These can be people who you’re close to, but they’re not the closest. It consists of people who you talk to regularly, but there’s still that distance. Distance is not a bad thing at all in friendships, not everyone is meant to be your closest friend.

Now those two terms are established, I want you to visualise how you want those two circles to look. These can be people who you want to be friends with, wanting to cut anyone off or just people who you hope to meet one day.

Then define how you want to feel with those two circles, like a loving or caring circle, or a growth and learning circle. This is completely up to you, about how those circles feel and look like as it is for you.

I recommend writing your visualisations down and putting them somewhere you can see regularly. This is just to help us get into the energy of making meaningful friendships every day.

STANDARDS + CRITERIA IN FRIENDS

The heading is a little bit off-putting, I understand. However, it is essential to establish a set of standards once you start making friends. This is to make sure you’re making quality friendships, and not attaching to just anyone.

This is a bit of individual advice, you have to curate your standards by yourself. A personal example is that I’m Christian myself, I believe in God and I’m devoted to him.

So, in that case, I won’t allow other religions or non-religious people into my inner circle. While they can be in my outer circle, I would prefer having most of my friends believe in God and uphold his values.

Standards and criteria in friends can either be a must quality (they must have this quality) or a preferred quality (I prefer if they did, don’t mind if they don’t). You decide which qualities are which, and if they apply to your inner or outer circle.

Can’t say much, but to help you, I advise looking into yourself internally and once again, visualising what those friendships look like daily. To help, I’ve gathered a few journaling prompts!

What do you think are the responsibilities of friendship?

What is the nicest thing a friend could ever do for you?

What do you think friendship is?

How do you expect the aftermath to be after an argument with a friend?

How can someone become a part of your inner circle?

What behaviour makes you want to cut someone off?

Who were your favourite friends in the past? What did they do to become your favourite?

How would you like to be shown appreciation daily?

Do you like banter or prefer showering each other with compliments?

Then, extract from your responses to these prompts, some characteristics or traits that you look for in friendships.

BECOMING SOCIALLY ELOQUENT The first tip i’m going to give to you is to read. Not just in your head, but out loud reading. Read, and see if you’re going too fast or too slow, you’re pronouncing words clearly and know when to pause. Bonus points if you record yourself reading, then rewatch it to see your progress.

Search up any words you don’t know and how to pronounce them, and to test yourself, think of a way to use those words in an everyday sentence.

While this helps to expand your vocabulary as well, really keep in mind the setting of the conservation. If you’re at a science and math invention fair, more advanced language is suited. However, you wouldn’t use that same way of speaking casually at a party.

The second tip is to get rid of all filler words in your vocabulary.

Unnecessary when speaking and it can make you an unengaging conservationist. Just take a pause when thinking, and if you forget what you were talking about, tell your listener or just change the topic. Sometimes, these words are needed when speaking, but not all the time.

The third tip is just to do everything slower, while speaking. Move your hands slower, don’t dart your eyes around and take deep breaths before speaking. If not, you seem anxious and jittery, in which your words will not be clear.

The fourth tip is to pay attention to the listener. Make eye contact with them and ask questions about them too. This makes it a lot more engaging and therefore, easier for the listener to listen.

My fifth tip, and the most important, is to practice speaking. Whether it is in front of a mirror or with a partner. Use notes as reminders while practising to help you remember what to do. There are even videos on YouTube where you can pretend you’re having a conversation with someone, or you could just make your own.

However, practice yourself to speak without preparation. Like for example, you strike up a conservation with your classmate and apply the things you’ve learnt.

Bear in mind, that the whole point of becoming socially eloquent isn’t to make people listen to you, but to make it easier for people to listen to you.

MAKING FRIENDS + KEEPING THEM

Now everything else is out of the way, let’s talk about what you probably came here for. How to make friends and keep them. Better said than done.

The settings where you meet someone are important. It allows you to easily connect with people who are similar to you in any way, without actually having to state it. Here are a few places to meet people.

Church/any religious site (same beliefs)

Sports club (like that sport/exercise)

Any classes (people who like learning/that hobby)

School or university (you’ve got something to connect over)

These are just a few examples of where to meet people, however, you do not have to go somewhere else just to meet someone. Sometimes, I go to my nearest shopping mall or supermarket either after school or on the weekend and talk to any girls who look around my age, with whom I’ve gained so many friends.

While going to a particular setting helps to find people with similarities, it’s not the essential piece to meet people.

If you struggle to make friends just by striking up a conversation, just make yourself known to others first. Help them when needed, compliment them or greet them daily. They will most likely approach you first and talk to you first as you’ve deemed yourself approachable. Do not rely on this method though, not everyone is willing to approach you.

Once you find a potential friend and you’re talking to them, make sure it’s an engaging conversation. First, ask open-ended questions. Open-ended questions are ones that someone can expand on, basically not yes or no answers.

Do you own any cats? -> What’s your favourite cat breed?

Do you enjoy *activity*? -> What’s your favourite thing to do after school?

When can we hang out? -> Where’s your favourite place to hang out?

These are the kinds of questions that you get to know someone and are engaging. Remember, do not be overbearing with questions, it can come off as kinda odd.

Secondly, find any similarities and talk about them. For example, a sport, a favourite book, a hobby, religion. It is so easy for people to connect over their favourite things.

Thirdly, have open and friendly body language. Smile when they’re talking, maintain eye contact, avoid crossing your arms and legs, and lean in to show you’re listening. People love love, good listeners.

My fourth point which refers back to being good listeners, is remembering what they say. If they said, oh I love going to the beach, maybe suggest going to the beach together. Or, they said, I hate studying, then the next time they have a test, help them study.

Lastly, avoid small talk. It becomes awkward and the answers are always the same. If you must, ask them about things that happened in their life. Like, how’s that boy you’re talking to or did you do well on that test?

Most people also hate small talk. So, if every single conservation is just small talk, they would not want to talk to you.

These little things that you remember can make people like you and therefore, want to be your friend. I remember stuff about people by just writing it down and occasionally referring back to it.

Now, let’s say you’ve got your friend now. However, you don’t have a way of talking to them every day. They don’t live close by nor do they attend your school/uni/any place. So, how do we keep them?

Easy, invest in those friendships. Talk to them via messages or phone, schedule days to hang out, check up on them to make sure they’re doing well, be honest with them, remember important dates of their lives etc.

Keeping friends is just about being a good friend to them. Just think about how you would like to get treated by your friends and treat them like that. Even if they don’t reciprocate, putting out those positive actions, will come back to you one day.

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coffeeshades · 2 months ago

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credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART VII

—forever winter

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who can't get their shit together.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 6.8k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). angst!!! cursing, age gap, mentions of alcohol and covid. feelings of hopelessness, anxiety. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: hello again, here's the next part!! also here are a few songs i listened to while writing this one: salt in the wound - boygenius, flume - bon iver, the gold - phoebe bridgers, for emma - bon iver, forever winter - taylor swift and calgary - bon iver.

happy reading <3

masterlist!

January 19, 2020

Los Angeles, CA

There have always been two versions of you: the person you once were and the person the world has decided you are. The first is the one who existed long before the spotlight, the one with a bit of adolescent angst, dreams bigger than herself, and a heart still learning to shield itself.

This version was taught by her parents that she was special, but the world hadn’t yet caught on. She was the girl who felt small and out of place, who wrestled with who she was and where she belonged.

And then there’s the second version, the one who stands in the center of magazine covers, on the glossy side of fame. She is everything you once dreamed of becoming—and more. You’ve spent the last decade perfecting her image, carving her out of raw ambition and countless hours under the hot glare of cameras. Her Wikipedia page reads like an epic: awards, accolades, achievements—flawless. She’s a masterpiece.

This side of you is never tired. She never shows frustration. She knows how to angle her face when the camera flashes, to smile when the questions sting, and to cry beautifully when accepting awards. She can gracefully discuss the sexism she’s faced in the industry, yet she knows better than to name names or point fingers.

She always sticks to the narrative.

For the longest time, you hoped you wouldn’t need to split into two people. That the version of yourself from years ago would be good enough for the world. But the divide wasn’t gradual—it was sudden. It happened four years ago, the day your ex decided to make you the centerpiece of a bitter, ugly breakup that splashed across every tabloid in the country. Since then, you’ve been caught between these two identities, juggling the woman you once were with the image the world expects of you.

As you sit in the back seat of the car, your eyes linger on your reflection in the tinted window. Tonight is the SAG Awards, another high-profile event where your public persona will take the lead. You watch yourself in the mirror, a familiar stranger, and wonder: Does anyone truly know you? Do you even know yourself anymore?

“There's a line of press when you get out of the car,” Taylor, your manager, says without looking up from her phone. “You know, the usual stuff.”

“Got it.”

You nod, trying to focus on the task ahead, but your thoughts are far away. You look out the window, the city lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of color. No matter how many of these events you attend, it never gets easier.

The car slows to a stop, the muffled sounds of the crowd growing louder through the windows.

“Why isn’t Daniel here?” Taylor asks, breaking the silence.

“He had to fly back to Enstone,” you reply, a pang of disappointment in your chest. “The season starts soon. He’s prepping.”

Last year was a challenging one for Daniel—his racing season wasn’t what he hoped for, and he’s determined to make up for it this time around. His commitment to his craft mirrors yours in so many ways, but tonight, you wish he was here with you.

“Oh, that’s too bad, babe,” Taylor says, her hand resting on your knee in a gesture of sympathy. “When will he be back?”

“I’m not sure; he didn't say,” you murmur. “Hopefully soon.”

The door opens, and the roar of the crowd hits you like a wave. Flashing cameras, the shouting of photographers, and the glittering red carpet stretch out before you. “Looks like we’re here,” Taylor says, stepping out and extending a hand to help you.

You take a deep breath, steadying your nerves. It’s always easier with someone by your side, but tonight you’ll have to do this alone. You follow Taylor’s lead, plastering a smile on your face as you step out into the chaos. The cameras flash, posing and waving, but inside, you feel detached—like you’re watching yourself from afar.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally make it inside the venue, your body relaxing slightly as the noise of the red carpet fades behind you. You’re greeted by familiar faces and smiles, but the exhaustion from keeping up appearances lingers.

“I thought I was going to be the coolest person here, but clearly, you've beat me to it.”

The voice pulls you from your thoughts, deep and teasing. You turn and find Pedro standing there, dressed in a sleek silver suit jacket with black pants, his expression warm and playful.

His presence doesn't faze you; you've been filming for the Mandalorian since November last year, seeing each other here and there, not really spending time together between takes, and not acknowledging what happened at the wedding. You didn't hear from him since production stopped mid-December, only to get back on set early January. Although with everything else he's doing, you barely see him there anyway.

“You look amazing,” he says, his eyes lingering on you.

You glance down at your outfit—a sharp, stylish suit you picked for the night. It fits perfectly, giving you an air of confidence even though, inside, you feel anything but. “Thanks,” you say. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Pascal.” You gesture to his getup, offering a kind smile.

Pedro smirks, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I came over to congratulate you.”

"Yeah?"

“The Achievement Award. That's huge.”

You laugh softly, a little self-conscious. “That sounds like an overstatement for someone who’s only 28.”

He studies you for a moment, his gaze piercing. Pedro has always been able to see through you in ways that others can’t. You can hide from the world, but not from him.

“Don’t do that,” he says quietly, his voice firm.

“Do what?” you ask, but he cuts you off before you can finish.

“Don’t invalidate your accomplishments. You deserve this.”

There’s something in the way he says it—a weight to his words that makes you pause. Part of you wants to argue, to downplay everything like you always do, but his sincerity stops you.

Instead, you nod, offering a small smile.

“Thank you, Pedro,” you say softly. “That means a lot.”

Does it?

He sees right through and holds out his arm, a silent invitation. “Wanna walk in with me?”

For a moment, you hesitate. There’s an unspoken tension between the two of you, a history that neither of you has fully acknowledged. But as your eyes meet, the air shifts. You loop your arm through his, holding onto his bicep as the two of you make your way into the theater together. A camera flash goes off, and you smile. But this time, with Pedro by your side, it feels a little less lonely.

•••

You were sitting at a table when a fellow actor and friend started talking about you on stage. It was surreal, like time had slowed down, and you found yourself lost in thought. You’d been to countless awards shows and accepted more than your share of accolades, but this one felt different. A recognition of not just a role or a single performance, but a lifetime of work—or at least, a decade of it. And you were still young. Too young, part of you thought, for this kind of tribute. Yet here you were, about to be honored in front of your peers, the people who had seen your highs and lows.

The screen flickered to life, and a montage of your work began to play. Scenes from movies that had shaped your career, close-ups of moments that had shaped you. A smile here, a tear there, moments of triumph and vulnerability.

It was oddly like watching your life flash before your eyes—a strange out-of-body experience, as if you were looking back at someone else's journey. The montage moved through the years, capturing not just the characters you played but the changes in you—subtle at first, then more pronounced. The younger you, still full of raw hope and untamed energy, compared to the more seasoned version, who had learned how to navigate the treacherous terrain of fame. It felt like a snapshot of your life in fast-forward, as if you were witnessing your own eulogy.

You breathed in deeply, trying to stay present. It wasn’t the end, you reminded yourself.

The applause was thunderous as the montage ended, and it wasn’t until your name was called that reality snapped back into focus.

You stepped out into the blinding lights, the weight of the moment settling in as you approached the podium. The sea of faces before you blurred slightly in the brightness, but you could make out familiar ones. Peers you respected, younger actors looking up at you with wide eyes, veterans who had paved the way before you. And somewhere out there, you knew Pedro was watching.

With trembling hands, you held the award, the metal cool against your palm. You took a breath, steadying yourself before speaking.

“This is... overwhelming,” you began, chuckling, your voice breaking slightly from the emotion of it all. “I don’t even know where to start. Thank you to everyone who believed in me and to the people who supported me through the ups and downs. This means more than I can put into words.”

You paused, scanning the room, catching sight of Pedro for just a second, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that grounded you.

“When I started this journey, I was just a kid with big dreams and very little understanding of how hard this industry could be,” you continued, feeling the words flow more easily now. “But I learned early on that dreams don’t work unless you do. It’s not just about talent—it’s about determination, grit, and pushing through even when everything seems impossible.”

Your eyes drifted toward the younger faces in the audience. “To the younger actors out there, keep going. I know it can feel like the world is telling you no at every turn, like you’re not good enough or that you’ll never make it, but don’t stop dreaming. Don’t stop working. This industry can be brutal, but it can also be beautiful. Find the beauty. Hold onto it. Work for it.”

A wave of applause broke out, but you weren’t finished yet. You felt a pull, a need to say more, something from the heart. Something real.

“And through all of it,” you said, your voice softer now, “keep the people who truly love you close. In this business, it’s easy to get lost in the noise, in the hundreds of things that try to tear you down or make you feel like you’re not enough. But the people who love you for who you are, not what you can give them, are the ones who will keep you grounded. I’ve met some of my forever people in this industry, and for that, I’m grateful. Despite all the bad and all the heartache that comes with this life, it’s those relationships that make it worthwhile.”

Your gaze wandered again, unconsciously searching the crowd for Pedro, and when your eyes met his, something inside you softened. He knew what you were talking about. He knew the weight of those words better than anyone.

“I’m grateful,” you continued, your voice a little more vulnerable now, “because I’ve been able to hold on to those people. Even when things get complicated even when it feels like the world is pushing us apart. You have to fight for those connections. They’re what make this crazy, beautiful life worth living.”

You felt a lump in your throat but pushed through it, finishing with, “So thank you. To the people in my life who have stuck with me through the good and the bad. This is as much yours as it is mine.”

March 5th, 2020

Calgary, Canada

Life after the awards ceremony didn’t feel much different than before. It was still the same relentless rhythm—work, events, travel, more work. The brief moments of peace in between became rare and fleeting, like whispers in the storm of your career. Daniel’s season was supposed to start soon, and though you’d seen him twice after he flew to France for preparations, something between you felt... off. His distance was palpable, but you hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell on it too much. It was easier to stay busy, keep moving, and brush it off as a phase. After all, the both of you were pulled in so many directions—when was the last time anything felt normal?

A quiet dinner in your NYC apartment, one of the few times Daniel managed to swing by in between training sessions. The table was set with takeout boxes instead of a home-cooked meal—neither of you had the energy for anything more.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you said softly, watching him as he absentmindedly poked at his food with a fork. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I miss this,” you added.

“Yeah, me too,” Daniel said, but the words were like dust on the air—insubstantial, weightless.

“Is everything okay? You’ve been quiet," you trailed off, unsure of how to breach the distance you felt growing between you.

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, just a lot on my mind with the season coming up. It’s…you know, a lot of pressure.”

You reached across the table and placed your hand on his. “You’re going to be great. You always are.”

He gave you that familiar smile, but it still felt like something was slipping through your fingers.

•••

By March, you had flown to Calgary to shoot a horror-adjacent film. The setting—a desolate cabin in the snow, miles from anywhere—was perfect for the kind of chilling atmosphere the director was aiming for. You’d always loved working with indie directors; their stories had depth, innovation, and a sense of grounded reality that the big-budget productions sometimes lacked. It was a reminder of why you fell in love with acting in the first place.

On set, things moved fast. Between takes, you found a quiet corner of the cabin and pulled out your phone to FaceTime with Taylor. She was mid-ranting when she answered.

“There’s a potential shutdown happening, babe. Something about a virus…COVID, or whatever they’re calling it. Have you heard anything about it?”

You’d heard whispers from the crew, but nothing had been confirmed. “I’ve heard some talk around set, but no one knows what’s happening yet.”

“Well, I’m telling you now, it’s serious. This might be the last project you get to work on for a while. Everything else is likely to be delayed. Keep your eyes open.”

You sighed, looking around as the crew moved around with their usual buzz of energy.

“Guess I’ll enjoy this last bit of freedom while I can.”

Taylor chuckled. “Yeah, enjoy it while you’re in the middle of nowhere. Call me if you hear anything else.”

You ended the call and pocketed your phone, the unease settling into your chest. Everyone around the set seemed unfazed, but the air had undoubtedly changed.

By the final days of production, the world was different. Everyone wore face masks, and hand sanitizer became the reigning deity on set.

•••

Reality hit hard. Flights were cancelled. No one could leave. You were stuck in the cabin, snow piling up outside like a barricade against the world, while the virus barricaded you from returning home. You made a grocery run the minute things got a little hectic, filling the place with more supplies than you’d ever seen yourself buy—just in case. The panic in the air was contagious, and chaos reigned for those first two weeks.

You FaceTimed your mom as you unpacked. “I’m stuck in Canada,” you said, laughing softly despite the anxiety that gnawed at your insides.

“Are you serious?” her voice was a mix of worry and exasperation. “You should’ve been back by now. What about New York?”

“I don’t know when I’ll be able to get back. Airports are closed.”

She sighed heavily, the sound crackling through the phone. “Just take care of yourself, honey, alright? Don’t be reckless. Are you alone?”

“Yeah, but I’ll be fine."

Her voice softened. “Be careful, okay?”

“I will, Mom. I promise.”

•••

It was a particularly dark, cold afternoon. The kind where the sky hung low with thick clouds and the cold crept in through the cracks of the cabin no matter how many layers you wore. You had wrapped yourself in a blanket, the silence of isolation pressing down heavier than usual when your phone buzzed on the table.

Daniel’s name appeared on the screen.

You hesitated, thumb hovering over the answer button, but you couldn’t ignore him. Not yet. So you swiped to answer and brought the phone to your ear, forcing a soft, casual, “Hey.”

His voice on the other end was calm, but there was an undercurrent to it—a kind of distance that had been growing for months. "Hey," he replied, his Aussie accent tinged with something heavy. "How’s it going over there?"

You shrugged, even though he couldn’t see it. “You know… same. Snowed in. A lot of waiting.” There was an awkward pause. You filled it with a half-hearted laugh. “How about you? Everything alright?”

He cleared his throat, and you could feel the shift before he even said it. “Actually… I don’t think we should keep this up.”

The words hit you like the cold outside, seeping into your bones, but not with shock—just a kind of muted inevitability. There it is, you thought, the final crack in what was already falling apart.

Your brain hummed with white noise after that. You don’t remember what you said in response, something vague like, “Yeah, I get it.” The words came out on autopilot, and you weren’t really listening anymore. It wasn’t traumatic; it wasn’t the kind of breakup that destroyed you. It was like slowly waking from a dream and realizing it had already ended before you even opened your eyes.

His voice was kind, soft—too soft. “You’re so great, you know that, right? This just… it wasn’t working anymore. For either of us.”

You nodded, though he couldn’t see it. Your mind was elsewhere—on the conversations with Pedro, on the way your heart leaped when you heard his voice instead of Daniel’s. You had known, deep down, for a while now where your heart really was.

“I guess we knew this was coming,” you finally managed, voice steady, as if you were discussing something as simple as the weather.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But still… I didn’t want it to hurt.”

The niceties and the polite words that followed hurt more than any fight ever could have. It was the kindness of it that made it sting—the acknowledgment that neither of you had it in you to fight for something that had already drifted away. There was no anger, no raised voices, no accusations.

Just two people who had loved each other briefly, now saying goodbye like they were parting ways at an airport terminal.

“Well, take care of yourself, alright?” Daniel said softly.

“You too,” you whispered, already feeling the weight of finality.

And then it was over. The phone went silent in your hand, and you stared at the screen as if it could offer you some kind of closure that you weren’t sure you needed.

•••

The days began to bleed into one another. You were alone in that cabin—snowed in and quarantined from the world. The only connection you had was through your phone, through calls with Sarah and Oscar, who checked in on you daily.

Most days, you found ways to pass the time. You read, you cooked—burned some things, too—and found yourself sitting by the old piano that had come with the cabin. Your fingers brushed against the keys, unsure at first, after so much time spent focusing on acting. But the music came swiftly, like muscle memory. The songs poured out of you, stories in lyrical form, shaped by the silence and solitude around you.

But some nights, the quiet was too loud.

The breakup with Daniel lingered in the back of your mind like a dull ache. You had been okay with it for the most part; you knew it was coming, and neither of you were in it anymore. But there were nights, like tonight, when the weight of it crashed down and the loneliness felt too heavy to carry. You lay in bed, tears wetting the pillow, thinking about how everything had ended in polite goodbyes when maybe you needed the screaming.

•••

One day, in the middle of baking—flour dusting your hands and a bowl of half-mixed batter sitting on the counter—you received a text: “I hope you’re doing okay.”

You stared at it, your heart skipping a beat. You had thought about him every single day and wondered how he was coping and whether he was safe. Anytime Sarah called, you asked about him, telling yourself that it was enough to know from a distance. But now, with that simple text, you caved.

“I’m okay. Are you?”

His reply came almost immediately. “Not really. Mostly lonely.”

Your heart broke for him. You knew how hard it was for him to be alone. He thrived off people, off energy. And now, the world had gone still.

“Wanna talk?” you typed, holding your breath.

“Would love to hear your voice,” came the reply.

So you called him, and the hours melted away as you both talked about everything—about the virus, about work, about how isolating it all was. He asked, finally, “How’s Daniel?”

You hesitated. “We’re no longer together. Haven’t been for a while.”

There was a pause, then a soft, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

You quickly changed the subject, but it lingered between you, the unspoken acknowledgment of what that meant. After that, you spoke almost every day. The isolation became less suffocating, and with each call, you both felt a little less alone.

•••

On Pedro’s birthday, you baked a cupcake in his honor, lighting a single candle before FaceTiming him. When he picked up, he laughed, “You made me a cupcake?”

“Of course I did,” you said with a grin, holding up the tiny treat. “Now, pretend to blow out the candle.”

He played along, puffing his cheeks and making a ridiculous show of it. “Thank you for this. It’s not much of a birthday without people.”

“Well, you’ve got me,” you said, singing an off-key version of Happy Birthday. His laughter filled the space between you.

Later that night, he posted a screenshot of your call on his Instagram story, and the internet lost its mind. Comments flooded in—"Omg, she baked him a cupcake!"—“My favorite best friends!”—and you laughed at the attention it brought.

•••

One evening, as you sat at the piano again, your phone propped up with Pedro on FaceTime, he listened quietly as you played a new melody. “I think the lyrics need work,” you said, biting your lip.

He smirked. “Let me hear them.”

You hummed the first few lines, fumbling over the phrasing. “See, it doesn’t quite flow.”

“Let’s try this,” Pedro suggested, offering a line.

By the end of the night, the song felt whole, and you felt lighter.

The days passed—isolated and cold—but your connection with Pedro was alive and warm again. And as the weeks stretched on, you couldn’t help but wonder: How long until you fucked this up again?

October 5, 2020

Budapest, Hungary

Pedro had always known loneliness. It was a quiet, persistent companion, but in Budapest, it had taken on a new form. The city was beautiful, its streets old and layered with history, but none of it could distract him from the hollow ache in his chest. The early mornings on set, the long hours of filming—the work was steady. But outside of that, the hours stretched endlessly.

He had been filming in Europe for months, and though he loved his job, the thrill of creating something special—the distance—both physical and emotional—was wearing him thin. He had been keeping in touch with you, his constant thread of connection. The texts, the occasional FaceTime calls, were easy and comforting. But he could never shake the weight of what he hadn’t told you. What you didn't allow him to say. It felt like a brick in his stomach.

You lived strangely in his head.

He still hadn’t found the courage to say the words. I love you. They haunted him—a truth he couldn’t bring himself to speak. Every time he thought he was ready, he backtracked, swallowing the confession whole. His cowardice infuriated him. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d been in love with you for years, the feelings growing stronger and deeper, but now… now you were thousands of miles away, and he was stuck in this self-made purgatory.

His thoughts often drifted to his mother lately. She had always known how to comfort him, her voice soothing, her advice simple but profound. What would she have said about you? About his inability to speak the truth? He could hear her in his head, telling him to stop being such a fool, to just go for it. But she wasn’t here anymore, and he felt lost without her, more than he ever let on.

The days on set were repetitive but engaging. The crew was tightknit, and the project was exciting. He threw himself into work, hoping it would distract him. He laughed with the cast, bantered with the director, but when the camera wasn’t rolling, his mind was elsewhere. It was with you.

•••

A few weeks later, after wrapping up in Budapest, he found himself in Switzerland alone again. He didn’t know why he’d come. The scenery was breathtaking, the mountains vast and quiet, but the isolation magnified the emptiness he felt. It was as if everything had come to a standstill.

The stillness weighed on him. The quiet, once a solace, now felt oppressive. He spent his days wandering the small towns, drinking coffee in hidden cafés, trying to convince himself that the solitude was a gift. But he felt shattered, more broken than before.

One night, the loneliness became too much, and he called you. Desperation tightened his throat as he waited for you to pick up, his mind screaming at him to just tell you. The phone rang, and when you answered, your voice was soft, familiar, and full of comfort.

"Pedro," you said, and it was enough to stop him in his tracks.

His breath caught, and the confession lodged itself in his throat again. He had been ready, so ready, but hearing you—he thought better of it. What could he say that wouldn’t ruin everything?

"Hey," he replied, his voice rougher than intended. "Just wanted to hear your voice."

You chuckled softly on the other end. "You good?"

"Yeah, I’m good," he lied, the words heavy on his tongue. "Just…miss talking to you, that’s all."

"I miss you too," you said, and it broke him a little more. The call went on, but he had already retreated into himself, too afraid to say what needed to be said. He listened to you talk about your day, your laugh filling the silence on his end, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was failing—failing himself, failing you.

•••

The next day, he went for a walk. The air was cold, biting, but it didn’t bother him. He needed to clear his head. He walked along the cobbled streets, past quaint houses with shuttered windows, and let the weight of his feelings wash over him. It was overwhelming. His history with you, all the unsaid things, all the moments when he should have acted and didn’t. It crashed over him like a wave, leaving him breathless.

He found a bench and sat, his head in his hands. One day, he thought. One day, I’ll tell her.

December 31st, 2020

New York, NY

The phone call from Oscar came two weeks before New Year's Eve. His voice was warm, as it always was, but there was an unmistakable edge of hope in it, the kind that crept in after months of isolation.

“It’s just something small,” he had said. You could hear his smile through the phone, that charming grin he always wore. “Not a lot of people, you know. Just family and close friends. After the last few months we've had… I think we need this.”

You hadn’t seen Oscar in person in what felt like forever, and the idea of being with people—Oscar’s people, your people—sounded like a balm to the soul. You agreed before he could finish the invitation, the excitement bubbling up despite the world still not feeling quite right.

You got tested later that week, making sure you were safe to attend the gathering.

When you arrived at Oscar’s apartment, the city had an eerie quiet to it. New York was never still, even during the pandemic, but tonight it felt subdued, like it was holding its breath for something more. You headed for the entrance, and the soft sound of music spilled out the moment the doors opened.

Oscar met you with his arms wide open, pulling you into a tight hug. “Look who finally made it,” he teased, his face lighting up in that familiar way. “You look good.”

“You too,” you said, stepping back and taking in the warmth of the room. It was intimate—just the right amount of people to make you feel at home, but not so many that it felt overwhelming.

Before you could take another step, Sarah swooped in, stealing you from Oscar’s embrace with an exaggerated squeal. She enveloped you in a hug so tight you could barely breathe.

“I missed you so much!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with delight. You hadn’t seen her in ages, and the reunion felt like a weight lifting off your chest. The two of you spent the next few minutes catching up, your laughter blending in with the soft chatter around the room.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw him. He had arrived a little late, typical of him, but the sight of him sent your heart into a dizzying spin. It had been almost a year since you last saw each other in person.

He moved through the room, and when he finally made his way toward you, your breath hitched. He wore a simple black t-shirt, the fabric clinging to his toned chest. His hair was longer, fluffy from the months of lockdown, and his big brown eyes—usually so full of light —looked tired.

But when he saw you, the weariness seemed to lift for a moment.

He said your name softly, stepping close. His arms opened, and you fell into them without hesitation, wrapping yourself around him in a way that felt too familiar, too safe. He held you tight, his grip lingering longer than necessary, like he was afraid to let go.

“Hey,” you breathed against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of him—pleasant, familiar, grounding. The world seemed to fall away for a moment, leaving just the two of you. You pulled back slightly, looking into his face, wanting to say something—anything. You couldn’t live without thinking about him. He consumed your every thought, and somewhere along the way, you had come to terms with how you felt about him.

But the words stuck in your throat.

“At last, we see each other,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, his hand still on your back.

“At last,” you repeated, your heart pounding against your ribs.

You both opened your mouths to speak, then laughed in unison.

"You first," Pedro said, his eyes twinkling with amusement, though there was something deeper there—something lingering just beneath the surface.

But before you could say anything more, Sarah reappeared, her arm hooking through yours as she dragged you away. “Sorry! I need to steal her for a sec,” she said with a laugh, oblivious to the quiet intensity of the moment she’d interrupted.

Pedro smiled at her, though his eyes flicked back to you. "What I wanted to say can wait," he said softly, his voice carrying a promise that sent a jolt through you.

You promised yourself you’d find him later.

•••

In the kitchen, you and Sarah were rummaging through cabinets for more drinks when you heard Oscar’s booming laugh. Turning, you spotted him and Pedro, who now had a ridiculous pointy birthday hat perched on his head. You burst into laughter at the sight, unable to resist.

“Cute hat,” you said, pulling your phone from your back pocket. “Let’s document this moment.”

He grinned, grabbing Oscar by the shoulder and pulling him in for the picture. Pedro tilted his head, drinking from his beer, and Oscar looked up at him with a puzzled expression as you snapped a photo.

“Perfect. That’s going on Instagram for sure,” you teased, and Pedro groaned.

Before anyone could respond, Oscar’s wife walked by, eyeing the hat on Pedro’s head with mock suspicion. Pedro took his cue, unlocking from Oscar and jokingly attacking her with the pointy hat, poking her side with the plastic tip. You snapped another picture, laughing as she swatted him away.

“Send that to me,” she called over her shoulder, and you nodded, tucking your phone back into your pocket just as Sarah handed you a drink.

•••

The night continued, the energy in the room bubbling up as the countdown to midnight approached. Karaoke had started in one of the rooms, and you couldn’t resist.

Pedro avoided it at all costs, standing in the doorway with a bemused expression. After your rendition of Losing My Religion, he caught your eye.

“That was something, huh?” he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I was extra terrible just for you,” you shot back, walking over to him. “I know how much you hate this.”

“You’re so thoughtful,” he said.

Just as you were about to respond, a woman’s voice broke through the moment. “Oscar said you were in here,” she said, stepping forward. “Hi.”

You turned to see her approach Pedro, and before you could fully register what was happening, she leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips. A casual, intimate gesture that sent a shock of realization through your entire body.

You blink, dumbfounded, as Pedro shifted slightly to make introductions. “This is Julia,” he said, his voice a little too calm for the turmoil suddenly spinning inside you.

Your mind raced, trying to place her. And then it hit you—she was in the group photos he posted from the crew of the movie he was filming in Budapest. One of the producers, you think.

Oh.

Julia greeted you happily, oblivious to the terrible ache now pooling in your chest. You felt your throat tighten, the words you had wanted to say earlier were now swallowed by this unfamiliar wave of jealousy and disappointment. You went mute, unable to find words that wouldn’t betray how much this hurt.

Pedro’s voice broke the silence again, almost too nonchalant. “This is what I wanted to talk about earlier.”

Your stomach twisted. “Oh, great,” you managed to say, forcing a smile that you didn’t feel.

“And you?” Pedro asked, clearly trying to keep things light. “You said you wanted to talk, too.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, and your mind screamed for you to say something—anything—but all you could muster was, “No, um, it was nothing, really.”

Something stung deep inside you. It was a dull ache, gnawing away at your resolve. You needed a way out. Fast.

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” you said to her, your voice tight. “If you’ll excuse me…”

And before either of them could say anything more, you slipped away, making a beeline for the kitchen where Oscar stood.

“Hey,” you blurted, pulling him aside. “He’s fucking dating someone? And you didn’t say a thing?”

Oscar looked at you, taken aback. “I—it wasn’t my news to share.”

You pressed your fingers to your forehead, trying to swallow the embarrassment. “I know. I know, I’m sorry. I just… I can't believe I was about to confess my love for him and make a fool of myself. Again.”

Oscar stared at you, his eyebrows raised. “You were what?”

You laughed, though it was tinged with bitterness. “Yeah. But now? I mean, clearly, it’s just another sign. The timing’s never right. Never.”

Was it punishment? you thought.

Oscar opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly uncertain of what to say. Instead, he walked over to the counter and grabbed another drink. “Here,” he said quietly, offering it to you.

You took it, staring at the liquid swirling in the glass.

"It’s fairly new, you know," Oscar said softly, his voice tinged with hesitation. "Like two weeks or something. It’s not serious yet."

“I just don’t get it,” you muttered, almost to yourself. “I don’t.”

Oscar sighed, his hand finding your back, a comforting weight that helped ground you. “I know. I know.”

You knew there was else nothing you could do right now, so you poured the drink down your throat, feeling the burn as it went down.

•••

“There you are,” Pedro called softly, his voice muffled by the cold air as he stepped through the glass doors onto the backyard patio. The wind hit him immediately, sharp and biting, but the bitter cold felt fitting, almost poetic.

You stood there, your back to him, a silhouette against the frozen horizon. For a moment, he was transported back to the first time he saw you in this very spot, under a much different sky. That night, the air had been warm, filled with the kind of anticipation that crackled with every glance exchanged. You had stood just like this, dressed similarly too, arms crossed against the world, hair cascading down your back like a curtain he desperately wanted to pull aside.

But tonight was different. Tonight, your shoulders were tense, hunched against more than just the cold. When you turned around, your face wasn’t full of curiosity. It was distant, your eyes heavy with an emotion he couldn’t quite name, but that he knew he was responsible for.

"You bolted out of there," Pedro said, his voice strained as he tried to sound casual, but the worry leaked through.

You gave a soft, bitter hum, a sound he couldn’t decipher but felt in his bones. "I was a bit shocked, honestly."

He swallowed, suddenly nervous, fumbling with the words he had rehearsed in his mind so many times but never managed to say. "I know. I wanted to tell you about her, I just... I don’t know. It’s new. I didn’t think it was important enough yet. I thought I’d find the right moment, but it never felt... appropriate. And I didn’t want to make things weird, you know?"

Pedro kept talking, words spilling out as he tried to explain. He mentioned her name—Julia—said they had met on set, that it wasn’t serious yet, that it had barely even begun. His voice grew quieter, more unsure with every sentence, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

See, Pedro hadn't planned on getting into a relationship, not when his every thought was consumed by you, not when he knew he loved you, and yet here he was. He didn't know what he was doing anymore.

But your expression had already changed. He could see the way your face shut down, the way your gaze hardened, and it twisted something deep inside him.

“Don’t apologize to me about your relationship,” you said, the words sharp and cutting. “That’s the kind of thing that makes me feel like I’m some kind of Machiavellian villain.”

Pedro winced, his breath catching in his throat. He hated this. But before he could say anything, you spoke again, your voice lower, more controlled.

"Our time never seems to align, does it? It never has, and it never will. It's funny, even.” You paused, looking away, your voice a strained whisper.

Pedro wanted to scream. He wanted to tell you that he felt trapped between his own heart and the razor-sharp edge of what was right, what was fair. The guilt and longing were choking him, twisting his insides until all he could feel was the jagged ache of wanting something that was always just out of reach.

You took a deep breath, the cold air clouding in front of you like smoke.

"Are you happy?" you asked, your voice barely audible. A mirror of his very own "Do you love him?" from last year.

Pedro looked at you, his heart hammering in his chest. “I’m trying,” he said quietly, the truth in the words landing hard.

You nodded, your lips pressed together in a sad, resigned smile.

“Then that’s good enough for me.”

It was an unspoken agreement—a quiet acceptance that, once again, you were not meant to be. That your lives had written this story long before you’d ever had a say in it.

a/n: enough sadness, their time will come soon ;)

a like, reblog or comment, anything is very much appreciated <3

#pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal fic #my writing #love is complicated fic

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punksocks · 1 year ago

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Black Moon Lilith: And Your Untamable Femininity

*based on my experiences, please take this with a grain of salt

Lilith herself is from Judeo mythology, she was Adam’s first wife but she saw herself as his equal and that didn’t work out too well so Lilith got banished and Eve replaced her. Because this comes from a traditionally patriarchal perspective, Lilith was too much of a seductress and an unfit woman so she literally was cast out and became a demon. (Side note: it’s so interesting that the stories all demonize Lilith but Eve had too much receiving feminine energy herself and received the devil’s instructions and ate from the forbidden tree. It’s a very damned if you’re too feminine and damned if you’re not feminine enough sort of myth)

Lilith aspecting your planets and your houses will often charge the native with almost Plutonian energy. Like imo Pluto and Neptune combined, because you’re charged with this dark feminine energy that’s the opposite of light/traditional feminine energy and on top of that people tend to project on to you based off of this energy. You bring a lot of people’s biases to light.

So Lilith charges the native with energy they need to “tame” in order to be considered proper feminine women. Lilith’s interpretations have expanded the more autonomy women have gained.

Nowadays being being a naturally sultry woman is less shameful right? Well no. Never mind how progressive they may act, many people will expose their real behavior to that sort of energy. It really weeds out those who are actually well intentioned from those who aren’t. Even if you say that you want progress for all types of women you may not have done the internal work to become the person that truly acts that way. Do you actually respect women that carry that sexual/untraditional energy or are you only advocating for a traditional/untouchable feminine person?

With friends, family, possible love interests, peers, and even strangers this question is act every time someone with heavy Lilith energy interacts with them. Because of how these relationships tend to go in a patriarchal society that encourages one kind of good femininity, Lilith natives often find themselves being “tamed” (i.e. shamed) for having this energy.

A lot of Lilith natives get ashamed growing up “not acting like proper women”. Because of that Lilith natives tend to try to force a version of themselves that fits this feminine mold. It often doesn’t work and just gives people the impression that you’re hiding something from them. Like you’re acting as a wolf in sheeps clothing when you’re just trying to exist the way they told you you have to and you cannot fully mute your energy to do so.

Most interpretations of BM Lilith are of women/femmes/people reclaiming the power and alternative femininity they tried to stamp down for ages and embracing the often revealing effects that Lilith has for the shadow sides of other people. I think it’s no coincidence that interpreting Lilith as a more complex figure comes with waves of feminism and discourse around what femininity means exactly.

The real trick is balancing Lilith’s energy- being proud of the advantages and strength that can be found in her energy without being consumed by dark aspects of how her energy may manifest.

Lilith in Aries/1st House: You’re fire and passionate incarnate. You stand out as a leader in any room you’re in with your confident aura. You were probably shamed for being head strong and impulsive. But your braveness and how you embrace yourself at your core is admirable. You need to tame your me first behavior, and to be careful not to bully and bulldoze others while still standing in your strength.

Lilith in Taurus/2nd House: You’re so sensual and tactile. You live for the pleasures of food and luxury, whatever your idea of luxury may be. You may have been shamed for being “lazy” but you can be very grounded and sensual. You have to tame your inner hedonist and make sure you don’t get too lost in worldly pleasures and that you don’t use others to achieve these ends. (Don’t swing to other extreme and deny yourself any pleasure either, you deserve to have a good life, just not to be consumed by having one.)

Lilith in Gemini/3rd House: You’re a charmer with wit to spare. You think about everything and analyze all of your thoughts on what is good and what is bad. You were probably shamed for how you spoke and what you spoke about in your youth. You have to tame your desire to be the smartest one in the room and the impulse to reject all learning. We all have to learn from some source that knew better before us, otherwise knowledge would be empty and cyclic. You’re not lesser if you do not know everything.

Lilith in Cancer/4th House: You have an in depth relationship with your femininity. You may have grown up in an chaotic environment with family scandals and secrets and intense emotional dysfunction. You need to tame your desire for total emotional control over people in your life. Through your fear of feeling lonely you may have poor boundaries with others by way of doing too much and intern expecting too much emotional devotion/sacrifice. If you don’t manipulate others to be emotionally tied to you, you’ll open yourself up to genuine emotional connections and healing.

Lilith in Leo/5th House: You’re so fun and seductive. You’re a star that turns heads and knows how to have a good time. You were probably shamed for enjoying attention and affection you received in your youth and you could’ve been shamed for having crushes and such before you even began dating. You have to tame your desire to be the center of attention at all times and to escape away from the problems of life into frivolous affairs. (This another case of balance, which I’m finding a lot with fixed Lilith placements. Don’t run away from attention and close yourself off from affection either. It’s okay to receive attention and to enjoy it, the same with dating and healing and finding emotionally fulfilling relationships)

Lilith in Virgo/6th House: You’re a hard worker and a very efficient one at that. You rarely get enough credit for how many problems you solve and how many people you’ve saved with your smarts. You may have been shamed for being too uptight in your youth when no one was giving you any support to actually be able to relax. You have to tame your inner overworker. It’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to make a mistake, you work very hard but you’re human at the end of the day. It’s okay to take care of yourself. (And to be honest about your s*xual desires) Also watch out, your co-workers may not be trustworthy.

Lilith in Libra/7th House: You’re a beauty and a radiant individual, and you probably have a lot of admirers. You may have suffered a lot of injustice/unfair experiences at certain stages of your life. You need to tame your desire for balancing everything. I’ll explain lol, you probably attract a lot of people that have extreme personalities and you pour a lot of energy into them in order to help balance them out. You may also become anxious or vindictive if you’re rejected romantically. It’s okay to understand where the line can be drawn and to understand that harmony cannot be brought to every person/situation, especially not through the efforts of one person alone. And that’s okay.

Lilith in Scorpio/8th House: You ooze s*x appeal and you probably have a mesmerizing presence. You have a very powerful energy. You were probably shamed for your interest in s*x/sensuality throughout your life. You need to tame your desire to escape from your emotions/trauma into your s*xuality. You also need to tame your tendencies to become obsessed with the taboo. (This needs to be balanced of course. You shouldn’t deny your s*xuality or your interest in the taboo. It takes a special type of person to explore these sorts of ideas. Just make sure it doesn’t consume your inner world.)

Lilith in Sagittarius/9th House: You’re a firecracker with a sense of adventure and a need for freedom on your own terms. You were probably shamed for being outspoken and questioning the institutions around you throughout your life (heavy emphasis on higher education and/or your family’s religion). You need to tame your need for freedom to a degree. If you have interest in traveling to certain places but a fear of becoming too attached to that place you should still go and have that experience. If you have an interest in a certain religion but you’re afraid of being trapped in that setting you should still learn about that religion. Institutions are old and carry their own hierarchies but they shouldn’t scare you away from exploration. (Be careful not to become obsessive either)

Lilith in Capricorn/10th House: You’re a powerful person. You have a certain air about you that gives off dominant/authoritative energy. People in power tend to listen to you. But you were often shamed for having such a domineering presence, whether you were exerting power over others or they were just intimidated by the weight you held. You need to tame this desire for status and power and any urges to become cutthroat in order to social climb. I believe this is why this position can be prone to having a scandalous reputation. It’s important not to lose yourself to gain power because you’ll lose respect. (Saturn lessons bby)

Lilith in Aquarius/11th House: You’re the definition of a free spirit, you’re really a one of kind person in how you express yourself and your tastes. You could’ve been outcasted socially from a young age, and you may have dealt with bullies/groups turning against you. You need to tame your urge to disconnect from the humane. (Again it’s a lesson of balance, embracing what makes you unique and gives you your ability to think outside of the box, but also not going out of your way to socially detach from all people to the point of embracing truly bizzaro behaviors just to feel that freedom.)

Lilith in Pisces/12th House: You are a person with a deeply ethereal sense about you. You tend to ride the line between the hidden and the mundane in all things you experience. It’s the hardest placement to pinpoint where you were shamed exactly, it probably has to deal with your receptive energy and your sensitivity to other energies outside of yourself, and due to your conscious or subconscious experiences you carry effects of this negativity. You must tame you natural inclination to drift, to detach and separate yourself in an effort to escape. You must balance your understanding and acceptance of the spiritual and the internal with your experiences in the world in order to not be lost to the tumultuousness of this placement. (also stay empathetic but prioritize taking care of your mental health)

#astro observations #astro notes #astroblr #astro community #astrology #lilith astrology #lilith aspects #scorpio #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #gemini #aries #taurus #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #sagittarius

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owlf45 · 6 months ago

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started scrolling through candor and ended up rereading the whole thing. here's some things that I noticed that people didn't pick up on/didn't mention in comments (ordered from most interesting (IMO) to least):

chapter arcs & stages of grief

Roughly each of the 7 chapters in Candor embodies a different stage of grief (an extended model from the 5 stage model): shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, reconstruction, and acceptance. because grief is inherently messy, these stages are superfluous and sometimes a chapter cycles through multiple of these moods. but, generally, each chapter shines with each stage of grief. (funnily enough, this was not necessarily intentional; I broke up the chapters in terms of vibes and readability, but it turned out quite nicely.)

theme: growth, love, and the unsaid conflict b/t AFO & Yoichi

everyone picked up on the theme of self love, but really the theme is about love despite changing. its about growing up.

you see where this theme shows the failure of love when people grow in two different directions. Yoichi and AFO in chapter 3, for example:

“You lied to me,” All For One snarls. “I told you I would take care of you. I loved you, and you lied to me.” “The person I loved died the minute you decided to kill for no reason!” Izuku snaps. All For One reels. “What happened to the Yoichi that cared? What happened to you?”

And:

All For One watches him curiously. “I wonder how many times my adoring little brother will watch you die,” he says simply. “I wonder how long it will take before he realizes it was his fault he changed.”

Versus Yoichi and Izuku in chapter 6:

“When you choose to love somebody, you choose to love a different version of them every day.” Yoichi looks sad. His hair curtains his face more than usual. “Maybe, when you wake up from this simulation, you will not be the same. Maybe the person who went into the simulation isn’t the one who will come out of it.” Izuku stares. “If they love you,” Yoichi says, “they will choose to keep loving you.” “They can’t love someone who doesn’t exist anymore,” Izuku says, defeated. “It exists, here, in your memories,” Yoichi replies. “And it exists in their memories too.”

it is as blatant a metaphor for growing up as I could get without starting to wax poetry. it's about changing, becoming someone so different that recognizing you is difficult. yes, it is about loving yourself, but its about loving in spite of not being the person you were once comfortable being.

the line 'it exists, here, in your memories' ('it' meaning izuku) is also a little bit funny. izuku is quite literally in his memories when this line is spoken, but he is not the person he wants to be there (he is not who he was before the simulation): instead, he is unrecognizable, monstrous, and lost. it is supposed to be paradoxical. at the same time yoichi says, "it exists here, in your memories", 'it' does not exist in his memories— 'it' is dead. the contradiction lends itself to the theme of growth often being a confusing, uncertain period.

(note that Yoichi is speaking both times here. in chapter 3 he says he loved a person who died (a younger AFO who no longer exists, who didn't kill others). in chapter 6, yoichi says that when you love someone, you choose to love different versions of them as they come. here is as close as yoichi gets to confessing that he loves afo, still, even as he hates him. what makes chapter 3 fascinating is that afo says he loves Yoichi but means it shallowly and obsessively—he means he loves a version of Yoichi that is adoring, repentant, and reliant on afo. yoichi dies with his love completely unmentioned (it's not even in the narration), though it is far more real.)

inspiration from canon

there are a lot of references to the muscular fight, and the first time is when I introduce the readers to warring identities between izuku wanting to flee and wanting to fight (civilian Deku vs. hero Deku). this dialogue is actually directly from canon (the anime, at the very least). watching it inspired that whole part of the fic.

the fourth vestige & theme: perception

less for candor, more for the series in general: people wildly overestimate the 'evilness' or twistedness of izuku's fourth vestige in perception, which is my fault because I made aizawa the POV and the man is notoriously paranoid and harsh. his personal feelings do melt into the narration quite a bit which paint a brutal picture (which I did on purpose but I underestimated how seriously people took aizawa's POV), so ill talk a little bit from behind the scenes. i find the fourth vestige to be cunning, analytical, and sort of the mastermind behind canon!izuku's brains. civilian-izuku can memorize tons of facts, but obviously, he's not much of a planner. he tends to go about things in a very headstrong way, as seen by how he mindlessly throws himself into the simulation. UA izuku (the fourth) is more creative. but much like the other vestiges, he is scared and doesn't want to be left behind. he takes satisfaction when he's seen as a person, a worthy hero, a challenge. as a result, he's much like a peacock, posturing in the way izuku does at UA to seem confident and in control, though pushed to an extreme because its hosted in a single vestige. the line that gets twisted in aizawa's POV the most, I think, is this one, where UA Izuku says this to civilian (Aldera) deku:

UA Izuku holds his hand out to the other. “I don’t want to hurt people any more than you do.” And the lie is so, so smooth.

which, if you think about it for a second, is probably not an unrealistic lie for... well, anyone. civilian Deku would cry if he stepped on a ladybug. here UA izuku is charming, knowing that civilian Deku is twitchy, frightened, and difficult to pin down, and needs to be reassured of UA Izuku's goodness and kindness. UA Izuku, understanding how explosive the other two vestiges are, has to think creatively to minimize conflict and does that by seeking out the one most likely to hurt himself to keep him safe (I find UA izuku would be the least likely). now, would UA izuku be willing to hurt others? probably, if it meant keeping himself and others safe. but that's not an evil value. hence why I titled perception the way I did... not just because more things are happening that were never seen in candor, but also because Aizawa himself, our POV and our muse for the day, brings his own biases to the table.

theme: grief, again

explaining the up-and-downs of each chapter is super complicated and circumstantial, so I wont for all of them, but I wanted to talk about chapter 3 (again! I guess it has my heart). it has a heavy focus on the warmest, most compassionate characters (fifth and seventh). as hinted above, it is also the 'anger' stage of grief. much of the chapter is about this compassionate love, but its also about loss, and the anger that accompanies it. chapter three starts with izuku whole and ends with him in pieces as he loses parts of himself in parallel of fifth/seventh's memories. candor is constantly ending at an arc where it started (but with its occupants changed, different). the material in each chapter and between chapters is circular/repetitive, much like grieving is.

fun fact, i guess

the first scene in candor is not the first scene that izuku goes through. the very first line says as much: "It’s the third time Izuku’s hit the pavement face-first... And it’s his third time dying today." It's implied that Izuku's already been at it for a while in different scenes, though it's subtle. no one seemed to pick up on that in the comments until it was shown in perception. i wanted it to be very evident what the crux of the conflict in the fic was, however, so I started with the jumping-out-the-window scene.

i dont believe this is a super inclusive look at everything candor has to offer, but here's a few things i could think of right off the top of my head. again, this is what I was thinking about when I wrote it, but I am but one person, so conveying these points might not be obvious or done poorly. nevertheless, if you ever decide to go back and reread parts of it, I hope some of my decisions are enlightening and/or interesting!!

#candor fic #i got a little bit of brainrot #but also i really wanted to talk about these little bits and bobs

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sterlingsilver-starlight · 1 year ago

Text

Talk Too Much 💘

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Female Reader

Genres: Hurt/comfort, angst, drama, fluff, romance

Content Warnings: flashbacks of emotional abuse (reader has emotionally abusive mother), self-harm (briefly graphic), implied suicidal thoughts, brief strong language (mild throughout), intimate moments (very steamy makeout session, but nothing further)

Word Count: 3195 words

Summary: When Reader excuses herself to the bathroom, Seonghwa begins to grow suspicious as minutes turn into an unusually long absence. Can he unravel the truth behind her melancholy, and perhaps something deeper?

Inspirations: During the sadder parts, “Kamihitoe” by Uru and this slowed/reverbed version of Lolo Zouaï’s “Desert Rose” were my comfort. And then for the cute parts, BLACKSWAN’s “Cat & Mouse” :)

(I love the title GIF for this 🤭 but I also am still recovering from the Arriba one…I swear, I will not be the same when the full song drops in a week 😩🥵) I had something like an epiphany while writing this…the comforting words resonate on many levels, and I had to remind myself that people like that do exist out there. Even if there is someone in your life who throws harsh words or vibes your way, that’s not to say someone who does the exact opposite might not cross paths with you, too ✨🫶🏼

Also please note: This is in no way supposed to represent or depict the actual Park Seonghwa; this is just created for storytelling/entertainment purposes only :D

A hard swallow, followed by the relentless jab of another burgeoning stomachache. You set your fork down again, barely scraping the potatoes at the edge of your plate.

“Hwa, I…I don’t feel too good. I can’t eat this right now.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile as you got up from your seat. “It’s alright. Just…let me know if you need something. Okay?”

You offered a small smile, biting your lip. “Y-yeah. Okay.”

The bite dug deep enough to draw blood, but you tasted nothing like iron on your tongue. It was a flavor you had become all too accustomed to, one too bittersweet to fully enjoy or shy away from.

As soon as you were out of your friend’s line of sight, you bolted down the hall for the bathroom, only slowing down once you’d gone inside and shut the door.

A click at the knob. A snap of the fingers, idiosyncratically, to distract yourself from the sudden echo the lock gave. Did he hear that?

You hoped to God not.

Seonghwa was your most trusted confidant, but even the strongest of bonds could harbor skeletons in the closet, so as far as you were concerned, it would need to stay that way until you were able to get over this on your own.

Slumping against the door, you let yourself slide down to the ground, hugging your knees as they bunched up against your chest.

You didn’t know what you would ever do if he found out. About the thoughts, about the self-hatred…

Heck, let alone the self-harm.

Seonghwa was the twinkling star in your life, lighting up any room he entered, constantly finding ways to make you crack a smile from absolutely nothing. He was too precious for this world, you were sure of it.

Which is why, on this otherwise fine and calm evening, you found yourself yet again questioning why in the hell he put up with you as much as he did.

What if you were just fooling yourself? What if this persona you felt from your very core was nothing more than an act, masquerading from the demon that had hidden inside you from years long past?

A silent cry threatened to surface. You took a sharp breath and reached in your pocket, fumbling around until you felt what you had been looking for: a rusted metal nail file.

The lump in your throat made you feel guiltier. It’d been mere days since you’d promised yourself that this wasn’t going to be an option…

Again.

But though time could heal wounds, it could only erase so many still embedded within your subconscious, still playing like a broken record during your moments of uncertainty and vulnerability.

“Do you ever shut up?! I swear, one more word and I’ll rip your tongue off!”

You bit your lip harder, genuinely wanting to taste the pain. What did it matter anymore?

“Sure, keep doing that shit. So we can all feel sorry for you and tiptoe around your stupid feelings? I don’t think so!”

You gasped with every memory, tears blinding and blurring your bearings, the file now slashing oh-so elegantly through your flesh like a knife through butter.

“Slam your door again and I’ll make sure your head is the next thing that slams against the wall!”

You almost didn’t notice the crimson streaming down your arm, or the way it cascaded onto your other hand, dyeing the creases of your palm in a heartbeat, while numbness continued feeding your indifference.

Maybe there is no purpose to my life. Maybe I’m just meant to be a casualty and —

“Y/n?” You jolted, the three knocks on the door vibrating through your skull.

But you said nothing, afraid even a single syllable would give away your current state of mind.

“Y/n?” Seonghwa repeated, the worry carrying in his voice.

Panic kicked in and you started hyperventilating. Much to your chagrin, however, that only alerted him more.

“Okay, I-I’m coming in.” You heard the twists and click of the knob — darn it, I forgot he has keys for the place — and hastily shuffled over to the adjacent wall as he squeezed his way into the bathroom.

A sharp gasp hushed within the small room. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the scene before him: the rusted nail file still in your hand, the blood-stained arm, the haunted look on your face — it broke your heart, to have him see you like this.

What you didn’t realize, though, was just how much his heart was breaking.

“Hwa, I…I’m sorry.” You hugged yourself tighter, wanting nothing more than to be a turtle hidden inside its shell.

“Y/n…what happened?” His voice was laced with worry as he carefully approached you.

You tried to conceal the evidence, quickly slipping the file back into your pocket and attempting to wipe away the blood with the hem of your sleeve. But the damage had already been done. “I…I just had a little accident, is all. N-no big deal,” you stammered, furrowing your eyebrows as you looked away.

He crouched down in front of you, gently lifting your chin to meet his eyes. “Y/n, don’t lie to me. What’s going on?”

A lump formed in your throat, and for a moment, you debated whether to spill your darkest secrets or to continue this facade. But when you saw the hurt in his eyes, you knew what your answer must be.

“I…I’ve been struggling, Hwa. There’s this darkness inside of me that just won’t go away,” you whispered finally, trying not to cry mid-sentence.

His expression softened, and he pulled you into an embrace. “You don’t have to face it alone, Y/n. I’m right here for you, always.”

The warmth of his hug felt like a lifeline, a tether grounding you in this moment of many that felt overwhelmingly chaotic. Tears streamed down your face as you clung to him tightly, slowly but surely releasing the weight that you had been carrying alone for far too long.

Seonghwa pulled away slowly, his hands holding yours gently. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? And then we can talk about this, together.”

You nodded, rubbing your thumbs against his in return. “Okay.”

He helped you to a standing position, and from there you both walked over to the medicine cabinet: you leaning slightly on the sink countertop, him removing a roll of gauze, bandages, and a few creams. Grabbing a nearby cloth to run it under warm water, you inhaled nervously. As he began tending to the wounds on your arm, still streaked in raw red, you hesitated, grappling with the storm of emotions brewing deep down. The bathroom felt like a fragile sanctuary, and you were on the verge of shattering its peace with the weight of your confessions.

“Hwa,” you began hesitantly, “I’ve…heard things. About myself. Terrible things that echo in my mind every day.”

He looked up at you, eyes brimming with a warm understanding. “It’s okay. Tell me as much or as little as you need to.”

With a shaky breath, you started to unravel the web of painful words that had been haunting you, from the cruel insults and relentless belittlement at home to the internalized hatred that had since taken root in your heart.

“I’m a failure. That’s what she says. My own blood mother.” You shuddered. “That I’m a disappointment, a burden…that her life would have been better if not for the presence of such an ungrateful bitch like me…t-that I ruin everything around me.” Your voice wavered as you stopped to catch a breath.

Seonghwa’s expression tightened with anger. “Y/n, believe me when I say you are none, and I mean absolutely none, of those things. You are strong, kind, and worthy of love. Don’t believe those lies. Please.”

You just shook your head. “I can’t accept your kind pity, though, Hwa.” Tears welled and clouded your vision as you continued. “She said I should be grateful that anyone tolerates me at all, that I’m lucky to have friends because I don’t deserve them…that I’m not good enough for anyone out there.”

His eyes softened with empathy. “Y/n, you’re more than good enough. You’re fucking incredible, and I…I care about you deeply.”

Your eyes widened at his choice of words, confusion and hope written all over your face. “Why, Hwa? Why would you care about someone like me?”

He sighed, setting aside the cloth, and cupped your face with his hands. “Because you’re not just someone, Y/n. You’re a remarkable person. Your strength, your kindness — it shines through even in your darkest moments. And…” He chuckled slightly. “I like you. More than just as a friend.”

A gasp caught in your throat, and time became still within the room as his confession hung in the air. Seonghwa’s eyes searched yours for a response, but you remained silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

A spark of worry flickered across his face. “I-I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said —”

You placed a gentle hand on his cheek. “No, Hwa. I’m honestly really glad you did. I just…I need a moment to process everything. It’s a lot, but I really appreciate your courage to tell me that.”

His shoulders relaxed, a relieved smile breaking through. “I understand. Take all the time you need.”

He resumed cleaning your cuts, all the while as you couldn’t shake the startling but exciting realization that maybe, just maybe, someone as wonderful as Hwa could see past these insecurities, could see you for you.

An almost eerie silence hung between you two, broken only by the sound of running water as you rinsed off spots of leftover blood. Hwa glanced at you, debating whether or not to break the ice.

“To be honest,” you admitted in a voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t know if I’ve ever felt good enough for someone like you.”

He scoffed lightly, covering your hand with his. “Y/n, you’re more than enough. You’re perfect just the way you are.”

His words lingered in the air, a poignant moment of vulnerability shared in the dimly lit bathroom.

And then something shifted.

With a playful smirk, you couldn’t help but bring up your insecurities, caught in a suddenly desperate vying to test the waters and see how he would take it. “Come on, don’t be silly, Hwa. I mean, look at me!” You raised an eyebrow at him, the hint of a smile teasing at your lips.

He took the bait. “Okay, and? What about it?”

Now it was your turn to scoff. “You gotta be kidding. I mean, for starters, I’m not even skinny, my face is rounder than the boba in that milk tea you were swirling around the other day” — he broke into a fit of laughter at this, prompting you to punch him gently on the arm (“Hwa, I’m being serious!”) before resuming your, he thought, rather dramatic speech — “and my body is far from what’s considered attractive these days.” You sighed, clenching and unclenching your fists before inspecting yourself through the bathroom mirror. “Especially with these…” You gestured vaguely to your rounded backside and thick thighs.

Hwa’s low, throaty chuckle reverberated in the bathroom, his eyes never leaving yours. “Y/n, you really think any of that matters to me?” He shook his head, his gaze intense. “You’re focusing on things that turn me on more than you could possibly know.”

To say you were surprised — curious, even — was an understatement. “W-what do you mean?” you dared to ask.

He leaned in, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Your curves, the roundness of your face, that body you seem to underestimate so much — they’re all things I fantasize about more when I’m around you.” His words sent a thrill down your spine, and you felt a warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach.

“But why?” you managed to stutter out, genuinely baffled.

Hwa pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning you up and down. “Because, Y/n, it’s those very things that make you uniquely you. There’s…an allure throughout, if I’m being honest…and your body is nothing short of perfection in my eyes.”

He paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “And let me tell you,” he continued, snaking his fingers across one of your thighs, massaging it with his thumb, “these parts of you aren’t just attractive. They’re downright irresistible.”

Your breath caught in your throat, desire rushing through your veins as he leaned in again, his fingers tracing patterns that left your skin tingling. “I think about you in ways that would make you blush,” he admitted, his voice a low murmur. “You’re beautiful, Y/n. In every way imaginable.”

With that, he closed the distance between your lips, initiating a kiss that held the weight of his confession. The bathroom seemed to vanish into the distance as Hwa’s lips kept meeting yours in a slow, tantalizing dance, each kiss a revelation of shared desire. His hands, warm and possessive, explored the curves of your body with a deliberate sensuality. Fingers traced the contours of your back, leaving a trail of trickling sensations in their wake. As the kiss deepened, his touch became more fervent, a silent promise of passion yet to unfold.

Your hands found their way into his soft, tousled hair, fingers threading through the strands as you pulled him closer. His tongue prodded your bottom lip playfully until you indulged him, allowing the sensation of his tongue to slide against and around yours, igniting a fervor that sent electrical currents through every nerve ending.

The room seemed to get hotter and hotter, but nothing could have curbed the chill in your spine by this point. Hwa’s touch was both gentle and confident, a melody of desire that crescendoed as his kisses lingered longer and he began sucking your tongue slowly, making you moan ever so softly into his mouth.

Your own hands mirrored his movements, traveling across the edges and ridges of his chest, feeling the rhythmic beat of his heart beneath your touch. The bathroom echoed with intertwined breaths and whispered promises.

As the intensity built, you couldn’t help but straddle his lap, your bodies pressing together with an urgency that mirrored the passion between you. Hwa’s lips trailed from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses. Moans continued escaping your lips as you felt his teeth grazing gently down the side of your neck. You clung to him, lost in the intoxication of the moment.

Your heartbeats all but synchronized as his lips found their way to your collarbone, his whispers of passion mingling with your soft gasps. He pulled back slightly, eyes looking deep into yours.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a velvet caress that sent shivers down your spine. He leaned in to place gentle kisses on your earlobe, his breath sending a flutter of anticipation through you. “I want you to feel cherished, desired, and free from any doubt about your body,” he whispered finally, his tone laced with sensual liberation.

His hands, like flames against your skin, caressed the small of your back. The room was filled with the harmony of your shared desire, moans and breaths alike embellishing the melody sounding strong.

As sweat dripped down your foreheads, the intensity reached its peak, and with a shared understanding, you both began to ease out of the fervent exchange. Hwa’s lips lingered on yours for a moment, a final note in the passionate composition.

His arms wrapped around you, nestling you within the sweet scent of his aroma, heaving heavily, slowly, as you both took a moment to catch your breath. You could spot the glimpse of a tender smile dancing on his lips. “See, Y/n, you talk too much,” he teased, his eyes alight with affection.

You chuckled finally, feeling a warmth enveloping you. “Maybe I do,” you agreed, “but I think I like it that way.”

Hwa’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he smirked at you playfully. “Well, you better, because I enjoy every word,” he smiled, leaning in to peck you briefly on the lips.

As you both settled into a cuddle, an air of contentment permeated within your space. Hwa’s fingers traced soothing patterns on your back as he spoke. “You know…I think we should have a date tomorrow. I want to take you out. Just the two of us.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the idea. “A date, huh? Where are we going?”

Hwa’s playful grin widened. “Somewhere nice, but you better promise me you won’t just order a small appetizer. I want you to enjoy the food, Y/n.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Alright, alright. No small appetizers. Got it. But you’ll have to deal with me talking your ear off about how delicious everything is.”

Hwa leaned in, stealing another quick kiss. “I can’t wait. And besides, I enjoy every word, remember?”

The banter continued as you both playfully argued about your plans. Hwa grinned mischievously, glad that you were cutting loose for a change and genuinely enjoying yourself now. “And promise me, no salads as the main course. We’re going for the good stuff if this is a date.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Excuse me? Salads are healthy and delicious.”

He chuckled. “Healthy? Yes. Delicious? Debatable. We’re going for flavor explosions, Y/n, not the world’s best landscape on a plate.”

You countered with a smirk. “Okay, first of all, tabbouleh is to die for. And maybe I like my explosions with a side of greens.”

Hwa pretended to gasp, placing a hand over his heart dramatically. “You’re breaking my heart. And here I thought we had a connection.”

You burst into laughter, eyes watering within seconds. “Oh, we have a connection, alright, but my connection with tasty salads might just outdo it this time.”

He pouted. “Fine, have it your way. But if that’s how it’s gonna be, I’m ordering the biggest, heartiest dish on the menu just to torture you.”

You grinned. “Challenge dutifully accepted. I’ll enjoy my dish while you tackle your food mountain. We’ll see who’s satisfied in the end.”

Hwa leaned in, whispering. “Well, just so you know, if you end up trying a bite of mine, you might never go back to salads again.”

You smirked at him. “We’ll see about that. You can’t deprive me of my greens forever, you know.” You pretended to think hard for a moment. “I know, I’ll revolt! I’ll revolt and you won’t know what’s coming to —”

He pressed his lips against yours in a sudden, actually sweet kiss. When he finally pulled back, he was grinning slyly from ear to ear.

“You were saying?” he teased.

You snorted. “Well, I was going to say that no matter how tempting your ‘food mountain’ may be, my love for salads will endure. Just like my love for you, even if you try to sabotage it with impeccably irresistible dishes.”

He tried and failed to suppress another laugh. “You talk too much.” You grinned in satisfaction.

“Maybe I do, but you love it.”

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sysmedsaresexist · 4 months ago

Text

An explanation of the Theory of Structural Dissociation

This post, originally, was attached to a syscourse argument. I realized that it might be nice to have a version that can be reblogged without any syscourse or ugliness behind it. This post has no DNI, it's meant to be educational, and if it helped you, maybe consider giving it a share.

The ToSD is a very scary, highly misunderstood monster to the system community. When you think you understand it-- Stop. Because you don't.

This post, though, might be an okay place to start learning about it. I hope it helps others understand some ToSD basics.

[Some ToSD facts to know before reading]

The ToSD

The ToSD was actually started in the late 1800s by Pierre Janet. Many, many other doctors have worked on and contributed to the theory over the last century. This was the competing theory against Freud's work, happening within years of each other. If Freud hadn't been such a dramatic pervert, Janet's work might be more well-known.

It is what it is, though.

If you've heard of the ToSD, though, you probably know it from The Haunted Self.

This (now) infamous book was written by three people. One of which lost his license for abusing his patient.

Many people think The Haunted Self is the ToSD. That this is the book that started it.

These two facts have been used in the recent past to discredit the theory.

Let's talk about it.

The Haunted Self came out at a time that allowed it to really gain traction based on technology. Being able to SEE it happening on brain scans was mind-blowing, and the proof for the theory continues to grow.

Opposition to the ToSD is based on atrogenic and sociocognitive models (fantasy, no plurality is real). It really is the best model we have and one that continues to consistently hold true. So... to explain the ToSD in very a semi-simple way...

The theory states that everyone is born with an unintegrated sense of self. Children have action systems, and these are the base building blocks of who we become. These are things like energy management, attachment, caretaking, survival (ex. hunger and thirst), and many more. From these, we build responses to our environment and people around us. When looked at from afar, or as a larger picture, these action systems can be said to, "exist for their own sake", which is where the confusion stems from.

For example, a child screams for food because he's hungry, and that action system has been activated. Once activated, it becomes the primary concern, but it is still the same child. This sense of hunger and how to deal with it is integrated into the sense of self (unless you're like me and a lot of your trauma is around food, and then a division occurs, and you refuse to care for that part of yourself or reject it entirely), and slowly begins to interact with other action systems, with no delay or divisions.

For example, you learn to balance your hunger and bathing needs, prioritizing and compromising needs/wants without issue.

Typically, as we get older and develop, we build on these base states and have easy access to them at all times. They interact in a healthy, cohesive way that makes you, you.

In structural dissociation, these parts become divided due to interruption, losing access to other action systems, and they begin to build within themselves.

The amount of integration before disruption (basically age) can help explain why there are levels and why some people develop PTSD vs OSDD vs BPD vs DID. For example trauma at age 4 will likely result in DID and a lot more amnesia because there was so little integration to begin with-- the walls are built higher, before any part had a chance to meet the others (this doesn't take into account predisposition to dissociate-- this is why some children in similar situations develop a CDD and some don't-- some people are not physically capable of dissociating like that).

Trauma at 9 could result in OSDD, as parts have already had a chance to start working together. Like, you met your neighbor before the fence was built. You still know them. This level of integration can't go TOO far backwards. Once the sense of self has come together without interruption, or once those formative years pass, you can't make those same changes to the brain. Someone who's 25 and becomes traumatized won't see the same level of damage to certain brain areas as someone with early life traumatization, and they won't have developed similar neural pathways that lead to the disordered behavior.

From action systems, we get into defense responses. In structural dissociation, these responses tend to fall on the EPs-- parts that are still stuck in trauma. Emotional reactions and triggers are so far divided that they can activate unchecked, and with volatility. A big misconception is that ANPs won't know about trauma, but that's not necessarily true. Dissociation as a mechanism, on all levels of structural dissociation, is meant to detach feelings from memories, so I remember a lot of trauma but have no emotional connection to that trauma. The "not me" part of dissociation. And this happens in PTSD and DID and everything in-between.

The difference is how much autonomy that part has. In DID, that part is so far separated that it's essentially its own person (l don't want to get into parts language or "less than" conversations in this post, this is just about developing autonomy). In PTSD, these parts are still connected, so the "main", or whatever word you want to use, still accepts that the experience is their own and can integrate it into their sense of self. For example, you learn not to go down those dark alleys, but know that the rest of the world is safe. You change a few habits, become a little more cautious, and maybe the memory fades, maybe it doesn't, but you're still you.

And this can be because of age (someone was already highly integrated) or because of duration (ongoing repeated traumas, with little sense of reprieve, end up with higher walls and more division-- one time use vs longtime use).

In this way, the longer the duration, the more parts are created, and you end up with multiple EPs and ANPS (secondary and tertiary SD). Keep in mind that there have been updates to the ToSD that show there are more than just the two types of parts, and that functions very often overlap.

And that's the basics.

#not syscourse #ToSD #syscourse neutral #system safe #pro endo #theory of structural dissociation #did #osdd #CDD #debunk #research #actually traumagenic #actually dissociative

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girlbowser · 9 months ago

Note

How do you feel about the portrayal of plurality in Homestuck? Because it’s not good.

Cherubs are “supposed” to predominate over their other personality. With Calliope being portrayed as naive for trying to co exist.

Horuss is mocked for being a system. But I’d say it was a king fun of people who pretend to be mentally Ill on social media for clicks.

Then their are the sprites

okay so

i guess we're doing this

HOMESTUCK AND PLURALITY: A PRIMER

BECAUSE JESUS CHRIST THERES SO MUCH

SO SO SO MUCH

okay. so

homestuck is one of the best pieces of media of all time for plurality and i fuckin mean it. no shot do not pass go i have NEVER seen anything that is more built from the ground up to Support plural reads. like, to the point where it feels impossible to read homestuck without it.

as a work dealing with two huge primary themes of a) finding yourself/identity/growing up, and b) ideas coming to life, plurality is pretty much the Perfect intersection between the two of them. like.

take rose for example.

rose is plural and it's great.

when the doomed timeline evaporates, future dream rose does not actually "cease to exist." she ceases to exist as her own person -- her memories, experiences, personality, thoughts (or, as shorthand, her selfstuff) all flows back into rose prime. and that experience is just something rose has to roll with. one becomes two -- that other rose is still in her mind.

jade's plural and it's great.

when her dream self awakens as jadesprite, jade has a horrific argument with her. if you're plural i'm sure you understand. fighting with an age-regressed version of you, stuck in a traumatic past, who WONT FUCKING LISTEN -- we've all . been there.

she has involuntary barks, she can't stop seeing images of fire, she wants to go back to nonexistence but she doesnt want to die and it's torture,

and then in cascade, jade fuses with her.

dream jade is still in there. that part of her she has to grapple with is still real. her dog who she loves is in there, too -- but, yknow. woof

then grimbark gets forcefully introjected into her. i've seen a few fics play with the idea that the grimbark personality is still residually there (read ygtpoasu), but it's not a huge thing that's explored in the text. more backgrounded. but still! her crisis of identity is in there.

wanna know what's NOT backgrounded

tavros's plurality is like, a pretty big factor in his character!!!! it's one of the bigger points vriska uses to bully him with (because she's projecting because she's projecting because she's projecting, because she's also plural and kins mindfang), it's like. a big thing that he has to cope with and figure out.

kanaya suggested tavros treat his self-confidence as his own brain guy, like, completely sincerely. she genuinely thought it would help, and it sorta did!!!!!

and like

it is FAR from the only positive example of plurality in the comic.

like. look at sollux and aradia defending "alternate reality copies" of characters -- which can be pretty easily extrapolated to them talking about fictives

like. !!!!

i dunno, man. i think that homestuck is a DEEPLY plural story. you should read mtm and kgtac for more exploration of these themes. read detective pony too while you're at it. like.

i havent even TOUCHED on horuss or dirk or karkat here because there is just so much. there's so much! like ultselves. oh my god i completely neglected to talk about ultselves or cherubs or --

augh

but anyway here's The Screenshots from mtm

homestuck is, like, the single most fictive compatible fictional work i've ever read.

"oh im being sent to another universe as a brain ghost? that happened to my buddy dirk"

"oh im one of many incarnations of myself, and perhaps not even the most 'canon compliant' one? haha dream bubbles moment"

"ive been isekai'd into another world? lol sburb"

it. yeah. god. i could literally talk about this all day. but instead im gonna direct you to my ao3.

check out no metaphors and then scroll through the "multiplicity/plurality" tag on my page

and if youve got more specific stuff, send in another ask!

#hs meta #homestuck #plurality #etch asks #tavros nitram

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sarnai4 · 8 months ago

Text

Bullies

This is a point that I have seen addressed a little by fans but never by the series. Ansson seriously disturbs me as a bully. Let's start by considering ages.

Here, I have a headcanon of Dagur being 18 or 19 at the oldest (mostly 18). There are multiple reasons I feel this, but the short version is that he had the typical experience of an 18-year-old. Instead of going to college, he was "pushed out the nest" by being given the responsibility of being chief. He was still viewed as a kid by the older Vikings (even getting called "boy" by Alvin), which I feel is something older teenagers can understand. It's like he was technically an adult and wanted to be treated as one, but no one else saw him that way. Another reason is this:

In 3 years, he looks extremely different. Like the Riders, he has a complete makeover. He's more muscular and he's trying to grow a beard (however badly. Poor thing). Overall, he looks older. This is different from the older characters since older people naturally age slower than adolescents. So, I think he wouldn't have had such a drastic physical change had he not been so young. Therefore, I think he is 21 in RTTE and probably just looks a bit older with bags under his eyes and everything because of his time spent in prison. This might seem unrelated, but I now present Ansson.

Can anyone truthfully say that he looks younger than 30? Another detail is a subtle one used in the show. Older characters like Stoick, Viggo, etc. have accents outside of America whereas the younger characters don't. The only exception are people from other lands like the Wing Maidens and Defenders. It's an indirect way of making viewers relate to the leads more since they can have something in common with them. Dagur has an American accent, but Ansson doesn't. Truthfully, I think Ansson is older than 30, but let's be generous. If he is 30 and if Dagur is at his oldest at 22, there is an 8 year difference between them. Bullying anyone is wrong, but it becomes particularly cruel when your target is so much younger than you. On top of this, I bring in my final image:

A tattoo of Dagur's face with a fist on top. This not only indicates the violent nature of the bullying but is also highly unsettling. There is never a line about this. Still, think about the mindset required to tattoo someone you dislike enough to bully onto yourself. This is not just talking badly about someone. It's more than a bully who pushes people in a locker. Ansson has two tattoos. One is of Dagur and the other is of the Scauldron/Thunderbeast. What do they both have in common? They're both Ansson's obsessions. I wish more people spoke about this, but there is something deeply wrong about it existing. At some point, someone should have stepped in - namely Oswald. I think this got dismissed because Dagur is Dagur and he knows how to handle himself. This is true, but as a child, it's not fair for him to have this Viking who is significantly older have an unhealthy obsession with him that led to physically and verbally abusive behavior. So little is known about Dagur's past. This is one of many areas I would like to explore.

#HTTYD #RTTE #Dagur the Deranged #Ansson the Abominable #Theories #Headcanons

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cocogrrrl · 1 year ago

Text

daffodil

you had grown up liking kyle from a comfortable distance, never thinking about making possible wounds. you, however, only just figured that out right now. unfortunately, you're overcome with the hanahaki disease likely because of it

kyle x stan's twin + gn!reader (hanahaki disease au) cw: major character death (kind of?), not necessarily an ed but mentions of struggles with eating, hospitalization, implied floater friend behavior if it makes anyone uncomfortable wc: 5121

an: this is part of an sp au where different versions of the reader has hanahaki and is in love with the main three! read the other two parts here!

Hanahaki is a disease something that affects many daily. From a small seed in your lungs, you’ll experience petals and flowers coming out from your mouth. It could take days, weeks, months, or even years to develop. Many hypothesize that it happens because of a love not returned, a love waiting on a bench.

Fortunately, it isn’t something that everyone will experience in their lifetime, although it is common. For those who catch the illness, you only have a few choices to pick from.

First, the sickness doesn’t last because the affection is returned. Many of those who survive this still need to receive medical attention for the healing process, depending on how severe the sickness had become. Many of these people who experience this are bound to live a happy life, though.

Second, you undergo a safe medical procedure that, while cures you, makes you devoid of any sense of love anymore. These operations usually do not pose many health risks, and the survival rate is high.

Lastly, you could just bear the pain, although you will suffocate to death.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Growing up in the Marsh household was no easy task. Existing there was tiring because of the constant chaos that was your father, sometimes even mother to an extent. You grew up spending time in other people’s houses because of this, finding more comfort in others’ families than that in your own.

Luckily, you did still have a member of your family you knew you could always trust. That person was your twin brother, Stan Marsh. You two had always been connected to the hip. Sure, you two always bickered and picked on each other, but you were siblings. It was a regular occurrence.

You found yourself hopping from friend group to friend group growing up, unlike Stan, who had always stayed strong with just one—although you did catch him hanging out with the goth kids a few times. It felt a little bit lonely, being known by nearly everyone but not really being that liked to have a steady friendship with someone. You were on good terms with everyone, but at what cost?

That’s what makes you grateful to be so close to Stan, though. He often invited you to hang out with his friends whenever he noticed you were alone. He knew you preferred to be surrounded by people than be alone, so even if his friends could be pieces of shit sometimes, he welcomed you to his group.

It didn’t happen all the time, but whenever it did, you found yourself often wanting to be close to Kyle. You didn’t know why you were so drawn to him. I mean, he seemed like a pretty respectful guy, being the voice of reason in his respective group, but that wasn’t the sole basis of your feelings.

Maybe it’s because he was thoughtful and kind? You remember that there was this one time he, Stan, and you were out playing. Stan and Kyle were on their bikes, and you were on a skateboard. For shits and giggles, you thought it’d be fun to hang on to the back of Kyle’s bike, so you held on to the pillion of his bike. You lost balance, though, falling off your board and scraping your knee really bad.

While Stan was telling you off for being irresponsible and reckless, being the protective brother he is, Kyle laughed it off and pulled out his handkerchief to wrap it around your wound. You viscerally remember Stan proceeding to joke about how Kyle blew his nose into that handkerchief earlier.

To add onto his thoughtfulness, for the following few days after the incident, whenever Kyle was at your place—which was most of the time—he’d always check up on how your wound was. Perhaps he felt bad, freely letting you hang onto the back of his bike like that. It was the consequence of your own stupidity, though.

That was back in middle school, though. You had only ever realized your feelings for Kyle during your junior year of high school.

As cute as it sounded, it really wasn’t. Recently, after your shocking revelation, you began to take notice of flowers bubbling up in your chest. Quite literally. From time to time, you’ll find a few petals, sometimes even a flower, being coughed out of your mouth. How unlucky you were to be the selected few to experience this.

You should’ve expected it, though. Ever since you were a kid, you would start coughing up small petals whenever you were a kid. Although those instances were rare, that didn’t mean they didn’t happen.

You were cooped up in your own room, facing your own mortality. You knew Kyle probably didn’t like you. No way. He’s had a few girlfriends over the years, you being none of them, obviously. Wouldn’t he have already asked you out if he liked you? Besides, you often spotted him at school seemingly interested in other girls.

So now, there were only two solutions to your problem, it was either to face death itself or to get surgery. On the one hand, you could embrace a life of love and immaturity but ultimately meet your demise earlier than it should. On the other hand, you could live longer and have a shot of being successful but sacrificing all the wonderful colors of your life. Luckily, you weren’t knee-deep in the stages of your condition yet, giving you plenty of time to think.

Your train of thought was put to a halt as you heard a knock on the door. “YN, sweetie, dinner’s ready.” Your mom said, opening the door just enough for her to send her message clearly.

“Alright, Mom. I’ll just fix my things.” You said in reply. As she sweetly nodded and closed the door, you checked the petals that littered your bed—white, daffodil petals and flowers. You cleaned your mess up, holding in a deep breath as you made your way downstairs.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Luckily, dinner was pretty uneventful. It was pretty uncomfortable with your food, though. You could intensely feel the flowers rustling in your chest as your food passed through your throat. How fun.

Once more, you heard a knocking on your door.

“Come in,” you called. The door opened wide, your brother leaning on the door frame.

“Hey, uh,” he paused, retracing his words and thinking of what to say. “Me and the guys are gonna hang out tomorrow. If you aren’t busy and want to come along, no one’s gonna stop you.”

Whenever Stan asked you to hang out with him, it made you smile. It was a thoughtful action for him to invite you to come with his friends since he knew you desperately needed some sense of a stable friendship in your life. You still struggled with the same things you’ve always had trouble with as a child, and he was always there to help you out whenever you needed it.

With a smile, you nodded. “Sure, I’ll come. Where will you guys be?”

“Kyle’s place around noon. You can come with me if you wake up early enough.” He said, critiquing your fabulous sleep schedule before he closed the door and left you on your own.

You were definitely going tomorrow.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

As you and Stan stood in front of the door, he rang the doorbell. Sheila opened the door and happily welcomed you two. You found your spot in the room by the left side of the couch, Stan sitting beside you and Kyle sitting on the very right. Soon enough, Cartman and Kenny had come over as well.

Whenever you spent time with Stan and his friends, you kind of just basked in the atmosphere, even if it is often just a bunch of sweaty guys screaming over some video game.

It’s not a bad thing, though—you actually find it comfortable to be standing by the sidelines. You saw the energy between the guys, and you were just happy to experience sharing a moment with them, even if it felt like you were in another room listening to their conversation.

“Hey, I’m gonna go get some water. Do you guys need anything?” You asked, getting up and looking at them. Cartman ordered you to get a bag of Cheesy Poofs and a glass of Coca-Cola, while Stan, Kenny, and Kyle just asked for water.

You headed into the kitchen, grabbing five glass cups. You filled four of them with water. Now, just Cartman’s Cheesy Poofs and Coke.

Cartman asking for such was nothing new that's why you knew he needed a straw to go with his coke. You check the refrigerator for any Coke. In your favor, there was. You poured some of the soft drink into the glass, filling it just right. Seeing how there were some straws in a tall container, you got one and placed it in the drink.

Lastly was the bag of Cheesy Poofs. You look inside the cupboards, hoping there was some. Sheila was strict with what children ate, so there was a chance that there wasn’t any. You were looking around the kitchen, but no Cheesy Poofs to be found. You were about to take the drinks back when you were interrupted.

“Here’s his Cheesy Poofs.” A voice said behind you. It was Kyle’s. “Mom recently found out that they may not be kosher after all, so she completely banned Ike and me from eating them.”

“So why do you still have some lying around then?” You raised a brow, confused.

“I keep an extra just for Cartman.”

“I thought you hated him.”

“I do, for sure, but I have to be a good host to my guests as well.”

You chuckled. He seemed to have sacrificed his money and good hiding spots just to let Cartman have it his way. ‘He’s a really thoughtful guy,’ you thought.

“What are you doing here, though? I thought you were trying to be a good host—playing with them and all.” You said a little mindlessly, not really thinking before you spoke first.

“I could be an even better host by helping you out and giving Cartman his Cheesy Poofs that he might’ve never gotten.”

“Oh, well, thank you. What a nice host you are.” You smiled.

He shared a grin back, and you shared a moment of silence. For a second, you wanted to lean in. That was until you were attacked with a violent coughing fit. Kyle quickly rushed to your side as you were hunched over, patting your back.

“Are you okay?” He said worriedly.

“Yeah, don’t sweat it.” You said, catching the petals that fell out of your mouth as you stuffed them in your pocket.

“Is everything alright?” You heard Stan call out from the other room.

“Yeah, don’t worry!” You yelled back, straightening your back to look back at Kyle. His eyes were on you, flickering to your lips. However, as his eyes landed there, he suddenly looked more concerned than he was just a moment ago.

“You have some blood on your lips. Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, pointing to where the blood was.

“Oh, shit. Yeah, I think I should get it checked soon.” You were lying. You knew what was the problem. You felt guilty because, even if he wasn’t doing anything, he was contributing to probable demise. “Just… don’t tell Stan.”

You were worried. If Stan found out you had Hanahaki, he would find out that you had a huge crush on his best friend. There was a chance that he would push you to confess to him, and it would be absolutely crushing to hear him tell you that he didn’t like you back.

“Why not?”

“Whenever he tries to protect me, he always just ends up getting on my nerves.” You felt guilty for lying again. Although what you said was true, that was definitely not the reason why you didn’t want him to find out. “I know he means well, but it’s exhausting sometimes.”

“Oh, well,” you pleaded in your head for him not to tell. “Your secret’s safe with me. Just make sure to get checked soon, okay?” He said worriedly, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Alright.” You nodded.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Right now, you were in history. It wasn’t something you were necessarily good at, but it wasn’t something you struggled most with either. You were given free time to finish remaining projects, do homework for other subjects, and study for upcoming tests currently.

For now, you were catching up on a project worth 45% of your grade. As you typed on your laptop to plan out the structure of your project, you felt someone slide right beside you. You take a look to see who it was—Kyle.

“Hey, YN.” He greeted.

“Hello, Kyle.” You returned, your tone a little confused.

“About the thing the other day,” he said. Right now, it was two days after the coughing fit of your life, so you were sure that Kyle was going to ask you about it. “Have you gotten it checked yet?”

Honestly, no. You didn’t care enough to have it checked. It’s not like there was an antibiotic to have it go away. “Ah, yeah. The doctor said it was a chest infection.”

“Why are you here then? Shouldn’t you be at home? What if the infection worsens?”

“Oh, my doctor said it wasn’t that serious, so he just prescribed me some antibiotics.”

“Alright,” he smiled at you. “You really scared me, YN. You seemed so pale that I thought you were about to pass out.” He sighed, distraught.

“I’m so sorry.” The guilt chipped through the cracks of your brain. You felt bad for making him worry so much.

“It’s not your fault. I just get worried easily whenever someone’s sick.”

“Ahh, thank you,” you said, staring everywhere else than at Kyle. You couldn’t look at his face. Not at least when you’re lying to him like this.

“Hey,” his voice caused your head to snap back at him. “Uh, I know it’s usually Stan’s place to ask you this, but he and I are gonna head to the arcade later afternoon. Do you wanna come?”

“Cartman and Kenny aren’t coming?”

“Kenny is currently chaperoning his little sister somewhere,” he explained. “Cartman’s… doing Cartman stuff.” You two shared a laugh amongst yourselves, knowing the type of insane things your schoolmate can get himself into—even up to now.

“So what do you say? You wanna come?” He asked. “You know, for old times’ sake, I guess.”

Your mind clicked back to your middle school days when it was often just the three of you. You became closest to him during those days, but high school slowly drew you apart. You were sure why either.

“Let’s see—I’ll think about it.” You returned a polite grin.

“Alright.” He nodded. “See you later, or not.” He got up and made his way across the classroom.

Your eyes were glued to him as he chatted with Bebe. She immediately put his arms around him as she leaned into a kiss. Apparently, he seemed to be embarrassed by PDA, seeing how he gently pushed her back—looking around his surroundings to see if anyone saw them.

Huh. I guess you really didn’t have a chance with him. Should you go to the arcade? You would love to, but perhaps it’s best not to come if you feel like you were going to just sulk all day.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Days turned into two weeks, and it seemed like you weren’t getting better anytime soon.

Eating became the most rigorous activity ever. Breathing was difficult because of the flowers clogging up your chest. You wore masks to lessen the likeliness of the petals falling out of your mouth. The lie about your chest infection had spread all around town. Everyone believed you, even your parents too.

No one knew a single thing about this—until today.

“YN, can I talk to you?” Stan asked, peering through your door.

You had your mask on still, saying you didn’t want to infect anyone as much as possible. You even ate your food in the comfort of your own room. You only ever went outside your room when you needed to use the restroom, go to school, or buy something you needed.

“Sure,” you replied nonchalantly, slipping on your mask and shoveling the flowers into a trash can.

Your twin brother slowly closed the door before sitting beside you on your bed, a look more worried than you’ve ever seen. “Dude, I’m just gonna get straight to the point—what the fuck is going on with you?” He was extremely upset. You could hear it in his voice.

At this point, you had already made your mind up. You knew what route you wanted to take, and you were going to tell Stan today. Fortunately enough, he was the first one to approach you.

“I,” you paused, thinking of any other way of breaking the news. Taking a deep breath, you continued, “I think I may have Hanahaki Disease.”

“Huh? That shit’s real?” He asked. He didn’t seem like he was judging you. He seemed more so confused.

“Yeah,” you said, pulling your mask down. Your speech was distorted because of the amount of flowers in your mouth. You could hardly move your mouth. You pulled some petals out of your mouth to make yourself more intelligible, tossing them to the side.

All Stan could do was watch in shock. “For how long now?”

“I guess ever since I was a little kid, but—”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?! Or even better, why didn’t you tell Mom?”

“You know how stupid the adults are here! Besides, it wasn’t that serious until recently.”

“YN, coughing up flowers is not not fucking serious. Are you joking yourse—”

“Stan,” you called his name as calmly as you could, although you were starting to get pissed off. “Let me explain… Please.”

He sat there, rolling his arms as he was ready to listen.

“I only got worse when,” you hesitated, saying his name. “When I realized I liked Kyle, which was about a few weeks ago.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You like Kyle? Like, Kyle Broflovski? My best friend Kyle? You like like him?”

“Ever since we were kids, I guess.” You were embarrassed. “When we were younger, I started coughing up petals already. I never thought it was a big deal because a bunch of weird shit happens here anyway. I thought it would just pass.

“That was when, as I said, I realized I liked Kyle. Ever since then, I’ve just gotten worse and worse.”

There was a long pause between you two. You could feel his eyes tearing you apart. You knew he was upset and angry with you. Who wouldn’t feel the same way? A somber “What will you do now?” was all he said, though.

“I want to get surgery.”

One beat.

“Haven’t you even thought of confessing?”

“Stan, you and I just know for a fact that Kyle doesn’t like me.”

“Don’t put yourself down like that-”

“Has he ever mentioned me whenever you two are together?” Stan shook his head. “You’ve noticed him and Bebe recently as well, right?” He seemed a little confused.

“Your logic is so stupid.”

“Wouldn’t you do the exam the same thing if you were in my position?”

“No. if I were you, I would ask Kyle if he liked me first.”

“I just think I should go with the surgery.” You sighed. “I know I’ll become a completely different person, but I can at least still be able to continue with life, you know? Be able to do something worthwhile in my life.”

“You know what happens when you get surgery, though, right?”

“I’ll become devoid of any emotion whatsoever.” You rolled your eyes, exasperated. ”Yes, Stan, you think I haven’t thought this through?”

“You’re my twin! I don’t want you to become a hollow piece of shit!”

“Would you rather have a dead man of a sibling or someone you can still talk to?”

“I’d be talking to a literal robot, YN. Both of the choices fucking suck. I’ll still mourn you either way.”

“Those are the only decisions I have. Who are you to decide for me anyway? This is my life, Stan. I’ve already made my decision.”

“Well then, I hate your decision,” Stan pouted as he pulled you into a tight hug.

You felt warm tears fall on your shoulder. You didn’t know what came over you, but you started to cry with him as well. In the back of your mind, you knew that this would be the last few special moments you’ll have with him.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

It took your parents some convincing, but now you were seated in a worn-out, faded hospital room. You quickly grew weak in the span of a week, unfortunately. You found it difficult to hold your body weight up. Eating became so difficult and uncomfortable that you simply just survived on heavy liquids.

Many people were bidding you their goodbyes, all of them of which you cried. It was like you were about truly die.

Even if you’ll still hold the memories of your past, everyone will just see you as a living reminder of what could’ve been. You will become nothing more than a living statue, something that symbolized something.

Despite all this, there was one goodbye, though, that was more painful than most.

Kyle entered the room, holding a bouquet of flowers for you. “Hey, YN. I hope you like these.” He said, handing you the flowers as he took a seat.

The second he stepped inside your room, your heart broke. He seemed exhausted. You didn’t bring it up, though. It’s no good to make people more upset than they already are.

“They’re beautiful, Kyle. Thank you very much.” You said, cuddling the bouquet instead of setting it aside with all the other flowers you had gotten—funnily enough.

There was a haunting silence that fell over you two. He was the one person you regretted lying to most since you specifically told him that you’d go to the doctor and try to get better. You knew it was a lie you’d never be able to get yourself out of, so why did you say it anyway?

“I hate to ask, but,” he said remorsefully. “The thing at my house, where we were joking about me being a good host and all, then you got into a coughing fit—did you already know back then?”

A few beats passed before you spoke. “Yeah.” Guilt nipped at your brain. “I’m so sorry, Kyle. I thought everything would’ve been resolved already by then.”

“Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault as to why that person didn’t like you back or anything.” He sighed, giving you a hopeful little smile. How ironic.

You returned the gesture for what would most likely be the last time. “Hey, Kyle?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m just curious, and I know is it’s kinda out of nowhere, but are you and Bebe together?” You wanted to ask just to solidify your assumptions. You were at your end anyway—why not be blunt for once?

“Huh? No.” He seemed confused. “Where’d you get that?” He lightheartedly chuckled. It in no way eased your entire situation, but it did make you a little happier. How selfish of you.

“Oh, I thought I saw Bebe kiss you once.”

His face turned red as he facepalmed himself. “The one a few weeks ago? Yeah, no. She liked me. I’m not into her at all, so I pushed her back, rejecting her.”

Now this time you felt embarrassed, covering your face in your hands. “Sorry…” You quietly muttered.

“It’s fine.” He patted your head.

Silence fell between you two, but you decided to break it. “Thanks, Kyle. I’ll miss you a lot. Even if we never became super close or anything, I’d still consider you to be one of my best friends.”

You suddenly felt a force push behind you. Next thing you know, your face was right against his chest. You could feel your hair get wet, feeling teardrops like rain fall upon you. You were holding tears before this, and feeling him sob on top of you just broke you as well.

You two stood there, crying until your heads burst from pain. You had many discoveries as people bid you their goodbyes—this was no different as well.

You were at your end, that’s for sure. The moment you step out of that surgery room, it will be over for you. The surgery was a dream-crushing procedure, literally. You still had morals in the end, but you wouldn’t really have a personal driving force within you.

You hated that. You wouldn’t experience heartbreak and anxiety anymore, sure, but you’ll never experience happiness and love as well.

You’ll miss how your brother invited you to hang out with his friend. You’ll miss how your mom took care of you whenever you caught a bad cold. You’ll miss sneaking out at night to do a bunch of things you’ll regret the morning after. You’ll miss squealing over a mundane text that Kyle sent. You’ll miss it all.

You didn’t want to kill the person you are right now to escape your pain. You would keep the person you are currently if you could. However, that wasn’t a choice. Will it be worth it? Who’s to say? At least you still have a chance to pay your parents the money you owe them. At least it was the more logical thing to do as well, you figured.

One of you pulled back—you weren’t sure who it was since your head was all dizzy. You couldn’t look at him in the face and believed he thought the same thing as well since you saw in the peripherals that he couldn’t look down at you.

“Before you go,” you muttered, reaching behind you and pulling out a letter, handing it to him. “This is yours.”

The letter was all of the things you wish you could’ve told him. You couldn’t leave him at such an abrupt ending. You cared about him too much for that. So you told him everything you needed to in this letter. You even included your biggest mistake in the letter: liking him.

“Oh.” he was taken aback as he read the back of the envelope. It read, ‘Open me after surgery, thanks!’ He smiled at the thought of receiving a letter, hoping it would lighten the mood. “Thank you, YN.”

Moments later, he wiped his eyes and made his way to the door. “I’ll see you soon, alright?” You nodded, not being able to trust your own voice much more.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

“Kyle. Sharon just called me,” Sheila said to Kyle, opening his door. “She said that YN’s doing better now. She told me that they should be out of the hospital in a few days from now. You should visit them.”

“I will, Mom. Thanks.” He smiled. Sheila then left, closing the door right after.

YN’s note sat by his desk. He hadn’t checked it yet. He wasn’t exactly sure why. Seeing how they had gotten out of surgery, though, he should probably check it right now. He felt a sense of dread the closer he inched to his desk, to YN’s letter. He picked it up, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was even holding.

The envelope was decorated neatly. There were cute stickers plastered pretty much everywhere, except for the dead center, where the words ‘Open me after surgery, thanks!’ were written.

Hi, Kyle.

Hopefully, you’re reading this after my surgery. If not, come back later! It’s not fun to watch a movie knowing the big twist. Although, that does sound fucked up in this context, lol.

Now, you should be back right now. After my surgery, yeah? I don’t know where I should start.

Actually, maybe I do. To start off, you’re the only one I gave a letter to. Now don’t feel bad—I did tell everyone what I wanted to tell them before I got my surgery. It’s just you who didn’t get their full message. Sorry.

I think meeting you was my greatest mistake. If I didn’t take up Stan’s many invitations to hang out with you guys, I wouldn’t be in this predicament. Of course, he was just being a good person, but I guess you could also blame him for all this mess as well. Kidding.

I really like you, though, Kyle. I know that you don’t like me back. There’s no need to say it. Even if you are reading this post-surgery, there’s no way to tell me that. It’s such a shame, though. I have to throw all my hopes and dreams like this just because I find you cute, witty, and charming.

It’s not your fault, though. I’m sure you know that. You’re a pretty smart and sensible guy. If you blame yourself for this, I think I’m gonna fall out of love with you.

I know I’ve been joking around in this letter, and while everything I have said is true for the most part, I’ll be genuine for a second.

It’s quite pathetic this disease is. Imagine dying because this person you like doesn’t like you back. It’s really fucking stupid. I wish I never liked you just so I could be with you right now. That seems a tad bit too paradoxical to be true, no?

I have and never will love anyone like I loved you. I thought it was a small crush. It was something more, after all. This is probably what I’m meant to be.

Sometimes, I wonder if you became embarrassed of me, seeing how you started to grow more distant from me when became a little older. I don’t know. I hope I’m just reading between the lines a bit too much.

It feels so embarrassing to admit this all to you. I hope you won’t treat me differently after I get the surgery.

I hope that there is another universe that is straight out of the dreams I made of you and me. Where we’d live happily together and cook pies or something. I’m sure, that if we were living together, you would make even the most mundane and tedious things worthwhile.

I’m gonna bury the person I am right now into a daydream with you that’ll last forever.

Yours in every way possible,

He stood in the dark of his room. Mind blank. He didn’t know how to react.

There was only thought in his mind, though: he could’ve saved you if he simply told you how he felt as well.

#south park fanfiction #south park x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski x you #kyle x reader #kyle broflovski x y/n #cocogrrrl's writing #cocogrrrl's hanahaki series

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zwoelffarben · 2 months ago

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Okay, hear me out.

A variation on the magnus archive's idea of the Not-Them, moniker: the Cool-You. It's still a Stranger, I Do Not Know You aligned creature, but instead of a predator, it's a parasite.

It doesn't kill you so it can take over your life and haunt kith and kin, instilling in them the creeping dread that you've been replaced and they couldn't even notice.

It latches on to you, following you to every social interaction. When you go to a friends house, people greet the both of you: "Hi Alice, Hi Cool Alice," failing to notice the strangeness of there being two Alices, nearly identical, in the same place. You standing beside your platonically ideal self, proof of maslovian theorys about self actualization.

The peak of Alicehood is standing beside you everywhere you go, and people notice her, how could they not: she's you but perfect, but they don't notice that she shouldn't exist. They aren't the prey.

You are.

At the onset, it's not terrible. She just follows you around shares space with you. Is a little more well-spoken, outgoing, funny. If you tell a dud joke, she'll riff on it to get laughs. The Cool-you makes things easier as it greases the wheels of social interaction, and you both get attention.

But, doubt sets in. And doubt grows into anxiety: Do people like me, or is it her, the Cool Alice that they like?

Sure people like our company, but do they like her company more than mine, and would they like her company more without me? Hell, do people like her so much more than me that they wouldn't even notice if I wasn't here with her?

And this anxiety turns into social agoraphobia (which doesn't affect cool Alice who is immune to anxiety), and an obsession with her, as you live vicariously through her because its easier to let her take over your life than to share space with her and fight a losing battle for attention as she vaccuums all the oxygen in the room away from you.

Eventually, you decide, holed up in the room you haven't left in months while she's been hanging out with your friends, posting to your social media feed, despite your having changed the password so many times, that If she wants your life so bad she can have it.

And you kill yourself in the throes of lonesome despair. But, of course, the Cool-You doesn't want your life: it wants your misery. And as soon as your dead, you're not miserable, and it moves on to the next victim.

But, your friend group doesn't move on. They have to reckon, from their perspective through Stranger, I Do Not Know You's addlehaze, with the idea that you killed yourself suddenly after months of having been the happiest, funniest, most joyous version of you they've ever known.

Theyr left to wonder: Why would Alice kill herself: She was always so happy around us?

---

Anyway, I think Cool-Tim would be fun at parties.

#the magnus archives #not-them #tma

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authorcoledipalo · 3 months ago

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- Writerblr Interview -

Thank you for tagging me @the-golden-comet

Wow, I've got a lot of tags to respond to!

Short stories, novels, or poems?

Novels, I have thought about writing short stories, but my stories aren't usually short enough.

What genre do you prefer reading?

Fantasy, gotta read what you write! But I do dabble in reading a few other genres just to see what styles I could be missing out on.

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

Definitely a planner. I can't pants my work, I overthink too much and jump around a lot.

What music do you listen to while writing?

The playlist I listen to is mostly punk rock i think. It started out as my "mowing the lawn" playlist and I started having a lot of really good ideas while listening so now I also listen to it while writing, sometimes.

Favorite books/movies?

I very much dislike choosing because there are so many good ones but I also can't remember whenever asked.

Any current WIPs?

The Daughter of Magic! It's the one I'm writing right now.

There is also a few others that I cannot wait to get started on!

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you what would your standard outfit be?

T-shirt and cargo shorts. Call me vest-less Dipper Pines but it's usually too hot in Florida to wear anything else and I'm not great with fashion but I try when it's cold enough to wear anything more.

Create a character description of yourself:

I've always gone with athletic and maybe almost average height for now. Also, I know way more about my characters descriptors than I should know myself haha.

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

Sometimes I'll use similar names in WIP or use their personality for a character.

Are you kill happy with your characters?

When I first started planning the original version of this series I wanted it to be edgy and kill happy. Now I understand that you HAVE TO GROW YOUR CHARACTERS so that when they do eventually die, it has way more impact.

But yes I am still a bit kill happy.

Coffee or Tea while writing?

I don't usually eat or drink while writing but if I had to choose it would 100% be tea.

Slow or fast writer?

I am once again very bad with scaling so I want to say slow but I've also created the entire outline / draft ish thing in only a few months.

Where/who/what do you draw inspiration from?

I always say my mom, she's a self published Author and I've always wanted to write because of her.

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

I would be really happy because there would be actual problems that I could fight. So, I'd probably be an adventurer.

Most fav book cliche:

When the main characters or antagonists are much more complex than anticipated and then the story expands exponentially after the plot twist.

Least favorite cliche:

stealing this from @the-golden-comet but definitely characters that exist for no reason other than to check off a box.

Favorite scene to write?

Fight scenes. Just action is really cool.

Reason for writing?

It's fun, something to do, I really like it.

#creative writing #booklr #authors #bookblr #my writing #worldbuilding #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #writing #writeblr #authorcoledipalo #writers tag game #tag game #writeblr tag game #writing tag game #tag games

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justatalkingface · 1 year ago

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I have to say, I've always been a fan of the idea of Kirishima being Izuku's best friend, rather than Bakugo's. I just think the two work off each other as the "extrovert trying to get his introverted friend to come out of his shell more" better than his and Bakugo's "I can fix him" one.

Plus, both have experience dealing with bullies and trying to defend the helpless from said bullies. Hell, Kirishima would commend Izuku for sticking it out all the way through, whereas he needed Mina's help with his. I really think Kirishima would be a great motivator for Izuku to get stronger and to voice his opinions more. If Izuku was having an especially bad day, I see Kirishima being the type to say,

"Hey man, don't put yourself down like that. You're one of the strongest, manliest guys I know. Even up there with All Might and Crimson Riot. Come on, lets head to the gym to get your mind off things. I'll spot ya."

Kirishima would provide so much positivity and motivation to improve, that I feel Izuku would only come out better with him as his main homie. Not to mention it would give Kirishima even more screentime, which I would love.

Though admittedly, my love of Kirishima is also why I hate that Hori paired him with Bakugo. My man deserves a better homie than that asshat.

...You know, when you look at Kirishima as, like, a character that someone put in a story, rather than as a person, there's something weird about him. You know what it is? Kirishima is basiclly Izuku. He's Izuku if he had a 'mediocre' Quirk; a bit of a coward at the start of his story, with self doubt, but he still genuinely wants to help people, and forces himself to grow and push farther when he decides to apply to UA. And when you strip to the bare bone themes like that, it's Izuku's story, without Bakugou and the Quirklessness there making his life miserable.

And, with that in mind, and that one comment Hori (apparently) made, that Izuku was supposed to be sad that Bakugou took Kirishima's hand... it feels like Kirishima was made, or at least given development, for Bakugou. Like, Kirishima and Bakugou is the friend dynamic of Bakugou with Izuku that so many people want them to have, what fanfic stories are written for, what people in story apparently (god knows why) seem to think they have, and when you look it that way it's... interesting. It's a very interesting choice to me.

Like, Hori apparently (I can't cite any of this Hori shit) regrets how far Bakugou went in the first chapter; it makes me wonder if, like, Kirishima is his wish fulfillment in that sense? Like, he's imagining a version of the manga where Bakugou came in with a lot less baggage, and that dynamic is him doing that sort of friendship without actually changing the story?

On the other hand, though, I'd have to be blind to that dynamic seems to exist to soften up Bakugou's image, to show that he's not all that bad, without really making him improve actively.

Regardless, no matter how you look at it, in a meta, 'why does this character exist' kind of way, Kirishima literally seems to be in the manga only for Bakugou's sake. I mean, his friendship (or 'friendship' maybe) with Bakugou, isn't helping him beyond giving him more screen time. And your right, it's a shame, because he and Izuku would get along really well.

Part of it, of course, is that they exist in a similar kind of positive wavelength, both being really wholesome people. Kirishima is really outgoing, and it seems natural that he would try to reach out to Izuku, who canonly is almost pathetically grateful for even the tiniest smidge of even vaguely positive interactions, especially at the start, much less someone just flat out being nice to him. Meanwhile, Izuku is naturally supportive, and would be great for Kirishima in turn, supporting him on his low confidence moments and encouraging him to be more confident about his Quirk and his own abilities.

Overall, it's a firm foundation for a good, wholesome friendship, one that would easily continue to continue on even when both of them eventually grow past their own doubts, and something that'd be nice to see, but by the time Kirishima got any characterization, he was already set up for Bakugou, and of course we could dilute that dynamic with him doing something else.

#mha critical #bnha critical #ask #bakugou critical #izuku deserves better #kirishima deserves better #the fact kirishima seems to exist only for bakugou's benefit is a waste

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bookaddict24-7 · 1 year ago

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REVIEWS OF THE WEEK!

Books I’ve read so far in 2023!

Friend me on Goodreads here to follow my more up to date reading journey for the year!

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180. Hotline by Dimitri Nasrallah--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I knew I wanted to read HOTLINE from the moment I saw the cover and read the synopsis months ago. It offered everything I love in literary fiction: Immigration, a character growing through their experiences, and an interesting point of view that differs from my own when it comes to the immigration experience.

Reading HOTLINE was like seeing a story from the perspective of my immigrant parents. Much like the son in Nasrallah's novel, I came to Canada at a young age. My parents fought tooth and nail to make ends meet and to make sure I had a better future than the life they left behind. Our country wasn't war-torn, but it was going through a special period where food was incredibly scarce and the police handed out jail sentences for too many things. Many people had "one foot at home and one foot in jail" because of all the side hustles they had to do in a country that frowned upon that.

So, seeing a mother striving to do what she could with what little resources she had was incredibly eye-opening. Making the incredibly hard decision of leaving a child alone so you can provide for them was another relatable instance. HOTLINE was such a captivating exploration of how parents sacrifice and compromise in the present for a hopefully better future. It is a complicated story of grief for both someone lost and a dream destroyed by the stereotypes and biases that live in a new country.

It was also jarring to see how life might have been like in the 80s in comparison to today's society, much like the differences between the 90s (when we immigrated) and today. The hustle was real, but (in this case) it paid off in the end--which was a welcome surprise, even if it wasn't entirely a roses and rainbows story. I liked the reality of how messy life can be and how even though a job we never thought we'd have is the only thing keeping you in a less-than-perfect home.

HOTLINE also had a unique level of community that I loved to see. It proves that a village-full of support makes a massive difference. While there were moments of the MC's self-doubt and fear, there were many moments where the reader is reminded that hope can exist even in the darkest moments.

I felt like I was catching a glimpse into a real home and I'm so grateful for the opportunity. Beautifully written! I highly recommend this, especially for those who are constantly seeking out immigration stories.

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181. Some Shall Break by Ellie Marney--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I loved the first book in this series (duology?), so I was so incredibly delighted to see that there was a sequel!

I think one of the huge benefits that the first book had was that I knew absolutely nothing about it. I wasn't expecting it to be a YA fictional version of MINDHUNTER, which was an incredibly intriguing nonfiction text about how Forensic Profiling came to be and the process behind it. Seeing a fictional story from a teen POV was interesting and darkly fun.

In this sequel, we don't get as much of that exploration that we did with book one, instead we're mainly focusing on catching the one big bad person and while there are cameos and many, many twists and turns, it wasn't as great of a read as the first one.

This isn't to say that I didn't still enjoy this book! I remember thinking, "Wow, I really do enjoy this author's writing." I was hooked and I really wanted to see where the story would take these characters. It was also kind of sad seeing where trauma can take a person and how far they are willing to go to run from said trauma.

There was a certain level of madness to this book and the evil mastermind behind some of the characters. My mind is doing a bunch of twists and turns just trying to write this review.

I highly recommend the first book in this series, especially with the Fall season upon us. Spook yourself with a YA crime thriller. I think knowing that this is YA makes it all that much more creepier.

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182. The Book of Accidents by Chuck Wendig--⭐️⭐️⭐️.5

I've been eyeing THE BOOK OF ACCIDENTS ever since it came out. I wanted to read it, but I won't lie: the size of it intimidated the hell out of me. I finally bit the bullet when another book I was reading recommended it and I thought, "Why not? It's the perfect season for it."

I'm glad I finally read it, if not for the creepy atmosphere of it, but for the writing itself and how reminiscent it was of Stephen King. I love a good spooky King novel and this one delivered!

Some of the twists in this book were a bit wild, but they all worked together in the end. By the conclusion of the book, the length made sense because we needed to get a well-rounded story. However, during the reading of the story, I did start wondering when it would end. I enjoyed the multiple perspectives, but I kept thinking, "Okay, what's next? Why do I still have five hours left in this audiobook?"

I DO think the concept of THE BOOK OF ACCIDENTS was really intriguing, especially when we start to consider the potential meanings behind the book. Wendig's novel explores boyhood and the consequences of actions and generational trauma. The What-if's of THE BOOK OF ACCIDENTS is probably, to me, the best part because we get to meet a cast of characters that give us a bigger picture of what could have been.

By the end, I did have some questions that were left unanswered, but for the most part, it was a pretty satisfying conclusion. I didn't like the mom and how her mentality worked at times--but it also shows how imperfect we can be as humans. I think that's one of the things I love the most about Horror. Too often we look for the shock and awe in the genre, but forget how complex the exploration of humanity can be in Horror.

Anyway, I'd recommend it if you're a fan of Stephen King. While Wendig isn't exactly as verbose as King, his ability to set a mood and a setting was very reminiscent of the Horror master. If you don't mind the length, then definitely add this one to your TBR list!

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183. The Lamb Will Slaughter the Lion by Margaret Killjoy--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I really enjoyed Killjoy's novella and how it creeped me out while reading it in the middle of the night. Although short, it felt heavy enough that I couldn't read this in just one sitting. Which is both a good and eh thing.

The heaviness of the novella is a good thing because it means that I felt like the pages held a lot of meaning. THE LAMB WILL SLAUGHTER THE LION explored grief, the power of love (as cliche as that sounds), family, society and its downsides, and of course, the topic of Power. What does it mean to have power? What do the different kinds of power look like?

The heaviness of the novella can be a bad thing because it sometimes lost my interest. I felt like even though it was short, it lagged in some parts. I wanted answers, but the writing sometimes felt cluttered enough that the answers were always on the next page and, sigh, I was already worn out from reading what I had just read. This is most definitely a me problem, but having just come off two novellas that didn't give me this issue, I found it noticeable enough to note in this review.

I AM super excited for the sequel, though. The way things were left at the end of this book had me genuinely excited to see where Killjoy takes the story!

The characters were all interesting and occasionally morally grey (as can so often happen when magic is involved alongside the concerns we may have for modern-day society), and the topics explored were timely and interesting. If you're looking for an entertaining Queer horror novella with a beautiful cover, then this one is for you!

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184. The Salt Grows Heavy by Cassandra Khaw--⭐️⭐️

I'm either too dumb to understand this book, or I'm one of the few who fell through the cracks with this one and just didn't enjoy it. Some of my friends have read this and they've all enjoyed it thoroughly. Me? I read this and as I'm writing this review, I still have no idea what this book was about.

I know the...general gist of it. But for the most part, this was a blur and I'm lowkey disappointed because I really enjoyed Khaw's haunted previous book.

I'm glad others were able to enjoy this so thoroughly, but it was truly not for me.

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185. Those Across the River by Christopher Buehlman--⭐️

THOSE ACROSS THE RIVER, at its core, had an interesting story premise. Did it have creepy moments? Yes, it certainly did. There were some scenes that were downright gruesome and I'm sure will serve as someone's nightmare fuel. The pacing was great and the twists were entertaining, if a bit predictable. So, why am I giving this a one star rating? Well...

As a historical fiction Horror novel, I expected some of the language in this book. Having read some of Stephen King's older books, I'm no stranger to derogatory language in the Horror genre--especially when they're historical fiction novel. This book, however, was published in 2011 and used racial slurs with such relish that I started to flinch at the words (not that I normally don't--I do, but it was so prominent in this book that it started to overshadow some of the Horror of the book.)

I've also never commented on the descriptions of women in older Horror books because well...given the time they were written in, it was expected. I don't condone it, but some of these books are truly a product of their time. But a book published in 2011 referring to a woman as a dog during sex and then just...treating her as both a sexual and plot device in this book was...a lot. And the irony is how strong she is as a character in her own right. This strength could have been further explored if she had been given a chance by Buehlman. Instead, she is first the property of one man at a young age and then the property of another man, who dehumanizes her during sex.

"Dayla, the book is set in the 1930's!" That's fine, but you can write a woman set in that time without dehumanizing her like you're writing her character in a 70's-80's era of Horror.

So, while the horror of the book is creepy and the twists were great, there were some jarring moments of discomfort in this book that were too much for even me, a King fan. (And that's saying a lot, because those who've read older King know how messed up his writing can be.)

ALSO: Super creepy how there is a scene where a FOURTEEN year old girl catches the male main character's attention. And he actively has to remind himself that SHE IS FOURTEEN. I had finished writing my review and had to come back to add this because I had blocked it out of my head. She is described as "simple", I believe, and while he catches himself "flirting" with her, his wife mentions that she's a little jealous. Like, wtf. LMAO.

Anyway, read this if you'd like, but be prepared. I don't know if I'll read more stuff by this author. We shall see!

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186. I Survived the Joplin Tornado by Lauren Tarshis--⭐️⭐️⭐️

I knew close to nothing about this tornado, but it was definitely fascinating to read about it, especially from the perspective of a child!

I think one of the things that makes these books a bit of a challenge for an adult to read (me, I am this adult) is the suspension of disbelief. I'm glad these characters always have hopeful endings full of miracles, especially because the readers these are targeted for are super impressionable. But...the more I read of these, the harder it is for me to believe all the happy endings. I'm definitely happy that characters like the mc in this one are able to walk away from this disaster, but it's just something I've been noticing.

Maybe I'm growing a little jaded from these books LOL.

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187. Don't Fear the Reaper by Stephen Graham Jones--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Oh this book was FUN. Yes, the context is dark and murderous, but this one definitely had a lot more going on in it (action-wise) than the first book. I didn't know what to expect with this one because while I enjoyed the first book, I definitely thought it was more of a slow burn horror. This one dived right into the horror!

If you've ever watched the SCREAM movies from the very first one, then you are familiar with Sidney's progression as a character. We see her go through so many stages of PTSD and during all of that, she becomes the ultimate Final Girl. We see the same thing with Jade, the MC of THE INDIAN LAKE trilogy. Her denial, PTSD, and disassociation with her past self was unexpected but also realistic. She's the one who cried wolf once, wasn't believed, and now is watched again to see if she will cry wolf again. She has the pressure of being a survivor and she tries over and over again to pass on that legacy to someone else who could potentially be another Final Girl.

Jones's novel takes place during the holidays, which means that we are in a blizzard of snow and blood. Imagine if all of the killing in the first book were spread out throughout a whole novel and you'll have a better understanding of just how wicked this book was. It felt like I was reading a cursed sequel of a horror classic that was actually...really, really good? It was campy, heartfelt, had many twists, and some pretty intriguing Indigenous touches that made this all the more unique.

I so highly recommend DON'T FEAR THE REAPER. It was such a great read for the Autumn season (any season really), and lived up to my expectations. Will definitely be picking up the final book in the trilogy when it comes out!

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Have you read any of these books? Let me know your thoughts!

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Happy reading!

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