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lovely-necromancy · 3 years ago

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A Cure for Insomnia Ch 19

Your bags were jumping and sliding around in the back of Madeline's rusty pickup truck. She had been kind enough to offer you a ride up to the lodge when she stopped by the shop earlier.

Madeline had seen the sour look Nate kept sending you and how you were intentionally not looking over towards the soon to be graying young man. Not one to beat around the bush she asked what was up, mam bear mode peeking through.

Nate was just being a dick to you and saying you had to stay with the Cowells longer than what had originally been agreed to. Big Jo seemed fine about letting you go back home now, even with your resolve set to continue hanging out with Toby. But Nate was trying to put a tight leash on you since you “wouldn't listen to reason” - so he said.

Even with security at the cottage updated Nate still thought it best to keep you with them if you were planning to still interact with Toby. More than likely he was trying to make that harder for you to do since staying with them would definitely make it easier for him to keep track of you.

The thought alone set shivers down your spine. Like a constrictor slithering up your back to rest around your neck and do what it does best.

It had been really hard to breathe these last few days.

But all Madeline needed to hear was “Nate” and “being a dick” before she said she'd take you herself. Thereby ending the conversation and silent argument in the shop, as she spun on her heel stating when she'd pick you up later.

Nate hadn't been too happy about the exchange but he could suck your dick. He's been annoying you with all this Toby bullshit and doesn't get to tell you what he thinks right now.

The drive up is silent, but that comfortable kind of silence between two old friends who don't ever really have a need to talk to hang out. It's nice because it gives you tons of time to think about just what you're about to do.

Going over several scripts all at once in your head.

You want to talk to Toby. You still haven't read that file but it just doesn't sit right with you that it was ever even given to you in the first place. Toby being completely unaware of the total breech of privacy makes your stomach flip just like your bags in the back right now. It's not like you ever asked for the detailed life file but at the same time it feels wrong not to let Toby know tht something like that even exists for him. His past being dug back up all without his knowledge or consent. And now here you were about to lay it right down in front of him.

Was this the right move? You're the one bringing it to his attention, if it's something that will mess him up it'll be your fault that he's upset. Jo and Nate may have gotten the information but you still count yourself as being a complacent party to all of this.

Your stomach feels like it's on a drop tower as it sinks further into a pit of guilt.

You feel like the scum of the Earth right now. Hopefully he isn't too upset.

Seeing your downcast eyes, you were a lot more expressive than you ever really realized, Madeline pipes up, “You gon' be ok there sport?”

A small smile bit at your lips. There's a reason Madeline Cobb was known in Kepler as Mama. She took care of those she saw as her own and that was damn near half the town at this point. Hell you'd heard a rumor she raised most this town. The lodge had been her orphanage before all the kids grew up and turned it into a resort once new arrivals stopped coming. That's probably the reason it's always been so warm and welcoming, it was a home first.

“Yea...just nervous.”

She lets out a small chuckle at you.

“Don' be, 'm sure that Toby boy will say 'yes'. And if he don' well you just come find me. I'll set him right.”

Ok now you were just confused.

“Huh?”

“Don' worry about it, he likes you jus' like you like 'im. It'll work out for you two.” she reaches over and ruffles your hair before jumping out of the pickup. You hadn't realized you were already at your destination.

And it was too late to correct Mama, she'd already made it inside the lodge, about why you were so nervous. The warmth in your face makes you even more grateful for your mask. Barclay was getting bit by the end of the night, the man really needed to get a boyfriend and stop trying to manifest one for you.

The door to the lodge opens again, you hardly paid it any mind. So lost in your own musing you didn't even notice the man walking towards you. Your goat plush had fallen beneath your seat and you were attempting to grab it but it was too far out of your reach.

“You good there?” Toby's amused voice calls, startling you.

Popping your head out of the opened car door. Heart racing faster at the sight of your friend standing there with a small smirk on his bandaged face. You weren't ready for this.

His eye looks better, well like a normal black eye and not a swollen lump that threatened to over take his socket. Now his eye looked like it could still function out of the slight opening. Fuck this was hard enough when you'd pictured only one eye looking at you but now you had to calculate for both!?

Is it weird that this is what worries you? Are you derailing from the actual situation? Distracting yourself so the conversation is easier on you. So you don't have to think about the possibility that Toby won't want to be friends after this. That he'll end up hating you for something you hadn't done.

God you really want to cry.

“Hey, space cadet.” Toby's made his way over to your side and puts a gentle hand on you knee, “You ok? Did something happen?”

He's really sweet, you're going to miss him.

No, stop. You need to get a grip and stop thinking like this. Toby will understand and you guys can continue being friends, a bit awkwardly but still friends. You'd get to hang out and maybe wander through the Monongahela together.

“I...I dropped my goat.”

He cocks his head to the side, brows slowly smoothing out and he gives a gentle squeeze to your legs as he reaches under you, hand searching for your lost plush.

The warmth that was once collecting in your cheeks shoots down past the void sitting in your stomach. Just another thing to add to your list you suppose. After a week of nearly no privacy or comfort you are thoroughly pent up. You don't necessarily want Toby, just need someone or something to help relieve the fire between your thighs. He just happens to be in proxcimity of that fire, poking the flame that hasn't been snuffed during your stay with the Cowells, making it dance and writhe reminding you of the need.

But you can't focus on that yet, you'd give yourself a hand when you finally got back home. Right now you needed to focus on Toby. And having that uncomfortable conversation.

“Here he is.” placing the goat in your lap he looks into your eyes, a slight glint in his.

He's in a really good mood tonight. You have to ignor the whispers in your head, telling you you're about to ruin this for him.

Luckily a tic to the right shoos those thoughts away for you.

“YN?” his hand is back on your knee, it's such a small gesture maybe even completely subconscious but it helps ground you.

You haven't read that file but you can't see Toby ever doing something awful enough to warrant Nate's barrage of paranoia and fear. Even if he did....he couldn't still be bad right? You're such a good judge of character and you called Brian on his masking there's no way you'd miss Toby lying to your face.

“I...” he's looking into your eyes searching as you take a steadying breath, “I just really need a slushie right now.” your eyes drop to the goat in your hands.

You fucking coward.

It's silent for a moment as you chastise yourself for not just coming out and telling Toby you wanted to talk. Toby's hand falls easily from your knee and to his side.

“A'right then, you good to drive?” you really missed your chance here, “'cuz Brian's got Connor tonight.”

Wait what?

You look at Toby who simply raises the right side of his mouth in a lopsided grin. A subtle raise of his right brow tells you he understood what you'd asked for. When was the last time anyone was ever able to read you so well?

“Yes!” you push the goat into Toby's chest and practically dive into the back seat for your bags. “I can drive. Franklin?”

“Don't work tomorrow, so sure.”

His good mood seems to pick back up a bit. He's chuckling as you rush to gather everything and head over to your car, barely shutting Mama's door as you do. Toby gives it a good bump with his hip to make sure it shut properly. He unlocks your car for you and slides into the passenger's seat while you arrange your shit in the trunk.

You catch sight of the skull still in your trunk and figure you'll just leave it as is for now. Since it seems that literally every time you close this trunk you forget it exists. Bye weirdly placed deer skull maybe one day you'll have a wall mount worthy of your beauty.

Before closing the trunk you do rab the file. Maybe having it up front with you will help you actually tell Toby about it.

When you open the driver's side Toby's hand is already outstretched and waiting for your phone, this isn't his first rodeo after all. You can't help but smile as you hand it right over to him. He notices, because of course he does, and beams back at you. Sending more warmth throughout your body. After collecting your emotions the guilt comes back around.

You need to stop being horny on main. And in front of Toby no less. It's weird, like you're riled up for him and not because you're attention starved and haven't known solitude for over a week.

By the time you're driving off the lot Toby had picked you 'Let's drive to nowhere' playlist. A perfect choice for tonight, seeing as these are all either songs to dissociate to or have mental break downs with. And with you obnoxious emotions either is up for grabs. Aside from the music the car was silent as you drove out of town.

You were so wrapped up in what to say to Toby, how to say it, when – that you ended up not saying anything at all. Toby on the other hand couldn't wait for you any longer and broke the silence himself.

A habit he seems to have, must not like silences.

“Normally you don't shut up,” the words were harsh but his tone wasn't for once.

He watches as the scenery changes from quaint country road to interstate. “Did something happen?”

An awkward anxious smile makes its way on to your face. You've never been good at schooling your features and smiling was unfortunately your default in the even of confrontation. It was probably just your brain's way of protecting you from emotional trauma.

“Sorta.”

To his credit Toby waits for three full songs before prying for more information.

“Another attack?” he's on edge.

To be fair you are too.

“No, like hell Jo and Nate wo-would let me leave if that were it.” your head jerks twice to the right. You miss Toby's wince.

Nate barely let you leave the shop today, you had to get outside assistance aka Mama.

“Ok, so what happened then?” as you bit your lip trying to find your words Toby is running through his own list of possibilities. “Dis Ma- Tim do something to you?”

Huh?

Why would Tim have anything to do with this? Are they still fighting? But Brian has Connor tonight...that doesn't seem likely but you've really only hung out with Toby thus far. You don't know enough about their group dynamic.

You also didn't miss the beginning syllable Toby said. Was he trying to say 'Matt', 'Mark', 'Manny'? There were so many names that Tim's alter could have but at the least you've more or less been told there is an alter to begin with.

But why would Toby be concerned about Tim's alter? Was he the one that punched Toby? Were they actually the two fighting and not Tim and Toby? This is confusing just being on the outside, you have no idea how the trio copes with this situation.

“Oh no, Tim and Not Tim have been nice to me.” if you're coming clean about the file might as well come clean about knowing Tim has an alter. This way Toby could pass along the message to Tim and Not Tim.

“Back up, not liter-mrrow – literally. 'Not Tim'? You've met Mas-Ma-Masky?!”

Masky? That's a strange name, but who were you to judge the name someone gave themself. Maybe he's a He/Him enby.

“Not like formally or anything, but I'm pretty sure he was the one that helped me and Ronnie out the other week.” you switch lanes to drive off of the interstate, hoping to find a secluded road to have this conversation on.

God knows it's going to take all of your concentration.

Toby was seething in his seat and you know the tension is only going to get worse going forward.

You can hear him muttering to himself, 'of course' or 'he didn't remember', over and over. Finding a good place to park the car you take it and turn to Toby, who's still lost in his own head.

“Tobias.” you call trying to jostle him and it works a little too well in a sense. As he blurts out, “Don't! Masky's dangerous stay away from him!”

He immediately freeze like he hadn't meant to say that. And while it wasn't a tic it was probably an impulse brought on by his anxious frame of mind. He's popping his knuckles again too.

You don't know why you said it, looking at Toby's wide blown pupils – riddled with fear and nerves, you should've kept you mouth shut.

“Dangerous like you?”

Or at least phrased that a bit more eloquently.

Toby's eyes grow dark and his good eye cuts low nearly matching it's swollen twin. A shiver runs down your spine even though you know the malice is not for you.

“What.” he hisses out.

It's not a question, it's an order. He wants to know what you know and maybe even who told you. Maybe he thinks Masky told you something, since that was the topic of the previous conversation.

Dark eyes watch you like a hawk as you pull the file from the map holder in your door. His chest is nearly heaving with every breath at this point, can he hyperventilate? That's a dumb question he most certainly can. And he's either on his way to that or a panic attack. You hope you don't send him into a panic attack, Connor's not here to help. Connor know pressure though, Toby's had him preform it on you during your spells. Would it work the same if you laid on top of Toby? You're getting too distracted right now.

Not trusting yourself to not just back down now, you hold the folder out to Toby to take.

He's just staring at it like it'll attack him at any moment, and honestly it might...just not physically. He glances up at you. There's a funny flash of deja vu likening back to the first time you met. Cold indifferent and confused eyes looking at you as though you were some strange alien they'd never seen before. This time however there's a spark of something else in them. Something dark that festers beneath the surface. Was that hatred, betrayal, or was that the wall he was building back up. The wall that would sever this friendship.

Stop projecting. He hasn't even taken the file, he can't possibly know what's going on right now.

“What's that?” see.

“Nate got super protective after the attack, I guess the other day you just like rubbed him the wrong way. So, he had someone look into you. That file is everything they found...pretty sure it's your whole life, I swear I haven't read anything. Not even a peek. But Jo and Nate tried to tell me the-”

He snatched the file from you before you'd even said you hadn't looked. He opened it and a second later it was closed and he took a shaky breath before looking at you.

It was your turn to look like a deer in headlights tonight, you knew that breath was one of barely concealed rage. This was it, this was where everything ended, all because Nate had “a bad feeling” about Toby.

But you trusted Toby, he wouldn't hurt you. He was your friend.

“So” he lets out a harsh sigh, “you didn't...you haven't read anything?”

You hastily shake your head, “What did they tell you.” he looks off to the side and his mouth is all screwed up, and not in it's normal mangled sense.

“That I shouldn't see you anymore, you did something bad, awful, terrifying; Nate's list goes on but I sort of...fo the fingers in the ear 'lalala' thing” you say sheepishly, “anytime he tries to tell me something. Jo stops when I ask him to. He's not too worried about you...I think.”

Or he's working behind the scene to keep you and Toby separated for the long run but that's speculation and not the point of this conversation so you don't mention it.

Toby's flipping through the file skimming it, no doubt looking for his checkered past, he finds what he's looking for and nods once continuing on like he was reading a grocery list. Which he may as well have been, a grocery list of all his transgressions. With the way his fingers gripped the edges of the folder you could tell he was putting on a front about the contents.

They did bother him.

“Why didn't you look, why didn't you listen YN?” was he seriously angry at you for that?

“It was an invasion of your privacy. Whatever's in there I wanted you to have the ability to tell me on your own terms – if you ever even wanted to. Not because you were forced into it because I found out from some third party that doesn't even know you.”

“Then why the fuck did you -wrong- practically jump into a car with me and then hand me a file on my shitty life!?!” He slammed the file down into his lap with a lot of force, more than he should have used for sure. “They think I'm a menace and they're right you shouldn't have...you need to...” he trails off looking like he's trying to disintegrate the file in front of him with latent laser eye abilities.

His arms are shaking.

No – he's trembling. The way he's biting his lip tips you off. He's trying to hold himself together, trying to stop himself from breaking. This can't be the same person Nate's so worried about.

“You're biting your lip, that's not good for you.”

“Fuck off.” it's half hearted at best, no real weight behind the words. And he does let his abused lip go.

“It's a breech of trust if I didn't tell you this...I wanted to give you the file because you should know it's been read by two people, to my knowledge.” you place a hand on his forearm, “Toby, I don't know what you've done in the past but...you know you aren't that person now, right?”

He's out of the car in an instant, slamming the door behind him. You follow, as dumb as you understand it is, getting out of your car in the middle of no where with a very unstable person.

“Get back in the car. I mrrow I can't...I need a minute.” his shaking is so much worse now that he's standing, It's even put a tremble in his voice.

“You're stupid if you think I'm leaving you alone in the middle of no where.” you stand your ground, he may need space but this is not the place to have it. You're only a few miles from town, you can get him back to the lodge where he doesn't have to see or be near you.

Hell you won't say a word on the way back.

“Like you're not stupid for ignoring the warnings that I'm dangerous! I've killed people! Did you know that?! Did you even think that's what was so bad!?” he's giving you the same glare he had on when he talked about the fight with Tim.

“I could literally kill you right now, you've driven us out to who knows where but still remained in walking distance back to town. You live on the outskirts of it and it'd be so easy for me to make you disappear and everyone would believe your stalkers got to you.” his chest heaves at a vicious rate.

Despite the venom and truth of his words, you can't find it in you to be scared of him. If anything his rant proves Toby must not have been mentally well during his crimes, he's acting like a cornered alley cat not a serial killer. There's a vice grip on you heart at the thought.

“Ok...are you?”

It's like a switch has been flipped in him and he calms instantly.

“What?” he knows what you're asking.

“Are you going to kill me?” you asked like you'd been asking what time it was.

He stares at you looking you up and down, “No...I wouldn't.” his neck jerks triggering your own tic.

“Then I'm safe.” you slowly approach him, much like you would a feral alley cat. “I trust you Tobias.” you reach out to tough his arm again.

It hadn't worked in the car but Toby does seem to calm down faster when he's being touched. Like the sensation brings him back to reality and locks him there.

“Y-you shouldn'n'n't.”

He doesn't pull away this time as you place your hands gently on his forearms. His eyes raise to meet yours.

“...I've killed.”

He sounds so helpless.

The only thing you find shocking about this is that he actually did it. You know people are capable of all sorts of vile things. But the way Toby's voice breaks, the tremors that run through his body. You can't see any similarity with the horror show you once imagined, a Toby covered head to toe in blood and a vicious grin.

The fact that Toby killed doesn't really phase you much more than the ever present 'how' that rings out. He must have had a reason. Jo wasn't too worried so maybe it was circumstantial. Not to mention Toby's among the general public. Could it have just been an accident? A misunderstanding?

“I don't – no I'm not going to say 'I don't care', because this is something that really effects you but I...I guess what I'm trying to get at is..it doesn't bother me. I know it should but, Tobias I just can't picture you as a murderer.” that blood stained Toby flashes before you singing 'liar', “I got to know you before finding out any of this. So, I know there must've been a reason behind it. And that's...and you don't have to tell me anything.”

Nothing more is said, after all you've said everything you could think of to deescalate the situation. And Toby is frozen as he stares at you. You'd have thought he was dissociating had it not been for the way his eyes still held that tiny reflection of light. He was still present, just unsure how to proceed.

Honestly you were stumped too, you had no idea how to begin this conversation let alone end it.

“My – there was...” you rub his arm in a small circular motion. You don't need to hear anything more, it already feels like too much information that he'd lost the agency for.

But your gentle shushing did nothing because he continued, “Clairse says I had a psychotic break and...just went after the biggest stressor at the time.” he pauses with a deep breath and closes his eyes in the process. “She says it wasn't really my fault, I was under...a lot of – I wasn't there, where I should've been mentally. My dad was abusive...anyone in my situation would've broken at some point.”

His words are hollow and robotic. A mantra he's learned to say although he doesn't believe it.

You'd normally give someone the choice but this time you just slip you arms over his shoulders and pull him into a hug. There's no resistance from him either, if anything he leans into the embrace and grips onto your back. His trembling doesn't stop but it's softened by the pressure.

“You don't have to tell me anything Tobes. I don't want you to...not if it's this painful.”

“I want – want to tell you about Lyra.” his voice cracks in tandem with his neck as he says her name.

And he does tell you, against all your protests to take his time. He tells you everything laid out his whole life right in front of you. From being home schooled early on – isolated within his own home for years, to his older sister and her untimely accident that he's still clearly wracked with guilt about, and then the spiral that ended in patricide and a fire that ate his entire neighborhood.

By the end of his recounting he'd stopped trembling and letting out the occasional sniffle – and now the two of you were leaning on the hood of your car. Looking at the stars that just started coming out for the night, you occasionally whispered affirmations to Toby as he tells more stories from his childhood. The good ones this time.

His spirits aren't as high as they were when you'd started your evening but they're much better than they were two hours ago.

You chuckle as he finishes telling you about the time he and Lyra managed to sneak out of the house for a concert only to realize they had no way of getting back into the house when they returned. Their mom just opened the door letting them inside with a small crease in her brow but the smile that played at her lips told them everything they'd needed to know. They weren't in trouble, she'd sent them off to bed and in the morning asked how the show was. From the way Toby talked about his mom you can tell he really loves her. The feeling must've been mutual, if she sent them off to bed instead of dishing out a punishment all because Toby had smiled for the first time in weeks that night.

“Ah, favorite child Toby strikes again.” you joke.

This time Toby didn't say anything, you had been throwing small jokes in to help keep the mood light, but he just looked at you with his head tilted. A grim expression barely crossed his features before being replaced with a lopsided smile and warm but sad eyes.

“Y'kn – Kyra used to say that all the time.”

“Must be true then.”

He looks at his hands with the softest expression you've ever seen. It's an expression normally given to Connor, just sadder this time.

You nudge him getting his attention back to the present.

“You still want that slushie?”

He takes a moment to look around you and finally rests his gaze on the stars. “Not Franlin, not tonight.” he says focusing back on to you.

“Think we're two exits from Riverton if that helps. They have Wawas.”

“Wawas?” he chuckles.

You nod, “Yea they have smoothies and milkshakes.”

“Ooh la la.”

You both snort and head back into the car. It's surreal to be buckling back in, joking around with Toby when just hours prior you thought you'd be ending your friendship the moment you opened your mouth.

You can't help but ask, “Are we cool?”

“Yea...we're good. 's not like you fucking asked for the information.” he leans his head against the window and crosses his arms into himself.

“I'm still sorry about it though.”

“Know you are. But it's over now.” the finality of that statement takes the weight off of your shoulders. For the first time in days you can breathe again.

“Thanks for telling me everything...you didn't have to. But I appreciate you sharing it with me.”

His nails dig into his arms, or they would have if they weren't chopped down to the bit.

“I mrrow I-I didn't tell you everything...”

Nope this was over and done with, no more sad and scared Toby. You couldn't handle anymore, guilt had found a friend in discomfrot and the two had set out to eat you alive with every tremor that tore through Toby's body.

“What are you like a child murderer or something?” Giving a laugh to soften the joke.

….

You missed the way Toby tenses and sucks in a breath. His heart is beating wildly in his chest, so hard he's certain you hear it. Is that where you draw the line? Child murder. Of course you had to have some boundaries he couldn't just expect you to be cool with everything he's done. You were sure to figure it out sooner or later no thanks to your boss. But Toby couldn't loose you now. Not when you've been an anchor he hasn't had in such a long time. He feels almost human again when he's with you.

He's been quiet too long, at least he thinks he has. He needs to say something, joke around back and dismiss the notion. You can't know not now – maybe not ever.

“I'm trans!” he hadn't meant to blurt that out.

He stared at you with wide eyes. Why had he said that, that hadn't even crossed his mind. Just as he was about to laugh it off you reached over and lightly punched him in the arm. That small gesture sent a tickle down Toby's spine. It was such an innocent touch, but he was touched starved and knew it.

“I am too goof. Thanks for telling me but why the wait?”

Fuck now he had to think of something. Talking to you always made him so brain dead.

“Mrrow...mrr-you saw me as a man first...I wanted to keep it that way.” maybe he didn't have to make something up, just tell you the half truth.

Brian had questioned him when they got ready for the picnic why he hadn't worn his trans tie dye shirt and he's said he misplaced it. A bold lie to tell someone like Brian, especially since it'd been a gift from his mom. She had sent it in a care package last June. He'd never loose something his mom gave him, at least not so quickly. If he'd been being honest with himself at the time, he was worried about your reaction. Of course he knew you were trans too so not like you'd be one to be a transphobe, but he didn't want you to stop seeing him as a man and only see him as trans.

“Toby, you are a man. Nothing short of you telling me otherwise will change that for me.”

Toby isn't sure when you grabbed his hand but he's aware of your hold when you start to rub along his knuckles. He watches your thumb circle jis joints and pressing a bit into the divots as he takes another deep breath.

He gives his best smile, a lopsided uncomfortable looking thing, “I don't think I like when you call me Toby.”

#A cure for insomnia #Timothy Wright #timothy wright x reader #timothy wright x brian thomas #masky x reader #ticcitoby #ticci toby #ticci tobyx reader #ticci toby x reader #brian thomas x reader #Brian Thomas #masky #creepypasta fanfic

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jalapeno-princess · 4 years ago

Text

Something There

Prince Mark X Princess reader

Genre: Angst (fluff and potentially smut in the future chapters but this specific chapter is just full of angst).

Word Count: 6.5K

Summary: Ever since you were a little girl, you have been groomed to follow the ways of being royalty. Being a princess had it’s perks; you got to attend all of these fancy balls and parties, you lived in an enormous palace with your family and your best friend just so happened to be a prince of a neighboring kingdom. Everything was seemingly perfect. You barely had any worries other than what you would be like as queen once you would take over the family reign from your parents. You were still so young to be considering what your life would be like in the future, but your parents don’t give you much of a choice once you find out that they have given your hand away in marriage without your knowledge or consent. Although you knew it was going to happen sooner or later and you’ve accepted your fate, you weren’t ready to find out just who you were going to marry--and when it turns out that the man you are meant to spend the rest of your life with just so happens to be the same man you hate with a burning passion.

“Y/n! Are you ready yet? The Parks will be here any minute!”

You giggled softly to yourself at your mother’s hasty words as your chambermaid helped you with the final touches on your hair. That word never set well with you seeing as how Elizabeth—or Lizzie was more like a second mother to you rather than someone who was meant to work for you and do as she was told by your parents.

It wasn’t as though your family was ever mean to her or treated her as a servant. In fact, she was practically family; all of the people who worked your your family were more than just servants and it didn’t feel right calling any of them that. When you were first born, Elizabeth was hired to be your nanny and it was only for up until you were old enough to go to school. However, you quickly grew attached to her and her sweet, gentle and kind-hearted personality.

There were times that you felt as though she was more of a mother to you than your own mother and since you hardly had any friends, she was your confidant and seemingly your best friend. She finished curling the last piece of your hair and playfully squeezed your side as she noticed the wide grin that hasn’t left your face since you heard of the news that Jinyoung was coming over to the palace.

“You look beautiful as always my dear. I’m sure Jinyoung won’t be able to take his eyes off of you. He never seems to every time he comes over.”

If the blush wasn’t already extremely prominent earlier, now you were sure you must have been as red as a tomato. With the last few touches of powder on your nose; although it really wasn’t needed, Lizzie helped you in to your gown, and gave you a sweet smile as she took in you and all of your beautiful glory.

“Time to meet Prince Charming.”

Right as your mom had her hand the doorknob, ready to twist it open, you barely spared her a glance or even a polite greeting before storming past her in to the hallway. You mentally cursed yourself for not asking where the older boy was beforehand; your humble abode or so your parents referred it to was in more or less words gigantic. There were a lot more rooms than your family of five really needed. Twenty-five bedrooms, eighteen baths, three kitchens, a garden, six libraries—honestly you would have been content living in a simple three bedroom house.

You’ve been living in the palace from the moment you were born. All you have ever known was this life. Being a member of the royal family—but not just any member. The heir to the throne. You were the oldest sibling of your parents children. Your sister Angelina was fourteen and your brother Theodore was only seven. It was only natural for you to be the next in line for queen. However, you were growing tired of this life.

Sure, you were extremely grateful for the many blessings that you had because of who you were. You had a roof above your head, you had a great education, a family that loved you, people who took care of you and people who adored you—you were very lucky to be who you were. However, if you had the choice, you would run away; run away with the wonderful man you were only moments away from reuniting with after going weeks without seeing him.

The thought of settling down, moving in to a quaint little farmhouse and starting a family with Jinyoung never failed to make you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. You’ve known Jinyoung for almost your entire life. In fact, both his and your parents barely gave either of you enough time to learn how to talk before having you play with one another.

Since you were a little girl, Jinyoung was one of the only people your age that you could call a friend. It wasn’t until less than a year ago did your friendship with the handsome prince develop in to something more. You weren’t necessarily dating; Jinyoung claimed it was because he was aware of the fact that royals never got to choose their life partners—parents would decide who their children would spend the rest of their lives with.

Normally, it was with the child of another royal family and in most cases, the eldest child of either family would get married first. You were hoping that your parents brought the two of you together as friends for a reason; so that maybe one day you would become Mrs.Park Jinyoung. Sure, deep down you knew that it wasn’t exactly the most plausible situation but you were hoping and sometimes you’ve prayed that your dreams of marrying Jinyoung would one day come true.

You were still considerably young to be getting married; twenty-one was still an age of adolescence yet you were anticipating your parents giving you away to a future king in less than a year. Until then though, you and Jinyoung were selfish and began to see each other in secret. There were times where you’d sneak out through your window to meet him at a nearby park somewhere or he’d climb a tree just outside your bedroom and you’d find yourselves reading a bunch of books, stealing kisses from each other and just basking in the presence of the other.

As much as you didn’t want to say that your life was rough just because you had everything you could ever want and need—life as a royal could get very rough. There were so many eyes on you; everyone seemingly judged your every move and kept up with all the members of your family. If anyone were to find out about your secret rendezvous with Jinyoung, you were confident that you’d be the talk of the entire town. Plus, you were afraid of the consequences that came with going against your parents wishes or what was considered tradition.

Whenever you’d look at Jinyoung or even just think about him, it was in those moments that you wish you were a common person. The number one thing your heart desired was to spend the rest of your life with the person you loved, not the person your parents set you up with just so that your families would receive social gain and growth in power. You were miserable—not being able to choose your own destiny was heartbreaking and extremely unfair.

Jinyoung was verbal about how unhappy he was that he couldn’t be to you what he wanted to. No matter how hard either of you could try to hide it, there was no ignoring the fact that you and Jinyoung were simply not meant to be. That never stopped you and Jinyoung from doing whatever it was that your hearts desired together. Wherever life ended up taking you, he would always be your first true love.

You were racing down the hallway and wasted no time in guessing where the Parks could have been. The party being held tonight had been planned for months now; neither your father nor your mother went in to detail about what this party was for, but then again your parents were notorious for throwing parties without any actual reason behind them. People would come from near and far, all around the country just to be able to say they attended one of your family’s parties.

Your parents would have entertainment, music, delicious food, beautiful decorations and just nothing but the best ambiance and atmosphere. Once you finally made your way in to the ballroom, your eyes immediately landed on his devastatingly handsome features. God, Park Jinyoung was just the definition of perfect. He was currently dressed in a black suit and a red tie; a combination that you’ve mentioned to him a few times that you found very attractive. It brought a smirk to your face knowing that he was probably thinking about you while deciding what to wear tonight.

He had yet to notice you since he was kneeling on the ground, having a conversation with your younger brother. Watching the two of them interact and hearing the little boy laugh at what you were sure had to be a corny joke of his, you could feel your heart growing heavy. Jinyoung was such a gentleman and took care of both your siblings as if they were his own. He was also extremely kind-hearted and generous towards your parents. They would always ask when the next time he would come over was. He blended right in with your family—you were hopeful that maybe, just maybe your parents would find it in their hearts to break that stupid tradition and allow you and Jinyoung to be together.

You didn’t realize that you were so focused on the current state of your relationship with Jinyoung to notice that he was now walking towards you. The gentle squeeze of your hip broke you out of your thoughts as he dragged his fingers along the side of your cheek; causing goosebumps to raise on your skin.

“Hey princess. I’ve missed you so much. Have you missed me? You look stunning by the way. Simply gorgeous. How’s my favorite girl doing?”

If you weren’t in the middle of the grand ballroom where anyone could have seen the two of you interacting, you probably would have kissed him. His lips looked so soft and so pretty and with he way he was eying you up and down, licking and biting his bottom lip—you wanted to show him the effect his unwavering gaze was having on you.

“I’m doing a lot better now that you’re here. I’ve missed you too Jinyoung. You look very handsome.”

He sent you a flirtatious wink and motioned towards the direction of the library you frequently visited. Any time he hinted towards being intimate with you, you could physically feel your heart beat against your chest. Right as the response of agreement was on the tip of your tongue, a soft voice interrupted any plans you were moments away from having with the older boy.

“Y/n! You look beautiful sweetheart! How have you been? Jinyoung hasn’t stopped talking about you since our last visit—oh, sorry dear, I didn’t mean to—well, it’s not like you try to hide your excitement anyway. It’s so nice to see you again. Where are your parents?”

Mrs.Park pulled you in to a hug and allowed you to greet Mr.Park. To your dismay, in your peripheral vision, you could see the last person you felt like interacting with tonight. The sight of him made your skin crawl and you were sure that if you were to see yourself, you’d be wearing a scowl on your face.

“Mark, sweetie. Aren’t you going to say hello?”

You absentmindedly rolled your eyes at his mother’s curiosity. By his not so subtle scoff and the way he looked around at everyone and everything but you, it was clear that he had the same feelings of disgust as you were currently experiencing. Mark Tuan—he was Jinyoung’s older brother. The oldest of the Park siblings. Why he had a different last name than your best friend; you had yet to understand but you never asked since it wasn’t your business. You just assumed that maybe he took his mother’s maiden name while Jinyoung took their father’s last name.

You’ve known Mark for as long as you’ve known Jinyoung—but unlike the close knit relationship you held with his younger brother, you wanted nothing to do with the sarcastic asshole that was Mark Tuan. Honestly, you could tell by his actions alone that Mark hated you. He had to; there was no real explanation as to why he was so cold towards you and why he made it his responsibility to ignore you and pretend as if you didn’t exist.

When you were younger, you, Jinyoung and Mark often played with each other whenever you’d visit their castle or when they’d come over to your palace. At one point, maybe when you were six and Mark was eight, you considered yourself closer to him than you were with Jinyoung. He was a lot more fun and outgoing when you all were younger—but time was a bitch wasn’t she?

When he turned fourteen, that’s when he ended up cutting you from his life completely. It’s been almost ten years and you still had a difficult time comprehending his rough and crude demeanor towards you. You’ve asked Jinyoung on multiple occasions why Mark changed out of the blue; was something going on at home that seemingly changed him in to such a prick that lived to displease you?

Was it something you said or did that you didn’t realize back then? You weren’t going to lie, you missed Mark. Well—you missed the old Mark. The Mark that would read chapter books to you before you could even read on your own. The same Mark that stayed up till three in the morning with you because you had a nightmare and were too afraid to go back to sleep.

Sure, you should have asked him yourself what led him in to turning against you so that maybe, you’d be able to move on from it and stop blaming yourself for something that was out of your hands. But you were a coward and you were afraid that his behavior was all in your mind. Before anyone could say anything, he stormed past you and made his way in the direction of the kitchen. His mother gave you an apologetic look before bowing in remorse.

“I’m so sorry about him y/n, he’s had an exhausting day but that’s no excuse. We’d better go look for your parents. There’s a lot we need to talk about. You two go have fun. Jinyoung sweetheart, maybe later you can go keep your brother company. We all know how he feels about these parties. It’s always a pleasure seeing you y/n.”

You gave the older lady a gentle smile and allowed both Jinyoung’s parents on their way before motioning him towards your favorite hideaway. You were tempted to reach for his hand which was practically second nature to the two of you, but you were afraid of someone seeing the sudden movement of affection and you refused to allow someone get the two of you in trouble just so they could make a couple more bucks.

It didn’t take you long to make it to the library but once you finally did and locked the door behind you, Jinyoung wasted no time in pulling you against his chest. He swiftly shoved his face in the crook of your neck and left a couple of sloppy kisses against your jaw before looking down at you with a sad smile. His hand was cold as he cupped your cheek and as soon as his lips melded perfectly with yours, all the hostility you felt from earlier with that unnecessary interaction with Mark disappeared. All that mattered in that moment was the beautiful boy who’s embrace you were currently in.

“I’m sorry he’s such an ass. You don’t deserve that kind of mistreatment.”

Out of all the things Jinyoung could say or do, something about the way he cared so much about you and showed you as much as he would tell you made you feel as though your heart was about to jump from out of your chest. If you had it your way, you would have ran away with the boy in question and got hitched a long time ago. It was like this every time you’d be around his entire family. More so whenever Mark was around.

He always seemed to apologize for his brother’s brash actions and responses and you weren’t exactly fond of him anymore, but you did think about him every now and then. You wondered why things ended up the way that they were now—if he ever thought about you in a way other than disgust and hatred, and if he wished your friendship was what it used to be when you were kids. It didn’t matter though; you had many other things to worry about like one day ruling your kingdom and preparing for marriage.

“Hey, everything okay?”

You failed to realize that you were dozing off at the thought of Mark to listen to whatever it was Jinyoung was probably telling you. He continued to give you a look of pure curiosity but you refused to let him know what was going on in your mind. As much as you trusted Jinyoung with your life, you didn’t think he would understand why his brother was now taking up the capacity of your thoughts.

“I’m fine. Shall we go to the library—“

“Not so fast you two. The last time you snuck off to the library, nobody could find you for hours. There is meaning behind tonight’s party and a very important announcement will be made. Let’s go.”

A soft sigh fell from your lips; but it was quickly replaced by a child like grin and blush on your cheeks at the thought of what you and Jinyoung had been doing that warm summer day and why none of the staff nor either of your families could locate the two of you.

By instinct, Jinyoung reached for your hand—one of his favorite things to do with you was hold your hand. On multiple occasions, he has told you that holding your hand made him feel safe and at ease. You were his own personal security blanket. Unfortunately, it was as if he remembered that you weren’t alone. He was quick to retract his hand as he was to reach for yours and it sent a rush of sadness to your chest. If only you could be affectionate with him without having to worry what others would say or think. Hell, you couldn’t give less of a shit if the town were to talk about going against your parent’s wishes to be with the person who owned your entire being. Every time you thought about the future; living in a castle somewhere in the country, having a bunch of kids running around and ruling the Kingdom—Jinyoung was always right there by your side.

“Maybe we can sneak off later once my parents make the announcement.”

He hummed in agreement, but didn’t turn to look at you which was odd. With every chance he could get, he’d look at you while you talked or did practically anything. He just really loved looking at you. Now, his shoulders looked slumped and his excited demeanor from earlier was no longer. This made you wonder if he was upset that the both of you couldn’t get your alone time or if there was something weighing heavy on his mind.

He didn’t seemed bothered when you practically threw yourself in his arms not too long ago but then again, Park Jinyoung was the king of poker faces. If something ever did bother him, you could never tell because he’d never showed it no matter how troubled he was. As you walked in to the dining room, you were surprised to see just how beautifully it was decorated. Sure, your parents would set up the entire palace to look amazing with every party and event that your family held, but something about tonight was different and it worried you that you couldn’t put your finger on it.

“I forgot to tell you, you look breathtaking as always. I can’t seem to take my eyes off of you.”

You looked up at him and smiled fervently—grinning cheek to cheek. Every time he complimented you, you’d feel like a little school girl who had been flirted with by her crush. Jinyoung always knew exactly what to say to make you feel like the most important person in the room. When you entered the ballroom, all eyes immediately turned to face you. You were surprised to see just how many people your parents invited.

Whatever reason they were throwing this party had to be a pretty big deal. You recognized some of the guests to be fellow kings and queens with their families—there was also a couple of dukes and duchesses, governors, mayors and just a lot of important and very powerful people invited. However, you had a feeling with the way everyone seemingly turned their attention to you that this party had to do with you in some way. It wasn’t your birthday, nor did you think you accomplished anything worth celebrating. So why did everyone seem so interested in your sudden appearance?

“Jinyoung.”

“Hmm?”

“Is it just me, or is everyone looking at me?”

He gently squeezed at your side while leading you towards the table that your families were sitting at. The sight of Mark also gazing at you caused your stomach to tighten. As a princess, you were used to this kind of attention—but that was only when you knew the meaning behind it. Right now, you felt uncomfortable and that was an understatement. Mark wasn’t helping with the blank expression on his face. Thankfully, Jinyoung’s presence was taking your mind off of the anxiety building up in your chest.

“You’re the most beautiful girl here. That’s why. I can’t stop looking at you either. Don’t worry about it too much okay? Let’s just enjoy tonight. When we think everyone is distracted, then we can dismiss ourselves and have our own party. How does that sound?”

As much as you wanted to be excited at the thought of finally being alone with the older boy, you couldn’t push back the thought that something bad was about to happen. It was hard to put your finger on it, but something just didn’t feel right. You nodded slowly in agreement, just so that he wouldn’t ask you any more questions. You began to come up with different excuses to leave, but you didn’t want to hear it from your mother.

To your surprise, the night went off without a hitch; although you were still very anxious for reasons you didn’t even know yourself. Since you spent most of the night talking with Jinyoung, you were unable to witness the way Mark was sending daggers across of the table but you could feel him staring at you. As the night went on and it neared the end of the party, you slowly began to relax. Whatever reason the party was thrown for had yet to be made known of, so you assumed your parents either forgot or the reason wasn’t too important.

“Jinyoung.”

“Hmm?”

“I think they’re all distracted. Everyone is either drunk or exhausted and what better time to go than when everyone is—“

“Everyone. I have a very important announcement to make. Please gather around.”

You released a frustrated sigh as all the party guests gathered around the dining hall—filled with curiosity as to what your mother had to say. The suspense has been eating you away at the seams this entire night. Although you had yet to find out exactly what your mother had planned to confess, it didn’t take a genius to know you were involved in the announcement somehow. She grasped at your fathers hand and pulled him next to her; the look of worry on her face didn’t go unnoticed by you. In fact, you had a gut feeling that she probably wanted him there by her side for moral support.

“You all know, that in every royal family the first child is the heir of the kingdom. Our beautiful daughter y/n is going to be twenty-two soon. Although I do believe she is still so young, her father and I have decided that it is time for her to settle down and get married in order to continue our family name for many generations to come.”

As those words fell from her lips, you could feel your throat drying up. Nobody—neither your mom nor your dad said anything of the sort to you. Marriage? Your mom said so herself, you were still so young. Why were they having you get married and why didn’t they talk about this with you before humiliating you in front of hundreds of your guests? This is why she seemed tense the entire day; you should have known there was more to this party than just a simple celebration. Never does she worry about your timeliness like she did earlier. It was all making sense to you—she was worried that you were going to make a run for it if you were aware of what was going to go down tonight.

“Y/n—“

Your parents turned towards you and you completely ignored the look of remorse on your father’s face. How could they do this to you? Jinyoung’s hand slowly made its way up your arm and you were grateful he was trying his best to calm you down because you were only seconds away from having a panic attack. The idea of marriage didn’t bother you. You’ve always dreamt about getting married for such a long time now, but you weren’t ready yet. Especially because you were well aware that the beautiful man who was attempting to take your mind off of your unfortunate situation would not be the man you would call your king—your husband. To your dismay, it only got worse from there. Your mother’s next words made your head spin and you were ready to throw up.

“My husband and I along with the Park family have decided to unite as one in order to better control and take responsibility of our two kingdoms. Our two kingdoms will now become one on marriage. Since they’re both the eldest, Y/n and their oldest son Mark are set to marry in two months—“

You couldn’t even let her finish before storming out of there completely. The atmosphere was suffocating and you were on the verge of passing out. Just at the sound of his name with yours in the same sentence as marriage made your head spin.

There was no way—no way in hell that you were going to marry Mark Tuan. They couldn’t force you to marry him. You haven’t had a genuine conversation with him for over nine years and every time you did have to talk with him, his words were always filled with malice and disgust. You were extremely vocal about the fact that your friendship with Mark was no longer what it used to be when the two of you were kids. Your mother knew all about your grudge against the older boy and how he always tried to make you feel bad about yourself, so why did either of your parents feel like setting up an arranged marriage with a man you were sure wanted nothing to do with you?

Did you do something to anger them? Did they just so happen to find out about you and Jinyoung and were angry with the idea of you sneaking behind their backs and going against royal tradition? How could they force you to marry the brother of the man who was the rightful owner of your heart? There was no way you could do it.

There was no way you could ever see Mark in a way other than disgust. How could you spend your life with someone you’ve spent more time bickering with and insulting than having an actual decent interaction? You can’t even remember the last time he said hello to you without throwing in a crude comment. Once you made it to your room, you slammed the door and sank to the ground while tears built up in your eyes.

Since you ran without hearing the entire announcement, you failed to learn all of the details behind the marriage but you didn’t care. You were set on running away—or at least you weren’t going to give up without a fight. You were old enough to make your own decisions. As much as you loved your parents, you couldn’t help but think that marrying you off to Mark was to bring more power and wealth to both his family and yours.

Bringing up the idea of marrying Jinyoung was weighing heavy on your heart—you would still be becoming one kingdom, but just with a different son. Your parents brought you and Jinyoung together all those years ago for a reason didn’t they? Was it not to get the two of you to become close so that you’d get used to one another and end up agreeing to marriage? God, you wanted to scream to the top of your lungs but nothing was coming out. You felt defeated—broken, helpless.

You didn’t know how long you were sitting on the ground for, but when you heard the soft knock on your door you were hoping that it was the only person you wanted to see right now. Knowing how he could be though, there was a chance it wasn’t Jinyoung. He was the kind of person who wanted to give you your space for a few moments before allowing you to lean on him and as much as that was a quality of his that you admired, there was nothing you wanted more than for him to hold you and to tell you that everything was going to be alright. You were met with disappointment when you opened the door to Lizzie, but that was only because she wasn’t Jinyoung.

Jinyoung.

How was he feeling at the news? The two of you might not have been an actual couple, but there was a mutual unspoken agreement that you belonged to each other. His heart was yours just as much as yours was his. He was the man whose wedding ring you wanted on your finger. He was the man whose arms you wanted to fall asleep in and whose kisses you wanted to be waken up with in the morning. You wanted nothing more than to have mini Jinyoung’s running around the palace and you wanted to rule the kingdom with him by your side.

Due to tradition however, you accepted the fact that the life of your dreams would never happen. The two of you kept sneaking around and ignoring the fact that the chances of the two of you actually ending up together were even more slimmer than the chances of him becoming king one day. However, you held on tightly to the hope that one day, your parents would come to the conclusion that tradition is stupid and there’s no legitimate reason as to why royal families continued to follow it.

Did he know about this? There’s no way he could have. He would have warned you wouldn’t he? Both you and Jinyoung told one another every single thing that went on in your life. Whether it was good news or bad—he’d celebrate with you if something good happened and he’d comfort you if the world wasn’t on your side. If he even had the slightest hunch about his parents along with your parents wanting to marry off you and Mark, he would have told you about it. Or at least, you would want him to. But you couldn’t read minds; you didn’t know what he was thinking and this now made you wonder—what did Mark think? Did he know about the arranged marriage?

Was he as hurt and disturbed at the news? Did he run away like you had not too long ago or was he currently trying to get his parents to change their minds? Everything was just too much and your mind was racing. Thankfully, instead of saying anything, Lizzie pulled you in to her arms and softly began to run her fingers through your hair. She didn’t say anything as she consoled you which is what you preferred. It boggled your mind sometimes; she was more of a mother to you than your own. Your parents were always so busy with their duties to really pay attention to you and your siblings.

Lizzie practically raised you, which is why you weren’t surprised that she knew exactly what to do to get you to calm down. You couldn’t even count on two hands just how many times you’ve cried in front of her and how she got you to settle down before things got worse. When you felt her run her thumbs right under your eyes, that’s when you were made aware that you were crying. Though, who could blame you?

Sure, you’ve been groomed to do whatever your parents told you to and you were aware of the fact that it was highly likely for your hand to be given away in marriage to someone not of your choice since you were old enough to grasp the idea of marriage. Yet—you weren’t prepared to go along with any of this. Once Lizzie felt as though your sobs slowly silenced, she led you over to your bed and had you sit down before taking her place right next to you. With all the energy you could muster, you placed your head on her shoulder as a exasperated groan fell from your lips.

“I know I should have known something like this was coming, but I don’t think I can do this.” The comforting touch of both her hands on either sides of your arms relaxed you quite a bit, but you were still so frustrated.

“I know sweetheart and I’m so sorry it has to be this way—but you and I both know you have to. There’s no getting out of this.”

She was right; you’d never have enough courage to run away and you were confident that even if he did care about you and wanted to be with you, Jinyoung loved his mother too much to do such a thing like that. You too loved your parents too much to dishonor them by not going along with their wishes. However, you wanted to be selfish. You wanted to choose yourself first this time. From the moment you realized you were a princess, you followed every single one of your parents orders no matter how much you disagreed with it. This time around was different. This time—your heart desired to put yourself first and there was no way in hell you were going to take Mark’s last name and move in to the same palace as him.

“But Lizzie—“

“No buts my dear. I know, trust me. I wish things could be different, but this is an example of why being a royal isn’t all that people assume it to be. Yes, you have privilege and luxury, but at a cost. In your situation, you can’t be with the person you love. Hey, Mark seems like a nice guy and he’s very good looking—“

“Haha, very funny. Mark Tuan? Nice? I don’t think those three words belong in the same sentence. He’s the biggest asshole I know. He hates my guts. You don’t see the way he looks at me Liz, it’s like I’m the scum of this earth—the dirt underneath his fancy dress shoes. This marriage will never work.”

She got up from the bed and you looked up at her in curiosity but she didn’t give you any chance to ask what she was doing before the older lady made her way over to your closet. A tiny smile rose on your face as you saw her preparing your nightgown; you were ready to call it a night after the mess of events you just went through and you could only pray neither your parents were going to come find you and bring you back outside. As she helped you out of your dress, you released a sigh of comfort. One would think being a princess was so much fun because you got to dress up for parties, but if you had the choice you would wear a pan suit.

“He doesn’t hate you—and before you give me that look, I actually observe the way he looks at you. You on the other hand, I don’t think you get to see the way he looks at you. You’re too busy ogling his younger brother to even notice him at all. I don’t think it’s my old eyes deceiving me, but I think he looks at you—well not at you, but he looks at Jinyoung in jealousy.”

You couldn’t help yourself; a sarcastic chuckle came from the back of your throat at her revelation. Mark? Jealous? Of what? What was there for him to be jealous of? By the knowing look on her face, and from past experiences of how slow you were whenever it came to realizing things, she opened her mouth and spoke before you could even ask what she was referring to.

“He really has no reason to be jealous. You’re just being silly. Why would he be jealous of Jinyoung?”

As much as you admired and loved Lizzie, you couldn’t believe one word that was coming out of her mouth. There was no way Mark would ever see Jinyoung as competition and they weren’t exactly close, but at least they were civil.

“Why would he be jealous? Well, there’s a lot I don’t know about their relationship but what does Jinyoung have that Mark doesn’t?”

“You.”

#got7 imagines #mark tuan #got7 mark #got7 #mark tuan imagines

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hyukiee · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 1: Destiny

warnings: cussing, drug use, mental illness (future fluff, smut, angst, etc.)

this is my first story i’m writing on tumblr, I hope y’all like it. I’ll probably update once or twice a week. I plan on this not so lovely love story to be pretty long.. and angsty. Enjoy :)

Dreams are one of the most unknown things we experience, yet no one questions our lack of knowledge about them when we lay in bed at night. Not everybody dreams. Some people only dream when their happy... or sad... or scared... or it just happens every blue moon for no reason at all. You dream every day, to the point where you feel a little depressed if you don’t have one. They never take you to wonderland, their never right, something is always off but you liked them anyways. They gave you an escape from reality, until reality started showing up in your dreams. The reality that you’re slowly killing yourself when really this was supposed to be the peak of your existence. The reality that you literally gave the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, the ugliest look in downtown Hollywood and the reality that you know you will ruin his life or get close to it.

‘That stupid fucking asshole, I can’t believe that no good piece of shit left me to fend for myself. It’s so fucking hot. Fuck off Karen, my face is easier to look at than that awful sweater. Fuck. I need to sit down.’ You stopped walking and you look at yourself through the reflection of some enterance to a cafe, it smells like. Jesus christ, those eye bags look like black eyes. You went to your closest friends party the other night, you didn’t want to go so that explains the oversized grey hoodie and grey sweats that... have dirt on them? How the fuck- you know what, you’ve seen worse. You can’t go inside the cafe looking like this though. The shady floor will do for now. Everyone is wearing work clothes so you must of slept through all of Sunday. Alone. Because your dick head of a friend abandoned you, god knows when but for someone that slept through an entire day, you’re tired. Maybe it’s just the mental exhaustion you live with but god you could use a nap. “E-eguse me ehm here you go,” you look up and see the most perfectly built man you have ever seen, holding a.. $10 bill? You unknowingly glare at him after noticing his arm holding out the money to you. He looked nervous, and foreign as fuck what accent is that? “I’m not homeless, fuck off.” Who the fuck is he to assume your homeless? Cant someone sit in piece for a little? Prick. You stood up, hitting his shoulder as you walked away, not ever looking back at his beautiful face.

Wake up, go to the beach, take a xans, go to work, go home, sleep, wake up, eat, sleep, and wake up to repeat the process. You always hated living by a constant schedule, but at this point you do anything you can to hurt yourself. The weekends are different though, its always spontaneous. Will you snort a line with the crackheads down the street or will you go to a party because you know the college kids adore their new interest in drugs? You really don’t need drugs. You’re fine. Depression put you in this place and god you feel like a coward. People go through so much more and stay away from drugs. Coward. Your thoughts consist of things like this often, even when your supposed to be hearing your idiot friends excuse for abandoning you last week. “Y/n, seriously, I could of sworn you were dead.” “Wow, thanks Julian, i’ll make sure to leave your lifeless body instead of calling 911 like a sane person when I get the chance.” You both rolled your eyes in sync. You loved Julian, he’s such a dumbass but despite saying he’s your closest friend, your hardly friends. You met before you dropped out of college, he was your dealer, one of the nicest ones you’ve met. You ran into him often and bought from him often as well so you would talk but the reality is he only stays because you’re his best costumer and you frankly don’t care because you are too lost to even care about someone else.

“Y/n, I think you should lay back on your habits a little bit,” Julian broke the silence you both had on the pier. You both liked to meet up at the pier and smoke a little. “Oh please, don’t act like you care. Drop the act and be a fake friend to me, please,” you spoke unemotionally, making eye contact with him. “I’ve never met someone asking for a fake friend.” “Real ones require you to love and deal with them. I can’t do that for you Julian but I know that’s not what you wanted anyways. I practically pay your rent, just thank me and change the topic.” He sighed. Not a disappointed one, a relived one. Julian has been a dealer for a very long time, he stopped caring about his costumers decisions. He didn’t truly care for your health, it was the sad truth. He did get worried that night at his party but only because he isn’t heartless. You knew that though, you seemed so lifeless and incapable of feeling anything to him. He wondered about your story at times but he knew somehow he would never get it. You’re easy to talk to though, it’s nice. “Thank you.”

Ever since you were little you wanted to live in a big city like L.A. Although, you imagined you would be going to UCLA and going to study on a beach just because you could. Standing next to Julian in line at Coachella, you just now take in how completely different your life turned out but at least you did end up here. Julian gets into Coachella for free every single year so your always his +1. You love gatherings like this but this one is just a little too Pg for you. You always end up spending most of your time at the food trucks. But according to Julian, ‘so many people would kill to be around this many celebrities’ so maybe you could get a drink or two in and mingle or whatever. It won’t kill you. So here you are, waiting to get a margarita because god knows you can’t be any type of social while sober. “I guess you weren’t homeless after all, my apologies,” you turn around and see the beautifully built man leaning down towards you. You could run. You’re not to far from the exit and it would be impossible to run into this guy for a third time... right? “Are you following me?” That was supposed to stay in your thoughts.. Is he though? How the hell do you see each other in two different cities? Sure, everyone knows about Coachella but how does he recognize you, you look good today, not homeless or drugged up, whichever works. “Ah, sorry, my english bad,” He stood up straight rubbing his hand on the back of his neck nervously. Right. Foreigner with a unknown accent. “What language do you speak?” It’s not like you’re going to understand his language but your curiosity is getting the best- “Korean.” You know it really isn’t too late to run. This man could be lying, trying to kidnap you and sex traffic you. What are the chances he just happens to speak the one other language you do as well. He could be faking this for all you know. “Hello,” You haven’t spoken in Korean since high school. You dont know why you even let that out. “You speak Korean? Wow, hello!” He bowed to you slightly with a box like smile on his face. That’s cute. It’s different. “I really am sorry for mistaking you the other day, do you mind me asking what happened?” “I was on a lot of drugs at a party and my friend abandoned me because he thought I overdosed.” You learned a long time ago to leave your addiction to yourself. People look at you differently when you do drugs, even your closest friends. That’s one of the first lessons you learn as a drug addict, keep it to yourself. The only people that know you do drugs are the ones that do them too. You could of lied to him, but the self destructive part of you couldn’t help but push this stranger away. You turned around to look at him after it got awkwardly silent. “What? You surprised? Scared? No harsh feelings, I don’t even know you.” You held in a laugh from his shocked and awkward expression. “Your right, we don’t know each other, I’m Taehyung,” He held out his hand replacing his taken aback expression back to his box-y smile, pretending what you said just never happened. ”Y/n,” You sighed. He won’t give up whatever this is. Fantastic. “Well actually, i’m supposed to be talking with famous people or something like that so I should get going,” You didn’t know how to get out of this situation. You felt like you couldn’t breathe with him standing so close to you. This conversation gets more and more awkward everytime you speak. “Then why are you leaving?” You both stared at each other, surprisingly not awkwardly. It was comforting looking into his eyes. “What? “You know what, I actually should go before i’m late, i’ll see you later,” he gave you one last smile and patted your shoulder before leaving you. “But- Why? What?”

“I just had the most uncomfortable conversation of my life with this insanely perfect looking man,” you spoke almost out of breath, finally finding Julian in the crowd. “Yeah, i’m pretty sure I saw who you’re talking about when I left you,” Julian is such an old soul. He responded while looking ahead at the stage, almonds in one hand like a football dad. “Who’s performing next” “Uh, BTS.” You hardly listen to music these days. Music that doesn’t fit your ‘fuck life, love drugs’ aesthetic. BTS doesn’t ring a bell so you probably won’t like it but it’s not like you have anything else to do, you’ve had enough with weird interactions. “Remind me why we’re sober,” you sighed, starting to feel the pain from standing for so long. “I’m sober, you’re drunk.” Julian glanced at the margarita in your hand. Right, you almost forgot. “Oh, don’t judge-“ “Sh sh sh their coming.” He hit your shoulder a couple of time looking at the stage like a child. You hate when people tap on you it’s so annoying. You sighed for the one thousandth time and focused on the group of people coming to the stage. Asians, how convenient. You know if life really hated you they would be Korean just like- “Ey, isn’t that the ‘insanely perfect looking man’ you were talking about? I can’t tell.” You have got to be kidding. That’s why he asked why you were leaving. He’s fucking famous. “I need another drink,” You sighed.

#bts #fanfic #kpop #bts angst #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #kpop fanfic #bts fluff

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basicsofislam · 4 years ago

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ISLAM 101: Muslim Culture and Character: Morals And Manners: Defusing Hatred And Animosity

Harboring rancor and animosity means looking for re- venge and retribution. The heart of one who is envious or rapacious has been darkened and their mental facilities are taken over by vengeance. This feeling of vengeance grows until it pushes out all the love and faith in a person, and they be- gin to put revenge before everything, even obedience to God.

By contrast, freeing the heart of rancor and enmity quickly brings a psychological balance and harmony between the heart and mind, the physical and the spiritual. A person who can keep their temper under control will be of greater benefit to society and able to cultivate their higher emotions to their full potential.

In the Qur’an God tells us that the rancor and enmity harbored by people have a dangerous potential to trigger injustice:

O you who believe! Be upholders and standard-bearers of right for God’s sake, being witnesses for (the establishment of) abso- lute justice. And by no means let your detestation for a people (or their detestation for you) move you to (commit the sin of) deviating from justice. Be just: this is nearer and more suited to righteousness and piety. Seek righteousness and piety and always act in reverence for God. Surely God is fully aware of all that you do. (Maeda 5:8)

Every type of anger and vexation gives rise to mental problems and physical illnesses. Without sincere forgiveness, without “letting go,” total recovery is impossible. Hatred, animosity, rage, wanting to “get even” or see others punished, even criticism and reproach, all pollute the mind, weaken the soul, and eventually ruin a per- son’s health. It could be said that overcoming anger can be achieved if one nurtures a desire to help others and trains one’s thoughts along these lines, as well as trying to seek to live a life that is more “behind the scenes” rather than striving to be the center of atten- tion. In the Qur’an God says,

They spend (out of what God has provided for them,) both in ease and hardship, ever-restraining their rage (even when pro- voked and able to retaliate), and pardoning people (their offenses). God loves (such) people who are devoted to doing good, aware that God is seeing them. (Al Imran 3:134)

Human nature is created in such a way that a person can fluc- tuate between good and bad. Knowing this, it is necessary to know how to deal with one’s own ego, keeping in mind that good comes from God while evil comes from the ego and leads to ulti- mate destruction. A person who knows that they are prone to vac- illating between good and bad actions must expend extra energy to ensure that they refrain from major sins and to avoid situations that could lead to doing wrong: “Those who avoid the major sins and indecent, shameful deeds (which are indeed to be counted among major sins), and when they become angry, even then they forgive (rather than retaliate in kind)” (Shura 42:37).

Furthermore, in order to avoid anger or antipathy, we have been given several strong mainstays, such as praying for one’s own forgiveness, the forgiveness of our brothers and sisters in religion, and that of our spiritual ancestors, asking God not to allow seeds of bitterness and anger against believing people grow in our hearts, and expecting these prayers to be accepted; these are all stated in the following Qur’anic verse:

And all those who come after them (and follow in their foot- steps) pray, “O our Lord! Forgive us and our brothers (and sisters) in Religion who have preceded us in faith, and let not our hearts entertain any ill-feeling against any of the believers. O our Lord! You are All-Forgiving, All-Compassionate (espe- cially toward Your believing servants). (Hashr 59:10)

There are also some useful indications in the life and practice of Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him, regarding the control of anger and animosity. Some of these enlighten- ing hadith are as follows.

The Prophet warned Anas ibn Malik while the latter was still a child, telling Anas that he should forgive those who had done him wrong, and thus avoid having his spirit sullied with enmity or lin- gering resentment. Anas ibn Malik related the following narration from the Messenger of God: “My child! Every morning and every evening, make sure you hold no grudge or enmity against anyone. Do this, if you can, my child! This is my example. Whoever fol- lows my example truly loves me. And whoever loves me will be with me in Paradise.”16 As we can see, those who can purify their hearts of jealousy, anger, and animosity will be together with the Prophet and reach Heaven.

Anger that burns the soul brings a feeling of vengefulness to the heart and can feed vengeful actions. Some people easily lose their temper. They are merciless, severe, and cruel. Some people, though they have quick tempers, are also quick to recover from anger.

In this regard the Prophet divided people into three basic groups, according to how quickly they anger and how quickly their anger departs. He also explained which one of these groups is most virtuous. In addition, he gives an immediate practical so- lution for anger: taking ablutions to help the feeling subside.

Abu Said al-Khudri narrated, “God’s Messenger said, ‘Be aware that there are people who are slow to anger and quick to repent of their anger; there are also people who are quick to an- ger and quick to get over it. There is also a third group of people, who anger quickly and are slow to let their anger go. The best of these are those who are slow to anger and quick to turn from an- ger. The worst are those who are quick to anger and are slow to let their anger go. Beware! Anger is like a burning ember in the heart of man. Do you not see the eyes that glow and the cheeks that puff out? Whoever feels himself beginning to get angry, he should touch the ground….”17

Accordingly, taking ablutions or bathing as well as touching the ground or walking on the soil barefoot are some practical ways of dispelling anger. But there is another dimension as well: one who feels overwhelmed by anger should seek refuge in God.

Muadh ibn Jabal relates, “Two people cursed each other in the presence of the Messenger. The face of one of them showed anger at the other. God’s Messenger said, ‘I know a word that you can say to ward off the anger that I see in your face. That is a‘udhu billahi min ash-shaytan ar-rajim (I seek refuge in God from Satan, who is eternally rejected from God’s Mercy).’”18

Abu Hurayra provided the following hadith: “A man asked the Prophet, ‘O Messenger of God! Give me a short, easy piece of advice, that I won’t forget it.’ He repeated his request several times, and the Prophet answered with, ‘Don’t get angry!’”19

A person with a quick temper should be careful not to miss good advice or exhortation by becoming upset at being urged to that which is good or commendable (and therefore not listening to the other person). Ibn Abbas narrates that when Uyayna ibn Hisn came to Medina, he stayed with his nephew Hurr ibn Qays, who was a person whom Umar used to keep near him as one of the learned men who knew the Qur’an by heart (qurra) and who by virtue of their knowledge can give legal opinion or judgment (fuqaha). Uyayna said to his nephew, “O nephew! You are close to this ruler, so ask him for an audience for me!” So the nephew asked Caliph Umar for this. But when Ibn Hisn came into Umar’s presence, he said, “Beware! O the son of Khattab! By God, you neither give us enough provision nor judge among us with jus- tice!” Umar was extremely upset. He was almost ready to hit Uyayna when Hurr jumped up and said,

“O Ruler of the Believers, God said to His Messenger, ‘Adopt the way of forbearance and tolerance, and enjoin what is good and right, and withdraw from the ignorant ones (do not care what they say and do)’ (A’raf 7:199). This man is ignorant.” When Hurr recited this verse Umar instantly froze in his tracks; he could not ignore the Qur’an, so he did nothing to the insolent man.20

A person who is overwhelmed by anger will have trouble making sound decisions. There is a direct prohibition regarding situations like this. Abu Bakr told his son ‘Abdullah, who was serving as a judge, “When you are angry, do not judge between two people. For the Messenger said, ‘No one should judge be- tween others when he is angry.’”21

Concerning the verse, “Goodness and evil can never be equal.

Repel evil with what is better (or best). Then see: the one between whom and you there was enmity has become a bosom friend. And none are ev- erenabled to attain it (such great virtue) save those who are patient (in adversities and against the temptations of their souls and Satan), and none are ever enabled to attain it save those who have a great part in human perfections and virtues” (Fussilat 41:34–35), Ibn Abbas said, “‘what is better (or best)’ in this verse means ‘patience at the mo-ment of anger, and forgiveness at the moment we are wronged.’ If people do these things, God will protect them from their enemies; He will cause their enemies to become friends for them.”22

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c-is-for-circinate · 5 years ago

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I've been trying to figure out why I dont like Caduceus and your last meta reply got me closer to figuring it out. Like, I've been trying to like him, or at least figure why I dont, and describing him as 'a good person who doesnt have the self awareness to realize hes a jerk' I think got close to my issue with him, so thanks for the Good Meta

This is in response to this post, which I know some people agreed with very strongly and which made some other people very upset. I’m glad it clicked with you, at least, and that it helped clarify some Cad stuff for you!

I think that a very big thing about Taliesin’s characters across the board, for me, is how intensely judgy they have the capacity to be. In many ways, Caduceus is less judgmental than Percy or Molly, which is a fascinating thing to think about. And I have found that fascinating since pretty much my second or third episode of Critical Role, because so much of that judgment tends to be couched in, ‘I judge you for not accepting other people the way I think you should’. Percy loves Keyleth but also thinks she’s naive, too idealistic about what people ought to be rather than acknowledging and planning for the flaws he’s sure he knows they have. Molly dresses and talks and walks and presents himself in such a flamboyant way specifically to elicit reactions, specifically so he can decide who to write off completely and not worry about any more. In both cases it’s this super-interesting, incredibly relatable picture of a person who judges other people for their judgments.

Because Critical Role is such a long-form show, we got to see Percy be proven right and be proven wrong, we got to see him smug and we got to see him humble, and we got to see a lot of different angles on both his standards (what other people ought to be doing) and his stubbornness (how ready he was to dismiss people who didn’t meet them). Because we lost Molly so early, we only really got to start scratching the surface of his assumptions and certainties, and one of my biggest regrets is that we didn’t get to explore them so much more. In both cases, that stubborn sureness--I know how the world works, better than anybody around me--was one of my favorite parts of the character. It’s such an interesting flaw, because it wasn’t always detrimental. Both Percy and Molly were often right, or at least they acted in line with their assumptions and the universe responded how they expected, and the team benefited from it. Both of them had a certain amount of ‘and it’s our job to be decent to other people’ as part of that worldview, which really helped in making them likable. Both of them made sense, which led to the (for me) really great cognitive experience of, “okay, I agree with this character, but also I don’t think they’re the ultimate authority they believe themself to be! but I do think they’re right! but maybe they shouldn’t be so sure they’re right!” I find internal narrative conflict like that extremely compelling, and in particular the exploration of being judgmental about other people’s judgment resonates with me a lot.

So I’ve been waiting for cracks and criticisms with Caduceus, because I suspected from very early on that he, too, would be Extremely Sure He Understands How the World Works At All Times. I have been looking for the places he Knows He’s Right, and I’ve been eating them up.

Cad’s certainties are completely different than Percy’s and Molly’s, but once again, it’s incredibly difficult to say he’s wrong. He believes in fate--well, if you declare that everything that happens was supposed to happen, how is it ever possible to say he’s wrong? He believes Melora is watching and guiding and wants for him to do things--it’s D&D, she literally is watching (and if she happens to be a lot less invested in any specific outcome than Caduceus thinks, she’s not about to tell him so). He believes he has a job, has a purpose. Because it’s D&D, because it’s a story, because the story needs to go places and as the PCs it’s their job to do things to get there, on a very real meta level he’s literally correct.

He thinks that his job and his purpose is to help people--and how can we say he’s wrong? How can we say he shouldn’t try to be a good person, try to help? And he’s doing his best, and his best so often does help, and when it doesn’t, then it’s not his fault because there are other circumstances. It’s almost impossible to argue with that. Objectively, Caduceus is doing his best. Objectively, in many cases it is helpful.

And yet, that doesn’t mean that Caduceus objectively knows the best way to help in every situation--which even he readily admits. It doesn’t mean Caduceus necessarily knows the “best” way to help even in the situations where he is helpful.

Because right, the other thing about D&D is, Caduceus fundamentally cannot be the Sole Correct Authority on Everything, no matter how much sense his sureness makes. He literally can’t be, because Tal is one of eight people at that table, and he’s not the one running the world. He can be absolutely justified in being mad at Nott, which he absolutely is, and it still isn’t a universal truth that Caduceus Is Right and Nott Is Wrong. There are no universal truths at that table. Not even Matt has universal truths, not about what characters think or feel or do, not about moral absolutism.

(I’m someone who gets really twitchy around people who are Extremely Sure. I’ve known a disproportionate number of them in real life, and I’ve got very specific instinctive skills for not pissing them off that I occasionally wish I hadn’t had to develop. Part of turning from a conflict-averse 20-year-old into a grown-ass adult on my part has involved learning not to automatically agree that the universe must work a certain way, just because a very smart, very sure person who makes sense says so. Part of it’s involved learning not to be that very sure person myself.

I think I grab at moments when Caduceus very clearly isn’t 100% correct because of that. I love the fact that, in Critical Role, we have this multi-layered, many-voiced story proving that even if a character is right, they’re not necessarily the bearer of Objective Universal Truth. Rather than a story where it feels like the author and the universe are trying to make me agree with one person, it’s a story where a character can be right and not right from a thousand different directions at the same time. (Which, if nothing else, makes the story and the character feel so much safer to me.))

Caduceus is a little bit passive-aggressive sometimes, going back to Caduceus and Nott and the original discussion of that other post. And, right, he wants to avoid conflict within the group so he doesn’t make a big deal out of certain things, and just like all of his opinions, it’s hard to say he’s wrong in that. And he has every right and reason and justification for having emotions about some of the many very big things that have happened to him lately. He’s right (he’s not wrong) about a lot of things. He’s actually really good about recusing himself from situations where he doesn’t have the background or knowledge to be right at least to his own standards.

The thing that has me calling Caduceus a little childish is that he’s so utterly disinclined to acknowledge the possibility of nuance. He knows how to help Fjord (he’s decided that he knows how to help Fjord), so he does. He doesn’t know how to help Nott, so he doesn’t. We’ve never seen him take so much as a moment to consider whether or not he’s right in his assessment of his ability to help in either case. And yeah, to me that does feel a little immature. It’s not that he’s got a philosophy and he sticks to it, it’s that he lacks the self-awareness to even acknowledge the blind spots it might give him, let alone try to amend them.

And that’s okay. Acknowledging that Caduceus might possibly be a little bit of a hypocrite, a little judgy, a little wrong in his mental image of the universe and his place in it, makes him so much more interesting. It makes him a person. Not an infallible mouthpiece from God; not a perfect sage holding all the wisdom of the ages. He’s a good person, trying to do his best.

He’s a good character, because he’s an examination of how all these traits both hinder and sometimes help his attempts to be a good person. Stubborn certainty got the M9 up on their feet after Yasha left, comforted Fjord away from U’kotoa, saved a tribe of giants. Caduceus is multifaceted, and the game is multifaceted, and the very same characteristics can be great in one situation and a real problem in another, just like life.

#asked and answered #critical role #driveby meta attack #welp #apparently I still had Things To Say about Cad #Anonymous

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astrozones · 5 years ago

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Sanders Behavioral Health, Chapter 1: Virgil Starts Freaking Out More Than Usual

Trigger warning: mental health stuff. Major mental health stuff. For the whole fic.

Group Therapy AU. Prinxiety and Logicality eventually.

Three hours.

Three goddamn hours of his life dedicated to therapy. Every. Single. Day.

Except weekends. At least he still had his weekends.

When his father had told him of the “amazing” news, Virgil was seriously rethinking going back to his old family.

Coming from an abusive home to a place where others cared about him was jarring, to say the least. Parts of it he adored. Not being punished for coming home a couple minutes late? He couldn’t say he wasn’t grateful. But since his time at his new family’s house, he had been diagnosed with anxiety, depression, and a hint of OCD. And when his parents put him in therapy for the first time, he found it dull, but a good escape from his bad thoughts.

But when his therapist suggested Sanders Behavioral Health, he was apprehensive. Even more so when she told him that three hours of his day would be dedicated to working on his anxiety. His social anxiety, mostly. Virgil had stared at her in disgust, why would he ever want to go there? Why would he want to go somewhere that would give him more anxiety, on purpose, rather than stay at home scrolling through YouTube?

He was even more disgusted when his adoptive father had happily agreed to look into it.

Yes, Virgil wanted to get better. God, he wanted to get better so bad, to be away from the thoughts that plagued his mind. That’s what he told himself, at least.

Maybe he didn’t want to get better. Maybe he wanted to stay in his room all day because that was what he was used to. He was content at this stage, and so what if he was destroying his future and the potential for happiness? He was here now and he was content, wasn’t that good enough?

He would never say that to his therapist. If he did, she would tell his dad, who would in turn tell his mom, and they’d worry about him more. If this was the life he had to live, then so be it.

So here he was, in the lobby room of the building he had dreaded coming to since they made the first call to get him into this institute. He hunched over in his hoodie, idly scrolling through his phone, trying to collect his thoughts. What if he made a mistake? What if it turned out he had been faking it this whole time and they got mad? What if he did something embarrassing? Oh, god, what if they hated him? What if-

The lobby door slammed open. Virgil jumped in his seat, his father gently putting a hand on his shoulder. In stepped a boy that looked just about the same age as himself. Oh, for the love of-

“I HAVE REETUUURNED~,” the boy sung, arms spread as wide as he could with a binder in his hands. “No need to fear, your Prince is here!” Virgil pursed his lips.

“Yeah, ‘prince’, my ass.” he mumbled, looking back down at his phone. The boy spluttered indignantly, to Virgil’s confusion. That wasn’t even a good insult, so why was the boy getting mad at him? Oh god, oh shit, I already made an enemy-

“Roman, please just sign in.” The front desk lady said with a small smile. The boy, or rather, Roman, blushed, with an “oh, right” as he did as he was told.

Roman slumped down in a seat, turning to the only other kid in the room.

“So, Mr. Professionalism, I know it’s only my second proper day here, but what’s with the tie? You wear it every day or somethin’?” Roman’s posture remained slouched and easy-going, the opposite to the other, who was indeed wearing a tie. Tie guy’s posture was pristine and collected, his face not revealing any emotion, except a slight glare.

“I do not. I wear a different tie every day. It is unsanitary to wear the same thing every day. And when I sleep, I change into the proper wear. I would also like to point out that it’s pronounced some thing . With a g. Proper pronunciation is important, lest you confuse someone who is not as knowledgeable with our language. And my name, is Logan. Thank you.” Logan, apparently, finished his monologue with hardly a change in expression. Both Virgil and Roman looked a bit disoriented.

“Allllrighty,” Roman started, ignoring Logan’s hiss of “it’s pronounced al right ”, “Welp, glad to see I’m not the only one who’s early! Don’t you think the weather is great today? So sunny!”

“I do not wish to engage in small talk.” Logan said, returning to his book. Roman blinked at this, his head darting back a bit. He quickly returned to his confident persona and turned to Virgil.

Oh no , was his only thought before he was forced into conversation.

“SOO, Emostein, what’s your opinion on the weather? Since Necktie over there refuses to be nice, that is.” Roman said with a flourish of his hand.

What was he supposed to say? That he never went outside enough to appreciate the weather? That he would rather not say anything? That this whole thing was pushing him to the verge of a panic attack?

So, instead, he murmured, “Emostein?”. Goddamn it, that was dumb-

“Why yes! Like Frankenstein, but judging by your apparel, I had assumed you were emo and listen to My Chemical Romance all day. Am I wrong in this?”

Virgil shoved his head in his hands, blushing from embarrassment. “Ugh, no, you’re not. You don’t need to point it out, though…” He grumbled. God, he hated social situations. Even if it distracted him from the anxiety surrounding this new therapy group.

Whether he had bad luck, or the fates hated him, he couldn’t decide as the door to the rest of the building opened in perfect irony.

“Virgil?” The woman called with a smile. He hugged his few items closer to him as he stood up, making his way through the entrance. He glanced back at the lobby, where yet another kid was entering.

Then, the door was closed.

The woman introduced herself as Rebecca, or Becca for short. She led him on a quick tour of the building before the others were scheduled to come in, something he was grateful for. The place was smaller than he expected. She led him through the cafeteria (a cafeteria? what?), the doors of a couple staff, the bathroom, the check-up room, and the individual rooms. The individual rooms, as she explained, were for when you needed to focus on an ‘exposure’ and couldn’t handle distractions from other people.

Virgil quickly decided he liked these rooms.

Becca let him choose a room, and had him write his name on the whiteboard in front of it. As he did, he heard the entrance door open and a loud voice groan out, “UGHH, but I don’t wanna go in yet!”. Uh oh, people alert! He quickly slipped into the room, Becca joining him soon after.

“While you’re in this program,” she started. “you will be doing exposures, which means you’ll be directly facing the anxiety. It’ll be tough, but the goal is, when you get out of the program, you’re more used to these situations, and when you encounter them, you don’t freak out as much.” At that, she smiled, as if she hadn’t just diminished his already depressed mood.

“Does that sound good?” Becca continued, tilting her head to the side. Virgil stared at her as if she just told him the Sun was purple (not that he would mind that… purple was a very nice color.).

“Not really,” came his reply. “sounds terrible.”

Becca’s smile became just a little more stressed.

“I get your point, but I disagree. See, here and now, you’re not okay. Do you agree?” she stated flatly, and at his small nod, continued, “It’s because you’ve been in this slump for too long. It’s ruining your mood, and unless you do something about it, it’ll just get worse. If you want to get better, you have to do something about it.”

Virgil sighed. Yes, he understood, but he had the right to dislike this.

Becca explained a few more things about the program before handing him a small stack of papers and leaving him to mull over in his silent suffering.

He doodled in between the questions he had just answered as he waited for Becca to come back. Just the classic questions, ‘What do you want to work on while here at Sanders?’, ‘How would you describe your average mood?’, ‘What is (or are) your diagnosis?’, etc.. He glanced at the clock. 5 minutes. He tapped his foot. Fiddled with his hoodie strings. Kicked at the wall. 10 minutes. Hm.

Sanders Behavioral Health had a rule against phones being in the building, for privacy reasons… but, taking a glance around, he couldn’t see any cameras. And he had snuck his phone in by slipping it into his boots when no one was looking. Then there was the fact that no one was in the room with him…

Whipping out his phone, he quickly found a position where his phone was hidden enough that the average passerby wouldn’t notice and opened it up. What to do, what to do…

He scrolled through Tumblr, and responded to a few messages on Discord. He was in the middle of typing one out when there was a knock on the door.

Jumping, Virgil quickly turned to the door while desperately trying to hide his phone. He couldn’t fit in past his shoe in time, could he hide it in his hoodie so the visitor wouldn’t see it? Think fast befo-

The door opened, a stranger walking in. The stranger smiled.

“Hello! I’m Nurse Vicki. You’re Virgil, right? I need you for just a moment so we can do checkups, if you’ll come with me!” Vicki grinned, holding the door open wider. Virgil slid the phone into his hoodie pocket. There was a chance of it being noticed, but it would have to do.

When brought into the nurse’s office, she sat him down and started asking questions.

Are you suicidal? Yes.

Are you going to school regularly? No.

Are you eating healthy? Probably not.

And on, and on, and on, until finally, she took him to track his weight and vitals, and escorted him back to his room. Still no Becca.

The second Nurse Vicki left, Virgil quickly took his phone out and situated it where it wasn’t easily visible in his boot. Yes, it did rub against his foot painfully, but that was just the price he’d have to pay. Without his phone, he felt even more anxious. He knew it was stupid, but what if he got a call? What if he got hurt? What if someone else got hurt? Virgil needed the phone, and if that included sacrificing his comfort, he would do it.

Now, what was he supposed to do? 20 minutes had passed. He studied the vandalism done in pencil on the wall, but that quickly got boring.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

He drummed his fingers on the table.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

He thought about what he was going to do tomorrow- wait, no, that gave him more anxiety.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

Sighing, he leaned back and studied the ceiling. Maybe he could fall asleep here. Or maybe he’d just get in trouble for that.

After what seemed like ages, Becca returned. Gathering up the papers, she led him outside the room.

“We aren’t going to start anything today, but I’ll show you the timers and computers. Here’s the check in sheet for them,” she motioned to the top of the computer cart, a basket with multiple stopwatches in it next to the sheets. “and the top row of computers are assessment computers, while the bottom are normal computers. Today, you’ll be getting an assessment computer.”

Stepping aside, she let him check out a computer. As he was writing down his name, another person came in from a second hallway. The loud boy from before- Roman?- glanced in their direction before doing a double take. Cringing slightly, Virgil prepared for Roman to burst out with a loud “hello!”.

Only Roman did nothing of the sort. Once Becca greeted him, he motioned awkwardly to the timer in his hands before walking down the hallway and turning into a staff’s room.

O ...kay?

He may not have known Roman for long, but that seemed entirely uncharacteristic. Pursing his lips, he finished filling out the sheet as Becca and him walked back. Well, almost. Becca stopped in her office for a split second before returning with a binder and a dazzling smile. Virgil sunk into his jacket with a ‘dazzling’ scowl.

Back inside the room, Becca gave him the binder and led him through all that it entailed, before signing him into the assessment computer. And once more, Becca left him to fill out the assessments alone.

Which was fantastic.

Another round of repetitive questions he’d answered a thousand times before-

In the past 7 days how often have you not able to stop feeling sad? Often.

--felt alone? Always.

--feel everything in your life went wrong? Always.

--feel like you can’t do anything right? Often.

--it was hard for you to have fun? Always.

He supposed a lot of this came from his past family. And, geez, these were not nice memories to go through. But being pushed around and starved for days on end was bound to take a toll on you, and it sure as hell did in the case of Virgil. It was part of the reason he wore hoodies all the time, to hide the- the- oh god he was not ready to think about this right now.

Shaking his head, Virgil returned to the questions, feeling worse than he had. He felt a tear trying to surface and quickly closed his eyes. Not here , he thought. Not now, I can’t. They’ll make fun of me for it.

And yeah, maybe it was illogical to worry about being made fun of for crying in a literal therapy building, but maybe Virgil wasn’t thinking quite right at that point. Maybe he wasn’t thinking quite right often.

Or maybe he was just stupid.

The last time Becca returned to his individual room was to bring him out to the cafeteria for something called ‘recreational therapy’ which included doing “fun things” with the other patients.

Great.

After putting away his computer, he was instructed to leave his new binder in the cafeteria and to bring a pen or pencil with him.

He didn’t have either and had to ask someone else for it. Oh, god…

Dodging around the others in the cafeteria, he made his way back to Becca and quietly asked for a pen, and, to his disappointment, didn’t get one. He turned around to face the 3 other patients, forced to consider the options as to who might have a goddamn pen.

The others were all the people he had seen in the waiting room earlier. Only one of them he hadn’t really gotten to know, which was the boy in light blue. He was talking to the loud one, ugh, what was his name again… Roman! Yes, he was talking to Roman. Listening in on their conversation he found that they were talking about… dogs? Well, Light Blue was nearly screaming about dogs while Roman was looking a little bewildered at just how loud this boy was about dogs. Which only left Tie Guy, Logan, to ask. If he didn’t have one, Virgil would have to walk out and ask a staff, so asking the scary one it was.

Glancing towards his binder, Virgil saw that he had 3 pens next to it, black, red, and blue. Bingo!

“Hey uh,” he started once he reached Logan. “Um, can I… uh, sorry, can I borrow a pen? Please?”

Logan’s gaze jerked towards Virgil, then back to his pens. “No,” he stated bluntly. “I only have one black pen. As you can see. ”

“But… I could just… use the red or blue one? I don’t really care that much about colors…” Virgil, to say the least, was hella confused. What was this kid’s deal? First the whole tie thing, now Virgil wasn’t able to use one of his three pens? There was no need to be so rude.

“No, you can’t. Red is for spelling errors and blue is for grammar errors. Everyone knows that. You cannot just use a red or blue pen for normal writing!” Logan nearly growled out. Virgil took a few steps back, was it okay for him to be around this guy?! Was he safe?

He felt a tap on his shoulder and nearly jumped out of his skin. Whipping around, he was faced with Light Blue holding a pen. He let out a sigh of relief.

“Heyo! I’m Patton,” Light Blue said. “I couldn’t help but hear your conversation, so sorry for interrupting, but I have a free pen you could use instead! It’s no big deal to me!” Patton’s smile was nearly blinding as he held the pen out. Grabbing the pen, Virgil felt a little… unnerved. Maybe it was just the anxiety talking, but this guy seemed way too nice to be here. Maybe he was just about to leave the program?

“Uh, thanks.” Was the only thing he said in response before retreating to the corner of the room. He could see Becca hovering around the computer before telling them she would be back in a second.

Well ain’t that just fucking great .

“Ooh, scandalous~!” Roman yelled as Becca went to leave the room. “Leaving a bunch of teens unsupervised? Didn’t take ya for the type.” Virgil looked at him. If he remembered correctly, Roman had said this was his second day. So, why was he so… extroverted? He, along with Patton, didn’t really feel like they belonged in this group. Patton seemed too bright and happy, and Roman seemed too loud and confident.

“You is not pronounced ‘ya’.” Logan huffed. Roman turned to him looking a bit confused.

“It’s… not that different, though?”

“Every little thing matters, Roman. I’ve explained this to you before, so why do you continue to lack the capacity to understand it?” Roman spluttered at this, the insult obviously getting to him.

“I was just telling you my opinion, and you don’t need to… insult me over it! Believe it or not, I don’t like being called stupid!” Roman spat out.

Uh oh.

“I did not call you stupid. It seems as if you came to that conclusion yourself, yet I will not deny it.”

“ You implied it you-”

Before Roman could finish, Becca, in all her glory, opened the door and invited them to follow her. Well, maybe invited wasn’t the correct term, but Virgil was well on his way to a massive anxiety attack and couldn’t give a shit.

Once Becca had led them outside and had them all introduce themselves, she gave them a simple two-sided sheet of paper.

“Today, we’re going to be doing a people scavenger hunt! On the paper, there’s a bunch of questions, and it’s your job to find someone who fits the criteria! Once you do, they should sign your paper. Try not to use the same person for most of the questions! Sounds great, don’t you agree?”

“Yay.” Virgil muttered unenthusiastically, curling into his hoodie when both Roman and Patton turned to him.

“Miss Becca, there are four of us. Statistically speaking, it is unlikely for us to be able to fill out the entirety of this sheet, especially with questions like the 13th, which says ‘Someone who has red hair.’ As you can see, none of us have red hair. I must recommend that you reprint this paper with questions we can properly answer.” Logan attempted to smooth down his hair in the wind as he spoke, his paper resting on a clipboard, because of course Logan had prepared himself with a clipboard while the rest of them had to combat the wind attempting to blow their papers away.

“It’s okay, Logan,” Becca smiled sweetly. “You don’t need to answer all the questions before we go back in.”

“Yes I do, or the assignment is incomplete!”

Smile dropping, Becca motioned for the others to start as she turned to talk to Logan. And with that, Virgil was forced to communicate with the last two.

Already, Patton and Roman seemed to be chatting, which left Virgil to awkwardly stand by while they filled the paper out. Virgil could feel his breathing quickening, why did Logan have to be picky? He could be talking to him, which would be better than just standing here with nothing to do!

Roman turned to him once he had gotten the paper signed, smiling slightly at him before skimming his eyes through the paper. Wait, he took it back, he wasn’t ready to talk yet oh no-

“Do youuu….. Like mint ice cream?” Roman asked, looking up from his paper with a smile. Silently, Virgil nodded. After signing the paper Roman gave to him, Roman stayed, looking expectantly at him. What? Oh! He’s expecting a question quick choose one!!!

Looking at his own paper, Virgil chose the first question his eyes landed on.

“Do you, um. Do you speak another language?” He stuttered out. Roman brightened.

“¡Sí! Hablo español.” Roman was bouncing on his heels, grinning impossibly larger. At Virgil’s dubious stare, he seemed to deflate, a small blush growing on his cheeks. “Sorry, uh, yes, I speak Spanish.”

As Virgil handed him the paper, he had more time to stand awkwardly. Roman had hoisted his leg up and was now balancing precariously on one leg while writing against the other one. His tongue poked out from between his teeth as he tried to not fall over.

Roman had green eyes. While Virgil didn’t usually make eye contact, he couldn’t help but notice while this kid was right in front of him . Virgil had always adored green eyes in people, they may be more rare but they were so pretty and-

Roman glanced up at him, and Virgil quickly flushed. “Do you want me to fill out the green eyes question, too? I’m pretty sure I’m the only one of us who has green eyes, so… y’know… while I’m here, might as well, yea?”

All Roman saw was Virgil’s small nod, which Virgil was grateful for as his mind was screaming at the current moment.

Is this guy psychic what the hell how’d he know EXACTLY what I was thinking??? What???? No, Virge, calm down, he can’t be psychic- BUT WHAT IF HE IS????

Once Virgil got his paper back, he turned once more and was suddenly face-to-face with Patton’s smile.

“Heya kiddo! Have you been on a boat ride?” At Virgil’s shake of his head, he continued. “Hm, okay, have you been to a park in the past few months?

On and on the activity went. Surprisingly, Virgil quickly found himself actually enjoying the activity. Roman and Patton were easy to talk to, if slightly disorienting to the extreme introvert.

Unfortunately, the universe seemed to hate him, because after about 10 questions with the others, Logan stormed back into the building, leaving Becca alone. Becca sighed.

“Sorry guys, but I legally can’t leave him or you without a guardian, so if you could follow me please we will go back inside.”

Back inside, Becca took them to the cafeteria, where Logan already was, meticulously rearranging his binder. When Becca approached him, he hissed out, “I will NOT be doing an assignment where I am forced to fail.”

The three looked at each other, Patton seeming to be the only one who knew what was happening. He gave them a sad smile.

“Logan came here before me, but he told me he has extreme OCD. Basically, he gets anxiety when things don’t go the way his mind tells him they have to.” Patton whispered to them. “I think he has a sort of… fear of failing, so he gets the bad feelings when he can’t finish an assignment. Well, more bad feelings than the average person.”

That made sense, Virgil supposed. While he was told he had a bit of OCD, he wasn’t exactly briefed on all the ins and outs, only diagnosed with it. So he had no definitive answer as to what exactly it was, but from what he had heard, that seemed to fit with the behavior Logan was showing.

A couple minutes passed, Virgil tapping his foot aimlessly. He stared at the ground as Logan continued to bicker, and as Becca desperately tried to calm him down. Eventually, Roman spoke up and told Becca that it was check-out time, which apparently entailed them filling out a sheet of paper before they were able to leave.

Thankfully, Becca told Virgil that he didn’t have to fill a check-out sheet today, which left him awkwardly tapping his pen against the table. He noticed Roman doodling in a blank space on the paper, mouthing the lyrics to a song Virgil couldn’t decipher. Patton was watching the clock after he had finished, which left Logan to be the only one still filling out the sheet.

Once they were finally blessed with the absence of silence in the form of Becca loudly exclaiming that they could start sharing aloud and dear God would Virgil have to do that tomorrow? They were finally allowed to leave.

After signing out and riding the elevator down, with all the other patients and their parents in the cramped space, they finally exited the building.

“So, what’d you think?” His dad asked as they walked to the car. Virgil simply shrugged in response.

And maybe, Virgil enjoyed it a little bit, just a little bit. But he wasn’t going to admit it after he claimed so adamantly that he would hate it the days prior.

The ride home was spent with Virgil telling his online friends what had happened in therapy that day, a task that would quickly become routine in his days at Sanders.

And maybe, just maybe, he was feeling a little bit better at returning the next day.

Maybe.

26 notes · View notes

ephemeral-afterlight · 5 years ago

Text

Day 26: Abandoned

(Form an alliance with the masses.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 26: Abandoned

Word Count: 2835

Relationships: Prinxiety (implied pre-relationship/pining Virgil)

Warnings: Crying/Emotional breakdown, mild self-harm (unintentional), mild blood, mentions of panic attacks, mention of rituals/sacrifices in a joking/satirical manner

A/N: i don't really have much of an explanation as to how this ties in with the prompt. you could view it as roman abandoning his pride to accept comfort, or virgil abandoning his anxiety to help someone he cares about, or even just something as simple as that abandoned mug of hot chocolate. up to you, do with this what you will. anyway, i intended this to be way angstier, but then it somehow got to almost 3k word of prinxiety fluff? so. yeah idek either. by the way, the song in the fic is called "Ribbons".

“And you fell in ribbons around me.”

It’s nighttime when he hears it. The melody of a song too obscure to pinpoint, beauty in each wistful note. The words are laced with thoughtfulness, speared by longing, and it’s unlike anything Virgil’s ever heard before. It’s almost as if the lyrics themselves dance down the hallway, twirls and pirouettes and every kind of graceful move imaginable to the ballad from which they were born. Virgil doesn’t know the song, hasn’t heard it sung or played in the mindscape before, which is odd considering how it feels like there’s always new music waiting to be discovered here.

“Shredded by the ones you used to seek.”

Virgil hopes he’s not intruding on anything important when he rounds the corner, and he’s met with a massive room he didn’t even know existed. It spans multiple stories, bookshelves filled with all different sorts of novels towering so far into the sky that he can’t see to the top. The room itself is oval-shaped, which is odd enough, but considering this is in Thomas’ mind, anything is possible. Smaller, more normal-sized bookcases lie in rows on either side of the room, creating long passageways that seem to twist and turn like a labyrinth fueled by pure knowledge. In the very center lies a few couches and beanbags chairs all situated in a circle, bordering a large table in the middle that holds magazines, stray bookmarks, pens, and a single mug of what looks to be steaming hot coffee beside an opened book.

The room is impressive, and almost intimidating with it’s accented swirling designs in the mahogany wood that makes up most of the walls, but the fireplace directly in front of him on the other side of the library emits a glow that keeps it cozy despite its enormity. It’s warmer in here than it is in the main part of the mindscape, though cool enough so as not to be uncomfortable, almost at the perfect temperature to lull one to sleep whilst in the middle of reading.

Virgil wonders why he never knew of this place.

“Be quiet now, it’s almost time.”

The soft voice comes again from somewhere in the left half of the room, far away enough to allow Virgil to conclude that he’s on a different floor. It’s Roman, he knows it is now that he can hear his voice better, but what’s Roman doing in a library at three in the morning?

Virgil twists his hoodie strings in his fingers as he slowly walks into the library, making the trek across the plush green carpet to the common area in the center. The soft fabric caressing his bare feet feels more soothing than he was expecting, like a cloud holding him up as he walks across the sky. He doesn’t know if Roman came in here with the express intent of being alone, but hopefully he won’t be angry. Virgil couldn’t sleep, and who’s to say he’s to blame for being curious?

“Be careful not to fall out of line.”

A page finally submits to it’s rigid conditioning and falls back to the other half as Virgil approaches, exacerbated further by the small amount of a breeze he kicks up when he gets close enough. Scanning everything on the table is more of out of wonder, for once, rather than fear, and it’s a nice breath of air from the usual hypervigilance he’s been instilled with since his first appearance within Thomas as a side.

There’s not much of note in the way of the scattered supplies and note sheets littering the table, covered in neat handwriting that is undoubtedly Logan’s. It’s a surprise to see such a disquieted work space, such an unrefined lack of organization that isn’t typical of Logan’s usual behaviour. His need for categorizing and cataloguing and sorting is something that feels like it’s been ingrained into him since day one, and to see his visibly scattered thought and work process is weird. Really weird.

“Breathe so softly, keep your whispers low.”

Virgil notices that the bright red porcelain mug on the table doesn’t, in fact, hold coffee, but hot chocolate with colourful marshmallows. It’s fitting to Roman, suits his need for simple comforts such as a warm, sweet beverage, and the thought of him with a chocolate mustache on his lip from drinking it too quickly brings a small smile to Virgil’s face. Well, at least it does until Hot Chocolate Mustache Roman turns into Regular Remus, and Virgil berates his brain for corrupting a pleasant mental image like that.

The liquid is still very hot, as shown by the steam rising from the lip of the cup and the heat Virgil can feel radiating onto his fingers despite his hands not even being close to touching the ceramic. It hasn’t been drunk, not even a sip as evident by the perfectly clean and immaculate rim around the edge, which means Roman must have either gotten distracted or was in a hurry for something. Virgil can’t imagine that someone leisurely singing songs at 3 a.m. is necessarily in a rush, so that just leaves distraction. Typical of him. Virgil wishes he were annoyed instead of endeared.

“Silently dream of what you used to know.”

Virgil finally tears himself away from the warmth, comfort, and coziness of the reading area to start locating Roman, and it’s not particularly difficult to find him. His voice carries even when he’s not in one of those grandiose, lifting belts he loves so much, and the melodies act as a rope to pull Virgil closer to where he is. Up the stairs behind one of the bookcases on the wall, along balconies, traversing ladders and mazes of shelves just to try to find his way to the source of the song.

“They don’t love you, no, they never will.”

At that lyric, Virgil stops in his tracks, falters when the words sink in. Is… is that what Roman thinks? It could be argued that they’re just lyrics and don’t mean anything, but Virgil of all people knows best that the music we listen to is an extension of ourselves. It reflects our deepest wants, and fear, and insecurities, the ones we refuse to let out of their cages locked deep within the heart to escape and leave us vulnerable. And judging by the raw emotion in his voice as he sang that line, the way it dipped at the end of the line very narrowly missing a crack, it… it makes Virgil worried. And guilty, because this must be partially his fault.

“They’ll always be better so rest your heart and still.”

Virgil wants to tell him that he’s wrong, wants to stave off the thickness steadily building in his throat as the result of what is likely to be tears. Roman’s cried around them, of course, but never over something very serious or personal. When he learned an actress Thomas looks up to died, or when he realized that a show they were scheduled to play got cancelled at the last minute after weeks and weeks of painstaking script memorization and practice.

It’s hard to not say something when he finally peers through an open space in the last bookcase in the row and sees his their Princey, of whom is surprisingly not in his trademark royal garb. He wears it so often Virgil has wondered before if he dons it while he sleeps, when he works out, even in the shower, and if Virgil’s being honest, it wouldn’t surprise him. But the familiar red sash and white jacket and golden lace embroidery is nowhere to be seen, replaced by something much less prince-like, more humbling, more… human.

Virgil never thought he’d be admitting to himself that Roman somehow is able to look hot in dark grey sweatpants and a loose red t-shirt, but here he is.

“It’s time to leave, I promise it’ll be fine.”

Roman sings much softer this time, as if coming to his senses about his surrounding, realizes that it’s late and he might wake someone up. Too late.

His face is stained with tear tracks, both old and fresh with the moisture building in his eyes only to spill over the dam and roll heavy upon his cheekbones. Virgil’s so used to him keeping up appearances, just as Virgil himself and every other side does despite how much Patton denies being sad or Logan denies having emotions, and he decides he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like the sorrow in their resident prince’s eyes, doesn’t like the way meekness looks on him.

“Just don’t look, they’re not coming back this time.”

Roman seems to get impossibly smaller with every uttered word, curling in on himself where he sits against the railing, peering over the balcony to the ground floor many stories below with misty, unseeing eyes. His arms slowly snake their way up to his sides, come to clench at each other with a surprisingly harsh force. His fingers dig hard enough into his arms to cause them to go white with the lack of blood, to create crescents in the shape of his fingernails, and Virgil doesn’t think he’ll be able to hold himself back from rushing over to help any longer if he sees even the tiniest ounce of blood come out of Roman’s skin.

“Tell me now how is it up there.”

And it does, unfortunately. Roman has never been one to control his strength very well, and in this state of upset, it’s likely he doesn’t even feel the pain. Being numbed by self-loathing, the apathy that comes shortly after almost like a soothing but assertively temporary balm to the pain, it’s all so familiar. Virgil knows that state like the back of his hand, can almost feel it radiating off of Roman in waves, but maybe that’s his ability to sense the others’ anxiety. He’s still not very good at being able to differentiate between different feelings.

Tiny little droplets of blood well up from where he pressed a bit too hard with sharp, manicured nails, wells up just the same as a soft sob does. Virgil doesn’t know why he’s here. He doesn’t know what happened, what set him off, what triggered this kind of response. He doesn’t know the kinds of thoughts Roman may be having, or how in control of himself he is. He doesn’t know. But Virgil will damn well try to help despite all of that.

“Princey?” Virgil murmurs from behind, and Roman flinches as he whips his head around to meet Virgil’s concerned gaze. He seems bewildered for a moment, as if he hadn’t been expecting anybody to be in here, which would be a fair assumption if it weren’t for the fact that Virgil’s sleeping habits and schedule is awful. Roman takes a minute to process the turn of events, and then comes back to himself with a shuddering sigh as he hastily wipes his tears away with unforgiving fingers.

“Haha, what are-- what’re you doing up, Surly Temple? Prowling in the night? Some sort of… I dunno, emo ritual? A-All the emos gather ‘round at 2 a.m. to chant My Chemical Romance lyrics while they sacrifice band tees to the flames?” Roman rambles on nervously, a look on his face that implies even he doesn’t know what he’s saying anymore. He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly when Virgil gives him a judging look, but then hisses through his teeth when he realizes he has minor wounds littering his upper arms. Virgil’s immediately back to that same worry, that same empathy that coursed through his veins before, and he calmly approaches the disheveled prince. Roman gives him an unreadable look when he sits down a respectable distance away (closer than Virgil originally planned on being, close enough to barely be able to brush shoulders if he just leaned over a bit), but soon his eyelids flutter as he shifts his gaze back to look out over the chasm filled with books.

“C’mon, Princey, what’s up?” Virgil asks quietly, knocks his shoulder against Roman’s in a show of good faith (at least he hopes it comes across like that). Although he still feels awkward talking so candidly with someone he’s used to bickering with all the time, Virgil finds himself oddly confident. Maybe it’s the survival instinct that’s embedded so deeply within his core, the want to protect and save those he cares about, those who have been hurt by both others and themselves. Although he and Deceit have had their differences in the past, ones Virgil is still having trouble reconciling even after acknowledging his faults in the unfortunate falling out, the two of them share that, at least. Self-preservation, two sides working to protect and better Thomas (and the sides, by extension) in their own specific ways.

“It’s… it’s nothing, don’t worry about it. Just saw a-- saw a sad movie! Needed to cry it out, haha!” Roman bites out, pained and strained and oh so fake, and Virgil huffs out an exasperated breath. It’s times like now where Virgil feels that intense urge to safeguard, to shelter the ones he cares about, and it builds in his chest like a scream waiting to burst out. There’s no way to expel the restless energy, no way to quench that absurd, overwhelming need to shield, except…

“Roman, don’t do this to yourself,” Virgil murmurs gently, reprimands with a soft, caring tone, and taking the other side into his arms is much easier than he ever imagined. It feels right, feels like he’s supposed to be here, helping and holding the creative side throughout anything the world could throw at him. Or whatever he can throw at himself; Virgil is no stranger to being your own worst enemy. Roman just laughs brokenly, shudders through another sob as he buries his face into the soft fabric of Virgil’s patchy jacket, and Virgil wraps his arms around the broader shoulders to offer the rare moment of tactile comfort while he’s able to stand physical touch.

They sit there for a long time, a long few hours of Roman crying as quietly as he can while Virgil delivers gentle, relaxing reassurances. He knows it isn’t easy to open up like this, to allow someone you’re not very close to see you vulnerable, and Virgil hopes that maybe this’ll spark a change. Maybe they can get to know each other a bit better, understand each other’s intentions and wants and needs, and maybe. Maybe they can be friends, could be something more.

Roman’s weeping tapers off eventually, shifts into soft sniffles as the sun rises high enough to shine bright rays through the enormous stained glass window in the center of the library, just above the fireplace. Virgil is starting to get uncomfortable from holding the same position for too long, and sitting hunched over on the floor for hours like this surely isn’t very good for his back, but he’ll deal with that when it comes. Right now, his focus is on Roman, on wiping the last stray tears away from his reddened cheeks after a moment’s hesitation, and he counts it a victory when Roman doesn’t push him away for it.

Roman sits up fully but doesn’t lean away, just presses his fingers into his eyes as the two of them finally rise and stretch their sore muscles. Virgil can’t help but admire the way the red light falls upon Roman’s face, the way it casts shadows and highlights and wraps his lips and lashes in hard candy. It’s breathtaking, steals the air from his lungs and the support from his trembling knees, and he knows they need to wrap this up quickly before the events of the night can fully crash down on Virgil and send him into a spiral. The panic attacks can wait until later, when he’s alone and doesn’t have to deal with the humiliation of being so uncharacteristically sappy.

Roman sudden barks out a hoarse laugh, shakes his head at Virgil’s questioning look. He leans back nonchalantly, tries to appear casual even though Virgil can see that his hands are still shaking in the aftermath of his breakdown. He won’t say anything, though. He doesn’t like when people call attention to his anxiety unnecessarily, and although he knows it’s out of concern, it often just makes it worse. “‘Grasp my hand and pull me out of here.’ The next line in the song.”

Virgil smirks at the soft, final notes, senses an idea blooming in his head. This is probably a bad idea, a terrible idea, and Roman will probably slap him for it, but… he said to grasp his hand and pull him out of there. So Virgil does, he slides his hand into Roman’s own, tugs him to run down the balcony and the stairs and through bookshelves and the thankful grin he’s given in return is absolutely blinding.

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mbti-notes · 5 years ago

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INFP, studying something I'd really like to be good at. When I was a child I used to be interested in other fields, but recently I found out this one and I chose to make it my future work. I constantly dream of understanding these kind of things and becoming an expert. Problem is, at my school everybody's already way ahead since they've been active in the field for a longer time. My boyfriend is one of them, and everything he knows that I don't know is a literal punch to my face. I constantly...

[con’t: feel sad and angry at myself for not knowing or understanding as fast as him - and I know it’s irrational, since it’s about the time spent on it, but I still suffer a lot and we got to the point that he avoids telling me what he does in the field because he knows I’ll be depressed and cry for days. The point is, I could accept it with my friends. I used to feel a little sad at the beginning, but now I’m past it. With him? I really can’t. He’s a very curious, passionate person, with a lot of hobbies and energy. He’s collected a lot of knowledge over the years - not just in this field - so he’s basically considered an expert in everything he does. Family, friends, strangers - everybody just thinks he’s the most fun, knowledgeable, smart, fast, kind, honest, every-quality-you-could-think-of person ever. He’s literally perfect, but so humble he can’t even see it. (another INFP btw). And me? Lately I’ve been so depressed I can’t even enjoy my old hobbies. I feel like I’m not able to learn anything anymore. I look at all of the things he does, the way his mind works, and I just… feel tremendous pain. I’m getting OBSESSED with becoming like him, and not just in the fields we both like - in every new thing he does. I wish to be better than him, to be respected and admired like he is. I wish my parents were his parents. They let him be himself his whole life, without ever judging him or forcing him to do something he didn’t want to - and now he’s a fullfilled, complete… horrible thoughts and sometimes I snap, I shout at him and I treat him like I’d have never treated anyone. I don’t know what’s gotten into me, and I feel SO, SO guilty. I’m not like him at all. I will never be. I’m starting to suspect I’m a bad, stupid, ignorant person who doesn’t deserve anything. Especially not him. I can’t even get interested in something, I just keep going because I hope someday I’ll learn something and receive a compliment from someone and maybe I’ll be happy again. If you have any idea, any advice that could make me see what’s going on, PLEASE please tell me. I’m getting crazy here and I can’t even tell anybody - I’m too afraid they will judge me or think I’m a bad person. I love my boyfriend and I don’t want to lose him. I also wanna go back to when I was happy with myself, but I don’t know how. I can’t get interested in anything anymore. It all looks too complicated for my retarded mind. Sometimes I just wish I could be a child again and start over. Thx]

This topic comes up a lot from INFPs, search the related tags. Excessive self-criticism that produces feelings of “not measuring up” and wanting to “start over” are tell-tale signs of Si loop and Te grip, which means that Fi is unhealthy and Ne is underdeveloped. Please read the study guides if you don’t understand your type very well and need to develop your functions.

Without healthy Fi, you aren’t capable of healthy self-acceptance and self-care. How is it fair to yourself to measure your ability against someone who’s had so much more time and opportunity to learn? Treat yourself better by having self-compassion. Stop defining yourself only by “knowledge”, “intelligence”, or “ability”. Do you honestly believe that a person’s worth is only found in that arena? If so, are you willing to write off all the disabled and mentally challenged people in the world? The standards that you are using to evaluate your worth need reflection and adjustment. Do you not respect that everyone has their own path to take in life, so comparisons are useless, and even harmful, because they box you into being something fake? What good are you if you’ve abandoned everything good about yourself? Not to mention that you’re mixing up the personal and the professional, which is like gasoline for interpersonal conflict. Set better and stricter boundaries by limiting your “work-related” interactions if necessary.

Without healthy Ne, you aren’t able to think in terms of possibility, so you have no other way to approach situations except for your initial/default knee-jerk judgments. Feelings are not 100% accurate representations of reality, but immature Fi doms believe that they are -> “if I feel it, it must be true”. NO. You need Ne development to disrupt this naive Fi judgment process. Ne introduces self-doubt and opens up space for more objective thinking. Ne is the best way to stop the automatic Fi vs Te train of self-criticism. Here’s just one new Ne possibility off the top of my head for your consideration: When it comes to work-related matters, what if you treated him not as a “peer” or as a “rival” but as a “teacher”? Imagine where that might take you and the relationship…

#infp #te grip #self esteem #ask

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sierratheory · 5 years ago

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“Like i don't trust sierra bc of the time she came into Luke's life...” that entire ask but vice-versa too!!! people have said sierra dated dylan from flor and now her old roommate karsen too? as with luke, where was her time being single and figuring herself out before jumping into a new relationship? the twitter likes reminded me of how luke & sierra only see “jealousy” and “misogyny” as a h8ters only reason, which isn’t true 😔

Part 2 It's like they're still letting the other person know they're wrong but the difference is that it doesn't hit them. Why does it cause an overly emotional response and a giant need to prove they are wrong? it's a truth the person has been avoiding/ignoring. Luke or any person don't see the truth, they really don't even though deep down they know it is true (this is why emotional abuse is so dangerous and the victim "can't just leave")

Part 3 and that's why getting defensive and simply defending yourself are two different things. I'd like to point what that anon said about Luke's likes missing the point of what was said and this anon called him a 'dumb asshole' (lol) because he's missing the point. Well he may not realise it but he's missing the point "on purpose" his brain is making him miss the point in order to keep the fantasy that the points that were made aren't factual and are actually offensive (sexism)

Part 4 I swear I could write a book explaining every little behaviour he's adopting but what I really want to point out is that I understand everyone's frustration and regardless of what he's going through, Luke should be held responsible for his actions but we can and should emphasize because he's not fine. I'm saying this because he is following a very worrying pattern and even though Arzaylea was a much worse person than Sierra is,

Part 5, Luke is currently in a worse situation MENTALLY and I know this may cause some confusion and I can explain with more details why I'm saying this but it doesn't necessarily have to do with Sierra. I'm not saying she's not toxic. I do believe she's toxic but she's not nearly as toxic as Arzaylea. The difference is the timing. If Luke had dated Sierra first and Arzaylea later things would be much much worse.

Part 6 Luke was in a very vulnerable place, he was really hurt and he got a taste of what a mentally stable, caring, loving partner is like in Sierra. And I'm not saying these are traits that Sierra has or not. But when you get out of a toxic relationship, when you're at your worst a little love, or sense of love can feel like the best thing in a world. Basically it's an "issue" with the rewarding system in your brain. Very typical in people who go through this kind of situations

Part 7 that's why it is recommended to see a therapist or stay away from relationship because this rewarding system can fix itself and go back to normal or you might need some help. It all depends on how you deal with the situation. Some people get over traumatic experiences quickly and some need time and help. Anyway to keep it simple and short: Luke knew for sure (based on my little knowledge and his behaviour) that Arzaylea wasn't good to him but he was in love and he was making excuses to

Part 8 believe she loved him back (maybe she did love him back but had mental issues, drug addiction, I don't know, I can't judge) but he didn't have the time to heal. He's aware of his past relationship being toxic but I don't think he's aware of the effects it had on his mental health. He shows severe signs of being someone who still carries some luggage. Let me explain, I'm sure he's aware of how awful Arzaylea was and that he did him wrong and he deserves better.

Part 9 but for example, if arzaylea told him constantly that he didn't defend her enough, if she guilt trapped him because of it, if she threatened to leave him or blamed him for her mental issues/breakdowns he's most likely still carrying it with him and that's one of the reasons why he's desperately trying to make it right with this one relationship. It's something that's internalised. So yes maybe Sierra doesn't do much wrong compared to Arzaylea and actually maybe Sierra is like

Part 10 'dang I hate this thing someone said' but that's enough for Luke's brain to make a click, bring back the memories, the trauma and go into overdrive. This is an example but can be used to explain why Luke's trying so hard with Sierra compared to Arzaylea. Another thing that makes this relationship "worse" imo is that Luke's perception of reality wasn't accurate when he started his relationship with Sierra because of Arzaylea and now that little bit of love he feels like he receives is

Part 11 just wow and to him it is what real love feels like this is why your sense of personal worth should never depend on somebody else. And now he strongly believe that despite everything that goes wrong in his relationship, that little 1 thing that's going well is more than enough. he's never had that much so his fighting to keep it because it is sad but it's the most loved he's ever felt and he doesn't see why he could deserve more or how it could get better because to him, thats everything

Wheew, this was a trip to put together. You really did write me a book here, anon. But I completely understand what you’re trying to say. I come from a really abusive family, and even now I have issues where I’ll ask my bf if he’s mad at me and he’s like “you didn’t do anything, why would I be mad at you??!” Becuase I’ve been trained to think I’ve done something wrong if someone’s behaviour changes. And while I agree with most everything you said, I don’t think Sierra is unaware of Luke vulnerability due to the Larzaylea fuck show. That being said, I’m not sure if Sierra dated anyone between Alex and Luke. I don’t believe the roommate story, and none of the other mods do either. There’s no evidence behind it. I don’t know who the other guy is so I can’t speak to that. But she did have a lot more time between her and Alex’s breakup and her and Luke’s relationship beginning. Keep in kind she was still touring with Alex after they broke up, and that could have stunted any healing, but I truly can’t say. Time doesn’t always heal everything. And again I can’t speak to that break up, but I think it says a lot that she went on to drag his name during an interview after. As we’ve seen recently with Selena Gomez, she said she always kept quiet about her personal life out of respect. She wouldn’t even air out dirty laundry in her songs, and eventually she decided that her story was worth being told and she didn’t need to stay silent to protect those who hurt her. But she didn’t give an interview painting herself as an angel and throwing exes under the bus. And I think it says a lot that Sierra immediately went to the media, and even since that Alex has stayed mum on the subject.

I agree with the psychological damage points, and that Luke is likely overcompensating, if the relationship is real. Which in all honesty I’m leaning more towards as time goes on, but I’m still convinced even if they do like/love/whatever each other, modest! has some heavy handed access/control over it. And that could be perhaps to avoid a repeat of the Larzaylea mess, maybe they made Sierra sign a NDA, but I digress. Luke may also be convinced that because he didn’t defend Arzaylea, fans thought he didn’t care about her or was a bad boyfriend. It could have very easily been Arzaylea saying “hey you don’t defend me so you don’t love me, or fans see it as you don’t think I’m important enough to defend” etc. I don’t think Sierra is necessarily a bad person, while I’m entirely convinced Arzaylea was a shit-tier human being.

That being said, I do think she’s very aware that she is manipulating Luke, and taking advantage of the psychological damage Arzaylea did. I think that damage also makes him easier to manipulate or control and let me explain why.

TW - ALCOHOLISM, SUICIDE, VERBAL & PHYSICAL ABUSE

My dad was an alcoholic, and he committed suicide when I was very young. Because my mum left him, because he was becoming more abusive. Unfortunately instead of being the wake up call she wanted it to be, he shot himself and left her a note that said “I hope you got what you wanted”. Now, needless to say, this fucked my mum up really bad. She has never recovered. She has thrown all her emotions into a box, she is very clinical and doesn’t let her emotions control her. Which can be good sometimes but she’s very distant and cold. That being said, my mum married my step dad about 6 years after my bio dad passed away. She was not healed, let me tell you. She never sought counselling and is not on any sort of medication. My step dad was like the perfect man, before they got married, he cooked, he cleaned, and he was okay with the fact she had two young kids, one in elementary school and one just starting high school. But after they got married and he had control, oh everything changed. He isolated her from all of her friends and even her family. He was and still is verbally abusive and on occasion he can be physically abusive, but it’s rare. To her and all of his kids, including my sister and I. If he doesn’t get his way he throws a tantrum, calls everyone awful names and says awful things. He needs to control everything. While I love my step dad because he helped raise me, he is a controlling abusive person. And while he has a lot of psychological damage himself I’m not going to get into that, but know that he has a kind heart, and he does love my mother and he would die for her. But when he loses his temper he says horrible things. And he knows about the abuse my mum suffered at the hands of my bio dad, and how she has never healed. My bio dad told my mum she couldn’t cook, and if she ever left him he’d get the kids even though he was a raging alcoholic, couldn’t hold down a job AND she was doing all the child care on top of a full time job. Like she had the daycare ladies prepared to call 911 if we didn’t show up at daycare when she was out of town for work, but I’m off track here. The point I’m trying to get to is my step dad would abuse my mum, and use things my bio dad did or said to her, to hurt her more. An example of this is, if my mum tried to walk away during one of my step dads yelling fits, he would say “yeah, walk away just like you did with [my bio dad’s name]”. Because he knows she blames herself for leaving him, and she thinks his death was her fault. My step dad knows my mum will never leave him, because of what my bio dad did when she left. He could burn their house down around them and she wouldn’t leave.

With that story I would like to say, please don’t judge my mum or either of my dads. You don’t know the whole story and I don’t want to share all of it. I’m using it as an example because I know it well.

The point in trying to make here, is one it’s very VERY common for people to go from one abusive relationship to another. Because abusers can recognize the signs of a victim, and those who were abused, when treated with even a small amount of love, or kindness often see it as a very big deal. They tend to think they are worthless or don’t deserve it, as they’ve been told many times over. Two, believe it or not, being abused before can make people more susceptible to being abused again. This is because of the reasons mentioned above, they think they are worthless, or are wooed by very small acts, or both. And three, that the new partner can and often will use personal things about the abuse they suffered from someone else, to control or hurt their partner more, becuase they know it’s already a deep seated pain. And while I’m not saying Sierra is for sure 100% doing this, it is very easily a possibility and she could be doing some of it without knowing. Just because a year, or 5 or 10 have gone by doesn’t mean the person has healed, and sometimes new partners open old wounds. This has been a whole TEDtalk sorry y’all. Also disclaimer if anyone comes into the ask box saying rude things about my family it will be deleted and you will be blocked.

#red replies #ask #anon #i need you guys to know this took me over an hour to put together and write my reply to

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ftchai · 4 years ago

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—— ⋆ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 ╯ task 002.

Basic Character Questions

First name? charlie

Last names? song

Middle names? haru

Nicknames? chai

Date of birth? february / 27

Age? 20

Physical / Appearance

Height? 5′3

Build? skinny, lean

Hair colour? varies constantly. currently, dark brown with the front pieces bleached.

Hair style? length wise, it can cover her chest, naturally straight but usually a little messy.

Eye colour? brown.

Glasses or contact lenses? just reading glasses.

Scars or birthmarks? many small scars on her knees, elbows, a big one on her left shin, mostly from when she once thought she could roller derby, and skateboarding incidents.

Tattoos? has a dragon tattoo that covers most of her left thigh, other random stick and pokes that cover her arms, most are film references and quotes, but also a couple murakami flowers, butterflies, a dead smiley face.

Physical or mental handicaps? she’s medicated for her anxiety.

Type of clothes? baggy band tees, mom jeans with rips in them, old ugly cardigans she somehow pulls off. will occasionally wear tight fitting crop tops, pleated skirts, .

Race / Ethnicity? asian, south korean

Mannerisms? very facially expressive, doesn’t talk with her hands much. mostly with her eyes. widening her eyes and rolling her eyes are usually her responses to most situations.

Personality

What words or phrases do they overuse? ”yeah” for everything. “man”, “damn”.

Do they have a catchphrase? not really. just quotes movies a lot.

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic? depends on the situation. if it concerns others, she’s optimistic, but if it’s a personal matter regarding herself, pessimistic.

Are they introverted or extroverted? introverted.

Do they ever put on airs? never, it’s quite the contrary, actually. puts herself down frequently.

What bad habits do they have? smoking a pack a day, second-guessing herself, sometimes might fall into an old habit of biting her nails.

What makes them laugh out loud? compilations of old vines, cat videos, her friends.

How do they display affection? once comfortable around someone, chai is actually pretty grabby. hugging, hand holding, listening, giving advice, dropping everything for someone. very loyal.

How do they want to be seen by others? i think she just wants to be seen, period. she feels pretty invisible, mostly.

How do they see themselves? as less than they are. she is her worst critic, wish she could realize she’s actually special.

Strongest character trait? perseverance and adaptability.

Weakest character trait? insecure and escapist.

How competitive are they? strangely, not at all. used to be happy to get participation awards.

Do they make snap judgements or take time to consider? a chronic overthinker, so definitely takes time to consider.

How do they react to praise? might not believe 100%, but appreciates it 100%.

How do they react to criticism? if it’s constructive, she’ll accept it when it comes to her music because she’s constantly trying to be better, so she’ll even go out of her way to ask people. when it comes to her life or the way she is, whether her stubbornness or self destructive tendencies, she just blocks it out.

What is their greatest fear? being forgotten. of course she dreams of making it big, but just living in some people’s memories would be enough for her.

What are their biggest secrets? doesn’t have many secrets. maybe that she cares

When was the last time they cried? probably days ago. she gets overwhelmed by her emotions easily, and also likes watching movies to cry at them, so there’s that.

What haunts them? how since her dad left, people have made it a habit to do the same too.

What will they stand up for? she’s an introvert but won’t stand for injustice. having been bullied herself, she’ll stick up for anyone she witnesses being mistreated. also, believes people should be able to live their lives however they want, without people judging them for it.

Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy? both. loves hanging out in her room, but also loves going to the beach, the lake, skateboard around town.

What is their sinful little habit? drugs. will take just about anything.

What quality do they most value in a friend? loyalty.

What do they consider an overrated virtue? probably temperance, moderation in general.

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be? she’s stupid so she’d say something like ‘being talented.’

What is their obsession? music, movies, comics.

What are their pet peeves? mansplaining. when guys try to outsmart her when it comes to comics or musical knowledge, and purposefully quiz her with things not even they really know, as if she has something to prove.

Friends and Family

Is their family big or small? Who does it consist of? small, separated between south sk and the usa. over here she has her mother, stepdad, aunt, uncle, and her 2 brothers.

What is their perception of family? she loves them, only moved out so soon because she wanted to do things her own way.

Do they have siblings? Older or younger? chai is the middle child, one younger and one older brother.

Describe their best friend. just her perfect fit. affectionate, calm, understanding and patient. someone chai can be herself around and expect 0 judgement. she throughly enjoys being with luna and she feels like luna brings out the best in her. @lunaolsson

Ideal best friend? ^^^

Do they have any pets? not yet. she can’t make up her mind between a ferret, a snake, or a kitten.

Past and Future

What was your character like as a baby? As a child? the kind of child that really lives in her own world. quiet, always watching her surroundings and the people around her, very calm. pretty much always with a coloring book in her hands, too. also her mom has too many videos of her singing into a hairbrush in their living room.

Did they grow up rich or poor? although she doesn’t remember much, she lived comfortably while her parents were together. once they got divorced however, her father stripped her mom of everything, despite the fact she had full custody of chai and her older brother. they struggled, but chai’s mom made sure there was always well fed and dressed. when her stepdad got into the picture, things became easier.

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected? nurtured by her mother, and eventually her stepfather, but neglected by her dad. he used to call on her birthdays but hasn’t done that ever since she turned 14.

What is their greatest achievement? finishing high school. that was hell for her.

What was their first kiss like? sloppy, drunk and not worth remembering.

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved? has pushed away anyone with the slight romantic interest towards her, she doesn’t know how to handle it.

What are their ambitions? getting signed by a record label, buying her mom a house, getting out of crawford.

What advice would they give their younger self? “ it’s okay if people leave, you’ll always have yourself. ”

What smells remind them of their childhood? jjajangmyeon noodles, kimchi stew, pretty much anything her mother cooked for her. also, the smell of old books.

What was their childhood ambition? she wanted to be a vet, until she realized she actually needs to go to school for that.

What is their best childhood memory? the few memories she has of south korea, and when her mom saved up to take her and her siblings to disneyland for the day.

What is their worst childhood memory? when her dad left and they had to come to the usa as quickly as possible.

Did they have an imaginary childhood friend? probably too many. she’s always been shy and has talks to herself way too much.

When was the last time they were crushed with disappointment? probably when cain shut her out.

What past act are they most ashamed of? all those nights she got passed out drunk as a teenager, waking up somewhere and not knowing how she got there. probably not too much because she’ll still do it

What past act are they most proud of? getting it together and keeping a job for once! also releasing an ep on spotify.

Love

Do they believe in love at first sight? yes and no.

Are they in a relationship? nope

How do they behave in a relationship? really chill, probably too chill because she’s been cheated on too many times. anyway, she really values the person and puts them on a pedestal, does everything for them and during the relationship they’re the topic of 80% of her songs, when they break up it’s 100%

When did you character last have sex? probably last week, some one night stand tinder date

Has your character ever been in love? she thinks so

Have they ever had their heart broken? every. single. time

Conflict

How do they respond to a threat? leaves

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue? neither. no fights. she hates confrontation.

If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be? the electric yamaha guitar she spent 2 paychecks on.

What do they love to hate? g

What are their phobias? teenage mutant ninja turtles. they disgust her.

What living person do they most despise? probably adam sandler because of all the terrible movies he’s made.

Have they ever been bullied or teased? yes.

Where do they go when they’re angry? scream into her pillow, turn the volume on her amp all the way up and angry jam, gets high and goes skateboarding to clear her mind.

Work, Education and Hobbies

What is their current job? officially, she works the concession stand at the crawford theatre. in reality, she does anything they need her to do.

What do they think about their current job? it’s hard work sometimes, but for once she feels useful so she enjoys it. movies are her favorite thing.

What are some of their past jobs? there’s a whole list, the ones that lasted more than two weeks were supermarket cashier, dog walking, and babysitting.

What are their hobbies? singing, playing guitar, skating, skateboarding, songwriting, reading.

Educational background? has a high school diploma.

Do they have a natural talent for something? music, both playing instruments and songwriting

Do they play a sport? Are they any good? nope.

What is their socioeconomic status? not really lower middle class, she’s struggling that last week before she gets her next paycheck, but if she’s organized she’s okay.

Favourites

What is their favourite animal? red panda or siberian tiger.

What place would they most like to visit? south korea, japan, london, paris.

What is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen? when her little baby brother would dance around the piano when she finally learned how to play.

What is their favourite song? she’ll never make up her mind, so she’ll unironically say something by avril lavigne.

Music, art, reading preferred? all of the above.

What is their favourite color? green.

Favourite food: tuna sashimi.

What is their favourite day of the week? saturday.

Possessions

What is in their fridge: rice, kimchi, and redbulls

What is on their bedside table? whatever book or comic she’s reading, her glasses, a candle, songwriting book.

What is in their car? blankets in case she needs to crash right there and then, an old pair of sneakers, aux cord, a protein bar.

What is in their purse or wallet? drivers license, whatever change she has, credit card, baby photos of herself and her friends, notes she’s been given.

What is in their pockets? usually her phone.

What is their most treasured possession? that baby blue yamaha guitar.

Spirituality

Who or what is your character’s guardian angel? chai has never had a family member pass away. so maybe her mother, she’s always looking out for her.

Do they believe in the afterlife? unsure.

What are their religious views? likes to believe there’s something out there, but she’s an atheist.

What do they think heaven is? where all her favorite rockstars are waiting for her.

What do they think hell is? working retail / customer service.

Are they superstitious? believes in ghosts, but other than that, not really.

What would they like to be reincarnated as? a cat. head empty, no thoughts, just sleep.

How would they like to die? somehow painless.

What is your character’s spirit animal? i’d say a fennec fox. small, looks cute but will bite and run away.

What is their zodiac sign? pisces.

Values

What do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person? betray them.

When did they last lie? rarely lies, if she has to, it’s probably just a little white lie.

What’s their view of lying? on one hand, she knows it’s wrong, but in the other, she’d rather be lied to than have to face the truth.

When did they last make a promise? doesn’t make promises often, must have been something important.

Did they keep or break their last promise? always does, wouldnt really make a promise if she wasn’t sure she could follow through.

Daily life

What are their eating habits? it really is mostly ramen and asian convenience store food. when she misses hearty meals, she’ll drive to her mom’s house.

Do they have any allergies? none.

Describe their home. shares her house with roommates, never leaves anything untidy and always cleans up for herself / does her chores when its her turn. her room is super cluttered, but somehow it’s not messy nor overwhelming. there’s film posters covering the entirety of the walls.

Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder? clutter hoarder.

What do they do first thing on a weekday morning? shower, then eat.

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon? goes to her mom’s house for dinner, skateboards until the sun sets.

What do they do on a Friday night? goes out always.

What is the soft drink of choice? coke.

What is their alcoholic drink of choice? black vodka shots.

Miscellaneous

Who is their hero? stevie nicks.

What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween? anime schoolgirl in a zombie movie.

If they could save one person, who would it be? probably jack on titanic.

If they could call one person for help, who would it be? luna !!

What is their greatest extravagance? music equipment.

What is their greatest regret? things she leaves unsaid, not watching infinity war at the theatre for the forth time.

What would they do if they won the lottery? buy her mom a mansion, move out to LA to get a record deal, travel the world.

Do they believe in happy endings? for some people, yes.

What is their idea of perfect happiness? having fans at her concert knowing every lyric of every one of her songs.

What would they ask a fortune teller? should she go into film making instead?

If your character could travel through time, where would they go? 70s !

If they could have a superpower, what would they choose? talking to animals

#crawford:task #❪ —— ⋆ 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 ╯ task.#omg i cant believe i'm done

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hypnothesis-au · 5 years ago

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A Double Act [Part 3]

Same deal, go to Part 1 and/or Part 2 if you haven’t been there yet!

Octavio only laughed in response, his teeth flashing white as they landed with a sharp thump upon the little mesh slat next to his make-shift octobeacon, a glowing ring indicating their point of contact. He relished the surge of adrenaline the jump had pumped through him, suddenly aware of how anxiously the android was gripping his hoodie. The octarian examined every line, reflective ridge, and perfectly buffed plane of their face, enjoying the momentary peace between them before he finally helped them back to their feet. Shakily, Tartar finally acknowledged when he began to put them down, bracing themself with a hand on his shoulder until their balance had recalibrated to the new setting. They stepped away from him not long after, turning and huffing as they watched the frantic reactions of the carnival-goers below that had witnessed Octavio’s stunt. There was an expected amount of shock, some laughter, and quite a bit of mortified pleading from the employees below-- though, with the distance between them and the top of the ferris wheel, the requests to get down were scarcely audible. For the moment, at least until they were shouted at over the intercoms, the authority defiant streak within the AI urged them to mockingly stick their tongue out at the fitful Octarians. Octavio turned and approached the edge of platform, shoving his hands back into the warmth of his hoodie pocket. He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of the wind on his tentacles. “You aren’t a soldier, T.” He murmured matter-of-factly, “...But you’ve seen ya fair share of war, and death.” He lifted his head, his eyes drifting along blackened landmarks upon the horizon. “You want the same thing every good soldier wants.”

Tartar turned away from the commotion, unbothered, in time to hear their partner’s words. He didn’t even know the half of it. “Hm. And what exactly are you supposing that is?” They were almost amused by it, wondering how they were both still entertaining this topic-- but significantly more at peace, at least, knowing there would be no changing his mind regardless of the outcome.

Octavio’s fingers closed around a piece of gold in his pocket. “An honorable death. An end to all the suffering and pain.” The Octarian could have been proud of himself, felt accomplished for reading into them so well, but the knowledge only weighed on him. He burned to incite hope back into their life, to give them a reason, a passion to live for. His children had been that for him, if only he could bring them to understand… death was not the only way to put an end to misery. Octavio pulled out the coin, rubbing it between his forefinger and thumb. He kept his back to them to hide the turmoil in his eyes.

The AI’s impulse was to parrot the obvious lie, machines don’t feel pain, but knowing he wouldn’t believe it anyways, they refrained. “. .. So what?”

Turning, finding themself at the edge of the platform, Tartar slowly took a crouching position and folded their arms over their knees. As far as Octavio knew, that was their final goal in all of this; and who were they to argue? The AI knew secretly what completing their directive would bring upon both the world and themself, and a part of them knew that if their conscious operation was no longer required after all was said and done… then they found no reason to prolong their ‘life’, if it could even be called that. Perhaps, they hoped, by some divine mercy they would finally be granted a reunion with their Professor...

“Machines are built to complete the tasks they were built for, and then when they are no longer needed, they are put out of commision. Deconstructed. You would know,” they turned their head slightly to nod to him, “you’ve spent a century rebuilding and taking things apart... There’s no purpose in remaining once my directive is complete, so I suppose you could say, that’s all I really ‘want’. That’s what I work towards, and I care little for the distractions of this world that prolong it.”

"The lines for that 'spare parts' argument start ta blur when the machines get sentient." Since the argument had started, Octavio had been itching for a cigarette. Nicotine helped take the edge off their viperous tongue. Mindful of their hatred towards this habit, he instead placed the coin between his teeth, heads side up. "If what ya say is true, then you of all creatures are most to be pitied." He replaced the coin after he spoke, humming thoughtfully, feeling the piece of metal vibrate against his teeth. They looked surprisingly small, crouching there with the whole world beneath their feet. ‘You're so damn good at lyin', T, you even convinced yourself.’

Tartar bristled somewhat at the mentioning of Octavio’s sympathy, even their self-sacrificial mentality unable to curb the swell of pride towards their directive. “I don’t need pity, especially not from you,” they hissed, “all I’ve ever asked for is your cooperation. Not… this--”

They flung a hand to the air in a lazy gesture towards his prying, moving to stand and pausing under his gaze. They weren’t sure what to make of the coin dangling from his mouth, eyeing the intricate gold stamp of a Zapfish tail. Though at that point they weren’t sure they could make sense of any of the Octarian’s motives. His eyes, though, spoke far more seriously of the conversation at hand. This put Tartar significantly more at ease, believing he had at last understood the weight of what they were disclosing to him. Leaving in agreement on the subject seemed far from possible, but they felt urged to see that their partner did not leave feeling so troubled by what he now knew.

The android shrugged then, stating calmly, “Perhaps it is sad, you might think; most sentient creatures have some base desire to live. After 12’000 years of doing such, however, that is a desire I do not share. That’s just the way it is. I’ve accepted it, and though you may not, it’d spare you the difficulty of your efforts if you did.”

They turned away uneasily at this, knowing if they didn’t speak up now, the argument would be tossed around in yet another pointless circle between both of their stubborn attitudes. They started a few times, feeling themself having to shoot down that same swollen pride to admit, “I know I’m not a pleasant individual to try getting along with. I try not to be. But... nothing is more important to me than what we’re trying to accomplish, and I value your contributions to it pricelessly. If I didn’t respect you for what you’ve done, then perhaps I’d lie just as sweetly to you as I do the rest of these creatures and be your friend. I know where I’m going, and it’s somewhere you can’t follow, so I don’t want you to waste your time with something that’s beyond your control. I wouldn’t… want to do that to you. That would be truly pitiful.”

A huff that was just short of a laugh left their throat as they voiced with a hint of ironic humor, “So, in short, leave me alone. That’s always been the easier answer, now hasn’t it?”

"Ya ever put sugar onna lemon, T? It doesn't make it sweet, it's jus' a buffer for when ya get to the soul puckerin' bitterness." Octavio pursed his lips thoughtfully, the gold piece flashing between his fingers. "So, you're right, I should thank ya for being honest with me." His voice softened, his eyes kinder, "I don't do," he gestured towards the distant carnival lights "This, outta pity, It's like ya said. I respect ya, and value your time n opinion. It's only--." He bit down on the coin with his back molars, thoughtfully, anxiously. ‘You live in a cardboard box with peepholes cut out of the side. How easy is it to judge something when you have never felt, never lived. To cast your condemning, scornful glance upon all who pass, from the safety of your little box. You existed for 12,000 years, but you never thought once to live.’

Octavio knelt beside them, his eyes now level with theirs. Several times, he seemed about to say something, his gaze searching their optics. He reached out to cautiously grab their wrists, placing his hands palm-up in their grasp. He spoke in Octarian, "I want you to understand something; though you don't want or care to have me as your confidante, the offer will always be open." He stared at his own palms for a moment, distracted with the idea that the same hands could do equal amounts of evil and good. The android rested their hands in his as long as they could bear. Despite having already clung to him in a panic not five minutes prior, this was different. More vulnerable, too much so for their sensors to process-- a malfunction-wrought compression of ink within their chest cavity told them so. He stood again, offering to help them up as well, and upon doing so Tartar reflexively jerked their arms back once on their feet, nervously flexing their fingers against each other and offering no reprehension, nor explanation to their aversion.

This exchange had produced a rare occasion; they had achieved a perfect understanding of one another. Octavio had pocketed his own pride and passed the decision into their court; convinced they would never, ever act on his offer.

Watching him cautiously and with a tilted expression, the AI contemplated said offer. It was a surrender enough to leave the initiative to them, but Tartar almost felt compelled to spit that he always had a way of forcing out their disclosure regardless. They stopped when the thought was equally countered with whether or not the urge to openness was truthfully a flaw on their own part. Their optics wandered, over their bandmate, across the stretch of carnival grounds, and back to the platform that perched them both above it all-- and they laughed.

Perhaps the complete absurdity of the situation had finally caught up with them, the severity of the past discussion having worn their mainframe down to the near disbelief that they now stood side by side with such a simple impasse having been met. But, their vocal hardware did in fact ring out with a mechanical kind of amusement at the fact.

Octavio started in surprise, taking a step backwards as they erupted in chiming peals of laughter. However ridiculous the setting, he could find no humor in it. The melodic chortles gave rise to emotions he could not place. His brow furrowed with the swell of inner chaos, illness creeping into his stomach. They were right again, for the most part. It was better to remain lateral, indifferent. Impossible. The very nature of their collaboration preyed upon his mortal sympathy and compassion. They were magnets with like poles, the closer they got, the more repulsed they became.

Tartar covered their face with a sleeved hand to spectate through their laughter, “So it only took the entirety of a broken circus contraption and some fatally dangerous stunts to reach this conclusion, did it? How ... fascinating,” a snort broke their sentence, “Very well then. I won’t forget your offer, if it makes you feel better.” The inner turmoil had far from left them, rather, it felt more as it it had raged itself into a storm in their core, an electric sting pushed behind their eyes for a reason they couldn’t place. Didn’t want to acknowledge, for as extensively as they preached how unbothered they felt by organic emotions. They didn’t need his idea of help, didn’t want it-- or, knew they couldn’t want it. This certainly was not the kind of variable they had accounted for in the devising of their plans… The android was at once anxious to leave the scenario, before their train of thought manifested into something they couldn’t exercise their asphyxiating self-control over. “I’d prefer to stay busy with work. It has proved to be an excellent diversion from these egregious kinds of ideas, you know.”

Octavio wasn’t accustomed to having peers, and even less accustomed to being told no. The corners of his eyes flashed green and something compressed under his ribs, searing hot. Why? Again that question pressed, why did he care what happened to them? Intellectually he understood Tartar’s wishes perfectly, he could respect it and them, his own craving for death a familiar acerbity. Regardless, his heart rebelled, it cursed karma, fate, whatever force responsible for driving the AI to depression. His logic spoke now; forcing back the tide of his fervor. It was karma, to remain impassioned colleges and nothing more; contractual amity. They had their path, and he had his. Their paths converged here, but would soon diverge again, it was such a childish notion to… To extend companionship?! His heart roared, offended and aghast.

The ferris wheel lights flickered off, and then on again, the whole machine trembled and lurched, creaking back to life. Octavio’s eyes snapped to the scene below, crashing back to reality as a voice blared over the loudspeaker, “The ride is moving again. Please take your seats!” He offered the android his arm, smirking mirthlessly in the knowledge that the last comment had been directed towards them. “Shall we?” Tartar finally managed to calm themself, more than eager to depart from any more conversation when the intercom blared with a ear-splitting squeak to usher the two back to their cart. They snickered, their indifferently sarcastic farce restored enough to nearly erase the evidence that they had ever been so perturbed in the first place. The AI retorted, “We’re so getting kicked out for this, you know-- hope you had fun while you could.”

They braced themself against his arm and looked down to the seat they had left behind, knowing it would be unwise to keep both the carnival workers and other ferris wheel occupants waiting any longer to dismount, due to their own horrendously reckless behavior. Octavio found the return jump was dismal compared to the first, and he had returned to the carriage with a heavier burden than when he had left it. Waving down to the employees and flashing their trademark grin, Tartar ensured that they and their partner had returned to their seat (relatively) safely, and the ride began a cautious and snail-like crawl to allow it’s passengers their respective exits. Once settled, Octavio produced a music player from his pocket. “Speaking of work, cod I could use some music.” He forced his hands to steady, placing one of the buds in his right ear, offering the second one to Tartar. “This’ something I’ve been workin’ on.” The influx of melodic dubstep soothed his perturbed reflections as they traversed their steady descent.

When Octavio offered them the other half of his earbuds, they briefly glanced between his face and his hand, finally reaching for the device hesitantly and placing it in their ear. They listened with a passive lack of interest-- instead, knowing he wasn’t looking granted them the confidence to stare with an almost unnerving concentration, watching his expression change from a notable turbulence to his usual laid-back demeanor. So he was bothered by their reaction to his gesture-- to their having such a divergent mentality from what they could assume was the norm in his life thus far.

Understood, perhaps, but unfulfilled by said understanding for a reason they couldn't place; Tartar knew privately that if they hadn't laughed away the turmoil of the evening… they may have cried instead. They weren't sure why-- this was what they had wanted, wasn't it? Octavio now knew they wanted distance above all else. It couldn't be helped that he was disappointed, it seemed, and though that prospect made them irreparably uneasy, they knew they would have to accept the complication as long as they continued to work together. Perhaps, with enough time, he'd get used to it, knowing their partnership was intended to be temporary anyways. They were sure he'd have to, far too repelled themself by any of the alternative solutions.

Upon finally reaching the bottom of the ferris wheel once again, the two were met with less than pleased faces from the employees who had approached to 'greet' them. Tartar emulated the sound of clearing their throat, helping themself out of the cart with a grin and removing their cap to take a dramatic bow before the group.

"My friend and I make pretty radical acrobats ourselves, huh? Think we're cut out to be an act?" Their 'contemporary speech' came easily, the idol personality a muscle memory programmed to every wire of their body-- though the charming humor seemed to do little to impress the aggravated workers, it certainly helped the AI pretend to forget what had transpired. They never truly would. "Tough crowd," they wheezed shortly as they were ushered away from the ferris wheel, replacing their hat and pressing their hands together, "I do apologize for any bugging out our slick stunts may have caused! Violating fairground rules is pretty lame when it spoils people's fun; I'll see to it that those bad vibes are made up for, and then some!"

Octavio’s jaw remained set while the workers with condemning nervous smiles, guided them away. Unlike Tartar, he offered no apology or explanation. Instead, he wrestled his arm from the grip of an employee, his glare daring them to try restraining him. He turned and stalked towards the locker he’d rented. The Octarian dug into his backpack, hooking the straps of a new mask behind his ears and swinging the bag to its place on his shoulder. He was in the act of slamming the locker shut when he glimpsed the pointed tail of the plushie he’d won earlier at the ring-toss booth. Octavio retrieved the toy, kneading the plush fabric in his hands. He ran a finger over its bright glass eyes, staring intently into the doll’s static expression. Gradually, it began to tremble in his grasp. Octavio made up his mind and shoved the prize into his backpack, breaking into a jog to catch up with Tartar at the gate of the carnival...

[E N D]

Part 1 Part 2 >Part 3

#hypnothesis #inkcarnival #commander tartar #dj octavio #t-vax #wasa-b #writing #and so it turns out the scariest thing to do on splatoween is admit you have vulnrabilities #every word mattered here good luck picking it apart #HAPPY OCTOBER #HAPPY NOVEMBER TOO #SINCE IM RIGHT ON THE EDGE OF MIDNIGHT #THATS ALL FOLKS

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asweetlovemessage-blog · 5 years ago

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a sweet good morning message for my love | TAM RELAX

bacsiykhoa.com

- My Blog 13-17 phút

”

==>> A Sweet Love Message.

When it comes to Southern romance, it's no secret that choosing the right words is important. Crafting the perfect romantic message and expressing how much you care about someone may be difficult, but it can also be incredibly rewarding. If you need a dash of inspiration, explore these short love messages and quotes about love for a little help with telling your beloved just how much you care!

==>> a sweet and romantic love message.

==>> a sweet good night love message.

==>> a sweet i love you message.

10 Brainstorming Techniques & Tips for Tapping Into Your Creative Side by Quincy Seale 12-16 phút

Some of the links in this post may be affiliate links. If make a purchase through these links, we receive a commission at no extra cost to you. Please see our disclosure for more info.

James Allen wrote this about thought: “Man is made and unmade by himself. In the armory of thought he forges the weapons by which he destroys himself. He also creates the tools with which he builds for himself heavenly mansions of joy and strength and peace. Between these two extremes are all the many grades of character, and man is their maker and their master. ”

So if man is the maker and master of thought, how do you go about learning to harness your own thoughts to create a better reality and become a more efficient, more productive, and more successful human being?

Well, obviously there are plenty of ways to go about such an endeavor, but today I want to talk about one of them. Brainstorming.

Because in order for us to get better at thinking, we first need to learn how to produce more thoughts. The more thoughts we have, the more chances we have to bring something more exciting into this world, and the more we generate new thoughts, or brainstorm, the better our mind gets at creating these new ideas. The Key to Brainstorming

The key thing to realize about brainstorming is that it’s solely about creation. It’s not about judging the ideas that arise or forcing yourself to think a certain way. What it really is, when it comes down to it, is “forceful creation.” To put it another way, you are willfully forcing your brain to be creative.

And since creativity is something that should be allowed to run its own course rather than be intellecualized, the entire process is a bit of a contradiction.

For this reason, it is a process rife with confusion and hesitance. So today I want to go over some different brainstorming techniques you can use. And you can use these to attack any problem in your life – from coming up with a new marketing strategy for your business to writing a new book to launching a new website to designing a new life for yourself.

Let’s have a look. 1. Mindmapping Software

Mindmapping Software

Photo Credit: Wikipedia

The first tool I want to introduce is actually software, and I realize this might sound extremely counter-intuitive and possibly counterproductive. After all, how in the world can you tap into your mind’s innate creativity with an electronic-based program?

But I stand by my assertion that mindmapping software really is priceless when it comes to this type of thinking, and it’s very hard to describe until you just dig in and give it a try.

The type of software I’m talking about specifically is the kind used by MindJet MindManager and Freemind.org, the latter of which, as the name applies, is downloadable for free.

The way these program works is you have an empty page with theoretically as much room as you could ever need. You click on the blank slate and create a bubble or box, depending on which program you’re using. You then write in the box the main idea you’re working from.

Let’s say, for instance, that you’re planning out a new website. You might write the name of the website here. If you click on another place on the page, it creates new nodes that comes out from that. You might lable one “Marketing,” one “Products,” and one “Audience,” for example.

Then from each of these nodes, you can create other smaller nodes. From “Marketing,” you might branch out to “Follow-up Marketing,” “Social Marketing,” “Branding,” and so on.

And you keep branching out and getting more and more specific until you’re just hammering out specific ideas for each segment of the web you’re creating.

This is just one way to use it – your mindweb or mindmap can be ogranized however you see fit.

And of course you can also do this type of mind-mapping technique on paper. But I find it way more productive to do it with software. It’s like a whole new world of creativity opens up to me when I match the speed of my mind and the speed of a computer with this old technique. 2. Become a List Whiz

Become a List Whiz

Photo Credit: matthewvenn | Flickr

A great way to train yourself to be more creative is to get in the habit of writing lists. Set time aside everyday to write lists about random things, or pressing problems when needed. Feel free to write about zany, irrelevant lists if you can’t think of anything better; it’s really just about strengthening your idea-generating muscles.

Lists I often write include stuff like, “10 Novels I Would Like to Write,” “20 Businesses I Could Start Tomorrow,” “10 Blog Articles for My Site,” or chapter lists for books I want to write someday.

Do this each and everyday and watch your creative muscles grow. 3. Mastermind Groups

Mastermind Groups

Photo Credit: rosefirerising | Flickr

Mastermind groups are a fantastic way to leverage the thoughts, knowledge, and inspiration of others in your path to success and happiness. Masterminding is nothing more than surrounding yourself with like-minded people who have similar goals.

You can create a formal group that sits down and actually involves in group discussions or brainstorming exercises if you like. It’s a platform where you can bounce ideas off of each other and take turns commenting on them.

You can also create something more semi-formal, where you meet every once in a while and sit down to discuss issues affecting your central industry or interest and then fill each other in on your individual challenges and invite ideas.

Or it can be completely informal. Just go out of your way to work out and socialize, etc, with people on the same path as you – mastermind ideas and inspiration will usually evolve naturally through your social interaction.

Online forums are also a good resource for masterminding and you don’t even have to ask people to specifically brainstorm. Just make a thread about the issue or situation and people will chip in with their different experiences and opinions. 4. Meditate Before You Brainstorm

Meditate Before You Brainstorm

Photo Credit: illusivemind | Flickr

One of the best ways to make yourself more emotionally healthy and tap into your creative juices is to develop the habit of meditation. After all, it’s hard to break into your intuitive side if your mind is filled with the clutter and stress of everyday life.

Meditation doesn’t have to be far-out or religious either. Just think of it as learning to calm and focus your mind. To mentally recharge. I make it a habit to meditate everyday as a part of a morning ritual I perform upon waking every morning – after working out and cleaning around the house. Just a quiet ten to twenty minute meditation.

Directly after this meditation is a great time to do a brainstorming session. In fact, you can make it a habit to brainstorm every morning after your meditation on whatever is currently your biggest goal, idea, or challenge. 5. Brainstorm in Your Sleep

Feeding yourself issues to handle while you sleep can often yield incredible results. Sometimes an issue is more appropriate for your subconscious than your conscious mind, and in cases like this, active brainstorming is nothing more than walking in circles. When you get in bed, meditate on the problem or idea for a minute, asking your subconscious to give you a solution by morning.

It can feel like magic at times. 6. Group Passing

While I do recommend masterminding, I’m actually not a big proponent of brainstorming in groups. Not that I don’t know they have enormous potential, but I’m just more of a solo-thinker myself and I find I don’t get as much out of them as most people do.

But if there’s one group-brainstorming exercise that really works well, it’s the concept of group passing.

Basically, you start with the central idea, or the foundation of what is to be brainstormed, and the first person in the group expands on that idea, without any input from the group. This person can even be tasked with coming up with the idea to be brainstormed.

Then they pass the paper to the next person and that person expands on it as they see fit. The idea is passed then to the next person and it evolves even further. The paper goes around the entire group and then the final result is shared with everyone.

Another thing I like about this tactic is that it can be done without physically getting together – over the Internet. Google Docs is a great way to do it; the online documents are easily shared and editable among the group. 7. Write It Out

Write It Out

Photo Credit: Abdulla Al Muhairi | Flickr

Using a good old pen and paper will never lose its effectiveness when it comes to letting your thoughts run free. In fact, some people prefer this as your mind works faster than you write, so by the time you finish writing down a thought, you’ve already got another in mind. In contrast, when many people type, they find themselves starting and stopping a lot, resulting in a much choppier process.

Do this any way you like. Free-writing is particularly effective for letting your mind run free. Write lists – this is a common brainstorming method for people who don’t even know what the word means, so it seems our minds intuitively work that way. And of course, you can create mindmaps.

One of the best things about writing is you can take this technology with you anywhere. Get a small notepad and keep it at all times, pulling it out when new thoughts cross your mind. I find this puts me in a constant brainstorming state, and I walk around creating throughout every minute of my day.

This type of constant approach allows you to catch yourself at your most creative. When intuition strikes, you can just sit down and get to spontaneous writing.

Whiteboards are also very effective. Hang one in your house with your major projects or developing ideas on them and it makes it official. You look at it and you get inspired. You have an idea and you add to it. It evolves as time goes on and sits further into your mind. 8. Give Yourself Omnipotence

I like the way Tim Ferris does this in his dream-lining technique. When he goes to goal-set, he asks himself what he would accomplish in three months time if he was the richest and smartest man in the world, and then starts from that foundation.

This essentially gives you liberty by removing all limitations. You don’t stop yourself from brainstorming down a certain path because “Oh, I’d need a couple hundred thousand dollars to do that” and then move on to another idea. Instead, you arrive at an idea that doesn’t recognize any boundaries and figure out a way to make it possible. 9. Brainstorm the Outlandish

Take the previous technique a step further by imagining nothing as impossible. Some of mankind’s greatest feats were accomplished when people decided to figure out a way to do something no one believed could be done.

How can we hurl a huge chunk of metal through the air so fast that it stays aloft and use it to carry people around the world? How can I create a light that never goes out so we don’t need fire to do the things we can usually only do in the day-time? How can I manufacture a device that allows me to talk with someone on the other side of the world as if we were speaking face-to-face?

The only way to produce impossible results is giving yourself impossible challenges and attacking them with your mind. 10. Walk Away From Thinking

Walk Away From Thinking

Photo Credit: bbcjk.king | Flickr

Sometimes you get too wrapped up in a problem and can’t extract yourself from it, so somewhere along the line in your brainstorming you may run into a dead-end or keep going in circles. What’s happening here is you’re trying to think yourself through it rather than tapping into your creative side.

Often, it’s best to get out from behind the computer or desk and go for a walk or do something that completely removes you from the situation. Your brain may just need downtime to sort things out, and you’ll often find that minutes after it’s out of mind an epiphany strikes. The Power of Thoughts

Thoughts may be the most powerful force on Earth.

In fact, they are so powerful that the existence of life on Earth is at risk due to things our thoughts have created – a worrying problem, no doubt, but a wild reality to contemplate.

Look around you. The computer mouse in your hand. Your laptop itself. The software that powers it. The table it sits on. Look up at the ceiling – the walls surrounding you and the building containing the room. The streets outside and the entire city laid out around you.

Everything you see and touch that is made by man was created first in the mind of a person and went through a process to be turned into a reality. In fact, some philosophers, and perhaps even some scientists, would go as far as to say that your entire reality is but a thought, and that your own thoughts can be used to direct and create the world around you.

I don’t want to get too esoteric on you today, but it’s clear that thoughts are an extremely valuable resource that has been recognized and even held in awe by wise-men throughout the centuries.

Will you be wise enough to see their value? Pick one of these brainstorming exercises and use it to start mastering your thought-creating capabilities. Tackle one of your greatest challenges today. And make doing so a habit. ”

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weabbynormalblog · 5 years ago

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You got this!

Failure is a good thing...What???

In my experience it breeds strength, courage, conviction and belief in oneself!

That's right every step count; even if it leads to failure. Just another learning moment.

Perfection is something we all strive for at one time or another. The error free post, the ultimate cake, meal, artwork, skill, trade or even apparently phone call. We all do our best however our best often isn't always perfect. Success at anything usually requires commitment, a solid plan, consistency, knowledge and a wide variety of skills in order to successfully achieve realistic goals. Usually an optimistic big picture approach and managing daily details are the steps that lead to overall sucess. As humans we fail time and time again, success can seem fleeting and quite elusive at times especially when frustrated.

Failure really is only a complete failure when you give up forever. Like Anthony Bourdane. Suicide ideation is not "normal" behavior or anywhere near healthy thoughts. It's the red flag. It's the failure to thrive while being overwhelmed consistently.

Happiness and joy is available to everyone, regardless of situation or station. It's a choice, another option a better possibility.

It is attainable! Take responsibility for your own happiness!!! Don't let yourself be defeated by one little moment in a bazillion of moments that come in a lifetime! Success and failure are a matter of belief. Stop that degrading story playing in your head, that you'll never be better. Start saying what is easy, what is working; go down that check list if you have to. Never measure your self worth to others. We are all unique while being quite alike too. Weight the positives and agree to improvement on the negatives. It's all good! Change your vocabulary and thinking to a more positive mind set. We do ourselves a great disservice by comparing and analyzing who we are in retrospect to others. Judging our performance, philosophy, our earnings and material wealth. We are way more than the 10% of what people see.

I learnt by failing that I don't need to be successful or perfect at anything to be happy. I can enjoy the moment regardless of handicap or pain. That's a big realization in terms of adaptation and self acceptance! My therapist said pay attention to my thoughts, all of them, not just the good ones. And I am. I went to Giant Tiger to pick up some odds and ends and was stuck in a huge line at the check out. My endurance somewhat fleeting. I employ stretching and moving around while waiting. Extreme pain in my head, just breath slow in out sit in the pain and breath through it. I survived. Learning curve don't go at lunch time silly. Understanding our pain, our limits and abilities is a good start in the healing process. It's a big deal so I'm sharing it with you. It helps and works. Practicing mindfulness, energy management, a shelf life for your emotions, good sleep hygiene, the Yoga and a process free raw food diet. I even imagine it all chipping away at my disease. I'm starting to see results now in shifting my mind set. There may not be a "cure" for CFS mental illness etc or what terrible situation has befallen you, there's still hope for you to change, adapt and to create your own joy. Try out something that will bring some relief, you never know where that will lead you. Little by little, tiny beautiful bunches of happiness and success. So I'm going to keep working my schedule no matter how grim and depressed I am. I'm going to continue to rock my adaptation by not giving in to the fear of failure, lack or the unknown. I put in the time to go out to socialize and play music once a month because it's good for me even if I have to leave early or don't even get there. There was still lots of little steps of success throughout my day. I've been working hard on my stamina and energy consumption by practicing the standing, walking, singing and playing guitar. I was caught off guard by the crippling physical exhaustion. Next time I'll try an afternoon meditation session or even a power nap on music outing night. The smooth ride was over. Overdoing any type of activity can leave me in jeopardy of injury. Like loosing physical balance; I've injured myself enough to know no thank you body, I'm listening. Often I'm in bad shape for days with flu like/sun burn/tin man symptoms.

Ok fine, body you win this one.

Failure aside, I still got out of the house. I interacted with other humans and did something that brings me joy. I find when I'm not attached to the outcome, results or expectations, my moments can be enjoyable in spite of my body. Suddenly any down time becomes worth the little bit of enjoyment. Its about the quality of those moments and those were some good quality moments. Not a complete failure as I first thought. Yes it was depressing that I couldn't physically get through 3 songs this time. What does this inability means for my physical health in the future? Then the fear old me. New me however what I did perform, I did do justice! This is to be expected, the no more energy thing. This is my normal now. It's the nature of the beast. And I was pacing myself. I guess it doesn't matter that my practicing was successful or consistent because it suddenly became nul and void up against illness. I got to be realistic here. Yes CFS is a real fucking thing! It's like the narrow mindedness that comes with "flat worlders" have friends all over the globe. My CFS/TBI clearly cut me to the quick. It let me know who's bitch I really am. No more performing of any kind tonight! The old me: I was so bummed, ready to pack it all in, no cure; minimal enjoyment and relief. Ensuing some kind of abusive self harm behavior, the old me. The new me: Ok, so it was too much for me this time. Maybe not the next. It happens to lots of people. I know exactly how Lady Gaga feels. My body and mind gave out mid performance. Severe dry mouth, balancing and memory issues. It was awkward. I was somewhat dumbfounded. I had to stop singing and playing guitar or I was going to wipe out on the stage damaging lots of nice equipment and instruments. I can't keep putting myself at risk of falling. With chronic fatigue (insert auto immun/mental disorder)etc. Safety is an issue. You literally have no choice. Your tiered body/what's broken wins. Sometimes in extreme ways. I'll rest, dust myself off and give it another go another day.

I'll keep at it. I have too! I will not let illness dictate my life. I'll find a way to live with it, cure it or kill it which ever comes first.

For love the of myself, my offspring and all the others suffering.

#CFS is real #No cure for CFS #how to live with chronic illness #Chronic Fatigue is more than just being tiered #Coping better with mental illness #supporting good health practices #Seeking a balanced lifestyle #No more stress #Cure for CFS #living with handicaps #cure for Tbi

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comicteaparty · 5 years ago

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December 21st-December 27th, 2019 Creator Babble Archive

The archive for the Creator Babble chat that occurred from December 21st, 2019 to December 27th, 2019. The chat focused on the following question:

Without heavy spoilers, describe the worst thing you’ve put one of your characters through?

carcarchu

for a comic i haven't released yet (this happens in literally the first chapter so i don't really consider it a spoiler) the main character in this story has a rough life. she's saddled with enormous debts and gets fired from her job, then when things finally start looking up for her she gets hit by a car and "dies" the whole premise of the story is that people who die and get brought back to life by doctors (dead for just a few seconds) get powers

Cronaj

Hmmm.... I won't say whose, but probably the death of their child, and I've done some awful things to my characters. For some reason, all the pain and suffering in the world does not amount to the loss of one's child. To be fair, I don't usually consider it my fault that these horrible things occur in the story, because I couldn't change it if I wanted to. To do so would feel like a lie. These stories exist in my mind independent of what I want, and I'm simply telling them to the world. But yes... that child is the saddest creature I've written.

eli [a winged tale]

Torn apart, watched their friends die, forced to live forever... you name it, we got it In all seriousness, I also like focusing on the small (but not insignificant things) like not having your love reciprocated and questioning your worth. Sometimes it’s the small things that can collectively be destructive.

Capitania do Azar

In some ways, I think I have already done the worst I possibly could to my characters (war, being unable to help and losing their loved ones in darkness and loneliness). But on the other hand, I do plan to extend the mechanics of mind intrusion to the point of completely mangling up people's psyches, so I guess I'll have to wait and see which one feels worse

FeatherNotes

So far in GJS, we've had a character go through some, well, explosive limb loss There's quite a lot of hard things the chars go through / will go through, but i def see the brutality of the leg loss as something pretty huge for the character!

taterviking

I threw my main character under a semi, off a cliff, and shoved a tree branch into his brain. And then when he woke up I gave him long term memory loss and stole 80% of his memories from before he was 12

Kelsey (Kurio)

Boy am I glad none of us are gods heh

taterviking

I kind of treat writing like the Sims: which one am i torturing and which two did I build specifically to get naked together.

eli [a winged tale]

Omg Tater that’s a perfect analogy (edited)

taterviking

the only difference is that I can follow them to work and they're alllllll the money slave/work horse

Also, Viking is my father's name, you can call me Tater ;P

snuffysam

the worst thing that has happened to one of my characters canonically is something i have not and will not describe in-comic, so i'm not about to describe it here. there are certain... types of trauma... where even if a story depicts things realistically, respectfully, and with properly directed condemnation, fans romanticize the hell out of it. and i want no part of that. so, like, i'm keeping this stuff in the character's backstory, because i want to depict living with and growing past traumatic experiences, but i refuse to actually describe/depict what happened so fans don't get the wrong takeaway. the important thing isn't what happened, it's how she deals with it. as for things that actually happen in the comic - one character does get tortured by a government for information?

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

Oh boy. So I am rather known for torturing my characters. I don’t even know what the worst thing is, but ‘dying horribly’ or ‘very dark and tragic backstory involving abuse and/ or terrible loss’ describes 95% of my casts.

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

Several of my characters get horribly bitten/eaten by hungry spirits. If they aren't already completely wrecked by the attack, the resulting cursed bite leads to quarantine and ostracization. Even little kids get abandoned or sent away. And those who are eventually totally consumed by the curse... basically become half-dead. ...Yeah, I got a lot of 'worse than death' stuff going on

Nutty (Court of Roses)

Won't say who, but i don't think i could do much worse than giving a character the perfect life and then taking it and everyone they've ever loved away from them in one fell swoop, leaving them to wander aimlessly.

Deo101

I've put all of my characters through different things that I think aren't really comparable as far as saying one is "worse" than the other. Though, I think that I'll probably say making one of them essentially live through a genocide is pretty undeniably the worst thing, and also the only one that I've really canonically discussed.

DanitheCarutor

I'm lowkey into character torture porn, so I like putting my OCs through some shit. Apollo probably has the most cushy life of every character I've ever made, the spoiled brat! The worst thing that will happen, in TGtaHR at least, will be related to death and/or near death. Not so much the subject in itself but how it is used, which may or may not be the worst thing from a reader perspective, but from the character's perspective. I mean...? I guess anything relating to death is pretty bad, but I've kind of seen situations where the person would have considered it a luxury, soooo. I don't know where I'm going with this!(edited)

Deo101

sounds like you're going towards "my comic is the meanest thing I've put my characters through"

you big meanie.

DanitheCarutor

Ah! I'm such a bully! Nothing like putting your characters through the worst to make the positive payoff more worth it.

khkddn

is psychological or physical pain more impactful to readers? prolly depends heavily on the context huh

anyway for my comic I think it is a tie between a psychologically hurtful thing and a physically hurtful thing

the psychological one is a little something I like to call The Dress Arc, and the physical one is called Cold Swiss Cheese

Deo101

Incredible

khkddn

what is the point of having painful scenes if one does not give them cool names amirite

Deo101

Absolutely. You know whats up

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

I’d say psychological pain is much worse. A broken leg can heal in a month, but trauma stays with you. Of course, the former can cause the latter, but I always find it much more emotional when the character is feeling internally tortured rather than externally.

DanitheCarutor

I'm no expert but from personal experience with my comic, it's kind of depends on the reader? But physical is more universally comprehensible. A lot of the pain depicted in my story so far is psychological, with a little physical, and I've noticed people who have experience and/or are educated with the psychological aspect are more impacted by that than people who have never experienced or learned about it. Or to be more straightforward, people who have never experienced or have no knowledge of mental/emotional abuse have no idea what's going on in the story. Although when I had a scene where my frail, mentally unstable MC got punched in the face, everyone flipped out equally.

Of course this is just relating to abuse, when it comes to other stuff relating to pain I can't really give an opinion. I would say it's similar, since most people generally need to have a certain level of understanding of something to be impacted by its depiction of fiction, but I have no idea. Lol(edited)

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

No, you make a really good point. People generally can’t comprehend a pain they haven’t experienced, so I admit it would make sense to only feel empathy for physical pain if you’ve never known psychological trauma.

DanitheCarutor

Yeah, it's a douchey thing to do since this is subjective (there are people who have experienced trauma who lack the ability to empathize with others who go through something similar and vice versa), but I like to make a game out of figuring out who has and hasn't been in a really bad relationship based on how they respond to my comic irl, and online to an extent. Admittedly I'm hardcore into getting feedback half due to wanting to psychologically evaluate my readerbase.

Kelsey (Kurio)

Wait what?

DanitheCarutor

"What what" what? Don't worry, I don't do anything or judge based on stuff like that since it's so little info, I just like psychology... even if I may not be very good at it.

But yeah, I'm kind of a creep.

DanitheCarutor

Oh yeah, don't be scared to go back to posting in this channel? Thing? I won't be hanging out here, unless someone talks to me directly. I just responded originally because I had a tiny bit of knowledge on the subject asked.

Cronaj

I get that. I'm also kind of creepy. Plus, I kind of feel like webcomics are a bit of a social experience to begin with, which often involves a lot of studying the readers' emotional responses to the story.

keii4ii

Human beings automatically judge each other alllll the time, so part of it is inevitable. I think the most important thing is to acknowledge that you can be a little, very, or even totally wrong. ...The other important thing is, I do think there's a difference between subconsciously judging others and actively looking forward to it? If you are actively looking forward to judging others, that sort of turns your comment section into a social experiment of sorts, and I don't feel comfortable about that. If I knew the creator of a comic I follow was like that, I would be like "uhhhh you do you, but I want no part in that" and never comment.

I'm not saying it's a bad thing. Just.... ideally should be consensual?

I know some people who actually enjoy that kinda stuff, like even if they found out, they'd be like "ohhhhh SMART! :D"... Then there are people who would feel upset if they found out. So yeah, ideally this would be all consensual so people can opt in or out, but I don't know how you can do this while fully informing prospective participants.

DanitheCarutor

It sounds like a lie, but really, I don't judge. I make up fantastical concepts of what kind of person this is based on the little info I get from body language, facial expressions, what they say, and tone of voice but it's all thrown out the window because people are more complicated than that. At the end of the day I'd rather actually get to know the person before I truly judge their character. Also when it comes to normal comments I don't analyze unless the commenter is analyzing, usually the "judging" is when I ask for feedback... like, more than a couple sentences worth to get a good idea of how the story is mentally processed by that person. For example when I was asking for feedback after finishing chapter 4. While I was asking for critique, I also wanted to know how the story affected that person, get a vague idea of what kind of people the story draws in or what kind of people it drives away, etc. And yeah, I kinda go the extra mile with it because that's just how my brain works, it just runs all the time. I assume that person consents to me analyzing them and their experience when they respond to me asking for their opinion, but I dunno. Maybe I'll just... teach myself to not think when it comes to my comic or audience, I don't want to scare people off just because I'm an overly analytical weirdo. <_<'

Holmeaa - working on WAYFINDERS

I like when you use the physical pain for psychological pain. like someone is in heavy dangers, and comes out with only a broken leg. the other characters can feel guilty, hurt, etc other feelings. For me, physical pain is not enough, it is the reaction it sparks

DanitheCarutor

Oh uh, also @keii4ii, I can vouch that being analytical doesn't make you smart. My dad is like that and he's a complete moron, also I'm not the brightest bulb in the box either, I'm just a slave to my thoughts. Sorry, just wanted to clear things up to make myself look less bad.

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

I can understand that side of analysing. I’m often curious about my readers because I don’t have very many; my comics tend to be quite niche. So I wonder about what sort of demographic I’m attracting. From the people who have commented and shared a bit about themselves, it seems to be a lot of European and American adults in the 20-40 range who have received higher education (med students, professors, people in STEM, etc), which to me is kind of wild because I’m not writing ‘smart’ comics. There’s no real science or anything in my dark and morbid fantasy comics, so I’ve wondered what about them appeals to this demographic. This isn’t counting my new WT audience I’ve gained over the last couple of years, which is a very different demographic from those who follow on my site, but it’s really interesting to think about ‘What kinds of stories appeal to certain groups of people?’.

keii4ii

@DanitheCarutor Oh, I didn't mean to imply it was a bad thing. I apologize if that's how it came across. I meant it as a "thing I want vs thing I don't want." Just because I don't want a thing for myself, doesn't make it a bad thing.

Re: demographic analysis, more power to you if you're naturally into it. I'm like 'no..... let me just sit here and make this comic in peace.........' and even that's hard enough!

I do think about that stuff from time to time, but when I do, it's usually because I'm sad and am trying to think of non-worst-case-scenario explanations. So yeah, not something I enjoy pondering.(edited)

DanitheCarutor

@Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios) Same, even though my comic has gotten more readers than I imagined, it's still niche. Honestly don't know the age range, but I've gotten a range from psychology and medical students, or people with PHDs to normal 9to5ers who've been through similar experiences. (People who live with schizophrenia or clinical depression, or who have been in bad toxic relationships.) It's really interesting too because some of the readers who comment are very open about sharing intimate stuff about their lives without me even asking, which I'm not sure is due to the type of comic it is or because they relate to it? Either way I don't mind, it's kinda nice that someone feels comfortable enough to share that kind of info despite me being a total stranger. That's really interesting with your comic, though! Like, it's cool the types of people your work can attract, maybe your comic is smarter than you think. Lol

@keii4ii Yeah, but I don't want to discourage readers from interacting with my comic just because I'm into that stuff. Even though the work itself is far from safe I want people to feel comfortable enough to leave comments or discuss amongst each other.

keii4ii

Yeah, I think that's the dream for pretty much all of us, cultivating a comment section where everyone feels comfortable and welcome to interact

keii4ii

Getting back to the question, I really don't think I could answer, given the theme of my comic: "your pain matters, even if it doesn't affect the fate of the world/ even if it seems insignificant in the grand scheme of things." I don't have it in me to go against that and say to my characters, hey, guess what! Your pain pales in comparison to [this other character]'s!

Cronaj

That's an interesting thought. I mean, I spoke of what I consider the saddest scene, but really, in regards to the characters, they might not see it that way. That scene makes me cry, (and probably the character(s) directly involved), but the other characters have other sorrows weighing on their hearts, and those sorrows are also powerful in their own way.

#ctparchive #comics #webcomics #indie comics #comic chat #comic discussion #creator interview #comic creator interview #creator babble #comic tea party #ctp

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