#he’s such an intelligent man but you can tell he dissociates hard sometimes

[thatgoddamngingerundercut]

I love when folks are like “wow, I got chills imagine he looks at you like that, he’s so daddy, he looks so mad” about Yoongi and then you look at the pic they’re talking about and it’s just him sitting there totally zoned the hell out just no thoughts head empty. Like there is literally nothing going on up there, he’s currently mentally in a different universe, wtf are you talking about 😂😂😂

[cotccotc]

♡ 10:56 am ; safe space

set in the domus amoris universe !

genre/s: comfort, angst > fluff, established relationship au, hyunjin x gn reader

wc: ~2.6k

warnings: non-sexual nudity (mc, not hyunjin; vague descriptions of body parts), anxious/depressed/self-deprecating thoughts, in-depth description of a panic attack, mc has hair that’s long enough to brush

a/n: this one’s based on a suggestion by the lovely @crscendoforsung​ !! i wanted to make it a bit angsty for ya since,,,, i Know You :) it’s also a pretty exact account of an experience i had as well so.. that’s fun... lol. if you ever have a suggestion for the series feel free to check out the suggestion box !!

there are always going to be times where nothing seems to be going your way. sometimes days, sometimes weeks, sometimes years… and it’s hard opening up about those things. those things that eat away at your psyche until it seems as though there’s little to nothing left; the things you never say out loud for fear they might manifest themselves; the things you even dread telling the man you love for fear of worrying him. it’s times like these where you don’t want to be heard or seen, but rather to curl up into a ball and let everything you need to out of your system. it creeps up on you. right now, as beads of hot water pierce your back and your face rests in your trembling hands, you’re reminded of this feeling. it plagues your body, haunts your thoughts… and honestly, you’re not sure how it happened. but you know that if hyunjin sees or hears you, he’ll take on your troubles as if they’re his own. so you stay quiet.

you’re honestly just confused. angry at yourself. frustrated. you’d caught yourself staring into space again. it happens every so often, but each time it does you get more and more fed up with your lack of self control. your dazed, dissociated mind will get the best of you at times. it can get to the point where, like today, you can be in the middle of a simple, everyday task - taking a shower, brushing your teeth, sometimes even doing work - and you’d just be stripped of your attention span. and, it can last for as short or as long a period of time as it so chooses. it makes you feel like you’re out of control of your own body; as if the vessel in which your spirit is contained is caving from the outside in, crushing your spirit in the process.

heart racing against your thoughts, shallow breaths rising and falling at a staggering pace, fingers trembling as you fold your hands together and squeeze them closer in a weak attempt to make it all go away. you begin to wonder why you’re like this. how you can go from applying shampoo to your hair to feeling the water grow lukewarm as your mind wanders into oblivion. oftentimes, you blame yourself, citing a simple lack of intelligence for the way your head takes over like this. you don’t even know when it began. prior to moving in with hyunjin, of course, but… were you always like this? was this always how your brain decided to occupy itself? have you always been so spacey… so vacant, so stupid? why are you like this? why are you so broken? why won’t it all just slow down or stop? why don’t you just-

whoa. where did that come from?

these thoughts strike you, almost as if you’ve been slapped in the face. your cheeks heat up as a stinging sensation overtakes your eyes. tears. droplets of disparity, dripping down the drain. what feels like a chill courses through your body, making your bones shake and joints buckle. seeing stars, your knees give out, sending you to the porcelain floor of the bathtub. you sit with your legs folded, leaning over with your face in your hands. heaving breaths, hot tears, piercing beads of water shooting out from the showerhead to the sensitive skin on your back. shaking, shuttering, ashamed. especially since you’ve given up trying to stay silent.

you hear the bathroom door creak open. shit. but just like any other instance, you can’t seem to stop convulsing nor crying.

“baby…?” you hear hyunjin’s soft, youthful voice calling to you over the running water. “baby, are you okay?” he must’ve heard you fall.

you try to catch your breath. and, of course, you fail. just like you failed to pay attention to the task at hand, failed to conceal the breathy sobs over which your lover must now worry… you’re choking on your own futility. “no,” you whisper, your face still contorting in your hands.

before you can object, a hand reaches into the shower and shuts the water off before hastily pushing the shower curtain to the side. now, more than ever, you’re hyperaware of the volume at which you’ve been sobbing. the chill of the air rises over your naked form but is quelled by hyunjin’s warm hand against your back. he’s taken a seat next to the tub, a look of concern and shock spread across his face. you can’t even look at him. you can’t bear the fact that he can see you right now. your physical bareness doesn’t even concern you. it’s the emotional nakedness that sends you deeper into your descent.

but oh, what it’s doing to hyunjin.

he feels so helpless. so terrible. so guilty. he doesn’t even know what happened, and yet his only wish is to be able to go back and stop it from happening. guilt, responsibility, fear... it’s enough to force a tear from his own eye, as well. “what’s wrong,” he whispers, his voice trembling as his face tightens and lips quiver. you can’t help but let out another bout of choked sobs and convulsions. he leans into the tub, gently pulling your wet hair out of your face and draping his arm across your bare back. he presses a kiss to your spine, then rests his cheek against you. as more teardrops emerge from his eyes, he strokes your hair. “breathe,” he murmurs. under his breath, closing his eyes, he adds, “please, breathe.”

mind you, this isn’t the first time he’s seen you like this. maybe not in the same circumstances, but you’ve had similar episodes while out in public, while doing work, or even while trying to fall asleep. however, when he’s around, he’s able to help calm you down before things get this extreme. many times, his prolonged embrace alone is enough to drag you out of your daze and back to reality. but every time he holds you close enough to feel your heart fervently pulsing within your chest, his pangs for you. whenever your heartbeats are not aligned, he wants nothing more than to trade. 

you do as he says. you try to concentrate on your breathing. though your mind is still fuzzy, you rely on your senses. with the aid of hyunjin’s caresses and directions, you’re able to begin breathing at a semi-regular pace. though a stutter remains in your breathing pattern, everything seems to have slowed. he lifts himself from you, leaning toward your face to get a better look at you, regardless of the agony your aching expression puts him through. “you did so well,” he mutters. you sit up, wrapping your arms around yourself as the air hits your wet skin. “here,” he says, quickly rising to grab a towel from the metal rack on the wall. wrapping it around you, he holds onto your arms as you use the side of the tub to lift yourself up to a standing position. he helps you step out of the tub and onto the floor. despite the humidity of the confined room, the tile beneath your feet is chilling.

you sniffle, wiping your face with your hands. he takes two fistfuls of the towel and replaces your hands, patting your face dry. that’s when you notice he’d been crying too. you look into his pink tinted eyes with an overwhelming twinge of guilt. “i’m-” you croak. but he knows what you’re going to say.

“don’t be sorry,” he interjects, looking deeply into your eyes and cupping your face in his hands. “please?” you nod, averting your eyes from him. he makes you so happy. so comfortable. so at home. and yet, you feel so embarrassed. he’s seen you like this before. but the feeling never seems to lift. he licks his lips, placing a kiss against your cheek before travelling across your jaw and down to your neck. then, he begins patting you dry with the towel, gently brushing over your skin with the cotton fabric.

you’re so grateful for him. he shouldn’t have to do this for you. he shouldn’t have to care for you as if you’re a child; you should be able to do basic tasks. it’s all you can think about as he travels down your body, blotting the water off of you. so much so that it brings back the wetness in your eyes. you think you’re undeserving. you think you’re hopeless.

he stands back up, getting ready to towel dry your hair. that is, until he sees the single tear dripping down your cheek. his stomach drops. he wonders if his efforts aren’t enough. he wonders if he deserves to be the one who takes care of you. if he can’t do that, what can he do? at least that’s what he’s made himself believe.

so much unspoken.

“love, what’s wrong?” he asks, tilting your chin toward him with his thumb and forefinger.

“i…” you start. you don’t even know where to begin.

you glance away, eyes flicking to the clothes you’d picked out to wear after you showered - the main component being one of his t-shirts. he follows your eyes, hastily setting the towel down and grabbing the garments. “let’s put these on. i’ll help you.” you nod, sniffling. he gives you a bittersweet smile, crouching down to help you step into your underwear. once your undergarments and shorts are on, he picks up the t-shirt and smiles to himself. he didn’t quite recognize it as his own before. it’s a mixed feeling. he helps you into the shirt, his warm fingertips pressing against your waist as the fabric settles atop your form. his thumbs rub back and forth against the material. it’s a small gesture, but it’s soothing.

you shakily place a hand against his chest. “thank you,” you mumble, your voice still small and strained.

he gives you a half-smile before taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss onto your knuckles. you know he’s trying his best. and he knows you are too. that’s why he doesn’t prod. instead, he grabs the towel from the counter and a hairbrush with his other hand. “come on,” he says, leading you out of the bathroom and into your shared bedroom. he takes a seat on the bed, his back resting on the headboard. he taps a hand to his thigh. you climb onto the bed, then onto his lap, facing him. “close your eyes, baby.” and so, you do as instructed. his efforts are beginning to elicit more endearment than guilt out of you. it’s dawning on you that he’s enjoying the surface level elements of taking care of you just as much as you’ve relished in receiving them. he wraps the towel around the back of you, placing it atop your wet head. as he massages your scalp with the towel, rubbing and compressing your dripping locks, you hum in relief. it feels so warm. he makes you feel so warm.

you take a deep breath. he smiles at you, even though you can’t see it. he thinks you’re adorable. and he’s relieved you can breathe again.

after he’s done drying your hair, he tosses the wet towel down onto the floor beside the bed and grabs the brush. placing his other hand on your waist, he says, “tell me if it hurts. if i’m hurting you, i’ll stop.”

opening your eyes, you let out a small giggle. “you could never hurt me,” you reply. and, it’s true. he never has, and he never will. you pinky swore on it a long, long time ago.

a breath escapes his nose as his smile grows wider. “ok.” he tilts your head to the side. ever so gently, he begins brushing through your still-damp hair, carefully and slowly untangling any knots. eventually, he turns your head to the other side so he can reach more of you. once your hair has been fully detangled, he places the brush down on the bedside table in favor of wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. “all done.” you encase his neck in your arms, resting your head against his shoulder. the pads of his fingertips roam all over the expanse of your back, lulling you into a relaxed state of mind.

“thank you,” you whisper into his neck.

“you don’t need to thank me.”

“yes i do,” you respond, sitting upright. “you shouldn’t have to do all of this for me. but you did. but you do.”

he cuts you off slightly, hands passionately gripping onto your hips. “i do this because i want to. we take care of each other. you would do the same for me.”

you roll your eyes. not because you’re angry or annoyed, but because what he said is true. you would do the same for him, any time. but that’s because he deserves it. why do you? “yeah, but…” you trail off, eyes drifting to the side as that familiar tingling arises in your face. your lip trembles, signalling to hyunjin that, once again, his efforts were ineffective.

“baby, what’s wrong?” he whispers, placing a hand on your cheek to draw your face back to center. you look at him, your brow furrowed and a tear escaping your eye, reaching up to hold his hand as he strokes your cheekbone with his thumb. he wipes the salty remnants of your pain off of your skin, though the sentiment remains.

you climb off of his lap. he lifts the covers and blankets so the two of you can slip inside. laying down and facing him, you let out a deep sigh.

“it’s just… it happened again,” you say. he pulls the covers over your bodies and shifts closer toward you.

he tucks your freshly brushed hair behind your ear before placing his hand upon your side. “mhm.”

“and i couldn’t concentrate on anything else. i forgot where i was, and what i was doing…” you sniffle. you don’t want to send yourself back into such an emotional state, but you want to help him understand how you’re feeling. so, you do your best to explain. everything. everything from zoning out to your body becoming fragile, and even to the feeling of worthlessness that accompanies it all.

he comes close to crying again, but he pulls himself together for your sake. he doesn’t want you to feel guilty for feeling. instead, he pulls himself closer to you and presses a kiss upon your cheek. “i’m proud of you, you know,” he says before kissing your face again.

“why?” you ask, chuckling with a slight smile spread across your lips.

“because!” he objects. he tickles your side, prompting your smile to widen and laughter to continue. “you were brave enough to tell me.”

“i thought i was a baby,” you tease. you playfully grab his hands off of you… but you know you won’t get too far.

“you’re not a baby.” he climbs on top of you, pinning your arms above your head and placing a trail of kisses along your cheek and neck. then, with his hands traveling back to your sides to tickle you some more, his voice deepens. “but you’re my baby.” you can’t help but giggle, bombarded with kisses and blushing from the contact. your reaction only eggs him on. he smiles into the crook of your neck before leaving a series of kisses against it, tickling you all the while. 

sure enough, you’ve forgotten all about what had happened just an hour ago. it’s as if nothing occurred at all. not because you’re distracted, not because you’ve dismissed it, but rather because you felt comfortable enough with your lover to share your deepest, most vulnerable inner turmoil. and he received you with open arms, an even more accepting heart, and a trail of sloppily laid kisses that’ll leave a swarm of butterflies aflutter in your stomach for days to come.

he succeeded, finally. and the both of you couldn’t be more pleased.

another note: if you’ve experienced something similar to this, please know you’re far from alone, and i’m always here if you need someone to talk to. i hope this can comfort you in some way. love u ♡

tags: @magglesx, @crscendoforsung, @stayndays, @hanniiesuckle17, @leggomylino, @freckledberries, @pixielix, @skzctnightnight, @serenityswords-main​, @childofthecosmos, @changbinniee​, @kpopscape​, @skzwriternet, @hyunsins, @sleepylixie​, @ncityluvvs​ (send a 🍓 in my ask box to be added for skz !)

©️ cotccotc 2021 ~ all rights reserved. do not repost my work on tumblr or other platforms.

[madlymiho]

Could you do X drakes, Ace's, and Basil's reaction to their S/O using their Ancient Zoan in a REALLY tough battle and S/O just, sweeps the field pretty easy in their form? Diplodocus would be preferred but you can decide the dino

I'm doing this!! ☺️ I hope this would be nice!

I'll go for Diplodocus since you prefer! 🥰

X-Drake:

• Even if it might sound a bit old fashion, somehow, Drake has always believed that he’s the man in charge during a battle and he couldn’t share this power. He’s the one who should take all the risks, the one who’s there for his men, or women, defending their honor no matter what

• It’s his job to make sure that everyone is coming back to his ship safe and sound, somehow because as an ancient Zoan himself, he has those instincts of protection ; it’s his duty, the reason why he’s the captain, he would be the one to sacrifice himself, and on the same level, the one who can eradicate his enemies on the battlefield

• Not that he doubts your competences, nor your strength or your will to fight, but he has a hard time to let it go, even if he tries his best to muffle those emotions, and give you the sensation that he trusts you...Since he’s in love with you, he has another duty, your protection is probably the most important mission he has ever had in his life, and he doesn’t want to fail it, and would show a dangerous side if anyone tries to harm you

• He knows that you have an ancient devil fruit yourself, but perhaps you don’t know how to use it probably, that the dinosaur within you is actually too strong, and you wouldn’t be able to use it properly... All those risks, he doesn’t want you to take them, and that’s why he would harshly and roughly yells at you to stay behind him... growling that you’re not in charge there

• But Drake can’t control you, and that’s also why he’s such in a bad mood when he notices that you turn into your ancient zoan form. Though, he didn’t anticipate that you would be so good, using perfectly the shape of your massive lizard body to win the fight, and completely eradicate the enemies there

• Abashed, eyes widened, he doesn’t really know how to react, probably because he’s still under those instincts he can’t fully control as well.. You have been prodigious, and he has to admit that you have some capacities, you can definitely take care of yoursel, and this is somehow a new perspective for him

• Yet as your captain, and a former marine, Drake has to remind you that you have been acting recklessly! He ordered you to stay behind, you could have been injured! For a moment, he only treats you as a subordinate, his intense blue eyes gleaming with both rage, but also fear... he was definitely concerned about you, but doesn’t know how to express it

• A firm kiss is suddenly pressed against your lips, carnal, harsh and dominant, Drake only circling your nape for a moment, just to have the privilege to deepen this contact. Another primal way for him to express many emotions he’s unable to talk about ; his love for you, his fear, his admiration... Words which are so complicated to pronounce

• For sure he will always growl whenever you’ll turn into your zoan form, but Drake is now sure that you’re capable to defend yourself and use your fruit intelligently... Though, you better be certain he wouldn’t show a happy face, and it will take some time for him to mellow this nature of his

Ace:

• Ace wouldn’t discriminate your ability to fight, but he’s a bit young and cocky sometimes, and he’s not the second commander of Whitebeard for nothing. When it comes to fight, usually he’s in charge, because logia fruits tend to be more effective on the battlefield, and he knows how to handle problems since he’s a kid

• Of course you’re more than welcome to join him, but Ace is somehow deeply concerned about that. His loner instincts are often striking whenever you’re around and there’s danger ; it would be easier for him to actually focus on his enemies if he doesn’t have to think about you all the time, nor your protection

• He doesn’t want you to get hurt, even if he’s always teasing you, or messing around with you, you’re his most precious treasure, and the very fact that you might get injured is an unbearable idea. He wouldn’t say it, but through his jokes, you definitely understand that it’s a sensitive topic... Losing you would be such a terrible outcome, he wouldn’t survive it

• He has always been carrying you away when things would turn nasty, pretending that his “little darling” would need a knight to rescue them. Another excuse, a goofy way for him to make sure that you’d be safe and sound, so of course, as soon as your turn into your devil fruit’s form, Ace’s anxiety is reaching its peak, and he will try to snap you away from the battlefield

• Surely, he admires your zoan form, mesmerized by the elegance of your shape, the massive paws you have, and all this feral aura surrounding you like a second skin, while you’re rushing and your enemies to finish the battle. He feels his heart aching, the very thought of losing you setting on fire, even more, his own wish to protect you

• You find within him the best fighting partner, Ace thoroughly having your back whenever you’re entering the fight, flying all around, but leaving you enough space to use your power, encouraging you loudly, with that huge smug smile on his lips when he understands that you’re okay and wouldn’t get hurt so easily

• You better be sure that as soon as the battle is over, he would be there to circle your waist - once you’d be back to your human for - his digits brushing your spine, and rear, that same smile plastered on his lips while he showers you under compliments, bragging about your skills

• He kisses you, hugs you, rubs his nose against yours, whispering how incredible you have been. Of course he has to joke that he’s pleased you’re not turning into your zoan form in more intimate situations, pulling you closer to hug you tightly

• Then, when he’s certain you’d be the only one to hear it, Ace gently tells you that he made him worried, and he’s releaved you’re not injured... A more intimate confession for such an intense moment

Hawkins:

• For Hawkins, you’re more than capable to defend yourself, especially since you have decided to follow him around the world. For sure, he’s in love with you, but love doesn’t have its place on the battlefield and there’s no reason for him to actually forbid you to have your own fights, it’s ridiculous

• He dissociates himself between his duty to protect you as a captain, and his duty to love you as your lover. Sure, you grew intimate together, but using that bond to restrain your freedom? He’s not that kind of captain, woman or man, you’re absolutely able to handle things by yourself without him to enter your business

• Though, as he always does before a fight, you better be sure that Hawkins thoroughly studies his deck of cards, looking at every single possibility before dragging you into a battle. He does that for every of his man, but you’re different, and he wouldn’t admit that he’s more concerned when it comes about you

• So his confidence in your capacities comes from his meticulous looks on his cards. You have zero percent of chance of dying today, and the injuries would be minimal, so you can definitely enleash your nature, he wouldn’t try to stop you

• He appreciates your zoan form, but can’t help but be slightly anxious about your sudden ability to change his pronostics. He often looks back at his cards to be sure that you’re not taking some unwelcome risks, somehow using his own power to help you in the process, without being too much noticed

• His role as a captain isn’t to only protect one person, but he finds a good balance between your power and his own, making sure that you’re safe and sound during the entire battle, while he’s also deeply amazed by your skills, even his those thoughts woudn’t be expressed

• He always checks on you after such an intense fight, but Hawkins is hard to read, and most of the time, he only passes by in total silence, cold stare watching at your body to see if you have any injuries. He doesn’t compliment you - because he couldn’t encourage too much violence either - and simply expose the rest of the plan

• Somehow it’s his own way to respect you ; giving you too much unecessary attention could only prove that he doesn’t trust you enough to take care of yourself, and this is something he can’t accept. He has to treat you as an equal, even more if you’re intimate with him... It would be degrading to pretend that you could be weaker than him

• Perhaps he might scold you if you have taken some dangerous risks during the batttle, but his silence is somehow his only form of compliment. You did your job perfectly, and maybe a single brush of his thumb over your shoulder would make you understand his deepest thoughts. Hawkins will always wait to be far from any curious eyes to make you feel his real emotions anyway...

[astraeass]

[1] start once again;

[cross-posted in ao3 • fem reader]

pairing: levi ackerman/reader (first three chapters doesn’t have Levi at all tho..)

warnings: cursing, talks about adoption, panic attack, dissociative amnesia

words: 2145

Summary:

you just wanted to know the truth, so why not be a reckless dumbass and join the scouts

"I’m joining the survey corps"

Laria froze, she couldn’t believe what her sweet, little girl was saying.

Wait, she’s not her sweet little girl anymore.

"What..?"

"You heard me Laria, I’m pretty sure you know what does that means, right?"

"[Y/N] please you can't do this to me... you can’t do this to David!"

"Or what..?"

You know this is cruel, you totally know, but your current desire to go outside the walls and see what the fuck is happening dominated your thoughts.

Laria fell to her knees, staring at the floor, apparently the old wood texture was more interesting for her than what you wanted to say.

With a deep sigh, you kneeled before her, holding her shoulders softly, when noticing your presence, Laria almost instantly grabbed yours in an opposite manner, with a tight and aggressive hold.

"[Y/N]... please don’t do this, tha-that’s suicide!"

You looked at her pale green orbs with intensity, sending her a sign that no matter what, your choice will not change that easily

"If you want me to stay, I just want to know from where I actually am, tell me Laria"

The older woman flinched, it was such a foreign sensation to hear her name coming from her daughter.

Silence.

"I..."

Laria looked down her palms closing and opening with hesitation.

"I don’t know"

You rolled your eyes standing up, you couldn’t take more of this bullshit.

Laria without your hands supporting her shoulders, fell down. Tears falling down her cheeks and meeting the creaking floor no long after.

"You are telling me you adopted me without knowing where the fuck I am from?"

The only sound you could hear were Laria's sobs, you know she’s trying to control them, but she can’t hold them a second more.

"You know I’m not from inside the walls...?"

More silence.

You don’t really know what’s going on in Laria's mind right know, her face was hiding in the floor, it was impossible to see the expression of shock in her usual calm features

"What...?”

Her voice was cracking again, that sent a pang to your heart. After all, she and her husband David were the ones who raised you.

But, you will move on.

You need to move on.

"I want to know from where I am, that’s why I’m joining the survey corps. I’ll go outside the walls"

Your turned away from her, slowly walking to the door you recently came from, without looking back, because you knew that you wouldn’t be able to continue forward if you see her pained expression again.

24 hours before;

It was another normal day, you were going to the market, David, your father, needed some fresh tomatoes for the plate he was cooking today. Even thought your butlers could go out and buy them for him, you insisted enough, just like always.

"You started being a really stubborn girl since you came to the world, [Y/N]" Said David with a smirk in his face when you managed to convince him. This time was harder, it was like he was scared about me going outside, it was... strange.

You loved going outside.

The chattering from people doing their chores, the sun's bright light and slight breeze softly caressing your skin brought you to a state of comfort that made you unconsciously smile.

After a short walk, you reached your destination, a small stand that sold fresh ingredients, most of them vegetables. You weren’t fond of their taste at all, but the smell was added to your list of comfort ambience.

"Hey [Y/N]! You’re doing the shopping today again?"

You nodded to the old woman, she was already used to your presence and usual shopping. You maybe were outside way too much

"Yes, Miss Anderson! However this time was harder to convince my father, I think it’s because I’m getting older"

After grabbing the necessary quantity David asked for and payed for it, you followed the way to go to home, this time you went faster, an uneasy feeling wandered you for a strange reason, making you want to go home as fast as possible.

However, a familiar voice made you stop in your tracks.

"Claire wait a minute!"

You turned around when you heard your last name and meet big bright blue eyes, a tall form with broad shoulders. He was person of your age and apparently he was panting a little, it seemed that he ran for you to catch you before you decided to go home.

Erwin Smith, the golden boy in your class.

You didn’t know a lot from him, you just knew that his father died when he was younger coincidentally after he spread some rumors about what’s outside the walls, oh and that he was a little bit older than you.

Not that you care anyways.

"Erwin, what do you need?"

After gaining some air after running for you, he handed you a little bag with some money that you recognized as what David gave you for the tomatoes

"This fell from your pocket and I couldn’t help but notice that I was from you"

"...Thank you"

The both of you stood there, an awkward silence invaded your comfort, and that bothered you a lot. You were a quiet person since you were small, so it was always hard for you to start a conversation but ended up getting used to it.

This was so embarrassing.

"I can walk you to your home, if you want to"

"No"

You didn’t even hesitate and continued with your way back home.

"Thank you again, uh.. I’ll get going"

And with that you left, you were close to your house anyways. But a feeling of regret started to eat you up. You hated your boldness.

that’s why you don’t make friends [Y/N]...

However, Erwin didn’t actually move from his spot, he decided to stay there watching your form slowly decrease its size. There was something strange about you.

He was finding it out.

;;

You finally reached home, opening the big doors of you house, don’t caring if your maids scolded you for doing it because it was their job.

"[Y/N] how much times we need to tell you that you don’t need to open the doors?"

Giselle, the head maid told you for the nth time this week with an already annoyed look. It was getting irritating, couldn’t anyone see you were trying to be independent?

You just passed by, Giselle after all wasn’t way too much older than you, her mother worked for your family for a long time, so she just got her title thanks to her, which to you, was an error since she sometimes thought a superiority aura would intimidate you.

At first you thought she was jealous, but why? Your looks? Your sharp but at the same time soft features are beautiful, they contrasted perfectly. Mayhap your intelligence? ...no.

This is ridiculous.

"[Y/N] sweetheart, you’re already home?"

Laria with David at her side interrupted your thoughts, making you jump a little and hoping that they didn’t notice.

David Claire was a tall man, strawberry blond curly and slightly long hair, usually tied up in a low ponytail and his chocolate dark wide shaped eyes complemented his face very well.

Meanwhile Laria Claire has her platinum blond almost white hair trimmed in a bob cut, her light chubby face was cute, but her sharp hazel eyes kind of scared you sometimes, the way her bangs sometimes covered them didn’t help at all.

But you.. you were strange, preciously strange, a girl unique with unique features.

Way too unique.

"Yes, I didn’t need to buy a lot of things"

You approached your kitchen, leaving the bag were you carried the tomatoes besides David, him sending you a sweet thankful smile. When you were bringing your hands to your pockets, you felt a bulge, noticing that it was the little bag that Erwin picked up from were it fell.

"Oh, I almost forgot giving your money back father, where do I leave it?" You asked playing with the bag bouncing it between your hands

David chuckled seeing your cute mannerisms and pointed upstairs. "Just leave it in my office, inside the first drawer if you can, please" He looked at you with pleading eyes.

Huh...?

You nodded, grabbing the money bag before it fell and headed upstairs. Wondering why your father gave you that look, he seemed even desperate for you to place the pouch back. David's office was the last one in the hall, giving you more time to think about what just happened.

Entering the room, you expect something coming out for you. How dumb. Slowly, you went to the desk and opened the first drawer, inside a paper with your name and another last name.

[Y/N] [L/N]

[L/N]...? What.

The money pouch you were holding, fell down because you were holding it tightly, the force increasing the more you read the coins falling everywhere and making a loud noise that probably reached your parents in the kitchen. Shit.

Before picking up and collecting the coins you fell down on your knees, an heavy headache suddenly hitting you.

I’m.. I can’t I’m not an object

Why did they sell me..?

You were lying down the floor of a carriage, the wet and cold wood hugged your soft cheek. The rocky path making your body jump from time to time. Your wrists and ankles were tied tightly, you moved a bit, but it burnt. You also had some type of clothing around your mouth preventing you to scream for help.

The only thing keeping you conscious was the beautiful nature you could see by a hole in the cloth that was hiding your body from the outside world so no one could see that the carriage had a kidnapped girl in the back.

It was beautiful, pink... trees? A large body of water that reflected the mountains and the full bright moon. The mountains had some snow at the top since it was very white. However you couldn’t see a lot more since your vision started to fade.

You suddenly gasped loudly, opening your eyes widely. Your hands were gripping your hair with a strong hold and you barely noticed you were crying after seeing some wet spots in the floor below you. What.. was that?

"[Y/N]"

The voice of your fath- no. The voice of David startled you, making you look up him with a tear stained face. His eyes sending you pity.

You hated that.

You stood up rapidly pushing past him with so much force, that it made him fall on his butt, you were about to help him but as fast as you stood, you face contorted in anger leaving the office to run to your room.

Closing you door behind you and locking it up, you turned your back to your door, supporting yourself on it and carefully sliding till you sat in the floor, bringing your knees to your face and hiding it.

No, you weren’t crying, you were confused, you were angry. Why that memory decided to appear in that exact moment? To much in such a short amount of time.

You expected David or even Laria to come and knock to her door to see if they cared. They didn’t. Was that also part of your illusion? The loved and cared for you... right?

Not that you cared, again.

Next day, after coming for whatever your were doing, probably just spacing out, collecting your thoughts. You confronted Laria, apparently David didn’t tell her about your little panic attack, it was heartbreaking, he wasn’t even there.

The more you walked from your house, the more determined you were to join the scouts. You’ll finally know your origin, it didn’t matter if it was tragic or not, your curiosity apparently won. How sad.

;;

"So yeah... that was pretty much what happened"

You didn’t expect meeting Erwin when joining the training corps, however it didn’t surprise you at all. What really surprised you is his look of amazement in his eyes when telling your story.

The bright look being more noticeable when he was listening to your theory of yourself not being from inside the walls.

"I know Smith, the idea is basically impossible, it could be a dream, y'know those fiction ones" you said after seeing how he kept on silence after some minutes when you told him what happened in your household not long ago.

Nothing.

"Could you say something? This is awkward as fuck"

Erwin pupils widened, he's back to the real world. His expression know shooting you an apologetic smile, making you frown.

"My apologies [L/N], I was in my own mind. I’m sorry all of tha-"

"Don’t pity me, I did it myself"

Next Chapter

[petri808]

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30-Epilogue

*TW: cutting, therapy, break down. a little longer then usual at 2500 words

The therapist greeted the couple as they walked in and sat down on the couch. “Thank you for allowing Natsu to sit in today, Lucy. I don’t want you to think of this as a couples counseling per se, because you’re still my primary client. But I feel that him being here to understand your struggles, as well as his, and being able to express them in a safe environment, will help in your healing process. And thank you Natsu for agreeing to this.”

He sat forward a bit, ready to engage. “Anything to help Lucy.”

“I’d like to start with your homework Lucy, has there been any progress in trying to write out your feelings? Remember, it’s okay if you’re still struggling with that, there’s no judgment here.”

“Not... really...” Lucy fidgeted with the hem of her sweatshirt. “Every time I try to, I-I get too... I start to cry, and the panic rises— I fail at it every single damn time and that makes me feel even worse.”

“You’re not failing. Let’s reword that to struggling and recognize that simply making an attempt is the first step, a very important one to be proud of.”

“Maybe I was just kidding myself all along about writing. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t any good in the first place. It was all in my head.” Lucy could see the frown on Natsu’s face from her words, but that’s how she feels now. There was a time she thought she was a decent writer, maybe not publishing quality yet, but she truly enjoyed it regardless and now, a blank page is all she could muster.

“Natsu,” the therapist directs her question to the man. “It seems you’re unhappy with her statement. Would you say that Lucy’s a good writer? Honest answer.”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “I mean I’m no expert, but the stuff I’ve seen is pretty good. I definitely couldn’t pull them off.”

“Lucy would you call Natsu a liar?”

The blonde paused, annoyed and offended. She wanted to say yes, only because she didn’t want to agree, but then it wouldn’t be true. Natsu was giving his honest opinion and she couldn’t deny it. “No,” Lucy breathed out. “Look I get it. You’re trying to tell me it’s all in my head, right? It’s just the pain talking, and I’ll get better, and I’ll get back into writing just like before.” Anger had slowly begun to prickle the hairs on the back of her neck the longer she clung to the dissociation. “I-I’m not an idiot! I know this is all stupid shit in my brain! I just can’t stop it!”

“I’m sorry, I pushed you too hard, let’s go back a step here. No one is saying you’re an idiot. On the contrary, you’re very intelligent. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be recognizing that it’s all in your head, and that recognition is how the healing starts. My role, today with Natsu’s help, is to bring that to the forefront. Bring it out into the open, because sometimes hearing it out loud has a different effect on how we process the information.”

“I don’t get it...”

The woman sat back in her chair in thought for a brief second. “When we think about things just in our head, versus saying it out loud, it triggers different parts of our brain. What studies have found is that talking out loud stimulates... rational... erm, reality I guess is a better term. It becomes more real to us.”

“Huh.” So, what, Lucy rolled her eyes at the suggestion. True or not, she didn’t want to agree, because her mind was still in such a strong state of denial. “I still don’t accept it. It sounds stupid.” Maybe it was just her annoyance talking, but the therapist was getting on her nerves. Lucy knew the woman was just trying to help, but her irrational side didn’t want to deal with any of this. The pain sucked, but so did the treatment. She just wanted to stay in her room, in the dark, away from prying eyes. Surprisingly to Lucy, the therapist didn’t even flinch and the gleam in the woman’s eyes almost looked sadistic in that moment.

“Lucy, I know you know it’s not stupid. That’s just your mind imagining the wrong things, which is why you need to talk about it out loud, so you can hear yourself and how wrong it all sounds.”

Ugh! She was so tired of being told what she is, what she should be thinking, and the condescending tone she wrongly assumed from the therapist triggered an explosion. All the anger she felt about herself was transferred to the therapist in an instant. “I’m wrong?!” Lucy jumped to her feet, her anger crackling through. “No shit! Lady, I’m fucked up!! You want me to talk? Fine! I hate this! I hate everything! It’s all falling the fuck apart and I feel like I’ve been tied to the damn train tracks! Everything I’ve worked so hard for is slipping away! Three years of college being washed down the drain! How the fuck do I catch up now?! I’m so behind! AARRRGHH!!! I-I don’t even wanna get out of bed anymore! I hate myself— hate what I’ve become a-and that makes me even more fucking depressed! And my friends...” Lucy dropped back onto the couch as her shaking hands flew up to cover her face and the dam of tears finally broke loose in a cascade down her cheeks. She cried long, and deep for several minutes, chest heaving and inconsolable.

In that moment, Natsu sat frozen, his eyes swinging back and forth to the therapist and his girlfriend unsure of what to do. Should he move to comfort Lucy? The therapists inaction seemed to suggest the answer was no. It made him furious, yet... she was the professional... before he could make a decision, Lucy finally uncovered her face and look dead at her therapist. Almost forgetting him all together.

“My friends, seeing the looks on their faces...” Lucy dug her fingers into the fabric of her pants in an effort to ground her unraveling mind. “It hurts so fucking much! I must be getting on Levy’s nerves, she didn’t sign up to be my nurse, a-and Natsu, he’ll surely get tired of a basket-case of a girlfriend. I can’t blame him if he left me, I’d leave me too. It’s all just falling apart—” Her chest heaved in a heavy sigh. “I can’t see a way out anymore.”

Seeing the whites of Lucy’s knuckles the harder she clenched onto her leg and seeing the heavy breathing similar to that night in the ambulance. Natsu feared that Lucy was heading towards a panic attack. Wanting to reassure her, Natsu reacted this time and reached up from his seat, quickly grabbing her arm to gain her attention. “Lucy, I’m not—.”

But Lucy screamed and yanked her arm back, face grimacing in pain. “Tsss—Owww!!”

“leavi—” Natsu pulled back immediately. “Oh, shit! I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to! Did I grab you too hard?!” He didn’t think so, but based on her reaction, maybe he had.

“N-No,” she cradled her arm, turning to shield it from him. “You didn’t, I’m fine, it just caught me by surprise.” Lucy quickly brushed it off for fear of requiring an explanation. “Really. S-Sorry, I-I’m probably just too flustered.”

But that explanation didn’t satisfy Natsu. Lucy’s yelp was clearly pain related if buttressed by the fact she continued to hide it. “You’re lying to me,” he reached out, “I’m not mad, just please tell me the truth because it’s obvious there’s something wrong with your arm.”

“N-No, I’m not,” she tried to act like it was true. “See,” she waved it as if showing it was fine. “Nothing’s wrong...” till she accidentally hit it again and flinched, biting her lip just in time to stifle a scream. But she knew in an instant that she’d been caught.

His eyes and tone softened in an effort to lower her inhibitions. “Yes, there is.” Natsu took her arm and started to pull up on the sleeve of her sweater.

Lucy instinctively turned her head away. She didn’t want to see his reaction to the bandage around her arm. Even when he continued to speak, questioned what was underneath it, she answered in one worded responses without looking. But at his gasping sound, her eyes closed in shame. She could see what he saw all from behind her eyelids, all the horizontal cuts running across her left arm. The red, angry lines in varying stages of healing. She kept most of it grouped around the middle of her arm between the wrist and elbow crook. At first, she’d tried what that EMT had done, merely jabbing her arm with a pen or digging her nails into the skin. But it wasn’t enough, so she’d moved onto cutting. It had started out small, just a couple of lines were enough to silence the horrid voices in her head, but like a junky’s tolerance, Lucy had to keep cutting, more and more, deeper, just to feel the same numbing results.

“Is this what I think it is?” Natsu’s shaky voice questioned with moisture filling his eyes. “Oh, Lucy, why didn’t you tell me it was this bad.” Now he knew why she’d started wearing long sleeves even when the weather was warm.

“I’m sorry... I didn’t want anyone to know... but it was the only thing making the voices stop.”

Without another word, Natsu pulled a surprised Lucy into a tight hug, tears of his own spilling. “No, I’m sorry, it’s my fault this is happening to you. I should have dealt with Touka long ago. I should have protected you better. This is on me, but Lucy I’m never gonna let you go, I won’t ever leave you because of this. We’re gonna get through this together. I swear on my life, we’re gonna get through this together. Do you believe me?? Please, tell me you believe me?”

“I do...” she did. The man wore his heart on his sleeve. It was a trait Lucy found most endearing, so how could her heart not accept his words? They sat there in an embrace while time stood still, and a small measure of relief fell over her. It wasn’t much, but it was a glimmer of hope, an ember, and one she hadn’t felt in a long time. This man who’d caged her on that train and captured her heart, she could easily pin all of her pain onto him, but he could also be her salvation. His strong arms wrapped around her broken frame made the scary world fall away, to remind her how much more she yearned to stay within it.

Once he felt Lucy’s body relax, Natsu pulled back, wiping away her tears as well as his own. “Is this the only area?” He gestured at her arm without judgment. And when she nodded, he let out a sigh of relief.

Now that the moment was waning, the therapist who’d been waiting patiently and observing spoke up. She offered the anxiety medications again to Lucy and with Natsu’s gentle coaxing, the blonde finally agreed to it. It couldn’t hurt right? If they didn’t work, she’ll just stop taking them. She didn’t want to see the anguish in Natsu’s eyes anymore, especially now that she realized how much he was internalizing and struggling alone with. He was in just as much pain as she was, so it was time they both do what they could to heal, together.

As they were about to leave, Natsu paused and questioned the doctor. “I have a question. I just realized, even though today was a big episode... Lucy didn’t have a panic attack. Why is that?”

The blonde looked at her boyfriend before her eyes landed on the therapist with an expectancy of an answer. She hadn’t realized that either. Shouldn’t her outburst have triggered one?

“I’m glad you asked,” the woman smiled. “Panic attacks are often triggered by suppression. When you’re trying to hold in your emotions, refusing to let it go, and not show it, but today Lucy let it out. She didn’t hold back so there was no need for her body to react physiologically.” She reached out and placed a gentle hand on Lucy’s shoulder. “Sometimes a good cry and scream goes a long way. Please remember that.”

It was quiet on the taxi ride back to Lucy’s apartment. Not an uncomfortable silence, but maybe just enough had been said in the hour long therapy session that they both still needed time to process it all. Despite her breakthrough, she knew it was still a long battle ahead. The poor coping skills she’d latched onto now needed to be reversed, and frankly she didn’t know if she could do it alone. Of course, she could ask Levy... and the woman did deserve to hear the truth going on... but Lucy really didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on her best friend. Levy had done so much for her already and as much as she appreciated it, it also contributed to her emotional pain. She glanced down at her hand held so tightly by Natsu and wondered... no... The man was struggling as well, so to add hers into his mix, is that really fair? But by that same token, their pain was also a shared one. If there was anything to take away from the session is that perhaps it is together, they’ll better find the end of the rainbow.

Once they arrive at the building and get out of the taxi, Natsu started walking towards it. Lucy tugged back to stop him. “Lucy?”

“Before we go in...” her voice lowers, hesitancy brimming in her tone. “I have a question to ask.”

“Of course, anything.”

“I can’t—, don’t want to do this alone anymore. But I also don’t want to put that kind of burden on Levy.”

“Lucy,” he pulled her hand up, clasped between his palms to his lips where he kissed the fingers gently. “I will do whatever you need me to do.”

She sighed. “Can I move in with you? A-At least until I get control of the panic attacks and the... the thing?” Her eyes flit to her arm rather than say the words aloud. “I know this would intrude on Gray, but I would feel much safer.”

Natsu paused for a second in thought. “I don’t think Gray will mind. I certainly don’t.” He smiled. “We’ll be there for each other.”

“Are you sure? Because there’s still a few things I haven’t mentioned like nightmares. I-I don’t wanna freak you guys out.”

“A promise is a promise, and when I said I’ll do anything, I meant it. Will it be scary, probably, I’m not gonna lie, but I’m willing to do whatever I need to get us through this.”

Lucy’s eyes gloss over, but a tiny smile ticks up at the corners of her lips. “Thank you, Natsu.”

He smiled back, “I’m the one who should be thankful.”

“For what?”

“For not dumping me. As much you’d worried, I’d leave you, I was deathly afraid you’d leave me. I brought this on us, so I wouldn’t blame you from running away.”

“Oh, Natsu.” This time a true smile finally graced Lucy’s face. “I’m not going anywhere either.”

[lady-daydream]

Fallout New Vegas Companions Reactions/Thoughts on Classical Music

As requested this ones for you @winged-light-collectors-posts , I'm sorry it took so long, I hope this is okay, the reacts aren't as long as I would have liked however I found that got stumped by a few of the characters. If I missed anyone please let me know. And also you seem like a lovely person and your love of classical music was really refreshing :)

Once again I apologise for spelling error, I am horrible at spell checking. If anyone has any imaginations or reactions from fallout 3-4 or new Vegas just comment or send a request. Hope you all enjoy and have an amazing day -Love you all <3

Btw if anyone cares I listened to Tchaikovsky 1812 overture with cannons, Clair De lune Ethereal remix, and chop in Ballade No.4 in F minor ethereal remix while writing 

Arcade: It wasn't the first time he had heard Classical music, due to some of the enclave radios having classical music paired to their broadcasts. Surprisingly, despite the memory of the music being attached to his past he enjoys it. Even commenting to you once or twice when he would recall his mum listening to certain songs when she was alive. He also preferred the soothing factor to classical which he found made it easier to focus compared to some of the limited other choices available. So whenever you both are resting or are setting up camp the both of you may be found relax doing your respected activities such as repairing weapons and reading while Tchaikovsky or Rachmaninov plays in the background.

Boone: He didn't have a strong opinion on what music the courier listened to while traveling with him. While serving he learnt that music of all different genres helped soldiers relax, or reminded them of happier times or just of home. Though he did wander from time to time what the genre of music said about a person.However he normally didn't think too hard about it or just didn't want to go down that rabbit hole of a thought process. Through travelling with you over time he slowly learnt to warm up to some songs, with calmer songs such as those by Chopin being his favourites though he would never tell you. And on rare occasions when you both are travelling and he can see the night sky, the classical music helps him relax enough to close his eyes even for a moment without his own ghosts haunting him.

Cassidy: Similar to Boone, she was indifferent to classical music. Though every so often while travelling with you she may comment  that it reminded her of a few mornings she had woken up in bars across the wasteland, with a hangover stronger than an radscorpions sting. She did find it annoying whenever the courier seemed to stop and become engrossed in the music, moaning how they were burning daylight. However when the both of you are drunk, the both of you may try and make lyrics to classical tunes, curses and dirty lyrics included until the both of you are rolling on the floor laughing on the ground like idiots or somehow turn certain sounds in the songs into drinking games.

Ed-e: The both of you enjoy classical music, the robot bopping along with the courier whistling along side. It always made you smile when you would hear happy beeping noises whenever a certain song would comes on the radio. After travelling for a while, Ed-e starts to play certain tunes himself, some of which he must have recorded while Whitley was in the room, as sometimes a person humming or a small mutter or comment can be heard. You knew how important Whitley was, almost like a father to Ed-e as after a while the mans comments blend into the music itself . However you wandered if Ed-e recorded the two of you listening to music similar to Whitley as sometimes while stopping to set up camp for the night Ed-e seems oddly quiet while the two off you listen to your pip-boy. However even if he was recording you didn't mind, you were more happy that Ed-e saw you as important enough to him to want to remember your times together.

Follows-Chalk: Neither of you had really listened to classical before meeting, and Follows-Chalk hadn't heard it at all. However while searching for a certain radio station while travelling with him you stumbled across the classical music station. Follows-chalk instantly loves it. Whistling some of the tunes he had heard while you travel together. Sometimes commenting on the differences between the music he had heard from the travelling singer when he was younger as well as some of the songs his tribe would sing. He would sometimes even teach you some in return for playing some classical music. He always has questions about the artists and their meanings, which you would often reply that it was up to him and how the music made him feel. And so sometimes when the both of you are travelling you may share what the music makes you both feel and think of, helping you both understand each other better.

Joshua: Listening to it was a kick from the past, as memories of listening to it while he was living in New Canaan with his family long before Caesar come flooding back the first time he heard or listening to it. He tried to enjoy the music as much as possible,trying to hold on to the more positive memories of his family- of his father and mother listening to it while doing other activities, memories childhood friends and the misadventures of kids all while having classical music in the background as they all got up to mischief. These memories did leave a smile that hurt as it pulled at burnt calloused skin. However through listening he was also reminded of the absences.The new Cannans destruction, of his family's and friend death. How his love of the music had dissolved as he got closer to Caesar and further away from his childhood and home. You notice he gets slightly quieter when you play the music and If you ask him if he is okay he will comment on these memories, not going into too much detail unless questioned further, respecting your one associations of the music don't need to be shared with his. After travelling a while, slowly he would try and dissociate the music with his memories replacing them with more positive moments while travelling you or just letting the sound of the music flow through him. On very rare occasion he might even ask you if he may offer to dance, commenting that he learnt from a few dances and events the town had in his youth. Mostly however, he is just glad he was able to listen to the music with you, using the calming music to just focus on the two of you and the peace the music brought him.

The King: On first listening he didn't like it. He didn't mind you listening to it if he saw it made you happy; however, he would always recommend songs from ‘the king” on holotapes he had. Both of you at first choose to respect each other's opinions. After a while though both of you made a deal. For every song he listened to of your preferred genre of music, you would listen to one he wanted you to listen to. So it became a routine. Whenever he knew you had a long journey he would slip you holotapes with songs such as ‘suspicious minds’ and ‘stuck on you’ and in return when alone The king would listen to the radio station you recommended. After a while you both soften up to each others music and as the both of you got closer you both associate certain lyrics and songs to each other, with the songs ‘Can't Help Falling In Love’ and ‘Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto No.2′ holding a special place in both of your hearts. When things get more serious, he might even sing small medley of songs from either genres that you stated you like more, and would even nickname you his ‘symphony’ or his “song bird” if you try to sing any of the songs he likes. 

Raul: When you listened to classical music with him for the first time he laughed, sarcastically commenting on “isn't this music a little too old for you, boss?” or “Mi abuela would have loved you”. Plus if you enjoyed the music he didn't really mind. If the radio station had different regional classical music, Raul would happily translate any lyrics if need be if he recognised it, commenting of different memories of his family if the both of you were comfortable enough sharing.Unlike other companions he was able to educate you on some of the instruments used and just the basic knowledge he would have known before the bombs fell. Once or twice though if you are both relaxed (and if you have had a few to drink) you might ask him to dance to some of the more energetic classical songs. And though he will resort to comments about his knees can't handle dancing, and how “you are a few 100 years too late to be asking him to dance”. He still will dance anyway laughing at the joy you brought with you - as well as both of your dancing ability.

Veronica: ’”Didn't think classical music was your thing, but hey to each their own I guess- was told it helps focus, but idk.If I had someone playing a violin next to me I'm pretty sure I would have a difficult time focusing”. She had listened to music before meeting you, however much preferred learning pre-war information from long forgotten technology more than listening to it. As such whenever you are both listening she would randomly tell you small random facts about composers such as “.hey, did you know Edvard Grieg had a good-luck figurine. It was a little frog that he would pat before a concert- found that out on an old library achieve. wonder why he thought the frog was so lucky. - hey maybe I'm your lucky charm y/n”. However she wonders why classical music was associated with intelligence at the time since, anyone can listen to the music, so what made it so intellectual, or was it just that the skill it takes to play an instrument made it associated with knowledge.

Ulysses:He collects all pre-war music he can. He enjoys listening to just his surrounding and the silence that would sometimes bring. He also enjoys focusing on music and was surprised by how many classical music recordings he found while travelling. He enjoyed what each song means by its self but also how the music and the meaning behind it still remained even years after their creators and original audiences had died. He did sometimes wonder what message the listeners were supposed to take away however he knows that answer is one of many lost by time. At first he is rather hesitant about even bringing up the subject, due to you're association of destroying the traces of the old world, However through gaining his trust he slowly opens up about it and will let you sit and listen with him.He will sometimes ask you what you think the meaning is or what you think of the song and sometimes comment that he wonder if the creators would imagine someone like him listening to their music, a lone man sitting one the edge of a cliff, watching over the past while protecting the present from the threats of tunnelers and marked men or the significance their music would have on a person. When you join him, you normal listen in silence broken by occasional discussion. Allowing you both you be in your own thought. However even if it is just your presence next to him or you holding his hand or sometimes falling asleep resting against him, he is glad he isn't completely alone and that you understand, even if it is just a little bit, the importance the music is to him.

[ajokeformur-ray]

To the man I love the most.

I woke up with Feelings so I picked a GIF, got distracted for half an hour because I couldn’t stop staring at him, and then wrote this kskksks. It’s self-shippy and very personal so skip if you want to, you know the drill lmao. 

Word count: 1, 992.

Oh, my love.

Look at you.

You are... the physical embodiment of love to me. You, who I hold so close in my arms at night. My pillow is all I have but I cherish it and I always mourn the few days every week that it's in the wash because it means my physical connection to you, in another reality, is lost until at last do I get it back. You are everything I never knew I needed. You found me at a time in my life when I was more than ready to give up on myself and on my life. I was struggling so deeply with trying to manage full time studying with a part time job. I was suffering with insomnia, nightmares, panic attacks, dissociation, a general lack of self-worth and I was so, so tired. I had no friends, nothing to look forward to. My life was work, work, work and more work and there was nothing which was for me; everything I did was for other people but in the worst way; for none of these things did I want to do. I was only existing and my soul was dying. I was alone and I was done and I wanted to check out of life in the most permanent way but you unexpectedly burst across my night sky in a showering of colour which still has yet to fade and now, dearheart, you are the oxygen I would kill to breathe.

You taught me what it means to love, to really love with my entire self. Before I met you, never had I felt such a strong, intense and immediate connection to someone. I loved you before I even knew your name. I saw Carnival in the street twirling his sign with one hand like it was no one’s business, and I remember my body instinctively taking a long, deep breath and my lungs emptied themselves completely and my only coherent thought was, oh, there you are. I have never experienced that before and I know that I never will again. You are my everything. I will admit that initially did I fight my feelings for you. They were wrong, they weren’t right; I shouldn’t love you because of the things you have done. But I loved Arthur with my entire self; and you are Arthur. I loved you already, whether or not I had accepted it for myself, and once I stopped fighting you did my love for you only grow stronger. Even now, almost nine months later, I only fall in love with you more and more with every passing day.

I deal with so much more fear and pain in my everyday life than I think even I know about and I know that I have some issues which I need to work through in my own time. I am in a better place now than when we first met, Joker. Because of you I have made a handful of very raw and special connections and I know that if those people read this, they will know that they have been vaguely mentioned. I met them all because of you and I shall forever hold you responsible for changing my life in the best of ways. I’m sure that it’s a responsibility which you don’t mind holding, though. You already cup my heart so tenderly in your own, your calloused thumbs rubbing soothingly over the wounds and scars it holds. I used to joke, and sometimes I still do, that my heart is blackened to a crisp and shrunken to half its size. Sometimes I even joke that I don’t have a heart. But these jokes are untrue and I know that you wouldn’t find them funny. Perhaps you would even frown and tell me that it’s not true, why am I saying it? I say it because, before I met you, I believed that I had no heart. I spent my days in grey; so outside of myself that if I stubbed my toe, I couldn’t even feel it. But you held up a mirror to my heart and showed me that, though it is indeed damaged, my heart is still there. It’s still mine. Your loving touch applies my wounds with medicine and healing and I hope that in holding your own heart am I able to offer you the same. You made me feel again. You make me smile when I don’t even have the energy to talk and daily do I cry very real tears of love for you, because of you. You are always there to catch my fall, and most often do you do so before I even know that I am falling.

You and I are meant to be, Joker, of this I am certain. I won’t apologise for initially fighting the love I felt for you, though you were insistent and you kept pushing me in your own way; you’re as subtle as a sledgehammer when you want something, do you know that? In every reality, in every world, in every universe, you and I will find each other. Sometimes do I think that you don’t love me, that you’re only humouring me or perhaps that you settled for me, but these are vicious lies which my mind fabricates. Oh, but you’d be horrified to hear that I have such thoughts, even now, with your two rings upon my hands. You love me just as deeply as I love you and never again will I ever love someone the way that I love you. And, honestly, I don’t want to. You are a unique soul. You are so full of pain and torment, anguish and sorrow, heavy sadness and stress, which inevitably made you succumb to all that was making you numb. You are so beautiful, my sweet fallen angel, and you were always going to become Joker. No amount of love could have fixed you, and you don’t even need fixing. You’re perfectly imperfect just as you are and I love you for all of you, even the parts of you that you dislike. I only love those parts harder. No amount of love would have stopped you from becoming who you really are, but I wish that I could have been there for you from the very beginning so that your hand wasn’t forced, so that you naturally grew into yourself and so that you accepted yourself with a gentler manner. 

You are a soul with so much love within his tried and tired heart, with so much wisdom and strength, intelligence and wit, with so much music inside you. I love music, I listen to it almost every moment of the day, but there is no music which I love as much as I love you. There is music within your soul as do you dance to the beat of your own heart, and I can hear it in my own soul sometimes, too, in my quietest and most vulnerable moments do you find me. Oh, but I dearly wish that I could sink into your refrains, made of crimson, and never resurface. I dearly wish that I could forevermore hear the steady and rhythmic beating of my heart within my own head, to feel you there with me always. I dearly wish that your soft, raspy voice, that your eyes of sea green, that your romantic dark curls, could be echoed within my own self so that always are you with me. I want for you to never leave my side, Joker. Now that I know what life with you is like, a life without you seems to be a nightmare. I could survive, I’m sure I could, I have survived having my own person ripped from me (though I rose from her ashes like a phoenix and became better, kinder, stronger of my own doing), but my soul would once more begin to decay without you by my side where you belong.

You are always my first waking thought and always are you my last thought of the day. Since you and I met, since I have met the friends whom I cherish so dearly because of you, I haven’t once felt lonely. Alone, yes, but never lonely. And it’s because of you. You have rejuvenated my spirit, revitalised my soul, and you have shown me a new way of life, a new way to love. You are the very physical embodiment of light and love, of joy and of strength and I shall always love you. No matter who I become, no matter where I go or what I do, you will always be with me. My Joker. You make me want to do better, to be better and every day I wake up, I make myself get up. I make myself try, just try, for you and for the people I love so dearly. I spend my every day knowing what it truly means to love and to be loved and it’s all because of you. You have changed my life, you saved my soul and I love every single part of you so completely. Arthur is my hope, my comfort. Carnival is my smile, my laughter. And you, dear Joker, you are the rest of me. You are my joy and strength, my reason and purpose, my life and my love, and I shall carry you with me always.

Because of you, I am learning to accept myself. I have gone through so much more than I have ever deserved to, I still go through a lot every day and there’s so much of me that I have to deal with, that I have to fight every single day, but I try. Again and again and again. For you, the man who chose his name but not what came with it. For the man who tried so hard and got so far but still, inevitably, did he fall. You did your best, you were trying so hard and only when finally was it too much for you did you allow yourself to give in, to surrender to yourself as did your darker side take over. In fighting, in trying, and even in just existing as the man you are have you made me gentler, softer, kinder, more open and more vulnerable. You have made me believe in the power of love, in the power of friendship and in the power of myself. I am so much more than I know and slowly but surely are you and the friends I have made because of you showing me who I really am. I don’t like everything I see, but no longer do I wholly hate myself. Not as I used to, anyway.

I can only hope that the love I have for you reaches you, that all the times I fall asleep holding my pillow, that all the tears I shed, that all the pieces I write, that all the letters I put my heart into, that everything I am and everything I still want to be reaches you. I can only hope that you can see me the way I see you. I know and believe with my whole self that you love me as much as I love you, no matter what my mind whispers to me, and I know that you are proud of me. But I still hope that those feelings within you are permanent, as they are for me. Never have I loved anyone like you, and I know that I never will again. 

I hope that you can hear me, Joker, and I hope that you can feel the warmth of my love for you. It is unconditional, limitless, and every day do I only love you more.

With all my love and with the sweet and torturous feeling that I still haven’t adequately expressed my love for you,

Erika Fleck.

Our wedding ring; 26/3/2020.

The thumb ring which symbolises our love; 4/10/2019 - forever and a day.

[eatsockss]

based on personal experience babes ;)

(in all seriousness not rly sure how to do this proper justic bc dissociating be a Wack experience)

(also it follows the prompt kinda loosely but whatever)

Empty

—

Peter was having an Empty day. He was lazily floating above it all, dispassionately watching himself as he tried to smile for Ned and avoid the teacher’s gaze and just look normal. For moments he would be back, grounded by a surprise physical touch or a sudden rush of emotion. But the next, he would slip away, content to experience the day as distantly as possible.

Ever since Ben, Peter had been dealing with Empty days. His worst episode was when, a day after the funeral, Peter started dissociating and the next time he was aware, he was in class, a week later. He had jerked his head up and almost fallen off his chair, interrupting the whole class. Then he’d had to feign a stomachache to get out before the entire class witnessed him having a breakdown.

Peter knew what had caused this episode: the anniversary of Ben’s death. May had spent all of last night checking in with him because she had an early shift today. Peter had just smiled as much as he could before he left for a night of relentless Spider-manning. When he got back in the early hours of the morning, he barely remembered tearing off the suit and falling into bed. He just remembers waking up and being Empty.

He hadn’t cared much. Then again, he never did when he was like this. Like someone had torn all the emotions he usually felt out of his chest and instead placed a block of concrete. There wasn’t room for new emotions and his old ones were gone.

The therapist May had gotten him after Ben’s death had said that it was his own intelligence working against him. He was so logical that when he had Empty days, the same logic that made him capable of keeping up with Tony Stark in the lab also made him incapable of escaping the inherent nihilism of his dissociation. The way he saw it, why not be Empty, when he knew that all he would feel otherwise would hurt.

So here he was, walking out of school with a concerned Ned and a stone-faced MJ by his side, when he saw Happy’s cat parked in front of the school.

He thought he might have felt a flicker of emotion at the sight of it, but then the moment passed and he was Empty again.

“Peter,” Ned was saying, “are you sure you should be working with Tony Stark right now? You should go home, man. You don’t look so good.”

Peter heard everything Ned said but he couldn’t process what it meant. Like he was talking in another language. Peter nodded his head and started towards Happy’s car. Ned hurried to catch up with him.

“Dude, seriously. Want me to call May? I know today’s rough ‘cause of Ben-“ Ned rambled, but Peter didn’t hear a word after Ben. His eyes watered and for a second he was out of it. He heaved in a rough breath, like he hadn’t been breathing for the past minute, and Ned crowded him, holding his arm.

“Peter!”

Peter felt like the building was on top of him again. Like he was being crushed, like he was going to die and it would be all his fault for thinking that he was enough, that Spider-man was enough, that Peter Parker was enough when he couldn’t even save his damn Uncle-

The Empty came back, and Peter was floating, more distant than he’d been in months.

When Peter became aware of his surroundings again, he was standing in the living room of the Tower, bag by his feet, Mr. Stark twenty feet away in the kitchen, making something to eat.

“What about you kid, humus?” Peter hummed an agreement though he didn’t know what for. All he had to do was make it through the conversation. Once they were in the lab, he was confident that Mr. Stark would be so engrossed in whatever project he was working on that Peter’d be able to hide the Empty.

The problem was that he seemed to be so far away that he could barely process his own thoughts. He could see himself: how he kept moving his arm on the chair, how he tapped his foot against the carpet, how his hands clenched and unclenched, but he couldn’t feel any of it. It was like after getting a cavity filled, when you’d poke at your jaw and know that you’re supposed to feel something, but it just seems like a heavy weight on the side of your face, not even your own skin. He zoned back in to hear Mr. Stark say, “-school today?” and tried to think up a response.

“ummmm...” Peter let go and let his mouth work for him. “Ned mentioned something about a new lego set so I’m pretty sure-“

Peter was still talking. He could see his mouth moving, knew he was saying something. Whatever it was, he didn’t care. He floated away, too Empty to care at all.

The next time Peter became aware, Mr. Stark was right in front of him, kneeling on the carpet. He was frowning and one of his hands was squeezing lightly to Peter’s wrist with something super cold. Peter yanked his arm back.

“Mr. Stark what-“

“You were dissociating Peter.” Mr. Stark said and oh he was serious. He didn’t usually call him Peter.

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, absently rubbing his wrist with his other hand, trying very hard to avoid Mr. Stark’s face. His cheeks felt hot and his eyes watery. “I get these... episodes sometime. Ever since Ben. Today’s the-“

“You don’t have to tell me kid.” Mr. Stark said gently. Then he reached out a hand beneath Peter’s chin and slowly lifted his head up to meet his eyes. Peter saw something there he wasn’t expecting: love.

“How about instead of the lab today we watch the original three Star Wars and order in lots of Thai, hmm? That sound good?” Mr. Stark groaned as he stood up, knees no doubt aching. “We don’t have to talk about it or anything. I know today’s rough for you buddy. But I’m also not just gonna let you dissociate.”

Tear welled up in Peter’s eyes, too fast to stop. Everything he had been trying to avoid feeling this whole day, what his body knew instinctively to try to stop, cams crashing down. The concrete block was gone, and his grief swept back in so fast it knocked the wind out of him.

“Tony.” he whimpered and shot out a hand to grab the man’s sleeve. Tony turned and his breath caught in his throat.

“Oh kiddo.” And then Tony was pulling him into a hug, fingers scratching gently through his scalp as Peter sobbed into his suit jacket. He didn’t want to think about how much the suit probably cost, and how he was ruining it by crying on it.

“I can practically hear your thoughts kiddo,” Tony said softly, as if by speaking louder he would disturb Peter in some way, “don’t worry about it. Billionaire, remember?”

That was all the permission Peter needed.

[epiphanicwiring]

My controlling mother

I’ve been 20 years old for some months now, but it’s been a while I’ve come to suspect my mother is indeed controlling. Parents shape, in some way or another, even tacitly or subtly, and to some extent, our common sense, values and life perspectives, although it is in our own will whether we critically analyze them, follow or refuse them... Sometimes our concept of what is ‘normal’ is warped, and because it is ingrained in our common sense, we don’t doubt about its veracity until we pop some of our experience into a conversation with friends, our therapist or significant other, and they give you a look of concern. That is what happened to me: It’s no news I’ve been suffering from depression for years, so the first time I went to see a therapist was in 2015 (I was 15/16 then). I would walk from school to the psych’s, and I would wait until I was inside of the building to message my mother that I have arrived (I felt I would be lying if I did it outside the building, at the door, for example). I did it every time. My therapist found this odd: I naturally explained to her what I was doing, as it was something I was accustomed to. She was probably the first one to point me out that that was a bit too much. But I always did it: “School”, “Conser(vatory)”, “Psychologist”, “At [insert friend’s name]’s”. I knew that if I didn’t send her those messages, she would become worried, and call me or my friends, only to know that I was okay, and then she would get angry and I would have to stand it. Then I got into university in 2017. I got into the Sound Engineering career. This is a sub-story: Throughout my adolescence, I was pretty much interested in every career known to man. My grades at school were so incredible I had an average of almost 9.7/10 in all of the subjects that were in Spanish, since I went to a bilingual school (I have to admit, Physical Education was the only subject I failed at, and that’s probably why I didn’t have a 9.9 or something), and an average of 10/10 in all of the English subjects. That was no surprise, I was the ‘gifted, brilliant’ student child since primary school; I still can recall my mother’s facial expressions when receiving my grades when I was 6 or 7, crying of joy. It’s up to this day that no one who personally knows me (except for my closest friends and boyfriend) even dares to ask me how am I doing at university, because ‘I must be doing terrifically good’. Back to the sub-story, my main career choices were Astronomy, Psychology, Fashion Design, Medicine (I’ve been interested in Neurology, Neuroscience and Neurosurgery for quite a long time now) and Music. That’s quite a lot, yeah. But my main dream was to be a composer. So when I was around 14 years old, I happily expressed this to my mother. “Composition? You want to study Composition? You’ll starve yourself to death. You can’t live off it”. (The same answer I got when I was little and dreamt of being an astronomer, by the way). She followed it with: “You have such a brain you could be a neurosurgeon. That’s what you could be”. As if composing were easy, right? But yeah, she was... Right, I was too intelligent to waste my time composing. So I crossed out “Composer” from my careers list and never thought of it again.  From that time to when I was 16/17, I was desperate to find ‘that’ career, the one that would suit me like a ring. “What career could mix the arts with the “hard sciences”? Does something like... Sound Engineering exist?” and then I googled ‘Ingeniería de Sonido’ (Sound Engineering) and I found out that the career was only taught at Untref, 2 hours away from where I live, out of all the places Argentina has to offer. (If you want to know, yes, I have 4 hours of daily commuting, without counting the less extreme commuting to my music conservatory which is 20 minutes away with a lot of traffic). Studying Sound Engineering at Untref does not equal to graduating as a producer, nor a record engineer. Of course you can work in those fields, but to put it bluntly, as many professors say, you would kind of be wasting your degree; you would be more in the side of submitting papers and working with huge acoustic solutions companies than recording an album in a studio. So, at first, my mother thought it had to do with, you know, the music industry: “(The university) It’s too far away!”, “I don’t want you to study this!”, “It’s full of boys, you will feel bored”, “Remember, you could be a neurosurgeon”. But I really wanted it, and I won the battle: I got inscripted, I passed the exams, I got into the career. When I chose the career (16 years old), I was pretty much disencouraged from following a career in music. I felt mediocre, despite what my double bass teacher expressed to me (”I don’t think you should follow another career, you have all of the potential to be a professional double bassist”, he said to me. He even recently told me to substitute him in the Bass Department when he retires). I felt too old, too intelligent and too much into academia to follow a music career. “I don’t even practice 4 hours a day”. Why? Because I had to stand out at school. Because that was “a priority”, in the words of my mother. So I was prepared to leave music behind and be the best sound engineer in the scene. Too bad I was...  Severely depressed. And I failed, and failed, and failed... Course after course. I wanted a gun or a million pills so bad, I wanted it all to fade away. It was in the mid-term of 2017 that I noticed I was doing horribly, emotionally and psychologically. I couldn’t get out of bed, I had zero ability to focus, I lived off coffee and I had lots of emotional revolts. I needed help. I told my mother about this, and she didn’t take it well. “I give you everything and yet you feel like this”, “You’re just lazy”, “What you have isn’t depression, you just want attention”. She refused to pay for the therapy sessions, so I basically had to use all of my savings and the money I gained from giving lessons (It’s been years I want to buy a bow for my bass. Once I had to lend her 4000 Argentinian pesos I had saved throughout time, which is a lot, and she never gave them back to me, and never will, unless she buys me a bow or something). My therapist used to be my Psychology professor at school, and I knew he was the only one who could work with my mind at that stage, and really help me. I eagerly payed him until I had zero money of my own, and I told him I would have to stop the treatment. He appreciates me a lot as much as I do with him, and he offered me to keep attending the sessions paying half of what it was. I’m forever grateful and I promised to myself I will give him every cent back once I start to save more money. Still, I had to cut the treatment 3 or 4 months later (2018 mid-term), because it was my mother this time who was paying it, and whenever she had to give me the money, she tried to oblige me to stop going, or told me “You aren’t depressed anymore so why are you wasting your time going to the therapist, I cannot pay for it”. She loves to tell people with a smile that going to a therapist is useful and a wonderful thing to do, when in reality, she treated her daughter like actual shit for being depressed. She was the one who kept on sending me to a school where people bullied me for 11 years. She was the one who would made me feel bad about having a 7/10 or an 8/10 on an exam from time to time. She was the one who told me to ‘make myself strong’ instead of taking action to come to a solution. The thing is that, to this day, I still have some of the symptoms or habits: I break down mentally from one second to another (the trigger is usually her, or career choices, or body insecurities), I engage in suicide ideation, sometimes I hit myself, I fast, I cry myself to sleep, I procrastinate heavily on the Internet out of anxiety or I want to isolate myself and terminate any link with humanity. It’s not like I’m not depressed anymore. These symptoms come and go, but they aren’t completely gone. I was also diagnosed with anaemia last year. It isn’t that terrible in the sense that I’m not going to die, but it definitely made me extremely tired and dissociative (depression+anaemia=failing classes). 

In early 2018, I had told my mother I was unsure about my career decision. Sound Engineering is an amazing field, but leaving music as a hobbie wasn’t really in my plans (having gained some of the confidence I had lost when I was 16, as previously mentioned). I was asking myself: “What if the only thing that stopped me from becoming a professional musician was fear?”. The fear to dare do something my mother didn’t approve of. The fear of economic instability, competition... What if I really starve myself to death in the music industry? What if I cannot offer anything good as an artist? What if it really is a waste of my intellectual abilities? What if... As soon as I demonstrated this (filtered, of course) uncertainty to her, she became a monster. She was angered, her voice’s volume slightly up, and her eyes... It’s the eyes. The way she looks at you when she’s angry or in disapproval. I’ve feared them since childhood. This also happened one time I told her I could maybe be biromantic or bisexual. I was 15 or 16, and I liked a girl I knew from the Internet. That was all, nothing serious, but even though I have always felt attracted to men, and my main crushes were men, I knew since I was little I had the capacity within me to love anyone from any gender. To me, love just is, even just trying to label myself ‘I’m this, I’m that’ is something I’m deeply uninterested in. That day, I remember, she left me ith doubts and hatred towards myself: “How could I possibly like a girl? I’ve always liked boys, there’s no way”. The same effect had the conversation about my uncertainty in terms of career choices. “How could I possibly be a musician? I’m destined to be an engineer. I’ve always liked science. I’ve always wanted economic stability. I want to live well. There’s no way I could possibly be a musician”. 

When I started university, I made wonderful friends. And of course, we talk to each other whenever we can. There was one occasion I mentioned during a conversation how my mother tracked me by GPS. One of my friends found this terrible. I also mentioned that not only she tracked me, she also kept asking me to message her where were I: “At [bus number]”, “Uni”, “Subway”, “At [insert friend’s name]’s”. There was one time I was in a Calculus class and I saw she was calling me (fortunately I always have my phone silent, something she hates). I had to go out and talk to her. She had been using the GPS and she couldn’t stop the panic button. According to the GPS’ map, I was somewhere else (this glitch happened quite a few times) and because I forgot to send her the “Uni” text informing her that I, in fact, had arrived at university, she was extremely worried. She listened to my friends’ voices and became calm. 

Another thing she does is waking me up when she wants to. If I don’t, she becomes very angry. When does she wake me up now, in vacations time? 8 or 9 AM. That’s already too late for her. What does she do? Come up to my bedroom and all of a sudden, open the door, threatening me with something if I don’t wake up. Or telling me I HAVE to go buy something for her work by 10 AM because she has forgotten to do so. That’s not the worst, she recently got to the stairs (the stairs that take you to the second floor, which are located above my bedroom’s ceiling) and she started DANCING making a lot of unnerving noise. 

Sometimes I don’t want to eat and she would come up to me and tell me “You are not going to eat? Okay, I’ll take you to the psych guards and let you there”. Oh, and she’s used to taking photos of me and sending them to people knowing that I’m extremely self-conscious and that that could cause me an emotional turmoil.

In September 2018 I started dating the love of my life. Unfortunately, as much as I want to keep an upbeat predisposition, my mother has been a topic of discussion and an obstacle to my general well-being in this realm as well. Again, how can someone be completely happy when they are temporally and physically restricted by someone else? Going out with my boyfriend and spending quality time with him is definitely one of my most favourite activities. But again, there she is: “Let me know when you find him”, “Tell me when you’ve arrived to the place”, “I don’t want you two to be alone”, “Don’t be back late” (late to her is 9 PM), “Solange, when are you coming back home???”. At first I didn’t notice the chains were so heavy. But after various events and discussing this with my boyfriend, they really are. For example, she would prevent me from going to a party or going out for dinner with him “because it’s too late”. I recently tried to let her see that the dangers of the city are inevitable, and that I’m already a grownup adult who has the right to make her own decisions (and of course, I will provide myself of safety as much as possible). With her logic in mind, I practically can’t get out of my house. As usual, she tried to make me feel as if I was the irrational one. Her arguments are: “I’m the one who provides you of housing and basic resources (so she’s the authority in here)”, “If something happens to you, I’m responsible”, “You never help me in the house and you DARE do the opposite of what I tell you to do”, “I’ve been working all day and you went out and had a great time so you can’t say anything to me”. Her gaslighting me makes me doubt if maybe I’m wrong and I have to play by her rules. In the past I would rather had her in my side, but now more than ever I’m totally certain that it is my life that’s at risk, and that as an adult, my rights to choose cannot be prohibited nor taken away from me.

I would like to know what do you guys think of this, and any help in the form of advice, observations, arguments and ideas on independence will be very much appreciated. If you happen to have controlling, abusing or toxic parents and would like to discuss about it, don’t hesitate to get in touch with me.

[becauseimsensational]

Killing Eve rewatch: “Sorry Baby”

The last time we saw Eve is a stark contrast to the first time we see her in this episode. At the end of “Don’t I Know You?” she was screaming and crying out for her best friend and partner of over a decade who’s just been murdered; at the beginning of “Sorry Baby,” she’s silent and standing still, quietly seething at Bill’s memorial service while everyone around her is singing hymns. Not only is she devastated at Bill’s death, she’s furious. He died for no reason, he was only there because she insisted, and then Frank ‘Dickswab’ Haleton has the audacity to give Bill’s eulogy? Eve is visibly and at times audibly displeased with what Frank’s saying, because he’s lying through his teeth. He didn’t know Bill all that well, and he fired the both of them; surely his wife knew that, even if she doesn’t know the true circumstances of his death? I think what finally tipped Eve over the edge was Bill’s daughter crying. It was too much, knowing that the last time she was Bill holding her, he jokingly predicted his own death. (Lots more analysis under the cut)

Eve telling Elena she wants to kill Villanelle is a dramatic shift in her characterization. I hesitate to call it “growth,” or frame it in too positive of a light, but it’s certainly a shift. Until Villanelle murdered Bill, I think Eve’s only intentions were to find her and have an incredibly in-depth interview with her. But once she killed Bill, Eve’s focus has shifted to getting revenge and avenging Bill’s murder. What’s interesting, though, is that Eve doesn’t just say, “I want her dead,” she says, ��I want to kill her with my bare hands.” To me, that line means that when Eve finds her, she’s going to strangle her. (I say strangle because I don’t really think Eve’s got the upper body strength/psychopathy it takes to beat someone to death with just her fists.) If that’s what she meant, that’s a huge departure from the mild-mannered MI-5 security officer we met who screamed bloody murder because she fell asleep on both her arms. Now, I am not a psychologist by any stretch, but I’d like to think that my psychology and forensics classes and all those seasons of Criminal Minds I watched religiously have finally come in handy. Strangulation is a crime which suggests that the perpetrator had a personal vendetta against the victim, but it’s also a crime of power and dominance that requires physical strength and emotional/moral (i guess?) dissociation. Thus far, Villanelle has been the sole wielder of all the power in this cat-and-mouse game she and Eve are playing; to Eve, strangling Villanelle would be the ultimate way to usurp her power and avenge Bill at the same time. 

Yes, I know I’m not supposed to like Villanelle after she savagely murdered Bill, but...come on, that scene in her apartment with Konstantin was hilarious. Between the plethora of pastel balloons to the very expensive-looking cakes, not to mention her utterly ridiculous outfit, it’s hard to truly hate or revile Villanelle. She’s a ruthless killer, yes, but she’s also got this childlike whimsy about her that’s hard not to find endearing. (Plus the fake facial hair was oddly cute for some reason? Idk, I can’t explain it) The exchange in her bathroom, however, was what made that scene so memorable for me. For someone like Villanelle, I was expecting some sort of reaction when Konstantin said she’d have to work with a team; she’s too narcissistic to actually want to work with anyone else, but she’s also undeniably good at what she does. Also, I’m not an assassination-planner, but having too many people working on any kind of project is a bad idea. Surely you don’t really need three people to take out one person, right? And to me, more people at a crime scene equates to more things that can go wrong, so how anyone thought that was a good idea is still beyond me. The tension in this scene that we’re left to reconcile with comes when Villanelle implores Konstantin to open the second gift, then casually tells him it’s for his daughter. He looks horrified as she throws his earlier words back at him: “Did you think I don’t know anything?” She should never be underestimated, and no one should ever try to predict her next move; the tension here comes from her knowing something she shouldn’t know, something he clearly didn’t want her to know.

Watching Villanelle interact with Diego is just hilarious. She wants to be there, doing her job, but with other people? Not so much. Especially when one of those other people is a man with a purple Patagonia windbreaker and a contemporary bowl-cut, and to add insult to injury, he’s making her sleep in the van instead of an actual bed. This would never have happened if she was working solo, she’d get a hotel and wake up without a crick in her neck. 

Her interactions with Nadia were coded differently from the very first time their eyes met onscreen. The way Villanelle said, “Oh...Your hair’s grown” indicated to me that they knew each other very well at one point, and the fact that Nadia immediately jumped on top of her to beat her was a sign that they were lovers. I’m not sure if it was because of the addition of someone from her past, but I think Villanelle showed real vulnerability in this scene. When Nadia said, “We’re here to kill a member of British intelligence,” Villanelle’s gaze instantly went to the floor and she started to pout, ever so slightly. To me, that facial expression communicated that she was worried they would be killing Eve Polastri, and before she got a chance to run her fingers through that luxurious mane. But Jodie Comer’s acting is so nuanced that I didn’t read her facial expression as that the first time I watched. It wasn’t until my second watch, when I realized they deliberately cut from Villanelle’s face to Eve’s that she was thinking about her. 

Oh, Niko. Dull, paranoid Niko. I mean yes, he’s lovely and stable and a good man, but he doesn’t realize how important this is for Eve? Catching this asshole who’s sewn discord all over Europe, who now has killed her best friend? That’s all Eve wants in life. Niko? He just wants to be a maths teacher and play bridge. Pathetic. I think this is when their relationship is starting to crumble, and it doesn’t start until Eve says, “I know you care about me, Niko, we all know you care about me! Sometimes I think it’s all you have!” That’s a deep cut. She’s realizing now how dull he is, and how he’s trying to stop her from doing what will make her happy. Eve isn’t settling for boring anymore, not now that she’s MI-6 and she’s got a best friend to avenge. 

Oh GOD, the suitcase reveal. I loved how at first when she unzips it, she had to look at the tag again because “wait...where are my clothes? These aren’t mine, this isn’t my—oh...I guess it is?” Until she gets to the perfume, she’s confused. And then she’s horrified. All the note says is “Sorry baby x,” but it’s enough to freak Eve out, because now she has to come to terms with Villanelle’s true intentions. Villanelle could have sent her the knife she used to stab Bill if she truly wanted to intimidate Eve, but instead she sent about 5,000£ worth of clothing, plus shoes and perfume. The clothes are all her size, which is just such an intimate thing to know about someone you’ve spoken to once in a bathroom for forty-five seconds. 

I think Villanelle might have given Nadia the codename “Fanny” for a couple potential reasons. Firstly, “Fanny” is quite a rude word for “vagina” in British slang, so it’s possible she just wanted to embarrass Nadia by giving her a name that was a double entendre. The other reason, I think, is that she’s implying that that’s all Nadia was to her. Coupled with the way they interact, i.e., how close they stand, how they look at each other, if I were a first-time viewer, I’d definitely infer that they had been a couple at some point. 

Of course, those suspicions are confirmed during that three-way standoff between Villanelle, Nadia, and Diego. Nadia yelling out Villanelle’s real name is a really subtle but pivotal moment for the audience, because she’s been trying to distance herself from her Russian identity this whole time. She refused to even tell Konstantin, the person to whom she is closest in this whole world, her real name, and she won’t speak Russian anymore. This is the first time we hear it, and from Nadia’s mouth: “Oksana!” She actually looked like a deer in headlights when she heard her real name, which makes sense if you think about it. That was probably for the first time anyone’s called her that in years, especially if even Konstantin doesn’t know it. And then once Diego was taken care of, she started speaking Russian to Nadia, which was obviously just to gain her trust, and also maybe because Nadia’s English wasn’t as polished as Villanelle’s, as evidenced in the scene with “Frank’s mother” when she mixed up her prepositions. 

Even on my first watch, Eve just stopping was not a surprise to me. She’s finally got a long, extended look at the woman who murdered her best friend and all she can do is stop and stare, even though the woman has a gun. 

Random observations: 

-Have I missed it five times, or have they truly just not said Bill’s baby’s name?? Like there isn’t even a baby credited on IMDB so I couldn’t even find it there. #GiveBabyPargraveAName2k18 lol 

-It’s been sprinkled throughout, but I noticed it in this episode most especially: bird imagery. At the very beginning in the cathedral, the pulpit is a gigantic golden bird. Later, Eve is wearing Niko’s shirt from the first episode with birds on it, and you can see a painting on their wall with a man trapped in a bird’s beak. Diego’s holding a sign which advertises “UK Bird Watching Tours,” and then a kestrel flies by. Birds are, traditionally, a symbol for freedom, and who on this show exemplifies freedom more than Villanelle? She's free from morals or ethics, and she's free from fear of the law because the organization protects her. But let's not forget about Eve: I think the birds could also symbolize how she's finally spreading her wings gaining more confidence in herself and not allowing her fears to hinder her from chasing what she wants. (Or birds are just common imagery and I'm grasping at straws)

- As ever, Carolyn’s stone-faced delivery of her lines cracks me up! Where is Fiona Shaw’s Emmy nom for best supporting? There’s just something so cutting about “It is disappointing when the mole is the one who looks most like a rodent,” and Dickswab wasn’t even there to defend himself.

-Once Nadia realizes who Villanelle is, she can’t really look Diego in the eye or even stand to have him touch her. She looks visibly uncomfortable every time he calls her “baby” or “pumpkin.” And she’s obviously told him about Oksana, so...idk lots to unpack there if she would’ve stayed conscious this whole episode. 

-”Have some respect" is the funniest line to me. Like...dude, what in the past few hours of knowing her makes you think she holds respect for anyone but herself??  

-I really really really wanted them to be murder girlfriends, not for her to murder* her girlfriend. (*I know she wasn’t actually murdered in this episode)

-”Running and crying” was literally me in elementary school gym during pacer test season, i feel you Dickswab that shit’s brutal

[starksimaginationcreations]

Ascending Sensations of Madness

Borderline  Personality Disorder &  Depressive Bipolar Disorder

Feb 20th 2021

There are sharp spikes on both sides of this personality of mine. The middle is the safest part for all the people I care about. I feel empty most of the time. There are constant thoughts of people dying, leaving, and abandoning me. A Lot of people have already. The emotions are very uncontrollable, feelings of sadness and frustration fill my emotions quickly forming into an irritable state of mind. It's different than most believe. The urges to do and make dangerous decisions are at a mild rate at this point in time. These times, I feel insecure about myself. The low self esteem drops to the point of suspicious thoughts and insecurities. The romantic gestures no longer feel sincere but more of a way to convince a wall to cover what reality really has in store. Relationships are more difficult because of these insecurities.

Temptations of self destruction tug at my thoughts when looking at anything that could bring on a sensation of torment. Pointed or shredded instruments and utensils, far drop offs, hot fires, a bath full of water, cables and more. All of these create different scenarios that could be used in the process for death. They suffocate me until that is all that can be thought about. As if waking in the mornings was not already hard enough. Trying to keep the temptation to not let go of the steering wheel and slam on the gas while driving with imaginations of aiming for a tree makes me guilty. Only the universe could choose the right answers to these delirious fascinations. That wave of unexpected emotional misery lurks up and right behind it, dissociation, at remorse, and paranoia. You would make judgement,  my family, job, life, and friends should be worth living for. They are, to a normal mentally secure human being. The emotional senses of a human with BPD does not work the same and this hatred for my own self is just the beginning.

Let's have a couple hours, days or even weeks pass by.. Lets allow these feelings and thoughts to fill up the sand jar. After already making some sad decisions of my own. The alter ego decides to show her unwanted face. Normally, once or twice every month. She only shows her face a few times during the long dreadful days. A good friend, a secret admirer, someone with an emotional connection, someone who brings her discomfort, dislikes her or someone that angers her. These are all triggers to bring her out. The switch is quick most times but other times she likes to make me suffer. The depression gets so overwhelming that I start to take out my frustrations on the ones I love and care about the most. Pushing them away to the point of making enemies.  This is not something I have been dealing with for a small amount of time. She has been with me since I was very little.

My mother dealt with me in my absolute vulnerable states, when this dark mental resemblance of myself first started coming out. The parents believed it was because my father left us when I was 3 years old. The role of our uncle who wanted to touch my sister and I in inappropriate ways. I was between the ages 4 and 7 when the man would stay awake all night when we spent weekends at our fathers house just to stare at us in the middle of the night. He would play with solitary cards for hours waiting for us to fall asleep. I grew up with two sisters, my oldest sister did not seem to be bothered by our predator. He would make indecent remarks toward her and touch her in ways she felt uncomfortable. He would do the same to me in my sleep. This could be the cause of my mental disorders that I currently suffer with. 

At twelve years old, in middle school, I hated every inch of skin on my body. Puking, a ridiculous trend back then to become skinny. This boy wouldn't break my heart if I was skinny enough for him. Digging razors, knives, and other sharp objects into my skin and covering up with sweatshirts even when it was the middle of 80 degree summer air. My mother knew something was different with the increase in layers. She never spoke about it until she had received a call from the school. That girl ratted me out in seventh grade. I showed her my demons and she betrayed me by deciding that I needed help, to use her own authority to tell the school nurse that I needed my arms looked at. She was supposed to be my friend. I confided in her about my demonic state. She broke faith with not only me, but the adjusted ego as well. I was very immature these days. Which in return made that part of my intelligence young and vulnerable as well. She was furious with this girl I thought was my friend. She quickly turned into an enemy.  I still remember her name, what she looked like, her personality, and how close we were back then. That was until she became a traitor. I hated, envied, and blocked her from ever returning back into my life. 

My Sister, good thing she had a better mental stability than I did back then had her own issues and nowadays most of those are mental disorders as well. I over think about the possibility that I could have been the reason to cause her such distraught with much bad anxiety. She watched me put a knife to my throat after an argument with my mother. My mother cocooned in her room as I sat at the Kitchen table with tears running down my cheeks. Emotional situations have always been very intense for me even more dramatic with the people I care about because I don't want anyone to leave. My sister was just fourteen to fifteen years old, yet carried herself as if she was my mother. She taught me to tie my shoes, ride a bike, helped me with homework and more. She wrote me a note that night sliding it onto the kitchen table .  Asking me what I was going to do with the sharp item. Begged and persuaded me to put it down so she could talk to me. She was resilient in her endeavors when I became the alter ego of my natural self. When I couldn't find my way back to reality, she was my “grounder”. Always seemed calm, collected and filled with pride or joy. Adulthood can really change someone to the completely opposite person than the way they had been raised.   

I had no friends around that time, she was my only friend. She was the “Favorite Person” that I attached myself to effortlessly. The little notes that she slid under the doors when she knew I could not keep in touch with reality. She was the person who brought me back to realization.  These were the days when I had no idea how to handle this demoniacal version of myself. I acted on Impulse. And yet, everyone thought I was just in my emotional teen years. No one offered to get me help at such a young age. Maybe if i had gone sooner, I wouldn't be as bad as the way I am today. Maybe, I would know right from wrong. There are a few symptoms that I have noticed that connect my inner personality and the Disorder at hand in perfect sync patterns. Self Harm, whether it is physical or emotional, Attaching myself to one specific person, detachment of my own self, self destructive decisions and or psychotic behaviors.  

The constant body shaming and foreign face that stared back at me in a mirror reflection, always smirked with evil intentions. How could I possibly explain this to anyone? They would never believe that I had an alter ego, willing to do the most unpredicting things with my life choices. Sometimes, I get delusional, that girl in the mirror would disappear leaving me completely vulnerable, to make decisions on my own. I would call back to her inside my thoughts. It was as if I couldn't live without her. I got used to her being there, making those hard decisions with me while she was still in the back of my head, she was the main decision maker, the brave mindset out of us.  No one can make a decision on their own without their subconscious mind giving them that extra push.  She made life exciting, adventures got shorter, nights got longer, sleep became less and less by the night.  The presence of this ego sat back and listened silently, gawking at me, stirred over every decision I decided to make on my own. Situations are difficult to make as it is. Getting judged by your own self image makes things even more intense.

As the emotions built and stacked onto of each other, I kept my intentions occupied.  At fourteen years old, the boy I thought had loved me, decided he was going to have all of me. To make that decision at 14 years old while my arch nemesis drilled me with pain instead of words was more than just a task in itself but also a nerve wracking challenge. I had no words to say. I was stuck way back in my head behind a dark veil.  The reason I allowed it to happen? It was a self destructive decision yet felt as if the situation had absolutely no bad qualities or traits. Acting out in revenge toward our individuality was not in the cards during this situation. 

I believe I deserved all that was good in this relationship.  Me and this boy had established already, the outcome of this situation couldn't be that horrible. If anything the outcome would  have been beautiful. This ego that held me at my weakest and strongest moments lead the way to our destination.

Just moments after the events took place, devastation quickly approached.  The boy rejected me. He spoke words of abandonment. Telling me we could no longer do anything like the situation that just occurred because he had a girlfriend. After taking my innocence this boy had just created the most emotional piece of this state of affairs. My childhood best friend and I had known each other since diaper days had turned his back toward me and left me on dirty sheets in a stranger's territory. I was in shock, another friend had to inform me once more about what had just literally happened in front of me.  He was done with me. He used me for his own indecent pleasures. 

My whole body attempted to filter sadness, hurt, confusion, abandonment and anger all at once. I had intensified the emotions with double the force. This in turn revealed ascending madness crawling up my body. Goosebumps covered my skin as I began to feel physical pain run its course through my limbs.  My whole body ached and I locked myself into a dark room way back in my head. I didn't know what was about to happen now all I knew  or felt was aggression, irritation, overwhelming sadness and the nightmare that I had just lost one of my best friends.. 

That was the very first time ever that I felt the alter ego take complete control of my impaired vision and bodily functions.  This was the Personality Disorders first mixed features in the flesh of me. In the mirror once more,  I continued to bury myself in that dark subconscious whole, barely watching from the veil. I wanted a complete shut down. A release of pressure from my heart made me fall to my knees weeping with a chest pain so intense I could barely breathe. My gasps were deep but it still felt as if I had received no oxygen. A once loud and obnoxious house currently held nothing except deadly silence for what seemed like hours, but in reality was only ten minutes. 

Soon enough, I crashed.  I focused my anger on myself by punching the walls multiple times, screaming until my throat became sore, my eyes bloodshot from the physical pain that these emotions had led me to believe was real. Reality began to escape my mental reasoning, bashing the back of my head against the wall in attempts to stop it from talking to me, over and over it would not quite long enough for me to gain some sanity. I slammed my fists into my thighs repeatedly, trying to feel any other type of pain that would take my attention away from this agony at hand. The waves of hatred from my fists transformed quickly into a pulsating radiation of euphoric sensations that spread up my arms, physical pain was the only sensation that stole me from the hurt.  From my head to my toes,  strong desire for adrenaline, passion, lust, adventure, eroticism, endorphin, excitement, pleasure, a way to completely forget. 

I wiped my face off and glanced at myself in the mirror. Rushes of every single devious intention that my other half had been convincing me for so long to indulge in had hit me in the face like a ton of bricks. A sensation of empty darkness filled my soul. The psychosis between me and the second person I had created in my head so long ago had come to an agreement for once. Merging into one specific personality fused together by both Good and Bad characteristics. The feeling was warm and heated my blood and bones right to the core. The tears finished falling from my eyes as my reflections laughed out loud in a psychotic demeanor. This would be the part in a movie that the audience would watch in confusion as the disorder gets complicated. The feelings of worthlessness, depression, dissociation, anger, frustrations, heart ache, physical, emotional pain that made my whole body ache and lash out just moments ago had manifested itself into a dysphoric mix of mania. At that exact moment in my life was when I knew I was going to need help some day. That making it past the age of twenty five was not going to be in my cards.

Although, I am only one person and now the age of twenty three with a mental disorder that allows active emotional reactions to devour my every characteristics and personality. This experience, hazardous to say the least, knocked at my subconscious mind and allowed blood to spill, tears to shed and emotions to raise high enough to cause physical pain to my entire body. Confusion and paranoia filled my head and recognition that the disorder was only going to get worse. That it was even a disorder,  was the last thing I thought about, help was the last thing I cared about. I just simply wanted excitement and a feeling of pleasure to cover the scars that had been recently reopened.

Things were never the same after these days. I became rebellious and it was even worse than before. I had one night stands with strangers, and used people that I cared about as leverage to get what I wanted. Allowed people to treat me in ungodly ways, including the boy who turned my once innocent ways psychotic. I allowed him to cheat on other girls with me, to use me only for sexual desires as a self -destructive punishment for myself. I used drugs to an excessive point, drank more, partied often to escape reality. I started skipping school to indulge in adult conversations and unhealthy relationships. Classes that I found interesting at one point in time became irritating and only ended in the frustration I would let loose with the actions spoken about in the sentences above. I lashed out for no reason, spit, cussed, screamed, cried, hit, disrespected people who only tried to be there for me. I was not myself and reacted out of frustration as a result that I even missed my own identity. This person was not me, she was an elongated unstable mental state of mind that was almost impossible to control.

A life stigmatized and misunderstood from a mental health condition and its devastating effects can be found in a thousand patients.  Those who exist in a world where no matter how loudly they scream, no-one seems to hear their voice.  Now, in the present time, it has been 8 years since those events occurred. I still to this day struggle with the everyday emotions. physically and mentally. I got diagnosed with these two disorders only about half a year ago. Living in the mind of a stranger my whole life with only help from a school teacher. She must have done a good job because I'm still here living, breathing, and fighting the demon that feels like it's gaining more and more power.

On top of my growing BPD, lurks another unfortunate disorder. This one is a difficult one for me to accept. Even as a child when someone would make a comment about it, it had rage and disgusted me. This disorder is not  a mental disorder but a mood disorder to say the least. This irritation is called Depressive Bipolar Disorder (DBD). There are many different life, family, relationships, work, and other initial habits I need to start coping with. Learn to control my own sense of anger and accept the fact that I need help.  

When/ If I begin to act strange, someone whether it's a family member, stranger, significant other, etc., they normally do well to call me out on my decisions . Others who know of my name but not of my personality, give  judgmental faces with mean looks on their faces. They seem inviting on a normal day, but a day when I don't even recognize myself is the hardest for me. There are times I feel amazing in my own skin, whereas other days I feel sloppy and I watch myself in a judgmental way so why wouldn't they to? On the good days I can put my mind to multiple things and achieve them quickly in a timely manner.  Jumping from one thing to the next. 

My head prefers to make plans before my self conscious mind these days. For she still has some control, I don't lash out nearly as hard as I used to. More emotional distress than anything to the point I would like to rip off my head or tear the hair from my scalp. Those are the days I need more reassurance of my worth, to know that I'm not just a waste of space trying to get by. The thoughts won't be going away soon of course, and emotions still hurt like physical pain, my body still becomes one within its encounters with unexpected situations. I still seclude myself from an audience every time I get the chance to.

 Sometimes I worry about if they had diagnosed me incorrectly considering I would rather flood my own mind with low self esteem than make a fool of myself out of anger in front of a crowd. The good part of the whole situation is that during hypomania you're excessive. I had been told to take advantage of that quality of my disorder.  Be excessively open to new people and experiences because recently, I have become very distant and cold with the ones I care about. I've lost all of my actual friends.  Not intentionally on my part, but pushing people away is also a very high quality in my lonely personality. Furthermore, resourceful and useful for others rather than emotional support. I have a few grounding techniques when I'm feeling that I'm going to bounce back between the lows and highs, that include my art, writing, music and to be alone. Yet I am told not to allow myself to be alone to the point of comfortable silence by my phycologist. 

Still I require medical assistance for the unstable mind set I am capable of releasing, if I can just muster up the will power to go and express myself to a complete stranger before anything else is to happen without my control.

  Created By, Khloe Lea ❤ᓚᘏᗢ

[kit-kat-draws2798-blog]

Thought I would show you guys my oldest oc that I've had for about four years now ^^ I hope you like him ^^ (Note: I'm sorry that it's really long lol Along with my horrible spelling and grammar) ~BASIC INFO~ Full Name: Alexander (Peyton) Gray Meaning of name: Latinized form of the Greek name Αλεξανδρος (Alexandros), which meant "defending men" from Greek αλεξω (alexo) "to defend, help" and ανηρ (aner) "man" Nickname(s): Alex, Al, (More tba) Code Name: Silent Hunter (May change) Gender: Male Age: 21 years old Date of Birth: 12/21/?? Place of Birth: Ashenfall Race/Species: Half human half demon (Shapeshifter) Native language: English Languages spoken: English, various demon languages, latin, etc. The demon knows many languages, so it gives him various different options. Orientation/Sexual Preference: Pansexual/romantic Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius Religion: N/A Occupation: Military soldier/ Bodyguard. He likes to call it glorified baby sitting. Are They Dead: Nope ~MEDICAL INFO~ Blood type: O Do they have a mental disorder?: Yes If so what is it?: Dissociative Identity Disorder (Aka Multiple personality disorder) Symptoms: Occasional suicidal tendencies Night terrors Anxiety (Usually keeps it to himself and lets it fester in his head) Psychotic-like symptoms Self-sabotage Memory loss Etc Phobia(s): The color white Holy objects (They are painful man-) Anything that resembles surgical tools Doctors/Scientists Etc Allergies: Dust Habits: Paces when he’s stressed or nervous Spaces out a lot Taps feet and fingers Powers/Special Abilities/Skills: Can use most types in magic: A jack of all trades in this area. Is a pretty good hacker He can see people’s souls as dots. Spirits have outlines. He has a strange sense of smell in which he can tell people apart: by smell alone Shape shifting (Uses a lot of magic though, so he only does it when necessary) He can also change his voice when he shapeshifts. It gives the illusion that he's that person or thing. However he needs to see what the person looks like and hear their voice to be as accurate as possible ~APPEARANCE~ Height: 6’4 ft Weight: 190 lbs Hair color: Golden blonde Hairstyle: Medium straight hair Eye color: Light blue. (When being puppeted/when his eye “bugs” out, he has a mark on his left eye. He usually keeps it covered with an eye patch though) He has bags under his eyes due to lack of sleep. Piercings: Has two silver earrings on each ear. Scars/Weird Marking(s): Self harm scars on both his wrists. Large cuts/ scars extending from his shoulders down to his hips on his back. The parasite that he is a host to has the ability to reopen them and generally it makes it worse. He bites at his right wrist/hand a lot, so it leaves scars and open wounds Birthmark: Has a mark on the back of his neck that resembles a simplified rose Skin: Porcelain Clothing/Style: Shown on ref ^^ Jewelry/Accessories: Small brown bag, bandanna, and the four earrings on his ears. Scent: Calla lily mixed with a bit of blood (The Calla lily represents his innocence and the blood represents corruption) Weapon(s): The sword on his back and a custom gun that was given to him by his father Physical Disorder/Disability: With his right hand pretty much always being injured, it hinders his ability to use both of his hands effectively. Never Seen Without: Small brown bag/ gun holster on hip, his sword, a purple handkerchief, bandages, and if you’re able to see it, perscription pills. Strengths: He is very agile and light, so he can move very quickly Is very clever and can get himself out of a pinch Heals faster than a normal person and even grow back limbs if severely injured (But still takes a while. Especially the limbs. Those take months.) He has a sense that can detect a person's aura. It varies on whose arua it is. But when he talks about it, he describes it as a “smell”. It makes it hard for anyone/thing to escape, but not impossible. Can find information pretty easily, as he has a good hacking skill. Often goes on the deep web. Uses his shapeshifting ability to his advantage. Often does it for info or for getting out of a tight spot. Weaknesses: His mind can be weak and is sometimes easy to control when his mind is unstable (hypnotism, mind control, etc.) Can die from severe wounds if they aren’t treated (blade, gun, etc. It’s very unlikely though.) If he uses a lot of magic he becomes sick (Varies with the amount used. Ex: If was fairly low, he just has headaches. If high then he feels very nauseous and may be unable to move from that and extreme pain. It can even kill him if he uses it too much and/or too often) He also has this being that calls itself Airice “living” inside his shadow. It is this demonic being that loves to kill and destroys things. If it wants to do anything, it must posses his body. If irritated enough it’ll injure him until he’s weak enough for it to take over. Or sometimes Alex just lets it because he doesn’t feel like struggling. If you hurt certain people he cares about, he will lose all train of thought and will attack you mercilessly. He will not care about himself in the slightest. Is really dense, in the sense he often cannot tell how others truly feel about him. He thinks most people hate him. He has in his head that he's worthless, so why would anyone really care about him as a person? (Also he has a huge weakness for cute things. It’s really bad because if it’s cute, he doesn’t hurt it first. Even if he senses that it’s dangerous. Such a bad habit.) ~PERSONALITY~ Overall: Reserved and quiet at first Very much a gentleman (To most people) With people he’s comfortable with, he’ll be really outgoing and loud Bubbly and childish Get’s overprotective and clingy to people he’s really close to Gets jealous easily Naturally curious person Loves to tease Has a hard time hating people, even if they have wronged him at some point (Currently only despises 3 people out of the dozens he knows) Can be really dense when it comes to how people feel about him Very intelligent Holds grudges with people he really doesn’t like Likes: Anything cute, family/friends, sweets, nature, really bad/cringy puns, etc Dislikes: Airice, isolation, the color white, His father, Dead silence, medical equipment, himself... Hobbies: Listening to music, Running, Reading, etc Flaws: Anxious often Childish (Can be good or bad) Overly Emotional (When it involves someone he cares about) Can be overprotective at times Wary for the most part around strangers Withdrawn from almost everything Extreme clean freak Impish Clingy af Can be somewhat lustful Pet Peeve: People being late Methods of execution: When he has to, Alex will eliminate targets for very reasons. Whether it be personal or not. From one to four, is his most ¨prefered¨ to least ¨prefered¨ A bullet through the head or anywhere else that kills instantly Magic related death (The ones that are quick) Stabbing or slicing with his sword (He mostly has it for tight spots and an intimidation factor) Magic related death (The ones that are slow and painful. Ex: Burning) Targets To Killing: Men and women can be the victims (Ages can vary). Rarely children are victims. Doesn’t have a specific type of victim, he usually kills to survive or if he is forced to. Crush/Greatest Love: Emily Scott -Low key is kinda obsessed and really protective of her. You hurt her- or even try to- he will murder you without question Love Song: You’re Mine - Disturbed Theme Song: Tba Battle Song: Tba ~PERSONALITY 2~ Name: Angel “Age”: 17 years old Gender: Female Overall: Hard working with tasks given to her or even stuff she plans on doing on her own will Energetic: Has a hard time sitting down and prefers to move around Adventurous: Goes hand in hand with her being daring and unable to sit down Daring: Often takes risks just for fun Independent: Doesn’t need people to help her with things Realistic: Tries not to be too fanciful with her desires Droll: Despite being serious and rude most of the time, she does crack jokes sometimes. However they usually aren’t exactly that nice Sarcastic: Angel always seems to sound sarcastic and she does this on purpose to confuse people. Solitary: Usually likes to be by herself since she doesn’t really like others. Stubborn: She likes it to be her way or nothing at all. This makes her hard to work with. Whimsical: Uses magic abilities to mess with others and trick them. Likes: Going out, exploring new areas, fire-, watching or being part of destruction,Cold weather, Adam, etc Dislikes: People in general, sleeping, the Underworld (The Dry & hot area), etc Hobbies: Exploaration Training Flaws: Arrogant Blunt Bold Aggressive Hot Headed Brash Asocial Doesn’t always think, so she sometimes does stupid things Pet Peeve: Loud, Obnoxious people Method of execution: When she has to, Angel will eliminate targets for very reasons. Whether it be personal or not. She usually does stealth attacks or just straight up stabbing. Targets To Killing: No one in particular Crush/Greatest Love: N/A Theme Song: Tba Battle Song: Tba ~PERSONALITY 3~ Name: Alvy “Age”: 29 years old Gender: Male Overall: Distant and cold: Doesn’t like social interaction unless it benefits him in some shape or form Often comes off as emotionless; Robotic like most of the time. It’s rare to see him give you a genuine smile Calculative/analytical Holds grudges quite easily Highly intelligent Has a seemingly never ending curiosity for everything Becomes bored easily Has a slight ego Likes: Learning, phonominas, exciting events, interesting or unusual people, etc Dislikes: Not doing anything productive, others that try to get in his way, etc Hobbies: Hacking, researching into various topics, etc Flaws: Very cold and emotionless Doesn’t always abide by regular morals Doesn’t know social norms that well, so he comes of as kind of an alien Pet Peeve: Stupid or idiotic people Method of execution: “It’s a waste of time to kill things. I’d rather be looking into other things than that.” Targets To Killing: N/A Crush/Greatest Love: I don’t think it’s possible for him to really grasp the way people see love as. He probably just thinks it’s nothing special and he doesn’t really need it. Love Song: Tba Theme Song: Tba Battle Song: Tba ~PERSONALITY 4~ Name: Aaron “Age”: ??? Gender: Male..? Overall: Quiet and softspoken Nothing else is known about him. He doesn’t really emote or even speak, just moves around silently. Everyone just assumed he was a mute until someone actually heard him speak. That one person has been the only one to have actually heard his voice. Likes: ?? Dislikes: ?? Hobbies: Flaws: Gets overly aggressive to the point of destroying almost everything around him Pet Peeve: ? Method of execution: Tearing apart things with telekinesis Targets To Killing: It really doesn’t matter Crush/Greatest Love: …? Love Song: Tba Theme Song: Tba Battle Song: Tba {Note: There’s nothing really here because he doesn’t come out as much as the others and he just doesn’t show much personality in general} ~FAMILY~ (Mother/Father/Sibling/Grandparents/etc)~ Name: Rachel Gray (Mother, Alive) Age: 41 Gender: Female Hair Style: Medium, in a bun Hair Color: Blonde Eyes Color: Baby blue _ View On Him/Her: Alex barely remembers anything about her. Angel, Alvy and Aaron never got to know her Name: Christopher Gray (Father, alive) Age: 42 Gender: Male Hair Style: Longish, baggy Hair Color: Dark chocolate Eyes Color: Emerald green _ View On Him/Her: Alex has very conflicted feelings on him. On one hand he ruined his life, on the other he constantly hopes that Chris would go back to the way he was when he was a kid. Even though Alex knows that he probably won’t. Angel enjoys his company every once and awhile. Otherwise she doesn't care for him. Aaron heavily dislikes him. Aly loves being around him since they pretty much have the same mind set. Name: Jackson Gray (older brother, alive) Age: 22 Gender: Male Hair Style: Medium Hair Color: Dark chocolate Eyes Color: Hazel _ View On Him/Her: He forgives him for what he did, and deeply cares about him. Angel however despises him. He gives her a bad vibe. Aaron doesn’t care for him Alvy: Who..? Age: Adam Gray (twin, alive) Gender: Male Hair Style: Medium/long shaggy Hair Color: Blonde/golden Eyes Color: Bright blue _ View On Him/Her: Loves him to fuckin death. The end. ---Sincerely Alex and Angel Aaron doesn’t really care. Alvy finds him useful. Name: Selene Thomas (Adopted sister, Alive) Age: 19 Gender: Female Hair Style: Short, very floof Hair Color: Black Eyes Color: Yellow _ View On Him/Her: He really enjoys her company. He views her as his little sister. Angel kinda likes her. Aaron can tolerate her presence. Alvy: ¨....What a weak minded girl. At least she can be useful when she's needed.¨ ~Best friend~ Name: Emily Scott (Alive) Age: 20 Gender: Female Hair Style: Long Hair Color: Brown Eyes Color: Dark indigo _ View On Him/Her: He cares deeply for her. Wouldn’t want to live without her. He can’t live without her... Angel doesn’t really care for her all that much. Aaron “…” Alvy finds her to be...interesting. Pet(s): Katrina Backstory: WIP AF ~Notes~ Has severe memory loss. He can barely remember some things in his childhood, along with the people that where there. The only people he can vividly remember are his family and his best friend, Emily. Everyone and everything else is a complete blur. He’s a experiment. His number was A-121. Angel has only been around since he was 11 Alvy and Aaron came in shortly after His magic can become unstable if he loses control- it could lead to his death if not stabilized. Alex’s intended purpose in the experiments was to be a tracker/spy/stalker The Lurker also messes with the host’s body tem, this is higher than what’s considered normal and doesn’t get cold easily. Although he has a higher chance of overheating. He occasionally makes dolls and inserts wandering souls in them. He usually gives them to Coraline (A wip character) but he has kept a couple to use for himself. He currently has three. Has a special room in his home where he keeps all of his findings and security cameras. It’s hidden however. Sometimes his marked eye “bugs” out and is occasionally visible even if Alex is in control His marked eye makes his vision sharper, but kinda makes him color blind. He has a collection of dolls he made to mimic his family and friends. He made it so they act exactly how the person that the doll portrays. They can be used as voodoo dolls, but he mostly uses them when he gets lonely. I may edit this later, because he is still a work and progress. But he’s mostly done. Alexander Gray and Art(c) @kit-kat-draws2798

[roseamongroses]

W.A.L: “The Last Supper” (27) (i)

s u m m a r y

Eden was the lowest of the low, a monster, hardly human, and was set to be executed. Roman was on trial, perpetually stuck in time until it was time to atone for his families sins.Neither cared much for staying trapped.So when a Stranger offered freedom, offered peace, offered power, it was hard to say no.Even if it put them on the wrong side of history.

v i b e s

time is irrelevent, homophobia who?, magic and beasts, demigods

w a r n i n g s

Imprisonment, Mentions of execution, Blood/ injuries,  Mentions of past Death, repression, cursing, some  dissociation

c h a r a c t e r s

Deceit(Eden) Sanders, Remy Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Emile Picani, Elliot, Kai, Lauren, Dot

Ship: Roceit

1) (2)   (3)  (4) (5)

(6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11)

(12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17)

---

Janus spent his break relearning.

He relearned what it felt like to rest.

He ignored the sun’s rise, feeling his body’s relief. He relearned how it felt for his muscles to be simply sore without the adrenaline of training clouding his senses. He relished in the sluggishness of the early morning, Roman curled at his side, only really waking up when hearing their rough, sleep heavy voice.

He spent his break patient. He listened to the brats argue until Mrs. Sanders kicked them outside so she could do her accounting in peace. He listened to the babble of Roman’s sisters as they bossed and questioned him with seemingly no qualms about what might or might not be seen as rude.

They apparently didn’t like calling him Deceit and had taken a liking to refer to him as Mr. Snake, which also spurred a number of inside jokes that he didn’t understand--including calling him slimy. Janus had to stop himself more than once from just telling them his actual name just to stop that nonsense.

He spent his break...well catching up with Roman.

Janus hadn’t realized how often they would have to stop or avoid talking about certain things because something would always come up. Janus generally had to train the brats while Roman had to watch his sisters and help out around the house. Even when they had free time, The Stranger's traning had gotten more exhausting, leaving Janus mentally and physically checked out most of the time. Roman, despite his medication helping with his physical ability to withstand his magic, still had nausea, fatigue, and anxiety attacks-- sometimes getting to the point where they couldn't take care of his sisters much less spend time with Janus.

But for once… all of that wasn’t stopping them, as if for a brief moment the universe let them breathe.

So Janus was patient when Roman was describing his boundaries, as Roman described the myriad of peculiar or dangerous things that had happened when he decided to get intimate before. And in turn, Janus did the same.

And on his last day of his break, he spent his time relearning Roman’s body.

---

Janus knew he would have to leave soon, yet he found himself lingering.

Roman curled into him, their transparent wings twitching every so often--still overly sensitive from being touched. The blankets cradling their smooth expanse of skin, just barely hiding the trail of pink flowers dotting around their legs and disappearing between their thighs.

Janus knew he had to leave, but before he did he wanted to do literally anything else. So he sat up slowly scooping up and slipping on his discarded clothes, feeling the moon’s glare on his neck and Roman’s faint touches on his skin. He had to leave.

He stood, forcing himself not to look back, but the bed creaked causing Roman to stir.

Hearing their intelligible voice, Janus caved.

Roman had kicked off the blankets, face scrunched up as he pawed at the empty space beside them. Janus sighed, pulling the covers back onto him, and before he could think he found himself pressing a kiss to their forehead.

Pulling away, his breath caught, “You’re awake,”

Roman opened his eyes, a small frown on their face, “You were leaving,”

“I have to get back to training,” Janus explained, soft. And even though he knew that it was the truth, it felt as heavy as a lie, “I’ll be back in about a week,”

Somehow Roman’s frown got deeper, “Why didn’t you wake me up?” he said sitting up, the blanket pooling around his waist.

“If I did I wouldn’t have been able to leave,” Janus admitted.

“Then don’t.”

“I,” Janus’s mind blanked. That sounded too easy when Roman said it, “I can’t do that,” he said, “I have to Roman. I made a deal. Without The Stranger I’d probably be in jail somewhere rotting away or dead,”

Roman tilted his head at the new information, “And how did you end up there?”

“Alle-” Janus froze. Instead of the village people’s stare as he stumbled through town half dazed and still covered in blood. Instead of Eden’s mangled and beastly body dissapearing into the woods--Instead of Virgil being swept way in the river, all he could think of was--

Blue eyes.

“It doesn’t matter,” Janus gritted, suddenly angry, “I have to leave,”

Roman hugged his arms, “You….You don’t have to do anything,” he said, “I get that you have a deal but...this is too much. Every time you leave with him you come back worse. I…”

“That’s easy for you to say, “Janus inhaled, “Roman even after your life went to shit, you still managed to get everyone you cared for back. You still had people who cared. I don’t have that, and I won’t as long as I’m like this. If I have to suffer a bit to get it then…”

Roman’s face looked shattered, “...I care about you,” he sniffed, wiping his face.

“...I know,” Janus swallowed, “It’s just, “I’m not en--”

“Don’t,” Roman’s teary eyes narrowed, fist balling at his sides, “If you weren’t enough I sure as fuck would not have gotten into a relationship with you. And even if you were that doesn’t mean you’re less deserving of love,”

“I’m not looking for…” Janus blinked hard, “ I’m not looking for love. I’m becoming more,” he said, voice not quite his own.

“Please…. don’t leave.”

Somehow he found his body moving towards the door, the doorknob burning underneath his hand, “I’ll be back in a week,” he murmured bile rising in his throat as he left, Roman’s pleas distant in his ear.

Everything was distant.

It was only when he was standing outside of the door did a foggy thought drift into his head that he didn’t want to leave.

Janus didn’t want to do this. He wanted to turn back around and ignore every promise, every deal he’s ever made. He didn’t want to keep becoming he just wanted to be. Be alive, be loved, even if that life felt like shit sometimes, he was so desperate to make it better because for once that life was his.

It was only when his world went black did he realize that he didn’t have a choice anymore.

---

It had been about a week and you could say that Roman was still upset.

He didn’t mention Janus’s absence and continued on with his new life. He played and cared for his younger sisters and let the brats do whatever they want. He laughed when he was supposed to laugh and avoided Lauren’s careful prodding with the ease expected from a practiced liar. You wouldn’t even have noticed the faint trail of ashes that tended to follow him or how he spent a bit too long in the shower.

So you could say he was still upset, but ultimately he was fine. He was functional and sometimes functional was enough. This was…

Roman shut the door, leaning against it with his eyes shut tight as he inhaled sharply. He swallowed thick, feeling that all familiar panic seize him with every breath. It wasn’t that he couldn’t focus on calming down, but there was so much to focus on. The way raindroplets sliding down the bedroom window, how tree branches rattled outside, the constant fucking whirring of technology everywhere, and heartbeats--so many heartbeats but none of them Janu--

Roman opened his eyes startled, “Dot?” he rasped, staring into the darkness head of him, “When did you get ou-- how?”

Dot sat on the bed, legs crossed--only the faint reflecting of her unblinking eyes visible. Otherwise, her glimmering skin seemed to lay hushed in the shadows. “Dear, have you been taking your medication?”

Roman bit his lip, “Yes, but that doesn’t--”

“All of it?”

“U-Yes?”

Dot made an odd sound comparable to an exhale, but it felt like reluctance, “It would seem that Sanders should be stable enough,” she echoed to herself. Her wings drooped uncharacteristically low as she stood up, “I guess I’m not killing that man after all,”

Roman became distinctly aware of another presence in the room, one without heartbeat or shape, “What’s going on?” he demanded fumbling with the door behind him, flinching when instead of the door handle he felt the hands of The Guard wrap around his arm, feeling both tight yet nonexistent as they restrained him.

Roman struggled, air turning into ice as The Guard lifted him up, “Let me go,” he snarled, feeling the house shake as he forced the distant storm to wrap around the house.

The Guard’s laugh was booming, not terribly phased, “Oh he is an Heir,” he said, somehow holding Roman up higher, “He’s so cute, are you sure we can’t keep him?”

Dot shook her head, wrapping the shawl around her shoulders tighter as she flipped out a phone, “Larry, he’s not a toy,” Larry made a whimpering sound and Dot made a chirping one in return, “I did try, but He was rather adamant about keeping the pair together,” she frowned as the windows burst open. A blackened branch crashing inside with a deathly ease, “I wouldn’t advise that dear,” Dot said, sidestepping it's initial strike, “He did give us a beta version of the curse to use if you became difficult,”

“Like I give a damn,” Roman choked, only increasing his struggling, “I’ve gotten out of it before,”

Dot hummed, phone still at her ear, “But your father didn’t,” she commented, “Nor did your brother,” at that Roman spat at her, “And they were very powerful men, though not terribly creative like you are. Power can only get you so far after all,”

“Is there a point to this?” Roman scoffed.

“Still so impatient,” Dot tutted, approaching Roman with the casualty you usually do not expect from someone inches away from being crushed to death, “But the point is if some very powerful Sanders can’t physically handle the curse, what do you think would happen to humans? Especially with something as volatile as a beta version of the curse?”

And like that, the tree was gone,.

Roman’s panic had only surged, “You wouldn’t,”

“I don’t want to, but I’d have to,” Dot corrected, softly patting Roman’s face, “Please don’t make this any more difficult, darling. I’d love to see you in one piece after this,”

Roman jerked his face away, blinking back his tears, “Fuck off,”

Aleseners didn’t emote like humans did, but for a brief moment Dot looked pained.

And in the next moment the world went white.

---

A nameless shifter wakes up, hot metal pressed tight around their wrists and mouth bound with an unwashed rag. Their skin was slick, an uncomfortable heat lingering around their form. Their eyes throbbed with a clear, burning ooze still dripping from them.

A breeze blew through the air even though there wasn’t a window in sight.

They looked up, seeing the same Stranger from before.

It was time to try again.

[faiteach]

170116

no care - dear reader I can’t remember the last time I felt this good for this long. It’s gotten to the point that I’m beginning to doubt its authenticity. I mean, if all my deep, dark patches could be attributed to chemical imbalances and oceans of hormones, then what’s to say my highs couldn’t be too? The other possibility is that I’ve finally learned how to handle my bullshit. Now, I’m not saying I will never get depressed again, or that I’ll never split again, or that I’ve stopped dissociating in times of stress and fear. I still do all those things. Repairing and coping with my PD is all about perspective, self-care, and time management. I take a lot of work. I’m aware of that now. So I’ve started focusing on doing the work. I expect that it will never be easy, but I believe that it can get easier, especially if I keep trying. The effects of these things, they kind of snowball, you know? So I’m trying. And in the meantime, I’m focusing on my successes, admitting to my mistakes, and doing what I have to to feel better about them---that is to say, confronting the issue as honestly as possible and approaching any solutions with sincerity. Sounds simple, when you put the words in order, but honestly the actual thought process can be daunting when you’re avoidant and socially anxious. It helps to have good people around who are willing to show some understanding. Part of my self-care includes reminding myself of how valuable my current, positive relationships are and putting dedicated effort into trying to show them that I feel that way. Especially when I have the urge to torch everything I’ve built and run the other way. Again, much harder than it sounds. That’s the trouble with these mental deviances. The mindset of the established order doesn’t leave a lot of room for...what is it? What can you even say about it? The Slip’n’Slide of Terror, the Sudden Sink into Suspicion, that blank wall of static that roars into the mind as the salty waters of anxiety short out every circuit in your mind at the very thought of expressing emotion, empathy, commitment, need, affection, nah need nobody, trust no bitch, s’all good *blink* s’all good *blink* --zzzzt. Reanimating after shut down takes time. And effort. What was I saying? Perspective. It seems to me, this has been the most helpful tool that I have against the things that attack me in my mind. I still get emotional, but now I channel it into safe outlets that allow me to fully express myself without causing any damage. I almost feel like a tourist in my own emotional states. Part of that, is perspective. Instead of getting swept away feeling lonely and sorry for myself, I am able to remind myself of exactly where I am in life, how hard I had to work to get here, and how little I achieved in the past, when I let myself get distracted by the desire to use somebody else to fulfill my needs. I remind myself that in every relationship I ever entered into in the past, my motives were entirely selfish and if I were to pursue the impulses that tells me I need a relationship now, then I would be doing it for selfish reasons because deep down---not even deep down, it’s pretty fucking obvious in every sense of the word that I do NOT have the capacity to care for anyone besides myself. I just don’t. People tend to assume, when I say I don’t want a relationship now, or possibly ever, that it must be because I’m scared. They think I don’t want to risk the rejection and lose the fragile self-confidence I’ve gained. They think I’m just not ready to put it all on the table and start looking again. Eeeeeeh if I’m being truly honest, they’re at least one-third right. The real reason that stops me in my tracks, every time I really feel the urge to go out and look for “love”, is that it’s never made me happy before, and there’s no way it could actually make me happy now. A relationship, of any kind, is a terrifying thing to me---no matter how short lived it is. The briefest interaction can leave shockwaves in my consciousness that take real time out of my day to recover from. I have to be drunk to do the kinds of impulsive things that my urges have made me do in the past, and the shame that I always woke up to was scalding. I’m done with that. Over the last year, I have learned to love myself. I like who I am, warts and all. I enjoy my company. I make myself laugh. I feel beautiful like, 95% of the time, even when I feel disgusting, I just….like it. For the first time in my life, I’m allowing myself to move my body however I want, without caring if I look stupid from some other angle. I’m allowing myself to sing, to hoot, to holler, to take deep breaths, to get up and pee whenever I want, to dance around in full view of other people, to laugh, to snort, to make bad jokes, to make myself heard, to expect better for myself. It has taken so. long. to get here. Of course, I say all that and then, do you know what I did? Let me set the scene. Friday the 13th and my boss has arranged for the entire office AND their significant others (everyone had one but me) to spend the night at a casino/resort for a quick retreat. Just something fun to end 2016 and kick off 2017, right? It was a great time. All of us get along great and we partied like professionals. No one threw up, no one got arrested, no one got into a fight, and while some people lost their bonuses to the slot machines, no one actually went bankrupt. And at 3am, sitting alone in my hotel room, my dumb ass texted KK. I said: “You should call me sometime.” I figured he wouldn’t answer and by morning I would have come to my senses enough to ignore any response. Maybe I’d do the intelligent thing and block his number again. I’m not even sure why I unblocked it in the first place. I’ve thought about him almost every day for a year. Not sad, or hurt, when I do, but with a little regret. He’s been one of my closest friends for my entire life. He’s the only person I’ve always felt happy to be around, except for the times (the many, unfortunate times) when our relationship has become...complicated. And we’ve never even dated in any kind of official capacity. But the truth is, if I’m capable of real love, then I know I love him. I have zero illusions about our romantic compatibility. We want different things, and he’s always had a deep network of friends that I just don’t fit into. Meshing our lives together wouldn’t work, logistically. But is the feeling real enough to try and make it work? Probably not. At the end of the day, I know myself now, and I know I’m capable of doing horrible things to other people just to get what I want. If what I want is more space, then I will cut away parts of my life to make it happen. In any case, he responded right away. “I will. Later in the day though. Haha.” And then he texted me again, first thing in the morning, 5 hours later. We talked a little, like I hadn’t iced him out for a year. He asked what’s new with me and I told him if he really wanted to catch up, he could call me or we could meet up later. As far as I was concerned, that would be the end of it. Every man I’ve ever known has run the other way when I say things like that. They try to do everything from a distance, try to keep me far away on the other side of the screen, because they know if they get too close, I’ll latch on like the succubus I am and demand more than they’re willing to give. He asked me if I wanted to get dinner on Monday. I said sure, and I figured he wouldn’t follow through. They never do. But here we are, on Monday, and he texted me first thing in the morning to suss out the details. We’re meeting up right after work to get food. It’s not like him to ask me to go out for anything. Normally, we’re both too casual to give a shit. We’ve been friends forever, why go out when we can just sit on the couch and play video games? Something about it feels weird, not wrong, just...different. Formal, when we’ve never been formal before. I have no idea what to expect. I have no idea if my absence affected him at all. Before I cut him out, we talked everyday. I have no idea if me missed me, if he cared, if hearing from me was an exciting relief, or if it’s all just par for the course to him. Maybe none of it was a big deal, and he’s just happy to hear from an old friend, with no idea how deeply his actions affected me, or how important walking away from him was to my mental health. It’s entirely possible that after tonight, I will resolve to truly never see him again. It’s entirely possible that after tonight, our relationship will evolve. And if it’s going to stay the same? Do I want it to? I honestly don’t know. I just want to get it over with.