#his life was so fucking miserable. he was constantly suffering or distressed or being used

[a-caterpillars-world]

you're gonna be ok, kid

don't tag as ship

[my-brothers-corrupted]

Book Four - Part 13

Trick breaks free. Then the real fight begins.

Tws for torture, possession, and blood.

Part 13 - Chase

Anonymous asked: Remember Trick, Chase. In the battle against your own mind, only one person can win. Don't let it, let him, destroy you.

“Here you go, my darling.”

Shifting and whispers in the bed beside him. His eyes slide slowly open, sticky with sleep.

“Nobody will take you away,” Anti is purring to Dapper, clipping tiny cameras to his shirt and the pocket of his pants. “I’ll be watching the three of you all day. Oh, my Trickster’s awake.”

He leans over to kiss Chase’s head, scratching at his scalp. “At least you never cause me any problems. Be good. I’ll be back later.”

“Anti,” croaks Chase, rubbing at his eyes.

“What?”

“I’m really hungry.”

“You eat a lot more than Dapper, you know. But then again, he doesn’t age. He’s low-maintenance. Even the scars tend to fade off him, and he goes all pretty and soft again.” Anti pauses, glancing around the room. “I’ll leave the door unlocked. You can get something from the kitchen. Just don’t let Dapper out.”

“Can’t you bring me something?” asks Trick weakly. “I’m having a down day.”

He can feel it already, his depression getting a tighter and tighter grip on him. He just wants to be taken care of for a little while. Coaxed out of bed and into the shower, brought food and massaged. He knows someone should be here helping him. Knowing what to do. Anti?

“I have to deal with your miserable brothers today,” murmurs Anti, leaning in to nuzzle together once again. “But in a couple weeks, when we’re out of here, I’ll spoil the pair of you all you want and then some. Give master kiss.”

Trick presses his mouth uncertainly to Anti’s cheek, at least soothed a little by the contact, but all too soon Anti is drawing away.

“Have a good day. I love you, Anti.”

He glitches out of view, turning only to flash Trick a smile before he vanishes into color and smoke.

Trick stares after him, numb.

Dapper’s very deeply asleep beside him, face drawn. Anti was talking to him while he wasn’t even awake.

Trick hides beside his brother’s arm and tries to go back to sleep. There’s a faint noise in the edges of his hearing like a faint whimpering, but it scares him too much to think about. He just wants to be unconscious again.

Battle for his mind. Ha. He can’t fight for anything right now.

“Anti’s fucking right,” he whispers. “I am broken.”

Anonymous asked: You will make it through, Chase Brody. You are a survivor through-and-through, and sure you may have had to change for survival a few times, but you are still the strong man with a protective gun in hand, the protagonist enough to lead the story and still be you after all this time. Jack made you for happy endings. And goddamnit you are going to have one, no matter how long the story takes.

Trick glances over at you, eyes dull. He supposes he has survived a lot. But protagonist - he can’t do that. He can’t be that. Right now, all he can do is lie in this bed.

He’s too scared to get up. He’s scared to check Dapper’s pulse and find it fading. Scared to look out his window and feel himself go weak with the confusion and distress from that body on the porch. Scared to see a calendar and know how long he’s been here, here, here, just… rotting.

Just him in this silent room, with moments of Dapper’s company to comfort him, and then silence again. His stomach groans as though to mock him.

“Happy endings,” he whispers, rubbing at his face.

He dreams of that warm smell on a baby’s head and hands pressed into the muscles of his shoulders. Dreams of a soothing mixture of English, German, and BSL to soothe him. Dreams of strawberry shortcake and cats curling up on his lap, of trees with no monsters in them. He would really like that. He would really like a happy ending.

Anonymous asked: Anti hasn't talked about that night because he doesn't actually want to make things better, Trick. He just wants to make you forget everything he's done to you so he never has to apologise. He does it to all of you. He doesn't want to make things better, he just wants to force you to forget, force you to love him. Anti is an abuser. All he will ever do is hurt you worse.

“That night…” mumbles Trick.

He glances down at the deep, ugly burn scar on his hand.

“If I try to go I think he’ll hurt me worse,” Trick whispers, blinking wetly at that old memory in his hand. “I’m scared of him. So angry. He does so many things when he’s angry…”

He hears faint flickers of screams, sees old traces of blood and injuries, watches Dapper’s hands cry for mercy. He curls down tighter against his brother, shuddering.

“I think he will hurt me again,” he croaks out. “You know, I really think he will. I’m scared. I think maybe I wish I could have a little time away? Like Dok and Red and Blue? But then Anti was only more angry. And he makes my head so confused. But you know, I think you’re right. I think maybe he’s always going to be someone who hurts me. I don’t know why we make him so, so angry, but yeah, I think maybe he’s being mean.”

Trick’s eyes well up with tears - and, for a second, a flash of his old ferocity, like the bitter, hurting Trick who crouched against the windowsill in that house near the sea in Norway.

“He makes me do things I don’t want to do and he hurts me and my brothers. Why does he do that? I’m trying to be good. He’s - he’s being a dick. He really is. I think maybe he hurt Dok really really bad.”

Tears begin to drizzle down his cheeks. He turns away from you, panting.

“Fuck him. What the hell? I don’t know what’s so wrong with me, but Dok is sweet. Dapper’s sweet. This is… oh, holy shit, this is all so, so fucked up…”

Anonymous asked: Is it really 'stopping the pain' if it was caused by him in the first place, Trick? Is it really 'stopping the pain' if he's made you forget nearly everything you loved, destroyed and hurt your family, and made you spill the blood of all those innocent lives? Are his lies enough for you?

Trick wipes at his face, feeling pathetic and low.

“He used to stop all the pain,” he says. “And I would float in that haze for days, feeling good, feeling okay, with just these moments where I got the sense that something was totally wrong. Like I was living a life I wasn’t supposed to, cause some god stuck me in the wrong skin or something. But he made it stop hurting. And when we hung out, I’d feel happy and we’d have fun. He’s funny, did you know that? He’s really funny and he can be sweet too. Cause when he’s feeling fond of you, all he wants to do is have you close to him and give you things you want. He glows when you praise him and treat him soft. I thought maybe it was the two of us, right? Like we made each other happy. That’s what I thought.”

He stares out the window at the trees and the golden light of a world that feels miles away.

“But I can’t watch him hurt my brothers anymore,” he whispers. “I don’t think he realizes that that’s what really destroys me. He thinks if he just treats me nice, that’ll be everything I need. Why… why would he lock me away like this? And hurt them like that? Didn’t we do our best? For months now, months and months? Didn’t I love him? All I ever wanted was to make him happy. Now he tells me he has to take me away from the people who make me happy for his sake.

He closes his eyes. A sliver of that faraway sunlight touches him, running over his cheek.

“I don’t think this is going to be enough for me. I can’t stay in this room much longer. And I keep thinking ‘well, surely he won’t make me a prisoner forever’ - and then I look over at him.”

Dapper’s mouth is parted with sleep, his face ashy and hollow. Trick manages to sit up for the first time in more than twelve hours to pull him into his lap and rock him, bent low over his thin little body.

Anonymous asked: Even if it doesn't look like the abuse you've suffered in the past, Anti is emotionally abusing and gaslighting you constantly. The feeling you have that you don't understand anything that's going on and don't know the truth? That's caused by the level of gaslighting you're going through. Being less confident, not feeling like the person you used to be, like everything you do is wrong, making excuses for him, isolation from your family, denying actions you /saw/ him do. It's gaslighting. Abuse.

“Denying actions I saw him do?”

Trick stares out the window, picking at his lip. Pick, pick, picking at his mouth until the blood seeps against his fingernails.

He sighs and shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head like he’s trying to throw the thoughts off. After a few minutes, his discomfort overcomes his exhaustion and he gets up to use the bathroom, leaving Dapper gently propped up against the pillows like a time-traveling Sleeping Beauty.

Trick comes back paler than he was before and sits down hard on the side of the bed, eyes glazed over.

“Anti chained Red and Dapper in the bathtub for a whole night cause they tried to sneak him his Haldol. That’s why Dapper’s arm is busted. Then he told me he’d kill Dok in our sleep if I didn’t take off his necklaces.”

Anonymous asked: When an abuser constantly insists that they love you, your mind learns to rationalize that any abuse is excusable because "they must love me!" in order to keep mental pain at bay. You learn to rationalize that abuse and love can ever co-exist for the sake of your own heart. But the abuser does not love you. Love and abuse cannot co-exist. 'Family' or not, Anti is an abuser, Trick. A violent, physical one. Eventually youll have to choose between real love, & an endless cycle of excusing abuse.

“No, oh, no,” whispers Trick, grabbing at his head. It hurts! There is a wound opening up inside his head, a mallet pounding down against something deeply sealed, a fire burning at his memories. “No, we did love each other. He’s being so horrible, but he… loves us. No, he doesn’t. He loves me? How could he treat me so well when things are good if he doesn’t? He wants to keep me. He loves me.”

But this cycle - this cycle!

He hears a girl laughing. She smells like good cooking and library books. He’s the one making her laugh and it lights his chest up. He presses his mouth to the soft skin of her cheek and she smiles and touches his hand. They say goodbye. Anti slaps him so hard he crashes to the ground. He hears Blue screaming for him to stop, but Anti doesn’t listen. Trick forgot by the next morning.

Trick clutches his head. His fingers intertwine with green hair. “No, no, no. What is he making me forget? He’s - what - what is he trying to turn me into? Please, please get him for me, tell him I need him to clear my head. No - no, but he makes me forget, or - or these are just nightmares. These aren’t real. These are just… just…”

Anonymous asked: It wasn't a nightmare. Don't let him control your head. Don't let him win, Trick. He's been hypnotising you, in your head nearly every single day. Don't you remember when you hated it? When you would cry every time someone was possessed, when him being in your head nearly caused you to kill yourself? Anti doesn't "make the pain stop", he just erases it, destroys it, destroys your sense of self and your freedom over your own mind.

“No, come on,” begs Trick, shaking his head, feeling himself beginning to shake. He needs to lie back down again. He hides under the covers, still holding his skull. “No, that’s not true. I don’t want it to be true. I’m scared. I can’t fight him if he’s really like that. He’s going to hurt me and my family. What do I do? Oh, no, no! He’ll get in my head again - I’m going to forget again and just keep letting him hurt us! Dapper - Dapper’s been stuck in one room for months and months, I have to - I can’t protect anyone, no, he’ll make me forget. He controls me. He’s right, I’m just a fucking puppet. I don’t control my own thoughts anymore…”

Anonymous asked: I'm curious about something, Trick. I'm not even sure if you still remember but there was a girl who Anti captured who you guarded and were told to kill when you all left the area... but you didn't, and you let her go instead. Did she say something to you? What made you directly disobey Anti that day?

Trick looks up at you, astonished. He bites down on his nail, turning away.

“You’re right… shit, what happened?”

Flowers and plants bursting from the earth. Blue’s eyes full of despair moments before glazing over with Anti’s shadow. In the shed, the girl looked back at him, her eyes raised.

“I think she said she wanted to go home to her family,” says Trick. “Or did I imagine that? That she said she had a family to go home to, a family that was looking for her and scared for her? She was all covered up in cuts. Anti used to make Dok do that to people. It was terrible. He would go so wild as he tortured them, just like Anti wanted, but then afterwards he would just shake and shake and shake for days in silence, stuck as deep in his own head as he put his scalpel into Anti’s prisoners. One time, he became convinced there was some sort of infection inside himself that he needed to cut out. I found him in the bathroom, completely delusional, completely incoherent, his scalpel stuck inside his thigh, splurting blood everywhere. I don’t think Anti even said anything about it… Dok cut up someone else that next day. It was always cruel, the torture. For Dok, for his victims. I remember that girl all covered in Dapper’s cuts.

“And I guess I thought I could get away with it. We were all leaving, so why not leave her? But then she brought the magicians. It was my fault she took Dok away.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, head aching.

“And Anti kicked Dap, didn’t he?” he asks faintly. “Maybe I was just angry at him. Like the fire. I didn’t set the fire for Dok, I just wanted to tick Anti off. I don’t know if I left the girl alive because I felt sorry for her or because I wanted to tick Anti off. I think sometimes I do. I think sometimes I want to get him back for all the things he’s done to us.”

As the memories come back to him, so too do the feelings, and with the feelings, a glimpse of reality.

Anonymous asked: Henrik, you can gift your necklaces to other people right? What if you gifted the protection over heart and head to Trick? That might be the only way to keep Anti out of him. I don't think he can fully fight it alone.

Blue eyes slide open on the porch.

Crusted and red. Bloodied on one side.

Henrik’s mouth barely parts. He tilts his head back, trying to readjust, and barbed wire pokes into his cheek, sending blood down his lips, tracing the pale outline of his mouth.

His necklaces hang off his throat. His last, solitary comfort and protection. You want them for his brother?

You must ask someone still standing to be selfless. He can’t care for anyone right now and he’s done his share of the sacrifice. Will you see to it that he is buried by the Chevra Kadisha after Anti kills him? It is his last request. His eyes have gone faraway from you, the pupils shrunk, and he stares at you like a hawk who can see the whole world beneath its endless gaze.

Anonymous asked: Who was it that said the line ‘anti tortured my brothers and made them thank him for it’ ? Cos I think u need to remember that one rn

“I guess he did,” answers Trick faintly. “He’s cruel on purpose. It’s not… it’s not his temper. He thinks it’s funny.”

aether-mae asked: Trick, as much as I love seeing you remember the truth, it’s all for naught if you don’t have a way to get free from Anti. We’ve brought you out of your hazes before only for him to drag you right back in. If you can reach enough clarity, please, please, get the fuck away from him (and bring dapper with you), otherwise we’ll be back to square one again

Trick’s eyes flicker. He looks over at Dapper, chewing on his nails.

“Can’t get out of the house with all the cameras,” he murmurs. “Can I? But I’m allowed go downstairs a little. He’s not, but I am. I don’t know how I could… can’t Red and Blue just come get me, please?”

aether-mae asked: Uhh noodle poodle, come back here please. There’s Dark things in the woods. Hopefully they like kittens..

You hear Trick gasp so hard it’s almost a scream.

“Holy shit!” he sobs. “My cat! Where is my cat, oh no, no, no!”

He scrambles to the door, pulling it open. Panting, he stands outside the room and clicks and kisses for his cat, calling for him like he always does. But Noodle doesn’t come running.

“He’s in the woods?” cries Trick. “My kitten is in the woods? Did Anti hurt him? Is he alive? Noodle! Come here, baby, daddy’s here! Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. I’m going to throw up. My cat, my baby.”

Anonymous asked: There was also a boy once, Trick. A kid you ran into when you robbed the pharmacy. I know you ran to avoid getting caught but I think partially it was because the name he had was familiar to you, in the same way your crinkle paper is familiar to you. No matter how Anti tries to shut your memories away, certain things always seem to linger.

Trick whimpers, shaking his head. Yes, he remembers. It hurt for a long time. It hurt for a long time even before that happened, before he even had that one name to cling to. There has always been a hole in his heart, for as long as he can remember.

But then he had his cat!

Having something to care for soothed him more than was probably healthy. He’s lost hope that he’ll see his children again, but his cat -

“I have to get my cat,” he cries. “I have to get away from Anti or he’ll leave my cat behind to die.”

And, on shaking legs, he begins his way down those great stairs, calling for Pot Noodle.

Anonymous asked: Anti took your children from you. Anti took your family from you, all of your friends, your life, your happiness. He took it all and filled your brain with false joy and lies all to make you a mimicry of Jack that he can pretend to control. Break free from him, Trick. Protect your real family.

The house is in ruins.

He doesn’t know when or how it happened. Struggles between Anti and his brothers, maybe, or just Anti himself lashing out. Maybe even Noodle caused some of the damage, in those first days where he was waiting for Chase to get out of the upstairs room and look after him. Some of it is just neglect.

The plant by the entryway door has fallen to its side and broken, the dirt spilling out across the filthy hardwood floors. A light is smashed above it and Trick can smell something like rot and spoiled milk in the air. There’s blood on the coat hanger.

Trick passes his hand over the wall, stepping through his broken home.

Here’s Red and Blue’s room. He remembers curling up with Red on the nights when Dok and Blue were both taken away from them. The room was cool and clean, Red meticulous in his organization and precise in his temperature control. They took what little comforts they could when they could hear their twins crying out from upstairs. Today, the room is in ruins. The sheets are torn off the bed and someone has been scratching at the door, leaving nail marks in the side, one hinge busted entirely. The drawers have been ripped open and the lamp is on its side, broken like it was used as a battering ram.

This home was so beautiful when they moved in, or Trick thought it was. And after everything that happened, he thought that maybe, just maybe, they would have a few months of peace and quiet, warm with the California sun and the love between them. It should have been idyllic.

He’s living in a fucking nightmare.

The basement is surprisingly clean, though Noodle’s sand box is full and his empty dishes have been pushed around and flipped in frustration by a hungry cat. But his and Dok’s bed is still untouched.

They would lie together. He would tell Dok about Anti. Dok would tell him about comfort and freedom and the future he wanted. Trick had barely even been able to listen at the time, ensnared in Anti’s power and his own self-delusions.

He puts his hand down on the mattress. His eyes water and spill over.

This was real family.

Anonymous asked: you were his nurse, trick. you were more than that. you loved him more than anti. you loved dok more than anyone. anti is torturing him, your real twin. anti is trying to force you to forget how much you loved him so that you'll be complacent. don't sit down and take it. fight for your family trick. see how horrible anti has treated you all for years and fight it with all your might.

“Dok was my twin,” he croaks out.

They would hold each other through the worst nights, whispering reassurances and secret sedition to each other, taking care of each other on their down days, days of blood and an exhaustion so deep as to eat holes in you. Dok - Henrik - was everything to him, when he had no one else to turn to. How did he ever forget, even for a hazy moment?

“Dok is my family. Anyone who hurts him like this does not belong. Dok is my family and I have to protect him.”

He holds his head up, breathing deep and closing his eyes.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

Anonymous asked: Red, Blue, and Henrik have done it and you can do, Trick. I feel like this is a truth you always knew. Anti is a snake in the rabbit's den. Anti is a falsity haphazardly placed inside the truth of your brotherhood. Anti does not love you, even if he seems 'fond' whenever you're under his control. He doesn't love you, he wants to control you.

Trick runs his hand through his hair, trying to think. “You’re right,” he murmurs. “And soon, he’ll come back and put me under his control again. I’ll be all confused and listless again, forgetting everything that matters so I can be his. I - I have to act right now. Right now, today. Before he tries to destroy me again.”

Anonymous asked: (1) Anti needs you to believe you'd be nothing without him. He needs you all to believe he is in charge and he is special and free from the rules because it fits his world view, where he's the all-powerful, in charge of everything. But you're not truly under his control. Trick, Dapper, Red, any of you, can be free at any time if you stop conforming to Anti's self-imposed world view. Anti treats you like a means to an end, you're only with him to satisfy his needs, to be the person he wants.

“He can force me to believe what he wants,” says Trick, treading back up the stairs. He’s so hungry he can barely think straight, so he’s decided to do what Dok would want him to do and try to find some breakfast while he thinks. “I need help to keep him out of my head, that’s the truth of it. In Singapore, Blue was the only anchor I had who kept me from getting completely lost in his power. Dapper will help me if he’s up to it, I know that now. I’ll get him some food too. I have to figure out what to do. I have to…”

He stares around himself at the prison of his home. The kitchen is absolutely wrecked, the fridge door left open so everything has gone bad. The stench of meat makes him gag. He grabs a tray of stale muffins and fills up a big water bottle before heading back towards his room, sitting shakily down on the bed.

“Need to get out of the house,” he whispers, his eyes flickering around to the cameras in the room. “Need to stop Dok from being his hostage. But he’s always watching. I have to distract him somehow. Or be very, very quick.”

Anonymous asked: Anti said he'll finish Henrik off if Red or Blue even try coming close to the house. You can't rely solely on their help to get you out.

Trick curls in on himself a little, his anxiety spiking.

“That’s why they haven’t come to get me. They can’t even get close. They… they can’t help me at all while Dok’s on the porch. I have to go get him. But I don’t know how. Dap - maybe Dap can reverse something for me when he gets up. Then I could try a couple times over and figure out what works. I’d feel so much safer. I’m pretty scared. Anti’s really going to beat me if he finds out. He’s focused on Dok right now, right? Not reading messages or anything? I think he’s been hunting Red and Blue in the forest.”

He rubs at his face and takes a big bite of his muffin, his mouth flooding with saliva at the relief of having food again. They finished off Dapper’s snacks early yesterday. Trick was getting about ready to try that rotted cheese he had in the drawers. He chugs half the water bottle and touches Dapper’s shoulder, trying to wake him.

“Hey, little man. Let’s see if we can’t get some food in your tummy, yeah? Dap, here I am.”

Anonymous asked: cracked screen cracked screen cracked screen-

For context, the moderator had, at this point, changed the blog icon from a square of glitches to a square of glitches with cracks through it, like a broken phone screen.

“Is it cracked?”

Trick peers at his camcorder, finding the lens intact.

“Looks okay from my side of things, but there’s a lot of different cameras in this house.”

He feels movement in the bed beside him and turns to see Dapper squinting at him, blinking as he comes back to consciousness.

“That is some truly fantastic bedhead, my man.”

Dapper manages a faint smile for him.

“There’s my guy. Come on, bud, let’s get you sitting up and get you some water.”

He pulls Dapper up against the headboard, propping his pillows up behind him. “How are you feeling?”

“Little better,” answers Dapper.

“Here, have some water. Is that true that you don’t eat as much cause you don’t age?”

“I think so,” his brother says. “But I can’t be sure. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten much. Just survive off what Anti brings me. But I’m okay.”

“We’ll get you some food and clean up your bandages.”

Anonymous asked: Jackie, Blue, if you could get to the house and provide a distraction, Trick is willing to jailbreak him, Dap, and Dok. Is that a possibility?

Blue sits up straight from where he was slouching in the lawn outside one of Dark’s houses, eyes lighting up.

“Yes, of course,” he breathes. “Whatever he needs. He’s really willing to go? I told you he was my little fighter, Ro! Let’s go now and we’ll get in a fight with Anti. I can light him up with my magic back.”

Jackie shifts against the tree he’s leaning on, more skeptical than his sibling. “I don’t know. They’re going to get hurt. If Anti catches them, we’ll have three brothers strung up on that porch. And I don’t think Dapper can take that right now.”

“First of all, have some faith in them,” says Blue, pinching Jackie’s wrist. “They’re tougher than you like to admit and they’ve been through a lot of dangerous situations and come out the other side. Secondly, we don’t have much choice here, my darling. We can’t get past Anti while he has a hostage. He’s willing to kill and the cameras are activated. We need Trick to get Dok to safety.”

“How the hell is he going to get out of that house?” asks Jackie, shaking his head. “Carrying Dok and supporting Dap? I don’t think he could get out if he were on his own. Anti will have his eyes on the cameras even while he’s fighting us.”

“Then Trick will have to be fast,” says Blue, getting to his feet. “And you and I will have to be very distracting.”

A smile curls onto Jackie’s face despite his trepidation.

“Well that,” he says, “I think we can do.”

Anonymous asked: Jackie if you know you can handle the backlash, then maybe taunting Anti about being not afraid, talking about beating him to essence in front of Jack, and being stronger than him, etc, has seemed to definitely do the job in the past.

Jackie starts laughing even as he shifts his weight from foot to foot and rocks on his heels. Blue watches him carefully to see if he’s getting overwhelmed, but he has it together.

“Oh, he’d be so mad.” Jackie rubs at his hair. “But… I guess that’s true, right? I beat him before. I did. We did! He should be scared. He can’t treat my family like this. We’ll go get him.”

He turns to smile at Blue. “Yeah. We’ll get him.”

Anonymous asked: Could Shep or Google sneak in and help Trick get the others out while you two distract Anti?

A window opens in the house above them.

“This isn’t a fucking crossover episode!” shouts Host. “Use your own characters! There’s a such thing as narrative integrity and I will not watch as it is - ”

“Gigi!” calls Blue. “You want to come help us with our brothers?”

Gigi appears in the doorway, letting Moses out of the house. “Sorry, not allowed. Dark doesn’t want me involved.”

“Come on, don’t be a sycophant,” says Blue, flashing Gigi a look that makes Ro roll his eyes. “You know, I think we could have some fun, Gigi. You don’t have to listen to Dark. We might really have a good time.”

Google shakes his head. “I’m good right here, thanks.”

“You like being Dark’s, Gigi?”

Google gazes at him, then across at Dark’s house, where Wilford is chasing the dog around the yard. The peach tree outside the house offers leaves to the wind, pink fruit bursting on its branches. Birds cascade around the roof and windows. The breeze stirs his hair.

“I’m good right here,” he says again, and you think you see, just for a moment, the flicker of a smile on his mouth.

“Well, what about Shep?” asks Blue, glancing around for him. “Host, where is he?”

“Out looking for that cat again,” answers Host. “I recommended he put some meat in a carrier and see what he catches. My bet is on possum, but I would also accept bear cub or porcupine.”

Anonymous asked: Shep? ...Did you ever find Noodle?

“Guess not,” sighs Blue. “Trick’s going to be broken-hearted if we don’t find that cat.”

“He’s been out alone in the forest for days now,” says Ro. “He’s a house-cat, never lived out on his own. Most likely he’s dead.”

“Ro,” snaps Blue, and then remembers to soften his voice. “Sorry, just - a little too blunt, love.”

“Sorry. Yeah, uh, we’ll find him! Somewhere.”

scunneredzombie asked: Trick, if your oldest brothers create a distraction would you run? Can you get away in the middle of a fight, if that breaks out? Blue has faith in you!

“I wish Blue was here,” says Trick quietly, staring out the window. “He’d make everything better. He always does.”

Anti was the one who made him sick… the memory of his body in the hospital feels suddenly overwhelming… Trick bows his head and sighs, clutching his shirt and wringing it between his hands.

“Run away in the middle of a fight,” he mumbles. “Away from Anti. I don’t know. I’m…”

Scared.

“Maybe that’s why he likes me so much,” he says. “Cause he knows I don’t have the guts to stand up to him. I always come back all warm to him. No matter what he does. Even in Norway, before he messed with my head like he has been lately, I was so hungry for any affection for him. Now I still can’t seem to run away. I’m sorry, I don’t - I don’t think I can do this.”

Warm fingers cup his chin. He turns and finds Dapper looking at him, smiling. His little brother’s fingers move back to stroke against the hairs at the nap of his neck and Trick relaxes wearily, eyes sliding shut. He takes a deep breath. Dapper tugs gently at his hair and he opens his eyes to see him again.

“Can I tell you something?” he signs.

“Course, man.”

“When Anti caught you and Henrik, Red and I were both lost deep in his power. He had treated us very badly for a while, but as we came around and became more and more willing to do what he asked us to do - to be what he asked us to be - he started to become warm and loving with us. Our missions felt like adventures back then. Even the killing was satisfying. Red was having breakdowns most every night without ever being able to tell me why, but in the daytime, he and I were Anti’s monsters. In Italy and Denmark, we killed and stole like we were born to do it.

“You and Dok changed things. Anti was obsessed with Dok’s savagery as a torturer for some time, but as he watched it begin to destroy him, he got bored again. And you - ”

“Were always his little yellow-belly,” chuckles Trick. “He didn’t have any interest in me back then.”

“No,” protests Dapper, touching his chin again. “No, that’s not true. You only remember after he reset you. But Trick, you lasted longer than Dok and Red had before you lost the fight to Anti. You fought so hard, Trick. Fought him every step of the way. I think that was the first time I began to get my memories of who we had been back. Because you fight, Trick. You fight when you need to. That’s one of those things that Anti can’t take from you. And I think that’s one of the reasons he gets caught up in this fascination with you. Anti only respects power and ability. To him, you should be helpless, hopeless, lost all the time - a human being with no magic and a lot of pain going on in your head. But you still keep fighting. He can’t understand why. Why mortal things, despite all the suffering and weakness they have to go through, still find things in life worth fighting for.”

Trick stares at him, clinging to his words.

“Now, Trick, Chase, my brother - if you want, you and I can go with Anti. Maybe we could even convince Anti that Dark is right, and he shouldn’t kill the others. Maybe Anti could even make us feel happy for a while. If that’s what you want, you and I can go. I’ll stay with you. We’ll be family. And I think we could survive it.”

Dapper leans forward and lets their foreheads thunk together, just for a second.

“But that’s not what you want, is it?”

Trick shakes his head slowly, tears dripping down his face.

“Because that’s not who you are.”

Trick shakes his head again. No. That’s not who he is. That’s not what he wants.

“Trick, I’m too sick to help reverse things right now. I’m sorry. And I know you’re tired too, and I know you’re scared. But Chase… your favorite person in the world is down there, hurt and alone, while Anti plans to kill him. He can’t stay there, not for another minute if we can help it. Right?”

“Right,” he whispers.

“So what are we going to do?”

Trick reaches up to hug him. For a minute, they just hold each other. Eyes closed. Hearts together.

“Dap, I’m not a fighter like you think I am,” whispers Trick. “I want to, I just - I know I can’t. I know I can’t do this.”

“Why? What’s going on? Did something happen?”

“Because - ”

His voice breaks. He draws back with tears in his eyes, holding on to his little brother.

“Dapper, I still love him. I still love Anti.”

“Oh, my brother.”

Dapper reaches out to cup his face in his hands.

“I do too. But we don’t have to stop loving him. We just have to look at him, and see what he truly is, beneath the idea of him we fell for - and then choose to love ourselves more.”

“What if he needs me?” whispers Trick. “What if I’m the only one who could save him from himself?”

“Dok needs you more,” says Dapper, and he presses his hand to Trick’s heart. “And today, you really are the only one who can save your twin.”

Anonymous asked: To Trick (and all who need to hear): Healing from pain is a choice, and it is up to you to consciously /decide/ that you deserve to move on from the weight and hurt you've dealt with for so long. Because you do. You deserve hope and love and freedom. But you have to choose it for yourself.

“You don’t deserve to be hurt for his sake when he doesn’t even want to be saved,” signs JJ, the pair of them sitting side-by-side in their monster’s bed. “They’re right and they always have been, even when you were too lost to realize. You deserve - we deserve - to be free and safe and cared for, Chase. So what are you choosing, my brother?”

“Hey,” whispers Trick.

“Yeah?”

“You’re really good at giving speeches.”

He gets to watch Dapper’s tired face light up with laughter. It makes him smile too. A moment later, they are locked against each other, giggling and rocking each other on the bed, faces squished together.

“You have to choose with me, then,” says Trick. “I know how long you’ve been scared and alone. You got to choose to fight with us today.”

Dapper wipes at tears on his face, hugging him tighter. He doesn’t want to let go just yet.

Anonymous asked: Dapper is right. Trick it takes a looong feckin time to stop loving people who've abused you. It takes even longer to love yourself again. But it's a choice you are capable of making. Choose to love your family, love yourself, more than you love the monster amongst you. Anti is a calloused, cold abuser who delights in pain and cruelty. No amount of love will save him from himself. Go and be with the people who loved Chase before you ever had to be Trick to survive.

“You and the others are the only hope that I have held onto for long years now,” signs Dapper, stuck fast to him. “If you’re ready, then I am too. I’m not sure I can do much, but what I can, I will.”

“Okay, then - then me too, me too,” whispers Trick, wrapping him up again. “Me too. Okay, I’m stuttering like fuck, haha. You gotta give me a minute. Just to breathe. Then - then I’m ready. Okay.”

“You should change out of your pjs, maybe,” Dapper recommends.

“Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Alright, shit. Do you have everything you need if I go get him?”

“I’m okay. I want you to worry about Dok first.”

“No way, you’re just as important as he is.”

“Thank you, but Dok’s in a lot more danger than I am with Anti. Anti won’t kill me, I’m fairly sure. If it comes down to it, get him to safety first and worry about me later.”

“No, I won’t do that.”

“We’ll see what happens, alright? Now go get ready, quickly. I’m sure big brother will be here soon to make a mess and cause problems.”

“His specialties.”

Trick hugs him one more time before getting out of bed, leaving you beside Dapper as he goes to change.

Anonymous asked: Good luck!!!

Chase gives a small laugh.

It seems almost too little, but almost too much: good luck. He needs it more than he knows how to express.

But he is also the gunman, the guard dog, the father, the nurse. He is a fighter and a softie too. He needs luck. He needs hope. He needs courage. He will find them.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

He’s wearing one of Jamie’s blue hoodies, basketball shorts, and worn, well-kept, fading Converse. He has no weapons and no magic.

For the first time in days, he dares to search for his twin’s body outside his window. He can see very little of him from this angle, but he knows him nonetheless. So fucking still. Why is the deck red beneath his unmoving hands?

“Go,” signs Jamie. “Look, in the woods.”

In the woods, movement. Anti appears from the air in front of the trees, eyes narrowed.

“I know you’re there!” they hear him shout from far away. “I can see both of you with the cameras I have in the trees! You’ll never get close to him before I can transport back and stop you! Neither of you will get out of my gaze.”

“He is watching for Red and Blue, as long as they keep him distracted,” signs JJ. “He knows all the magic and help they have. They will not be able to get to Dok on their own. Go, while he is so focused on them he feels safe.”

Trick hugs him one more time before moving towards the door.

“I’ll come back for you,” he vows. “Nobody’s getting left behind this time.”

“Please don’t worry about me.”

“No, Dapper - ”

He turns back to him and takes his face in his hands, drawing his gaze up.

“Don’t give up,” he says softly. “No resigning yourself to anything. Today, you find some hope, okay?”

Dapper bites his mouth. He nods, just once.

“I will come back for you and you will be ready to go. Okay?”

“Okay. Okay. Yes.”

They pull away. Chase goes.

JJ stares after him for a long time, hands clenched.

Then he gets up and he gets dressed.

It feels very similar to stepping back from the edge of a cliff in Lima.

Anonymous asked: Speak of the devil, where is Anti anyway?

“Speak of the devil indeed!” calls Blue through the trees. “Who’s the guard dog now, bitch boy?”

Anti turns his head towards him, snarling, but Blue vanishes behind a wall of ivy. A rock thwacks into the side of Anti’s head and he yells, touching a patch of blood on his skull and then making it glitch out of existence once more.

“How long can you keep that up, do you think?” asks Red, taking aim once again from a slingshot borrowed from the twins. “Can you glitch all day? Or is it like after you stole Blue’s magic, where you got fucking exhausted and crawled away from the battle half-draped across Trick’s shoulders?”

“You’d be tired too if you fought off half a legion of magicians single-handedly,” spits back Anti, and despite the irritation they’re bringing him, there is some wild light coming back to his eyes, a light you have not seen since Jack was still filming videos of him. “I think I can handle one magician and his useless brother just fine.”

Jackie leaps out of the underbrush, swinging his staff and hollering a battle cry, and Anti lunges forward to meet him. A wolf closes its teeth around the staff, shoving him to the ground; fire lights up the wolf’s fur and makes it screech; Anti rolls away again to find Jackie slinking back - goddammit! These fucking annoyances. Fuck, fuck, but he’s glad to be trying to kill them again. There are hot tears in his eyes. He hates them. He will tear them apart like he always wanted.

He follows them farther into the woods, his cameras lighting up in the trees. As long as he has eyes on them, no one will take the ones who still belong to him.

Anonymous asked: Help is coming, Henrik. Your twin remembers you. We're going to get you out of here.

Those blue eyes slide open again.

He doesn’t know what relief feels like anymore.

But he still has that raven on his breast.

He will die his own man.

His eyes slide shut again.

Anonymous asked: Just hang in there a little longer Henrik. Everything will be okay

“Dok,” whispers a soft voice. “Dok. Deutsch. Henrik.”

He has been whittled down to his own faint breathing; it is the only sound or sensation still existing in his chest. In - out. Slower. In.

Out.

In.

Breathe.

“Dok, I’m here. I’m here.”

Warm hands on the side of his face, caressing him, holding him, around the bloodied barbs of the wire. One on the right is close to piercing his eye. He has been trying for days to stop it from getting too close. Now he can no longer feel it. Perhaps it has already blinded him. He can see very little.

“What happened to you, what happened? I’m here. Dok, I was wrong. I couldn’t see him. I’m sorry. I’m here now. We can go. We can go home.”

He has no words left.

“I’ll get you out. Quick, before Anti checks on you. Here I am.”

Chase.

Anonymous asked: You've got this Chase, go quiet, go fast! Be careful of his injuries, Anti has been torturing Henrik for a long while.

Chase grabs at his hair, tears wet in his eyes, and he curses himself for being a crybaby and a sycophant and a coward.

“I’m here now!” he repeats, almost screaming it, and you see him leap to his feet and turn towards the yard, picking up the shovel that Red was using last week when he decided to dig holes in the lawn to trip Dark’s soldiers. Trick turns back to his twin and stalks back onto the porch, drawing the shovel back like a spear. He thrusts it down with keen accuracy and slams the sturdy metal against the thin dog chain lanced around Henrik’s throat. Again and again, he brings that shovel down, finding the weak chain and snapping - snapping - snapping free!

He kicks the end of the chain off him, panting. He sinks back down to his knees, holding his brother again. Trick lets the barbed wire cut into his arms. It doesn’t matter anymore.

“Dok, hey, are you awake, even? Say something to me. Ich bin hier. I won’t leave again, not ever. Maybe you can’t talk right now. Sometimes you get like that. I don’t mind. I never minded. We take care of each other, right? Remember how you used to stay up with me so, so late and rub my shoulders just so I could relax? I was so scared of Anti finding that I hadn’t guarded all night I would stay awake for days at a time. You were my only comfort. I’m here.”

Fingers flicker against his waist. He touches his head against Dok’s, beginning to try and peel the barbed wire off him, but fuck, fuck! Every barb has to come out one at a time, slow and delicate, and he knows he’s hurting his brother from the way he starts to tremble beneath him. Trick’s fingers too are being cut open by the barbs, because it takes real force to begin unraveling these thick bindings, stronger even, perhaps, than the chain. He won’t be able to get this all off in an hour, let alone five minutes.

“I should have stopped this from happening,” sobs Trick, rocking him. “They’re right. Anti’s been torturing you for ages, especially since we came to this house. And I just waited for him to stop being angry. That’s all I did. I should have stopped him. He wanted to make sure you were punished just for trying to live your life without him. Is this the price he asks for? Look at you, my poor Deutsch…”

Wounds beneath the wire. Wounds and bruises beneath the wire. His left hand is swollen immovably, blue and black and red. He has been cut to pieces. Trick has looked at him for only a moment and found a half-dozen injuries.

“What do I do with you, Henrik? Tell me what to do. Come on, you were always the smart one. I won’t leave, okay? Even if he comes back and kills us both. I’m never leaving you again.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Dok? I don't know if you have a camera about you, but... Do you think it would ever be possible to give Trickshot the necklace that protects your head and heart? I don't know if he could ever be fully safe without that magical help. He's deep in the fire, man.

“No, let him keep them,” croaks Trick, stroking Dok’s hair. “They’re for him. They were presents for him. To protect them. You keep ‘em, Dok. I’m sorry I tried to take them from you. I thought I was keeping you safe, but there are more important things than surviving. You didn’t want him back in your head again. He never will be again. I swear.”

He clutches the two ravens on his brother’s heart. Today, the birds do not burn him.

Anonymous asked: Get Henrik and JJ out of there, Chase. The only place you can be safe is far away from him, otherwise there's a chance he'll get into your head again.

“If I carry him they will dig into his body even more.” Trick looks around for help, but he knows none is coming. “I need pliers or something, but where would I get them? Anti locked up everything that Dapper or I could hurt ourselves with. Shovel won’t work. I’ll just - I’ll just have to start pulling them out and hope I can tug him out or something soon. Right? What else do we have? What else can I do?”

Henrik’s tired red fingers rest over Trick’s, still pressed against the necklaces. Trick clings to him, hearing a rough sigh of relief press out of him. It is the only sign of life Henrik has given him other than his breathing. Their hands rest together.

aether-mae asked: Every day I wake up and pray this story isn’t a Shakespearean-esc tragedy. These boys are going to make it. They have to

“Right,” mumbles Trick. “We have to, we…”

Their hands rest together on the birds. He looks at Dok and sees blue eyes slide open.

They hold on to each other.

“You trust me?” whispers Trick.

Dok breathes.

In.

Out.

His body, stiff and aching, relaxes against his brother’s body. His eyes slip closed again, unafraid.

Yes. Of course.

Here they are.

Trick snaps the string of Dok’s second necklace.

Anonymous asked: You guys have been so distant lately. I'm happy for him to have you back Chase, even if just for the moment right now. Also, does JJ still have his lock picking set from Max? Maybe you could break into wherever Anti locked things away.

JJ is standing in the window of the room upstairs, throwing his shoes at the camera above the porch, trying to knock it down.

“I threw the lock pick off the side of a cliff, unfortunately,” he signs. “I was not very future-oriented at the time.”

He has run out of his own shoes. He heads to the closet to get the shoes of the man who used to live here, the man he killed, but when he runs back to the window with his arms full of dress shoes, his brothers are gone.

“Oh, I think he got him,” he says. “He really did move fast. Damn, maybe we should break into Anti’s things though. I’d really like to have some knives.”

Yelling and fighting in the forest outside, and then Anti’s shriek of anger.

Dapper stares out the window, head tilted up, trying to catch sight of someone. Anti flashes back to the porch, shouting threats, but Dok is already gone.

“No fucking way they got to him, I had my eyes on them,” he snarls.

He looks straight up at Dapper. Dapper backs away from the window and goes to hide in the closet. Trick bursts into the room about halfway through and they smack right into each other, skulls slamming together.

“Owwww,” groans Trick, clutching at his stomach.

“Trick! Watch it! Come here, he’s coming!”

Dapper grabs his brother and they slide into the closet, closing the door behind them and hunkering down beneath coats and shirts, hands clutched together.

“Where did he go?”

Anti is stalking around the house, his mouth full of poison and vitriol.

“What the fuck did you do? Who else is here? Dark, if this is you or any of your soldiers, I swear to hell I’ll kill the lot of you!”

They hear Anti shove the bedroom door open, snarling like an animal. He tears the room apart, doors slamming and furniture crashing to the floor. When he finds nothing, he turns towards the closet.

“Where is Dok?” asks Dapper. “Did you - ”

Anti forces his way inside, grabbing them both by the hair.

“Where the hell is he?”

“We don’t know, we don’t know!” cries Trick. “Ow, Anti, ow! He’s not here!”

“If I find out either of you had anything to do with this I’ll feed you to each other!” shouts Anti, throwing them back to the ground. Dapper grabs onto Trick’s shoulder and they press back against the wall, panting.

Anti pauses at the door, eyes flickering.

“What’s that smell?” he demands.

Trick and Dapper exchange glances.

“Moths?” signs Dapper weakly.

Anti stares around the closet, eyes narrow.

“If you catch sight of Dok, tell the cameras,” he says, turning to stalk away.

Trick slumps back against the wall, one hand over his mouth, one hand over his stomach. Dapper pulls him into a hug and they both try to calm down.

Anonymous asked: Is something wrong with your stomach, Chase?

“No, nothing’s wrong, thanks, I, uh - ”

“What are you holding?” asks Dapper, pushing at his hands. “Let me see.”

“No, JJ, stop being a little shit,” scowls Trick, pushing him back, before the sentence has left his mouth, Dapper has stopped still, staring at him.

“What?”

“JJ?” he signs.

“JJ? What’s JJ mean?”

“You just called me JJ.”

Chase blinks, hands loosening on his stomach. “Oh. Dapper, I meant. What’s JJ?”

Jameson looks away, mouth turning down.

“Is that… you? Is that your secret name?”

He’s looking back at him like he might reply when there’s movement in his hoodie. Chase clasps his hands over his tummy again, but too late.

The little white and grey head of a sleepy-looking rat pokes out of the side of Trick’s hoodie pocket.

“Oh,” breathes Dapper. “A baby!”

Trick looks desperately up at Dapper and sees nothing but delight in his eyes. He relaxes a little, letting out another long, shaky breath.

“It’s an important baby. We have to keep it safe.”

“Can I have it?” begs Dapper, cupping his hands.

“No, no,” says Trick hurriedly, holding his hands around the rat, stroking its white head with his thumb. “Gotta let him rest and hide, okay?”

“Little baby… what a pretty fancy rat. It looks kind of sick though. Will we keep him?”

“We’ll worry about that later, okay?”

“Cutie. I’m in love. Oh, don’t let Anti see, he’ll kill a little mouse.”

Anonymous asked: How goes the fight, Jackie & Blue? Anti seems utterly pissed

“Tell my brothers to get out of the house!” he calls. “We’re leaving today and we’re not coming back.”

Anti screams and glitches towards Jackie in a flash, but Jackie rolls away and Blue is there a moment later, intercepting Anti’s attack with fire and plant life, guarding his older brother.

“Feeling a little useless, I admit,” pants Jackie, circling and loading another stone in his slingshot. “He’s got a fuckton of magic, and me? I have this rock!”

He launches it at Anti and hits him dead on once more. Anti snarls and glitches the wound away, slicing through thick vines with a machete pulled from thin air.

“Your tricks won’t stop me!” he shouts, finding Blue on one of his cameras and transporting towards him, knife swinging.

“He’s not pissed!” Blue calls to you, taunting. “He’s just scared!”

Anti shouts and transforms into the wolf, launching himself at Blue, teeth snapping.

Anonymous asked: JJ is him, yes! Jameson Jackson!

“Jameson?” repeats Chase, and though he remembers very little, the name still seems to fit, somehow, in his mouth. “That’s… kind of awesome. You look like a JJ.”

Dapper seems particularly touched by this, his mouth drawing shyly up again.

“Do you know the others’ names too?”

“It’s not my place to tell you,” says Dapper, touching his cheek for a moment. “Give them time.”

“Well, should I call you JJ?”

He pauses, glancing away.

“I’m not… sure yet. Should I call you Chase?”

Trick stares at him, cupping the rat in his hand. The warm head drifts sleepily against his palm.

“I think that’d be okay,” he says. “Trick, he - he wasn’t always kind to you. I’d like for Chase to be better.”

He tucks the rat gently back into his hoodie.

“Get everything you need from the room and let’s go.” Chase pulls Dapper to his feet, stroking the rat in his pocket with long, soothing strokes of his thumb. “We might have to be away for a while, I don’t know.”

“I want a knife.”

“We’ll grab one from the kitchen.”

“Then I think I got everything in here.” JJ grabs a black coat from the closet. It’s too nice and warm to match his thin, worn t-shirt and the short sleep pants he’s wearing, but its pockets are stuffed full of what few things he has - his favorite chalks in a ziploc bag, one half of a torn prayer card, a wad of American cash, the picture of Eshe that Max gave him, a GoPro camera, and a few slips of paper Chase doesn’t recognize. He pulls them from the pocket, flipping them over.

“What are these?” he asks. “What - plane tickets?”

“Anti was going to take us back to England to kill Jack like he said.” Dapper taps the word ‘London’ on the tickets. “There’s four tickets. Figured I’d grab them. I don’t know, I just grabbed everything.”

“Clothes and drawing stuff and everything?”

“Still in the backpack.”

Trick swings the pack over his shoulders. He takes Dapper’s hand and holds the rat inside his pocket in the other.

“Here we are,” he tells them both softly. “Let’s go, okay?”

Dapper squeezes his hand. They race down the stairs together, heading for the backdoor, hoping Anti is still distracted long enough for them to reunite with Red and Blue.

In the trees, Anti sees them step out onto the porch. You see him stop short, expression contorting.

“Get back inside!” he shouts, moving towards them. Chase and JJ exchange glances.

Blue and Jackie are panting in the foliage, taking a second to breathe, already half-exhausted. Blue’s hair is singed from his own fire and his hands are heavy with weeds, while a fresh cut bleeds heavily across Jackie’s forehead, but he hardly seems to mind. There’s a vibrant ferocity burning in his eyes.

“Let’s go,” he coughs, staggering to his feet to race out and protect the others.

“Jackie, wait,” calls Blue, pulling him back down. Jackie looks at him, astounded.

“You called me - ”

“Listen, is this the talisman Dok gave you?”

Jackie touches the raven on his breast. “The necklace, yeah. It doesn’t have any more magic, though.”

Blue grabs his shoulder, looking up at him.

“You can use it, though. When you have it. You burn like a star. You’re my counterpart, my twin. I don’t care if Anti was the one who decided it at first. Now we decide it. You are the other part of me.”

“This is sweet, but my baby brothers are on the other side of Anti’s glare right now.”

“Give me the talisman. It can still hold magic. Take my fire.”

Jackie’s eyes go huge.

But only for a moment. He accepts the idea a moment later, blinking. Mind already ahead. Strategizing. Fighting. Leading again. Like he was always meant to do.

“If you can,” says Jackie softly, pressing the necklace into his brother’s fingers. “Then give it to me. And we will share this fight together, my Blue.”

Blue smiles at him.

And then he lets all the power he can give blaze into that necklace, and gives it to his other self.

“Let’s go.”

Anonymous asked: Go Jackieboy Man, protect your family!! You're a shooting star, Astrifer, and it's time to burn like one!

Ro liked having the light magic. He liked burning like a star. The magic felt like having a blanket of warmth wrapped around his whole body. But even then, that was Emmanuela’s magic, and this - this is Blue’s.

This is Marvin’s.

He would know it without sight or sound or touch. He would know it by the way it comforts him, just like Blue always has. He would know it by the way it makes him brave.

Flame follows Jackie out of the trees, his twin at his side, wreathed in bloom and thorn.

“Look at you two,” snarls Anti. “Aren’t you straight out of one of his stories? I should have known. None of us can avoid the destiny he set down for us. We were always going to end up right here once again.”

“This time,” says Blue. “We finish it.”

“When I raze you to the ground, we will call it finished.”

“Anti,” says Trick quietly, eyes wide. “Don’t, okay? Just - just stop, please. Dap and I don’t want you to hurt them. There’s things we won’t forgive.”

Anti turns to him, lips drawn back in indignant fury. “You little bitch. Don’t tell me what to do. You belong to me so keep your mouth shut.”

Trick’s mouth is tight and trembling. His eyes reflect the fire in Jackie’s hands.

“What if I’m not,” he says.

“What?”

“What if I don’t want to be yours anymore?”

Anti hears himself laugh. He’s shaking his head at Trick, eyes slightly confused. “What? Who told you to say that?”

Trick stands close to Dapper. Anti sees the same expression in their faces - wary and scared, yes, and then something harder underneath. Dapper’s eyes speak to him. After all these years, Anti does not need to look into his head. He can see the change in him.

“What are you doing?” he asks. “Where… did you go? Dapper?”

Dapper doesn’t answer him. Doesn’t comfort him. He steps slightly closer to Trick, head low.

“Get away from them, Anti,” says Jackie. “Just… hell, man, just go. Just leave us alone and don’t come back.”

“No, fuck that,” snaps Blue. “You stay and learn what it’s like to scream in fear all over again.”

Anti breathes out, chest shuddering. The fire freezes over in his bitter blue eyes.

He glitches and he grabs Trick and Dapper, wrapping one arm around Trick’s waits, hauling him off his feet, and grabbing Dapper by the hair.

“Anti, don’t do this!” screams Trick.

“You get the hell away from them!” shouts Jackie, fire lighting in his hair.

Everyone is shouting or signing or both, moving towards each other; fire and plant life and painfully-bright colors burst up around them, Anti has a blade to his little brother’s throat and -

Anti hollers in alarm as something sharp digs into his finger. He looks down at his hand around Trick’s stomach, startled.

“Rat!” he screams, dropping Trick and Dapper immediately, glitching all the way up to the roof of the house. “It bit me, it bit me! Fuck you, Trick, you hid that from me? You - ”

His eyes find the raven on Jackie’s sweatshirt.

Anti looks back at Trick, hiding that rat back against his stomach, eyes frantic.

“Dok,” hisses Anti. “You… you, Trick… you took him off the porch, you - all of you… all five of you, the ones that belong to Jack… traitors.”

ari-trash asked: Oh- oh my god, the last raven necklace! Dok is the rat?? Is he okay? D:

“Uhhh, no, this isn’t Dok!” says Trick hurriedly, pressing him down into his pocket. “He’s fine, I hid him! Dok’s not here and he’s definitely not this rat, no way.”

“You… turned my brother into a fucking rat?” says Blue.

“Hey, I got him safe! He trusts me! He’s fine. Aren’t you, Deutsch?”

The rat does look remarkably settled in that hoodie pocket, its tired eyes closed and its little body rising and falling with soft breaths. Anti is gripping his knife so tightly his fingernails cut into his palm, panting almost to the point of hyperventilation. Fuck, muscles and bones confining him, animal flesh coating him, caging him…

“You keep that thing away from me,” he warns. “Trick. Even Trick. Even Trick has… you really are just Jack’s, all of you. Dapper is the only one who… fuck you, fuck you…”

Jackie keeps his eyes trained on Anti as the others surround Trick and Dok, Blue desperately checking on the little body in Chase’s hoodie, stroking his little head and calling sympathies at his younger brother.

“Anti,” says Jackie.

“No, no, no,” Anti is chanting, pupils shot. “No, no, no.”

Anonymous asked: The time has come, Anti. You are alone, utterly fucking alone. As you always deserved to be. They won't take abuse from you any longer.

The trees are mocking him.

Monoliths erected in the deep rich earth, subject to the will of a magician and dotted in his cameras, playing out messages to him - alone, alone, alone.

He can hear laughter. His head spins. He runs his hands along the smooth cool surface of a pumpkin, turns his green eye toward you in a red hallway, sinks beneath Jameson’s skin, tilts his head at the Darkness and laughs, stares at you without saying a word, eye twitching. He hears Jack whispering his name and Chase asking who’s there, feels the heat of Marvin drawing away from his own prophecies in terror, smells the scrap paper and ink of a trashed research room with a doctor sitting at a table, trying to fix everything gone wrong.

And he remembers something unseen by the cameras as well, something you have only heard of - screaming out for Jack to save him while his body mangled into hollow bones and winged flesh, watching his creator turn away from him.

There was grief in Jack’s eyes, but no pity.

“No,” he groans. “I wiped all that away. I’m beyond it now. No. You don’t remember.”

He hears one of them breathing and the bloody beat of their mortal hearts.

“We don’t have to remember, Anti,” comes a small, sad voice. “Not the past. You’re right, it doesn’t matter. Not really. But Anti, we want… we want to be happy now. We don’t want to get hurt anymore. You have to let go of us, Anti. We won’t stay here anymore. They’re right… it’s done.”

His eyes flash open and he is present again, his shadow cast over the group of siblings standing below him, guarded and together, shoulder-to-shoulder, side-by-side. They all have the same blue eyes.

And he sees grief, and rage, and hurt, and fear, and love, and determination.

But no pity.

Not one fucking shred of their pity.

“Very well then,” he hears himself breathe out, and he watches alarm fill up their faces as his body begins to shift beyond his control. His face is twitching. He can feel it, but only distantly. He’s numb and his ears ring, high-pitched and screaming. His body distorts and spasms, blood racing down his ivory throat. “You want to play Jack’s games? Let’s play. I only need one of you. And he will be mine whether he wants to or not.”

Dapper steps back, shaking his head, but too late. Too late.

Anonymous asked: None of them belong to you. Not even Jameson. He always said the day the rest of them turn is the day he too abandons you. You don't own any of them, you utter mythic glitch bitch.

“Jameson!”

“Dapper!”

“Leave him alone!”

His body crashes to the ground, fingers scraping at his skull. He feels Anti in his head again, just like he has been since that first day.

“You will never get free of me,” he hears his Anti’s voice scratch at the inside of his brain.

“Stop, stop!” his hands cry. His brothers are screaming for him, crying out.

“Possessing him won’t do anything! We’ll stop you from hurting him!”

“You’ll just confine yourself to flesh, coward. Fight us in your real form!”

“Dapper doesn’t deserve to get hurt, let him go! You’d have to be able to possess all of us at once to get away with this, Anti. You can’t make us your slaves ever again!”

“Fine!” screams Anti’s voice from all around them, and Jackie, Marvin, and Chase all falter to the grass, grabbing at their heads. “You think I can’t? You think I won’t control you all at once with nothing but my own power? I never needed your faith! I will make you mindless!”

Jackie hollers in pain, his skull pounding with a terrible pressure. Chase is on his side, protesting with the voices he can hear. Marvin grips at the grass, shaking his head out, shaking, shaking, shaking.

“You’re - you’re losing control,” he gasps. “You’ll destroy yourself, Anti.”

A foot presses against his throat and chokes him. He opens his eyes, wheezing, and sees, looking back at him – himself. With green eyes and hatred in his face, glitching and broken, distorted and transparent, himself. Marvin and Anti and Blue all in the same being. Turning his gaze with a desperate cry, Blue sees broken beings like shadows standing around his brothers, too, dark versions of themselves, corrupted and in pain.

And he hears a bitter voice, his own bitter, aching voice, lonely and afraid:

“So be it.”

[spookyboywhump]

Too Much

I’m so sorry that after having no content for like. forever. All I have to offer is what is basically 2,000+ words of vent fic. It’s kind of been an off day and I made that Wren’s problem.

I’m not tagging the taglist in this one cuz it’s. kind of a mess, my bad.

CW: Some self blame, several mentions of skin picking

***

 He’d been on edge all day, since the moment he woke up really. He’d hardly slept the night before, only falling into a real, deep sleep an hour or two before Cain woke them up. His voice was loud, too loud, and it took all of Wren’s self control to not cover his ears- he didn’t want to imagine what would’ve happened if Cain saw him doing that. 

 The feeling continued all throughout the day, he couldn’t tell if it was the lack of sleep or the stress he was constantly under, all he knew was that everything was overwhelming right now. He almost felt nauseous, something that only got worse when Cain was kind enough to give them actual food that morning, and he just wanted to yell at him Why today of all days?! Everything was making him even angrier, even more wound up, the sunlight coming in from the large windows, the sound of utensils against a plate, even the fact that his food was touching made him want to start yelling. 

 He tried to keep it to himself, he knew he’d likely snap at the first person who said anything, if that was Cain he’d be in trouble and if it was Zander, then he’d just feel awful about it. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt like this, the familiar weight on his chest making it hard for him to focus or think clearly, his thoughts bouncing back and forth between everything that felt wrong at the moment. Too loud, too bright, too much, just want everything to stop, He thought anxiously. 

 He’d been overwhelmed like this before, but before it was easier to handle, easier to isolate himself from the things he felt were driving him crazy. Even if he had to endure it through work, he could handle it, he’d always been good at hiding what was wrong with him. Endure it for the day, get home, lock himself in his room under a pile of blankets and just take in the silence, the comfort around him, feeling all the tension in his body wind down. Right now, he wanted that feeling more than anything.

 He couldn’t have that though, not yet anyway. He had no choice but to let that stress build up throughout the day, waiting for the worst part of the evening. He hated to see Zander fight, but he knew tonight would be worse, knew he couldn’t handle everything that came with a fight.

 He anxiously picked at his fingers the entire ride there, even when Zander grabbed his hand to try and stop him, he couldn’t stop fidgeting, trying to dig his thumbnail into his index finger, trying to pick away at the skin around the nail. It was all he could think to focus on, to relieve even the slightest bit of anxiety building up inside of him. He almost wished he were the one fighting, just to do something to distract his mind, but he knew he’d be useless like this, knew he’d just get hurt if he tried to fight when he couldn’t even keep his thoughts straight. 

 Once there, he swore he was going to drop dead. The crowds, the people, it was all too much, everyone talking at once, shouting over others to be heard. He couldn’t help but whimper when he was separated from Zander, the only comforting person he had in this situation, but Cain hardly noticed his distress, dragging him along after him. He felt pathetic, he was tearing up just because of some noise, he had to furiously blink them away, he couldn’t have handled Cain ridiculing him for it.

 As he expected, it got so much worse when the fights actually started. This time he couldn’t help but cover his ears, hunched over in his seat, and Cain didn’t seem to care, too focused on the senseless violence he’d come to watch. Stop stop stop, please just make it all stop, it’s too much, too loud, I can’t take it anymore, He thought, his eyes squeezed shut as he wished he could’ve drowned out all the noise around him. By now his head was hurting from all the overstimulation, a pounding in his skull that he couldn’t escape no matter how hard he tried. 

 He didn’t want to look up when it was Zander’s turn, he didn’t want to see him get hurt, but Cain grabbed him by the hair, forcing him to sit up, forcing him to pay attention, laughing at the way Wren cried out in pain. He hated his laugh, he wanted to hit him, he just wanted to make him shut the fuck up. He kept his hands clasped over his ears, it didn’t help much but it was still better than if he hadn’t done it. It was the only small comfort he had right now, he was going to hang on to it for dear life.

 Watching Zander fight was always hard for him, he hated it more than anything. He often forgot just how violent he could really be, sometimes he found it hard to believe the vicious person in the ring was the same kind and gentle person he’d been living with for months now. The worst part was knowing Zander would be hurt though, new bruises, new scars on top of old ones, blood that would need to be cleaned and injuries that would need to be tended to, and he wanted to help him so bad but at the same time he feared he would be useless as he was. 

 It was a relief that Zander won, a relief to know he wouldn’t have to endure more pain than necessary. Cain was in a good mood, he was always in a good mood when they won, and Wren just hoped it would last until they got home, until this exhausting day could finally be over. He felt stupid for being so upset over everything, it was by no means the worst day he’d endured here, and Zander had suffered so much more than he did. He was fine, he was unhurt, all of his anxiety and stress meant nothing when he wasn’t even the one forced to fight that day, forced into a dangerous situation just for others’ entertainment. Once again he found himself angry at the situation, angry that people actually enjoyed this, angry that him and Zander and so many others were suffering for nothing more than amusement. 

 He tried to keep himself together. Zander was hurt, he’d need help and Wren was the only one who would be able to give him that. He just needed to last until Zander was taken care of, that was all he wanted, even though he was trembling, even though his head hurt and his thoughts had gone to nonsense static, even though he was miserable, all he wanted was to be of some help to him. He tried so hard, but as soon as they were back at the house, as soon as the door was locked and they were alone, he knew he was going to fall apart. 

 He leaned against the door, taking slow, deep breaths, trying to calm down enough that he could help Zander, who was looking at him worriedly. He seemed to be doing better than he normally was after a fight, less blood than usual, but Wren still wanted to help if he needed it, he just wanted to be useful. He knew that was going to be hard right now though, his hands were shaking so bad he wasn’t sure he’d be much help to him.

 “Wren, are you alright…?” Zander asked cautiously. “You’ve been off all day, what’s wrong…?”

 “Nothing.” He insisted, but really he didn’t know how to put it into words, didn’t know if Zander would understand that it was too much. He’d gotten confused looks from people before when he tried to explain it, he’d tried long winded explanations to simply saying his brain was “bad”, no matter what he didn’t know how to explain that nothing was really wrong but at the same time everything felt wrong. 

 “Wren…-”

 “Nothing is wrong, really, I promise, I’m just- I’m just being stupid, that’s it, really, I’m fine.” He told him, the words coming faster than he could think of them. “I’m sorry- it, it’s really not a big deal, it just happens sometimes, don’t worry about me, you’re hurt, you need help, I-I can still help, I promise.” He told him, his eyes darting around the room as he rambled, unable to stop himself. 

 “You’re not being stupid.” Zander said, keeping his voice soft. He approached him slowly, and when Wren didn’t flinch or shrink away, he seemed to take that as a good sign, gently taking him by the shoulder and guiding him over to the bed, sitting down with him.

 “W-wait- you need help, you’re hurt, I can still help.” He told him, looking up at him almost desperately. “Just- ignore me, ignore this, I can help…”

 “No, not like this.” Zander told him. “I’m fine, it’s nothing I can’t handle on my own. I’ve been doing it by myself long enough, you need a break.” 

 “No I don’t! You’re the one who's hurt, I’m fine!” He couldn’t bear to let him do this alone, not when he was right here, not when he wasn’t even hurt. He was overreacting, to everything, he was sure of it, and he didn’t want an overreaction to stop him from helping out. 

 “You’re not fine.” Zander said, almost sternly. “You’re freaking out, I can tell. Have you been feeling like this all day?” He asked him, and Wren hesitated before nodding, glancing away from him. 

 “I’m fine…” He said again, less sure this time, but he knew Zander wasn’t buying it. He slipped his arm around his shoulders, pulling him close, and Wren couldn’t help but relax the slightest bit, the weight of his arm around him comforting him.

 “What’s wrong?” He asked gently. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

 “N-no, nothings wrong, it’s, I’m just dumb…” he said slowly. “Nothing is actually wrong it’s just… too much… everything is too much, the-the lights and every sound and smell, just everything…” He told him, waiting for that confusion, waiting to be told to get over it, to suffer it in silence like he normally would’ve. 

 “How can I help?” He asked, and really he shouldn’t have been surprised that Zander would ask that instead of anything else. “You said this happens sometimes, what do you normally do?” He asked him. 

 “I… hide.” He laughed tiredly. “I just… normally I’m home and I just… hide in bed… turn the lights off, make everything stop until it all goes away…”

 “Until what goes away…?”

 “The… the feeling…” He raised his hand, pointing at his chest. “The weight, the feeling that I’m getting wound up more and more until I eventually break, but if, if I can calm down, get away from everything that’s too much, then I’ll unwind, then I won’t break…” He felt stupid explaining it, when he said it out loud it sounded ridiculous to him, but Zander just nodded, letting go of him and standing up. 

 “You need to rest, then.” He told him. 

 “But, you…-“

 “Wren. You’re kind enough to help me every time. It’s okay to take a break, especially if you’ve been feeling like this all damn day. Just lay down, I’ll keep quiet, okay?” He said, and Wren knew he wasn’t going to be argued with.

 “I… okay… thank you…” He said softly, and Zander smiled at him, turning off the light for him before he went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. 

 Wren took a deep breath, sighing in relief. It was a start, at least, the silence of the room settled over him like a soft blanket, comforting and safe, no more noise to grate in his ears. He laid back on the bed, grabbing a pillow and holding it over his face, only moving it slightly so he could breathe. Slowly, he could feel the tension leaving his body a little bit at a time, the weight on his chest getting lighter and lighter.

 He tried to concentrate on breathing, in and out, slow deep breaths he could focus on rather than bouncing from panicked thought to panicked thought. His brain was too busy, too loud, the worst offender when everything else had finally settled down. He was used to that though, that had been a constant in his life for as long as he could remember. Focusing on his breathing was the best distraction he had right now, letting himself wind down from the stress that had kept him on edge all day long. 

 As he finally calmed down, it hit him just how exhausted he was. It was more than just wanting to sleep, it was something he felt to his very core, the need to take a break from everything, the need to escape in a way that he just couldn’t right now. He tried not to let that bother him though, he would accept any bit of relief he could get in this place. Exhaustion was so much better compared to the overwhelming weight he’d felt earlier. 

 ***

 By the time Zander came back into the room, Wren had fallen into a much needed sleep. Zander was just happy to see him relaxed, he couldn’t imagine spending a whole day feeling the way Wren had felt. He wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced what he had described, maybe to a lesser degree, but it sounded horrible. 

 He couldn’t help but notice his fingers, always covered in scrapes and scratches that Wren would pick at until he bled. He’d been going at it all day, Zander suspected he took advantage of the times he wasn’t watching him since he usually tried to make him stop. He didn’t know how to make him quit that for good, but he could at least take care of him now, hoping he was in a deep enough sleep to not wake up when Zander touched his hands. 

 He went back into the bathroom for a moment, grabbing some band aids before going back to Wren, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He was careful while he worked, not moving his hands more than necessary, just enough to get the bandages around his fingers. He’d practically destroyed the skin around his nails, Zander couldn’t imagine the constant discomfort that must’ve caused him. He hoped the band aids would help a little bit, or make him leave them alone long enough they healed. He doubted it would work, but he hoped for it anyway, hoped that Wren could escape even the smallest of pain.

 Once he’d finished he practically collapsed next to Wren, ready to fall asleep beside him. He was tired, and sore, but really the only thing on his mind was Wren and that feeling he’d described, that hell he must’ve been in all day long. He couldn’t help but feel guilty for not noticing sooner, not doing anything to help earlier, but he hoped that now that he knew, he could help him in the future. 

 They suffered enough as it was, if he could help Wren get rid of any of that stress he felt, he was more than happy to do it.

[adamarks]

Penny’s relationship  troubles and how that relates to Simon and Baz

aka my Baz and Penny mirror post

I said I’d do this and god what a fucking emotional ride we’re about to go on. Strap in, my dudes.

In Carry On, it’s well-established that Penelope is Baz’s mirror character. She’s mostly static in the book (because it’s almost completely focused on Baz and Simon) and she’s used mainly as a literary device. Her mirroring Baz in particular is established very plainly. Both of them being top of the class; both of them geeking out over spells; both of them geeking out over marriage spells; their mothers both being headmasters; both of them getting out chalkboards and making the exact same types of lists. It’s very much in-your-face screaming in Carry On. 

It’s not so obvious in Wayward Son. 

The main reason for this is that Penny was upgraded from static to rounded in this book. She has an entire arc of doubting herself, which will most likely be completed in the next book. However, just because it’s not banging pots and pans in your face doesn’t mean the mirroring isn’t there. 

Let’s dig in.

Rainbow did something I really, really loved with this book: she made sure we know that happy endings aren’t what we’re told. The story doesn’t end because the Prince and Princess kissed-- how did they hang on? How did they make it to the hundredth kiss? Did they even make it to the hundredth kiss?

This book tells us that sometimes they don’t make it to the hundredth kiss.

This lesson is what’s got a lot of people’s panties in a knot. Here’s the thing though: it’s not a bleak lesson; it’s a warning. It’s a reminder that we have to keep trying; we have to want that hundredth kiss.

Simon and Baz want that hundredth kiss. They just don’t know how to get there. 

Wow guys I’m gonna have to struggle to not cry while writing this. Wish me luck.

Yes, the boys are morons that can’t communicate. How does Penny fit in?

She didn’t get to that hundredth kiss.

Micah and Penny are what happen when you just expect happily ever after to take care of getting you to the next kiss. 

Micah declares what the lesson Penny (assumedly with Shepherd Tornado Chaser Supreme) is going to learn about relationships is in Chapter twelve:

“A relationship isn’t about the end. It’s about being together every step of the way.”

This may be Penny’s lesson, but this is also a sort of (in my opinion) apology from Rainbow. Because, what was Baz and Simon getting together if not just a nice little tie up as part of a happy ending. What are queer consumers of media usually fed? Our representation usually dies, breaks up, or ends up together all happy go lucky right at the end. We don’t get to see characters we relate to struggle. We don’t get to see them still be miserably in love but unsure how to make it work when shit gets rough. 

Wayward Son is what happens when you don’t know how to keep going, but god do you want to. 

“I told you that I thought we’d grown apart--” 

“And I said that was natural!”

(also taken from Chapter 12 of Wayward)

Simon and Baz growing apart when Simon is so severely depressed and unable to communicate is natural. It’s natural, but it doesn’t mean that he’s going about it the right way. Simon is fucked up. He’s fucked up in a lot of ways, but (and this is coming from someone that’s struggled with the same kinds of thoughts Simon’s suffering from) that’s no excuse for him to hurt Baz in the process. 

Simon even realizes that this is a terrible way to go about this. It’s why he’s thinking about breaking up with Baz. 

i almost cried typing that just now rainbow why simon why i’m dying i-

BREAKING UP WITH BAZ IS NOT THE ANSWER, SIMON!!

Simon needs to learn how to communicate. How to talk about what he’s feeling and what he needs.

Here’s the thing though: Baz does too.

This is where Penny’s mirroring comes into play. Micah and Penny apparently didn’t talk for two whole months and she didn’t notice. They didn’t talk. They didn’t communicate. This is what killed their relationship.

This is what’s killing Simon and Baz’s.

In Chapter Fifteen we see Simon mulling over Penny and Micah breaking up:

“Penelope and Micah were going to get married. 

And now... Merlin, what now?”

I’ll come back to the concept of “endgames” throughout this series, but for now, apply that to Baz and Simon.

Baz and Simon were supposed to live happily ever after, but ever afters don’t work like that. So, now what?

Everything sucks. We are all in Pain. The dumbasses won’t talk. What do we DO, JAY? 

god, what do we do. suffer i guess idk. 

Okay but for real, we don’t have to worry. Rainbow knows what their issue is. And! She’ll make sure it’s resolved! How do I know? 

Well, I’ll tell ya.

Shepard.

We were introduced to a brand new, absolutely batshit, completely delightful character in Wayward. He’s spunky, he’s fun, but what does he do best?

Fucking. Talk.

He doesn’t shut the fuck up!! He’s completely honest and he just talks. Bitch will tell you his entire life story without batting an eye! This is what Penny needs. 

This is where Simon and Baz are going to end up. 

Perhaps not exactly, that doesn’t suit their personalities. This is what they’ll end up being, though: completely honest with each other. 

These fuckers are constantly thinking about each other throughout the book. 

“Oh he’s so beautiful.” “Oh he���s so charming.” “Oh he’s so funny and smart.” “Oh he’s so heroic and brave.” “Oh, i’d give him my whole being.” “Oh I wish he’d let me in” “Oh I love him so much.” “I love him.” 

They’d both feel so, so, so much better if they just said shit out loud. Good god. 

But neither of them are a) in a place where they can say it and b) in a place where they’ll believe it. 

This brings us to our next biggie:

Baz still doesn’t like himself.

Simon’s obviously having troubles with self loathing. That’s not even a question in anyone’s mind. Simon’s depression and lack of self worth is one of (if not the) main vocal points of the book. 

The issue with Simon’s sadness getting the spotlight is that we overlook Baz’s a bit. It’s thrown in so that we don’t notice immediately, because we’re not supposed to. Baz’s self-hatred isn’t as loud as Simon’s and he’s been dealing with it a lot longer. It’s a self-loathing he’s learned to live with-- he’s used to it by now. 

Sometimes the demons we learn to live with are the most vicious of all. 

I think it’s very clever that the most overt time we see Baz disliking himself is in his Things I Hate List in Chapter Fourteen.

“11. The wind in my hair.

 12. Convertible automobiles.

 13. Myself, most of all.

 14. My soft heart. 

 15. My foolish optimism.

 16. The words “road” and “trip,” when said together with any enthusiasm.”

It’s slipped in there awful sneaky! You’re giggling and going “oh thank god maybe I won’t be sad through the whole book” then BANG! there it is. But, right after we have “my soft heart” and you’re going “oh my poor baby he’s so sweet I love him” before you really had time to process number 13 as anything aside from an “lol i’m hot and icky and i hate myself” joke. 

Baz is used to hating himself. It’s everyday whatever. Simon’s is only louder because he’s not used to being allowed time to think about the bad stuff. Everyday before the end of Carry On for Simon was just struggling to get to the next day-- whether that was at Watford or a home. Simon’s happy when he doesn’t have to think; Baz can’t just not think. 

Penny’s just learned what doubting herself entails; Baz has been doubting himself for the last decade. 

No matter how much they coo at each other, it won’t fix the underlying issue: Baz and Simon don’t like themselves. 

This is the main internal conflict of the series for all of the characters: loving yourself for what you are. 

This brings us to Agatha. 

If you haven’t read my meta on simon being a dragon hell yes then you might want to. I discuss Agatha being a mirror for Simon fairly thoroughly in it. 

Remember how I told you to put a pin in the concept of  “endgames” earlier? Well, here we are. Agatha was supposed to be the “endgame.” 

Endgames! Are! Bullshit! 

Human beings are not our consolation prizes for getting through shit. Becoming stronger as people and loving ourselves more is our prize. Realizing how much you can withstand, how hard you can fight, how amazing you are for surviving is your prize for getting through it. 

None of these guys realize this yet. Agatha and Simon just think there’s nothing good that’s going to come out of their lives and Baz and Penelope just think that maybe their “prizes” weren’t what they thought they were. 

Maybe the rewards for our efforts were really just inside us the whole time. uwu.

Penny is just starting to think of plans again by the end of the book, but this time they’re looser, wilder, even more hairbrained than before and she really only has one plan at best! She’s learning that she can be strong and capable even when she doesn’t have all the facts and doesn’t have all the details thought through. Penny’s learning to loosen up. 

Baz is in a better place by the end of Wayward too. He’s learned so much about vampires and even himself. Like sure I fuckin’ hate Lamb but he helped Baz to realize that... maybe he isn’t a monster. Maybe magical creatures aren’t lesser. Maybe he’s not any less human just because he can drink their blood. 

They’re the only two that really, really develop in this book. Simon and Agatha change but mostly stay the same mentality-wise. Agatha still thinks she’s doomed to be a damsel in distress and Simon still thinks he’s just The Boy That Was. Baz and Penny are the most dynamic characters in Wayward Son.

I’m putting my money on next book being Agatha and Simon’s big development book. And at this point I’m convinced it’s going to be more than a trilogy. 

Now! Let’s talk about Agatha and Penny. 

@stressedidiot pointed out to me that Penny and Agatha holding hands and burning shit down in the last scene was supposed to call back to Baz and Simon. They’re absolutely right. I think the most important thing that was calling back to was Simon giving Baz his magic in Carry On. 

This parallel confused me at first: why would Rainbow need to remind us of that scene? I know I personally have the Ladybird and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star scenes permanently ingrained in my head forever. Obviously we didn’t forget that Simon could pour his magic. 

Here’s the thing. 

Baz and Simon don’t stay together during any of the fight scenes in this book. They always get separated or one of them gets hurt or they’re scrambling trying to find or catch the other one. 

They’ve forgotten that they work best when they’re together.

That was one of the main takeaways from Carry On. Simon and Baz work best when they’re together. 

“A relationship isn’t about the end. It’s about being together every step of the way.” 

Every! Step! Of! The! Way!

This is where my dragon Simon theory really comes into play. If Simon does end up with some sort of dragonesque powers, somehow Baz and him are going to share it. 

When Baz figures out how to drink from humans without killing them, Simon’s going to be right there, ready to open up a vein.

This is the true beauty of their relationship. Simon wants to be the one to lead the dance of kisses and intimacy and communication, and Baz wants to be there to give him anything he wants. Baz has received Simon’s magic; he’s gonna drink Simon’s blood; and he’s somehow going to receive something from Simon regarding this dragon business.

“I’d give him all that I am. 

I’d give him all that I was.

I’d open up a vein.”

They give and take and equal measures. They love each other wholly. I’m gesturing to my computer screen out of stress right now. They literally love each other that much!

Agatha and Penny sharing a magic conduit at the end of Wayward Son is a reminder of what happened between Simon and Baz and also foreshadowing of where they’ll be again.

Imagine how powerful they’ll be once they remember how to work together. 

They were practically unstoppable before when they worked together-- they turned back a dragon. 

But now their love for each other is stronger than ever. It’ll only grow once they finally talk. Once they communicate.

Two people, so strong separately coming together with only love and understanding for each other. 

With their hearts beating together, they could do more than turn back a dragon.

They could change the world.

check my meta about simon’s wings being The Gay

And also my one about the scarf

Thank you for reading this word vomit. Just wanted to tag a few people that might be interested in seeing this shitstorm of a meta:

@goodie-giving-gecko-gets-gatos @singerofsimplesongs @wisest-girl @watfordwallflower @slaying-fictional-dragons @carrybits

[starbuck]

All of Armitage’s Looks: Rated

Well, this was inevitable, wasn’t it? Being someone who very readily admits to having Armitage’s entire wardrobe memorized (and who will not apologize for how weird that is), I feel that I’m the perfect person to make this post, although perhaps not the most objective...

So, without further ado, allow me to present to you: every single one of Armitage’s Looks in chronological order: Rated.

#1 - Enjoying The Birthday -- 11/10

Unlike most named characters, Armitage does not appear until episode 4 but oh what an entrance it is... Look at that smile!!!! Actually, take an extra good look because you’ll never see it again. 

Outfit-wise, this is just his normal steward uniform but I like those boots. Probably not unique to him but they’re very nice and remind me of a pair I own. 

Bonus points for being the second person on the tackle-pile, following Tozer. 

(You could accuse me of rating too high right off the bat, but look at his smiling face again and tell me I’m wrong.)

#2 - “Mr. Armitage, what do you report?” -- 8/10

And thus we are introduced to Armitage by name. Appropriately, he is partaking in his most consistent character-defining activity: protecting Tozer from harm (which, in this case, is the Not-Bear which has just come out of nowhere and ripped part of Heather’s skull off).

I’m gonna be honest: I don’t like how this style of coat looks when it’s fully buttoned-up. I think it’s awkward and boxy (see Gibson’s coat in the mutiny-planning scene at the beginning of ep 7 for a better idea of what I mean) and this is before Armitage figured out the belt trick that corrects the problem so I’m deducting points for the coat.

Luckily for him though, his hat is of my favorite variety in the show so I’m delighted to see it despite it just being his uniform. Also loving our first look at his blue sweater (peeking out beyond his coat-sleeves) and his gray gloves.

Further points added for this being the first of many scenes where he carries a gun, endlessly confusing the fandom at large about what the hell his job is. 

#3 - tfw You’re Responsible For This -- 5/10

So I’m just gonna come right out and say that this is one of my favorite images of him in the entire show but, just as Look #1 was rated higher due to the context of the scene despite the outfit itself being average, this one’s rating, in turn, must suffer. 

Things I love about this: the hat (obviously), the fact that the coat looks worlds better just because it’s slightly unbuttoned, the delicate dusting of snow, the way his face looks at this angle.

Things I don’t love about this: literally Everything Else.

Aiding in the racist kidnapping of an innocent woman and then not owning up to it twenty minutes after your introduction is not a good look, no matter how emotionally conflicted about it you are.

#4 - Who the Fuck is This Guy? -- 6/10

October 20th, 2019 was not the day that my obsession with Armitage began, but it was the day that I took a screenshot of this exact moment because I had no idea who this man was or why we were getting a close-up of him. It would take me two more months to figure his identity out.

But, to the point, not much to say here since it’s just his normal uniform again except that this is our first proper look at his hair which I absolutely adore. Also loving the little anchor buttons on his jacket - very cute!

Once again, points deducted for the unfortunate context.

#5 - Slops! -- 7/10

This look is noteworthy for a few reasons. First of all, we see his tan slops for the first time! Slops just sort of look horrible by default unfortunately but I’m enjoying the hat + slops combo here... it works for him. Secondly, Armitage disappears for the entirety of episode 5 so this is the first time we’ve seen the man since the lashing scene. I guess it was so traumatic to witness that he had to take a break. 

He has a gun again though, so things can’t be all bad.

#6 - Big Carnivale Hours -- 8/10

I have given up on trying to figure out what the hell is going on with the marines and their costume theme. Are they knights.... with crowns? That’s all I’ve been able to figure. Who’s idea was this? (Despite having no evidence, I blame Pilkington.) So what does that make Armitage? Is he a squire? Or a knight that just doesn’t have a crown like the others because they ran out of them? Whatever the case, he’s clearly a part of their theme despite not being a marine himself which I think is adorable regardless.

Speaking of adorable, let’s just forget everything that happens for the rest of this episode and appreciate how he’s hanging out with Tozer and Heather. Isn’t that nice? God I’m distressed.

Taking a look at the costume itself, you’ll see that it’s essentially a cut-up burlap sack and a sheet over his regular uniform but realism is not the goal here and the DIY vibe is actually quite nice imo.

#7 - Enter: The Belt -- 10/10

The belt has arrived on the scene! Note its success in not only making the coat itself more appealing but making the coat + slops combo work against all odds.

We really get it all here: belt, (unbuttoned) coat, hat, welsh wig, gloves, and slops! What more could I possibly ask for in an outfit? It’s both stylish and practical.

And plus, I like his attitude in this scene - optimistic-leaning realism about the dangers ahead. I can get behind that.

Overall, no complaints from me - this is a perfect look.

#8 - tfw You Allowed This -- 7/10

This is a Significant Look mostly because we see his hair again, for the first time since episode 4! It’s a bit longer and more unkempt but still maintains a pleasing shape overall. Honestly, I think it looks good this way and its a pity we didn’t get to see it more in the transition stages (assuming it was steadily growing out since ep 4 like most people’s). Additionally, there’s a bit of stubble going on here which I respect.

Rated lower than it might be simply because, as has been established, slops on their own are just kinda ugly. I don’t have a lot to work with here outfit-wise. His face is lovely but this screenshot is a sepia-toned nightmare.

A bonus point for his desperate “please explain this clearly illegal thing we’re doing in a way that makes sense to Little” glance at Tozer, who is already on it.

#9 - Agony -- 8/10

It took me awhile, even after becoming aware of who Armitage was, to appreciate how truly miserable he looks in this scene. And I mean, why wouldn’t he be miserable? Tozer, a man who Armitage risked his own life to drag to safety at Carnivale, is about to be executed for something that’s arguably just as much Armitage’s fault and there��s not a thing he can do about it.

So... that’s depressing.

But, looking at the outfit itself, we see that it’s pretty similar to some past Looks. In fact, it’s identical to what he was wearing when the Tuunbaq attacked Heather with the exception of the belt which is, of course, a new addition since then! And look at the difference a belt can make... You almost don’t notice that the coat is buttoned up all the way.

#10 - The Same Outfit But Now He’s Saving Tozer So Its Cooler -- 9/10

Y’all ever think about the fact that, when things went to shit, Armitage’s first instinct was to grab a gun, find Tozer, and rescue him? I mean you probably don’t but I do. Constantly. 

Obviously I love this part and the outfit is still solid (note how well the belt shows off his figure!) but it loses out on being a perfect 10/10 because he must have dropped his hat while picking up the gun so we never see it again. A necessary sacrifice but one that I mourn nonetheless. 

RIP Armitage’s cool hat, ??-1848.

#11 - The Blue Sweater -- 8/10

It’s warming up so that means we finally get a look at the lovely layers that have been hiding under Armitage’s coat. It’s important to me to bring special attention to the sweater because, although (as I’ve mentioned) he has it on all the way back in ep 4, this is one of only two scenes in the entire show where we get a proper look at it. 

Further, not only is he wearing the blue sweater, but he also has a blue vest on over it! Now, I’ll admit, these aren’t exactly complimentary shades of blue but it still works for me. 

Note also that the belt he had around his coat has been repurposed to aid in holding up his slops-pants over his normal pants (which are held up by the suspenders). Does this man’s resourcefulness ever cease?

As much as I’d love to give a higher rating for the blue sweater, I can’t ignore the new beard which is... it isn’t... it’s Not Great. I don’t have as much animosity towards it as I used to but I can’t pretend that I love it.

#12 - Let Us Fly These Deadly Waters! -- 9/10

I’m not sure why but I’ve always found this outfit very appealing. The tan slops-pants go nicely with the white shirt and blue vest. It’s a solid look - I’d wear this irl honestly. 

And bonus points for his trying to convince Tozer to leave Hickey, even though he was ultimately unsuccessful. 

(P.S. - yes, the title for this one is a Moby-Dick reference... Did you really think I would make it through this entire post without one?) 

...and now, last but not least, I present to you my absolute favorite Armitage Look™... all the other times I said some other outfit was my favorite, I was lying because what I am about to show you is truly the cream of the crop. Without further ado:

#13 - Kidnapping is Bad So At Least Look Good Doing It -- 12/10

Are y’all seeing this? Are you SEEING this????? It is episode fucking 10!! Everyone is dying!!! And yet here’s Armitage waltzing up in his best outfit of the entire show. What the fuck!!!!!!! 

Do I even need to explain why this is exceptional? Just look at it! Look at how the vest is buttoned up and tucked into his slops-pants! Look at the suspenders over top which match the slops-pants in color! Look at the gun and keyring that look like they were made to accessorize this outfit specifically! Heck, even his hair and beard look much better from this angle.

Now, I’m not trying to discount the fact that Armitage was absolutely miserable throughout this entire episode, and understandably so, but, even with that in mind, I can’t bring myself to rate this look any lower. It’s just That Perfect.

If one must inevitably die horribly in the arctic, this is an excellent outfit to die in.

__ 

Well, that’s that! Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed this! I’m glad that my ridiculous opinions about Armitage’s wardrobe finally came in handy for something other than my own amusement. 

[serenity-the-firefly]

He'd been right about the world, but he was wrong about himself. The world was a desert, but he was a magician, and to be a magician was to be a secret spring- a moving oasis. He wasn't desolate, and he wasn't empty. He was full of emotion, full of feelings, bursting with them, and when it came down to it that's what being a magician was. They weren't ordinary feelings- they weren't the tame, domesticated kind. Magic was wild feelings, the kind that escaped out of you and into the world and changed things. There was a lot of skill to it, and a lot of learning, and a lot of work, but that was where the power began: the power to enchant the world.

The Magician’s Land, Lev Grossman

This quote is from the very end of The Magician’s Land, which imo is a frankly masterful conclusion to the Magicians series. There’s a lot to talk about here, a lot I really love, but mainly what I want to talk about is what we all want to talk about all the time since april: how the season 4 finale SUCKED so FUCKING MUCH.

Or, why “magic comes from pain” is bullshit.

Because the realization here, the CLIMAX of these books, is quentin realizing that he is a magician not because of the pain he feels, but because of the intensity with which he feels. The point here isn’t that pain and distress give you ~super powers~ or whatever, the point is that the true power is feeling what you feel, seeing what is wrong with the world, and trying to change it! It’s about having emotions so strong that they manifest in the world around you! It’s about letting yourself feel deeply and without judgement! The dichotomy isn’t between ~people who suffer~ and people who go through life blithely unaware. The dichotomy is between the people who numb their emotions and keep their head down, and people who feel it all too acutely. The dichotomy is between people who are resigned to their lot in life and people who are determined to make the world into the one they think it should be. 

Which is the whole point of this book, to me at least- quentin, as a character, asks us: how do you find happiness if everything is so endlessly disappointing? what is the point? And the answer is that you go out and make it! you create your own reality!! you control the way the story ends. 

He rejects Fillory not because he’s grown out of it, but because it’s time for him to stop waiting and start doing! Which, basically, confirms something i believe- that we create our own realities. It is such a triumphant end, and it’s all about doing the hard and painful work of healing and growing. 

It isn’t that magic is pain, it’s that magic is feeling, but the show took that quote from the first book without the context, of, well, the rest of the series. Magicians have pain because they feel everything so keenly, are struggling against this world determined to beat us down. The show confused causation with correlation- magic doesn’t come from pain; that intensity and rawness and longing that creates magic is also, frequently, painful. But it’s also beautiful! 

Arguably, book!Quentin becomes more powerful not because of all the trauma he goes through, but because he grows into himself. He becomes more comfortable with himself, understands himself better, and by extension, understands how his magic works better. This power isn’t something you can get from giving up on yourself, this world, etc.- it comes from the hard work of trying. But the show looked at that and said “oh, so magic comes from being constantly miserable, right?” and it makes me FURIOUS.

Like, fuck off. 

[icharchivist]

So your meta of Lavi is a masterpiece and it helped me put into words a lot of stuff. I kinda wanted to talk about Allen though, one thing you mentionned is that Allen is really positive/optimist and want to save everybody, and while some of his 'light' probably comes from Mana's mask because so far it seems Allen's idea of Mana was of a really kind and positive and cheerful person. I wonder how much of his optimism/positiveness and desire to strive for the best for everybody come from -part 1

part 2-himself ? And I suddenly remembered DGM reverse, and woah, most exorcists backstories so far are really horrible, but they all had normal-happy memories mixed in (that doesn’t make up for the horibleness of other stuff and I’m not downplaying their stories nor am I interested in comparing who had it worse), Lenalee had her family before most got killed by Akuma and she was ripped away from Komui to be psychologically tortured and abused by the black order and it quite obviously distressed

part 3- her, her life so war was happy until akuma and the B.O ruined it. I dunno for Lavi but most panels of him as a child are cheerful and cute af, and he became a bookman for his desire to know about history and know more than most people, then increasedly got sick of humanity and their wars and their stupidity. Kanda’s backstory is the stuff of nightmares and OW, but he had Alma with him from the beggining and his friendship/love/I don’t think he quite knew with Alma meant a lot for him

part 4- etc etc. Allen’s backstory in reverse ? Kinda the opposite. Red didn’t have anything happy, no happy memories, no people that loved him, nothing. He barely had shelter (one that didn’t quite block out the chilling cold), and had to work to the bone for and while he had food, it wasn’t something he took for granted, because if Cosimo or somebody else felt like it they’d say lies to the ringmaster that Red slacked off and the Ringmaster would get pissed at Red, ‘put him in his place’part 5 (I think it’s 5)-and make him starve that day as punishment. And he was under constant threat of violence from pretty much anybody. The best reaction/treatment he could hope for at the time was being ignored (and all his human rights with it), and had to face disgust/physical violence/insults/slurs from all others. Red kinda accepted that nobody’d ever love him (though he admitted he longued for love once he witnessed it), but that didn’t matter because he hated other people right back

part 6- and the first time he received warmth/got treated as a human was from Allen the dog, then from Mana himself (who Red thought the worst of at the beggining), then had fluffy and happy memories and moments during two years after his miserable and hellish life (people probably treated him normally once Mana got him a glove to cover his Innocence Arm). The thing that differentiate him from others is that most others experienced at least some warmth before getting disillusioned/cynical

avant-derniere part-most experienced some warmth before discovering that no, humanity/life suck (for Kanda it happened at the same time)(that’s even how the earl bait most into making Akuma, they experience happiness and love then get crushed when the source of hapiness gp away), but for Allen/Red ? He was utterly done with life and didn’t remember any instances of a good memory/life and didn’t even know what positivity felt like ? And then he got to experience that life doesn’t suck THAT much.

final part- then he got to experience that life doesn’t suck THAT MUCH. that’s why witnessing/enduring fucked up shit won’t faze him in his goal, fucked up shit was the norm before this weird magical thing called love came. (aside from his duty to atone to what he did to Mana) He didn’t get the transformation from hopeful to cynical. it was the other way around. He went back to save Tykki in the ark once the Noah problem was taken care of, because in Allen’s worldview, Allen himself and his -

the true final part- Allen himself and his friends doesn’t qualify as 'white/light’ in his worldview. Tykki is a sadistical homicidal bastard ? He does have human friends and people he care for anyway, so if he’s not a threat/able to kill exorcists anymore he might as well save him. And that’s why he didn’t judge Suman for being a traitor. Or maybe I’m just sprouting useless pretentious bullshit and am mistaken,sorry, idk, enlighten me.

Heyaaa!! first thank you so much for the compliment it means a lot to me ❤ but huge shout out to the anon who helped put it all in words like that.

Second, I think you’re completely spot on on everything you mention.

(Before jumping in the whole thing while i agree with all you say, i’ll just mention that one of the Guidebook, the Grey Arc one, mentions that Lavi joined the Bookmen at 6yo, and almost gets killed by a stray bullet when he was 7yo (the guidebook mentions he clang to Bookman’s hair when he was healing him, leading Bookman to say it’s Lavi’s fault they’re falling off now). So by all account despite this incident Lavi had a happy upbringing with Bookman, or well as much as the heartless Bookman training had to offer).

For Allen, yes, all you say is very true and it’s honestly super interesting to me? Allen’s life before Mana was hell. Hell, hadn’t Allen-the-dog died because he was beaten up anyway? The only happiness he had with that Dog was taken away by him likely by his abusers. Before Mana, he lived through hell. He was 7 when he met Mana and they were together only 3 years. That’s only 3 years of real happiness. And if anything we get from Cross’s memories chapter, is that it took Allen a long, long time to get over it (and while there’s camaradery between them, Cross’s teaching traumatized Allen to this day so. Poor guy went through a lot).

Mana seems to be the only window of time in which Allen was happy, and he doesn’t have anything else in his early memories that allow him to cling to that. tbh that’s also why the changes of names matter a lot with Allen. from “Red” because it was the color of his arm, something people insulted him for, it was either an insult he got too used to to correct since he didn’t have a name anyway, or seeing himself as nothing else than what made his monstruosity to others. To “Allen”, the name of the dog. Of the first being who showed him love and affection and who died unfairly. To then take on the “Walker” last name after he turned Mana as an Akuma, likely in a way to remind himself of him, to “Keep Walking” but also to remember everytime he hears his name of what he has done to Mana and his duty toward him. 

And you’re entierely right: Allen’s story was one of cynism and suffering who eventually ended up getting better thanks to Mana, and Mana’s loss and the guilt of turning him into an Akuma from Allen in the mindset of constantly trying to take it over his shoulders. 

It’s obviously not meant to disregard the others backstories, like you say- but it’s interesting bc even Kanda who had the most horrible early years in life had Alma, and Alma balanced out the horrors he had to go through, and he had him from the start. And the scientists were actually kind to the kids outsides of the experiments. (not excusing any of the shits they pulled the kids through- but it sure does contrasts with Allen’s past that had people abuse him for no reason).

Mana is the catalyst of Allen’s storyline in many ways: for being the first being who showed him kindness and changed his viewpoint of life, to then the grief of losing him shaping Allen’s future guilt that isolates him from others.

Had Allen not been able to create an Akuma for Mana, it’s to wonder how “selfless” he would have become. While I think that him wanting to smile, be cheerful, be kind, comes mainly for being raised by Mana- His selflessness, his self-sacrificing attitude, his way to distance himself emotionally from others all come from the fact he “betrayed Mana” by making him go through the Akuma making process. If Allen could have remained kind and sweet growing up, a lot of his worst habits may not have existed has the guilt from the Akuma not happened.

I think it would be the nuance of what Allen evolved into due to Mana’s raising him, and what Allen evolved into due to the grief of losing Mana and therefore forcing himself to wear his mask.

Had Mana not existed at all in Allen’s life, I don’t doubt he would have turned into a bitter person until someone showed love and care for him. Imo, Allen was someone who was starved for affection but was in an unsafe environment for it to happen, and he grew cynical. The only fact he cared this much about a dog being kind to him shows that he was already fundamentally a kind soul that was just unable to express himself and only bitterness remained. What Allen needed was someone kind to encourage this side of him. (and like you mention, Allen does agrees he longued for love, just didn’t know what it was beforehand)

I think Mana made Allen feel safe to be “gentle”.  He showed him how being kind and cheerful could help himself and others. Like a parent teaches his child to evolve in life in a way. Allen was only 7 after all, he was still young enough to learn, to be shaped by his experience.

“Mana’s mask”, that fake smile though, comes from Mana’s teaching pushed to the extreme after Allen’s guilt over Mana pushed him to push people away. 

So yes, you’re right: Allen’s journey was of cynism to cheerfulness. To determination to carry on. I think he had the potential to cheerfulness all along but just needed someone to push him in the right direction, and Mana was that push (but for that we need a little more “casual times between Mana and Allen between Allen’s 7 and 10 years old”). But the guilt and trauma of the Akuma!Mana incident pushed Allen to do this to the extreme, often at the detriment of his own feelings.

I believe his willingness to see the best for everyone comes from the Akuma!Mana incident as well. It is hard to believe that finding One Gentle Person after years of being abused would change Allen’s view this much. But i think seeing something like gentle and sweet Mana being turned into a weapon of Mass destruction, and then see this repeat itself with others people, knowing that Akuma were people just as desperate than he was, people who loved so hard, that they called onto a soul who hadn’t asked for it to be turned into weapon: would have Allen see that there must be something good into anyone. That if an Akuma, a weapon of mass destruction, could be just a suffering soul being chained into life because they were loved too much, then what about anyone else? 

I think understanding the Akuma the way Allen does have him reconsider the way he sees everyone else. That everyone has their chains that bind them to the world. That some of those Chains are heavy and can turn people into assholes to stand it, to stand this life they were chained into. But there’s still a soul behind the chains and Allen wants to believe in it. I believe it’s a way also to hold on to the last memories he has of Mana, to keep it as a positive figure in his mind, rather than an already twisted creature. And that’s why the humanity and salvation of the akuma is so important to Allen to start with.

By humanizing the Akuma to that extends, Allen can push his compassion to anyone else. So imo, i don’t think it would have happened had the Akuma!Mana incident not happened. It’s likely it is that bad in canon as well because of his eye only: perhaps if he only ever saw Mana, he would have developped differently, but seeing all those Akuma’s souls made it impossible for Allen to ignore it. The moment he sees a soul, he sees a story there; he sees a person who was loved too much and was chained back into life to commit horrors. And from that point on, I think that compassion just become a reflex.

So as such it makes sense Allen extends that to anyone else. Suman becoming a fallen told a story about why he became this way, of his relationship with the Innocence, of his suffering with it. Meeting the Light part of Tyki first had Allen sees all sides of him, and know that Tyki was duty bound to the Noah as well, and that people cared for him. And if Allen didn’t extend this compassion to Tyki per se, he would have had to the people who loved Tyki because he knows what loss feels like and he doesn’t want anyone to go through this.

I find it harder to word than i expected welp but yes, i agree with all you say, and y e there’s just. a lot to Allen. and imo his whole viewpoint comes from he sees Akuma to start with. Mana was his greatest influence in general.

allen breaks my heart ;;-;;

Take care!

[tiredbiplantlady]

I can’t diagnose myself and I’m not asking anyone else to either...

I just need to write. I haven’t much at all lately despite my motivation and planning to. 

I love my therapist. He’s amazing. He’s helped me see so much and learn so much about myself and helped me learn to VERY effectively manage my constant hypervigilance, my constant anxiety, and a big portion of my shame on a day-to-day basis. I am LIGHTYEARS beyond where I was at last year and before. I attribute so much of my ability to heal myself to his guiding me. We connect on some real af levels and I am extremely grateful to him, though I know I did the work, he was just there to help facilitate it all. 

But. He told me to stop thinking of myself as mentally ill because it isn’t productive. And no, maybe it isn’t. But something feels wrong. I know he’s all about “perception is reality” and honestly, so am I. But can I not manage my perception and create an productive and healthy realty AND consider myself mentally ill? He’s been working with me for over a year on my black-and-white thinking. I don’t think he’s like this with all of his clients, but I think with me, he sees potential in me and doesn’t want me to box myself in to “mentally ill” to use as an excuse for my everything. Like, I get it. But it still bothers me. 

A year ago, I talked about borderline personality disorder. I made a case for myself and brought up the symptoms I identified with most and described several instances of each that served as evidence to me. He just listened for over an hour as I told him everything I needed to say, and he nodded. He said he agreed with my analysis, but labels aren’t everything. I was fine with this covert agreement that wouldn’t go on my insurance. That might one day prevent me from achieving anything as a psychologist. After all, he said so, my counseling graduate program told me so, and now my psychology graduate program says so: the diagnosis isn’t as important as just treating the symptoms that cause distress. “So what if you’re somewhat borderline?” He asked me. I nodded in agreement. “It doesn’t change who you are or what you’re capable of.” 

I read about DBT. I found online workbooks. I recorded my moodswings for a few months. I was desperately trying to get better...because I’d just started to come out of the worst, THE WORST emotional period of my entire fucking life.

It was December 2015. Things had been on a downhill slope for months. It started back in June really. I began suffering anxiety again to a level beyond my average (but still very strong) anxiety. My environment served as a painful trigger for my symptoms with two manipulative, crazy-making, and alcoholic/abusive roommates. My PTSD (diagnosed) was on full-blast again. I was cautious, but not totally paranoid. Not yet. As I look back, I entered into a depressive phase for perhaps a week or two, where for a couple days it was bad enough that I couldn’t get out of my bed and stayed there isolated and unable to stop silently crying despite my other roommates trying to be comforting. I felt like self-harming. I felt hopeless. After those few days, I functioned better, but I still generally was quite depressed and unmotivated, hopeless feeling and empty. I was waking up in the middle of the night at times with nightmares and gasping, feeling as though I were being watched or someone was there. 

I would come out of it, this depression, but the anxiety remained. As the months went on, the roommate situation got worse and worse and I began to become extremely paranoid. I was almost in a frenzy at times, just absolutely certain one of the awful roommates would come back to burn down the house and us alive in it. I triple checked locked doors, I slept with lights on at times. I wanted my roommate (now boyfriend) to sleep with me just in case anything happened. I hated sleeping alone. I’d rather stay sweating horribly together in my very hot small bedroom with the door locked and the windows tightly latched than chance anything. Sometimes we slept with the door cracked. One night I woke from a nightmare while he slept soundly, and I was frozen, just paralyzed in fear because I KNEW someone was in our house (no one was aside from the usual roommates). I forced myself to slide out of bed, pull the cat in, and lock my door. The cat cried, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to die. I tried to fall back asleep and it felt impossible. I listened to every noise, believing any small disturbance was someone nearing my room to blast through the door. Maybe with a gun. Maybe someone was lurking around outside. My heart raced constantly. Sleeping started to become impossible, echoing a similar months-long episode I’d had about the same time the year before. I just wanted to die sometimes. 

The final horrible roommate started drinking - black out drunk drinking - and calling his exes on the phone screaming gendered slurs and slamming things around in his room directly above mine. It sent me into a panic, hearing that. I’d had my trauma with plenty of alcoholics and misogynists. I was terrified of him. If I heard him come home I would always lock my door and be as quiet as possible, as though he were an abusive parent waiting to come home to beat me (even though he never hurt me). He’d started threatening my boyfriend and passing out fucked up on the couch. It made me extremely uncomfortable and my anxiety grew and grew. I became hypervigilant again, having flashbacks, using old coping mechanisms that weren’t good. One night he walked past me and slid his hand down my back, which was completely unnecessary and drawn out. I shuddered and told Kyle about it. It was hell. I’d just started grad school and everything that was happening was ruining everything. I was extremely depressed again. I burst out sobbing to my dad one day when I went home to my parent’s house because it was too hard to live in that house anymore. I was effectively retraumatized. I’d stumbled upon the term “transient paranoid ideation” and how having been traumatized once, you can start to become hypervigilant and almost have “flashback” like pop ups to events that never happened to you. Like maybe you were raped by someone, but start to have similar feelings and fears and obsessive thoughts about someone setting your house on fire. It transfers over to “what if”. That lead me to BPD, but I didn’t think a lot about it. 

In October, It was too much. This guy started threatening to beat the shit out of him, hurt him, talked about being a drug lord and connections to people and he touched me. We got a restraining order and kicked him out. I still couldn’t sleep. The week after we did it, Kyle and I drove every single day an hour up to school and an hour back to stay at my mom’s because I felt I was in danger and I couldn’t stand being away from Kyle not knowing if something horrible might happen to him. We bonded over this traumatic incident. While all this was happening I told him I didn’t want to do relationships anymore. I just wanted to be with him, that’s it, no more of this rewording things and pretending like we hadn’t actually been together for months. The reality was that we’d essentially gotten back together in 2014 and denied it, mostly me, for over a year. I was terrified and realized I was terrified of losing him. 

I told him I couldn’t stand to live there anymore. We went back and forth for a while about what to do and eventually decided to just pay off the landlord and move into a new apartment, just us. I thought it would solve everything. But even after we moved, I was still devastated from everything that’d happened. I coped alright for a month maybe, but in November, I stopped caring about my life and my future. I felt nothing and I wasted every day. I couldn’t get out of bed. I stayed there from sun up til sun down when I went to night class 2 days a week. I was miserable and it was a struggle to force myself to get out of bed even 2 days a week for school. I had nothing to say. I had no personality. I was empty and hollow and I had nothing to give. 

I started to feel absolutely insane. I was DESPERATE for affection and attention. I wanted to kill myself not getting it. I wanted to cut and binge eat and sleep until it would all just go away. I couldn’t get out of bed and I would spend hours doing nothing with intervals of random crying I didn’t understand. Other times I’d cry with a cause. I just hurt and I felt hopeless. It wasn’t so much that I hurt actually. I was empty and didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t look into the future and see anything for myself. It was just dark and empty. I felt useless, stupid, boring, unlovable, ashamed, disgusting. I was passive aggressive and had horrible problems communicating. I wanted my mind read. I wanted people to WANT what I wanted. I didn’t want to have to ask, I just wanted someone who wanted the same thing as me. I became horribly frustrated and withdrawn and my relationship suffered terribly. 

I started having furious mood swings that were mostly deep depression, followed by numbness, followed by anger, followed by somewhat normal, but still depressed around and around. Mostly I was depressed for weeks upon weeks. I fought constantly, I was frustrated and without words. I needed and had no idea how to articulate it. I felt like I was speaking a language no one around me understood and it was fucking pointless, hopeless. I still had nightmares and could barely sleep. Every little noise my neighbors made caused me to go on compulsive listening sprees where I sat with my ear to the wall trying to figure out what was going on because I wouldn’t settle or be okay until I did. My anxiety wouldn’t let me not do this. I was scrambling for anything to make it better. My relationship felt like it was falling apart and I felt insane every single day. He didn’t know what was wrong or how to help me and all I did was make things hard for him. I felt unlovable and made myself that way. I was terrified of abandonment and one big fight in the middle of winter gave me the impulse to drive away and sit in the WalMart parking lot fantasizing about going inside to buy all the things I needed to cut myself again. It would be so easy. I thought about killing myself, but didn’t really mean it. Part of me thought I’d be better off dead. That everyone around me would be better off if I was dead. The things said to me that night are still there and I feel shame and anger and terrible sadness. I still feel apologetic, while another part of me is enraged. Most of me knows it doesn’t matter anymore. I felt no good to anyone. I felt like a burden and vampire who couldn’t stop sucking the life out of anyone I loved .And I didn’t love anyone anymore but him. I had no friends. I isolated myself. He was my Favorite Person and other people didn’t matter. I hate myself for the manipulative things I’ve done, and the part of me that blames things on other people has enough to say of her own. Maybe the truth is somewhere in the middle. I don’t know. Even thinking back I still feel crazy. 

I had to do something. This wasn’t right. There was something very, very wrong here. This shouldn’t be happening. I promised I would try to make myself better. I couldn’t be abandoned. I couldn’t cause more damage. I hated myself. I had no idea how I ended up here. When I started to come out of that frenzied hopelessness, I looked back at myself and wondered who the fuck did all this, what was I thinking? I genuinely believed my apartment manager was constantly watching me and trying to get me in trouble to kick me out. I hated her with a burning fucking fury and other times I just didn’t care. I was not rational and how I felt about other people was never stable or solid. People were out to get me at worst and didn’t care about me at best. Little things sent me into a rage I directed inward instead of throwing things around or fist fights. I seethed with just burning hatred until I burned it all up and was back to being fine. If I had been the type of person to get in fights or do bad things in the real would, I would have been doing them. I fantasized about things like that, but instead felt deep shame for even doing so and then hated myself along with them. 

I started having periods of euphoria that lasted a few days where I felt like I could do anything. I felt social and outgoing and made a million plans for projects in my head. And then I’d be somewhat average again. And inevitably fall back into anxiety and depression. And of course, for years I’d had dissociative experiences like derealization/depersonalization and generally just feeling out of myself and having identity issues (though until 2015 I had no idea that’s what they were called). I started seeing connection in BPD and brought it to my therapist (who I’d kept a lot of this from anyway). I sat with the idea of potentially having it for a while and tried to explain to my boyfriend what it meant about my behavior. How now that I knew maybe things could get better. 

In a couple of weeks I made the decision to drop out of grad school and go back for a second undergrad. It was all very fast and somehow I thought it made the most sense and was a great idea because I wanted to be a writer and it would help with my writing. I went into the grad counseling department and excitedly spewed my latest idea, words slurred together and hardly taking breaths, to my program director who said I sounded sure of what I wanted and sent me on my way. I pushed hard and fast for the second bachelor’s admission director to admit me and get it all set up before school was out for the semester. I still got furious with people and would be polite, at worst short with them, but never rude and then take it all out on myself. 

It was done and I was set and this was turning over a new leaf, this was a new beginning. I was going to be great and I’d find my way and everything would be perfect!! Spring was coming! I had so much hope and certainty in my ability to do this. I started feeling like I was improving. Then February happened and one night around 11 pm, Kyle and I went to a gas station for snacks when suddenly I got very hot. I complained that my arm was sore. I started sweating and feeling nauseous. My heart raced. I got hotter. And hotter. My heart raced more. I could feel myself about to puke. My vision started fading, gray and fuzzy through a tunnel. My head felt light and I was so sure I was about to pass out. “I’m going outside” I said quickly, then turned and went out into the cold night air. I’M HAVING A HEART ATTACK, I thought to myself. I’m DYING, I’M ABOUT TO DIE OH MY GOD I NEED TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL. I was hyperventilating in my car. As soon as I got out in the cold and sat down, my vision came back, my head stopped tingling. I was covered in sweat that was freezing in the cold outside. I felt my heart still racing and I was in a panic wondered what happened. I could feel adrenaline just coursing through my veins and I wanted to puke again, not the same as before. This felt like I’d just gotten off a roller coaster and the rush was too much for my body to handle, so I needed to puke. Kyle came out to see if I was okay. I was trying to breathe and a part of me was freaking out going “that wasn’t normal. NEVER forget how abnormal this was, NEVER forget that this was BEYOND normal, no matter what any family member or doctor tells you. THIS. WAS. NOT. NORMAL.” He asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital and part of me was numb, emotionally, and said no. I tried to explain what happened and he asked if I thought I had a stroke. I went home and called my mom. I webMD’d it. I had a stroke, I told myself. I had a TIA. At any moment I’ll have another one and I’m dead. This is the end as I know it. I’m going to die!!!! 

That sensation at least wasn’t uncommon to me. I’d had what you might classify as a paranoid delusion when I was about 15. I was CERTAIN I was dying of cancer (no real evidence of this). For weeks I genuinely and truly believed I was going to die and my body was deteriorating. I was depressed, hopeless and suicidal feeling. But I got past it. Only to have another health related genuine delusion a year later that also lasted for weeks, nothing could satisfy it or cause me to think differently. NOTHING. 

So, here we are, February 2016 after this “stroke” - I went to the doctor. Which used to scare me, but I’d become comforted by it at this point. Every doctor happily pointed out my anxiety as the cause of any health issue I brought up and every doctor happily tried to prescribe me antidepressants. They started looking at me as a hypochondriac. I hated it. And yet I did it to myself. She played along and did a bunch of bloodwork, finding only that my A1C was ever so slightly elevated, probably from PCOS and my diet, she said, so I asked for Metformin, but that’s a whole different story. I didn’t have a stroke, she said. There was no evidence. Everyone told me I had a panic attack and it made me break down crying. I lived in constant fear for some time that out of nowhere this could just happen all over again with no warning, just like before. I realized in that past I’d had “limited symptom panic attacks” or “anxiety attacks” before. I still couldn’t accept that’s what it was - I remember how I told myself how abnormal it was and to never forget it. I was on the brink of death! I had to worry because if I didn’t worry then it would happen. It was an obsessive compulsive thought and behavior. I could not help myself from acting it out. I truly believed worrying would prevent bad things from happening. If I was carefree, something was wrong. I read about how 30-somethings described TIAs because strokes aren’t just for older people. I was certain I was going to die. And I read people describing going to the ER to find out it was a panic attack and was eased momentarily before both telling myself I had to worry it was a TIA/stroke anyway, and also that if I was having panic attacks, who’s to say that isn’t the first of many to come? 

After that day I worked out, ate FANTASTICALLY healthy, saw a nutritionist, took medication, went to therapy, lost 50 more pounds (after having lost and maintained about 30 for a year or so) in a few months, tried to go vegan, settled for vegetarian, went to therapy once a week, started meditating, and was desperate enough to start actually taking my ativan and tried buspar. That was a huge step. My anxiety was destroying my life. After that panic attack, I had heart palpatations out of nowhere at random times nearly every day. I had that sick, sinking, tingling feeling in the pit of my stomach and I held my breath only to breathe too much until I was dizzy. I wanted to cry and several times fell into an anxiety attack that felt like a downward spiral of hopelessness and irrational thinking. I felt helpless and crazier than ever.

Because on top of all that, the moodswings were still there. I went to the psychiatrist, got my buspar, some zoloft (I refused to take it) and intentionally left out the part about the moodswings for fear of a diagnosis that might ruin me, but mostly someone trying to put me on a mood stabilizer. I didn’t want anymore drugs. I’d struggled with 3 different anti-depressants in the past that did nothing, made things worse, or generally just failed in some way. I never felt well, just numb, no change, or terrible. I was desperate enough to try buspar, but that lasted for short weeks before I stopped entirely. When I did, my anxiety had lifted a bit and I did feel a little better. But it had given me painful headaches I couldn’t tolerate anymore and I just can’t deal with being on drugs. I hate it. One night in spring I went into another helpless, fearful tizzy and wanted to scream, cry, cut myself, fuck until everything stopped hurting. Oh, god, why did I hurt so much? Why did I hurt so fucking much. It hurt so bad, aching into my soul. I didn’t know what to do. I sat in warm bath water with the bathroom window open until the sun set and the wind blowing in was cold, along with the water that’d gone cold long before. I cried silent tears, lip shaking, cheeks chapped, coming from the core of me, some deep dark place. I didn’t wail, I felt so lost and empty, as though I’d realized some awful thing and felt totally out of control. I was just so fucking helpless. So fucking empty. 

Months went on into summer and I was doing a lot better. I still had my ups and downs, but I was going to be okay. It hit me I could no longer sustain myself without a job (I was in NOOO position at the point to be working AND school) on the pitiful financial aid they offered. I decided right before the fall 2016 semester started I’d go back to grad school the semester after. I was ready and this whole thing, I’d needed the experience and the time, but it was over now. I’ve been lying to myself that I’m incapable. I can do this. I’m ready to be an adult. So I went into that semester (fall 2016) not taking shit seriously at all because I was just D O N E with it. At the end, I was leaving my second bachelor’s degree needing only 4 more classes to earn it, but I couldn’t live off another semester of that and it just felt useless. We moved again due to money stuff and it was going well. I had my rocky patches with the stress, trying to manage, but ultimately it was fine. I was doing so much better and therapy and meditation were making my life fucking great in comparison. I felt stable. Sometimes I little stressed or depressed, but no major episodes. Things were looking up! 

It was around October 2016. I’d gone into this extremely positive, hopeful, centered, accepting place I’d never been. I was writing and A LOT. I was extremely productive, sleeping a bit less than usual. Making HUGE strides in therapy and my psychologist was thrilled by it, in awe of me. I was in a mild high and riding it happily. I felt powerful and strong and sure and more than anything I just trusted life. I trusted the process. I trusted the universe. I felt spiritually enlightened and wise and just so CENTERED. Like EVERYTHING just felt like it had a purpose and I was EXACTLY where I needed to be. I’d never felt anything to that level before. I started writing about an event from my past that was verrrry sexually arousing and satisfying. That day changed everything. I got higher than I had been already. Some time went by. I was feeling social and curious and really hungry to connect with other people. I missed having friends and learning new things, getting close to people, new experiences. I was growing so, so, so much personally. I wanted someone to understand and appreciate me. I felt misunderstood and detached. I didn’t know how to communicate through my fear of judgement, abandonment, and worst - invalidation or mocking. 

I fiddled around talking to old acquaintances. I made up with some people, caught up with others. It felt really nice. And I was starting to accept all these parts of me that I’d shut off for a long time, fearing their contradicting nature. I am lots of things. I am everything. It doesn’t all have to make sense. I was tired of compartmentalizing around every person though. It was hard and sad and I was kind of lonely. And then it happened, and I met (or re-met) someone. The high I’d been riding flew to new heights. Every fucking atom of my body, every cell, every piece of me was vibrating so fast you couldn’t even tell. I was floating and walking in a cloud of love that touched every person I went near. I felt like an angel, a god. I was god. I was a healer, I was mercy, I was understanding, I was pure, I was the truest truth that ever was, I was love. I WAS LOVE. I wasn’t Kat, I was a being without a name whose purpose was to give love and receive love and live in only love. I deserved this ecstasy, being in love with myself. I didn’t think, I just KNEW. I just KNEW things and followed my intuition and I KNEW that’s what it was. I had never experienced this self-perception before, not like this. Things felt RIGHT and I did them. It went on for months, my self-perception, my world perception...

“you’re manic,” my therapist said with a slight smile.  “no I’m not!!” I exclaimed defensively, ready and already going onto a sentence to continue denying”. This was just who I was now, what the fuck was he talking about??? he showed me the way to be, this body could channel love like this, the center of life, the purpose for living. Why would he say it was just being manic?? “don’t get defensive,” he said interrupting me, “I’m not criticizing you for it,” he said among other positive things I can’t remember in the haze. All I remember was his awe from a few weeks before this session, pure awe telling me “you’re not growing in a linear way, it’s exponential...it’s amazing to see someone grow like this.” Praising me for my progress and my rarity. I beamed, I hugged myself in it.  “ the crash is going to hurt,” he said. I literally laughed in his face, unable to contain it. I genuinely believed this was me now and I was never going to crash. I’d never experienced that. When I was happy before most of the time, but not always, it was short lived and just before it ended, thoughts crept in that something awful must be about to happen, which ruined everything. Not this time. I was so fucking sure. No one could have convinced me it would end. No one could have convinced me I wasn’t channeling the core aspect of the universe and that was the height of my purpose in this life, my reason for living. That I wasn’t on the same wavelength as the universe itself because I WAS. I didn’t feel delusional, and I still don’t think I was even now...  “I’m not going to crash,” I scoffed. He laughed and tested me with it again. And again I brushed him off, laughing. 

At that point, I’d stopped sleeping almost entirely. I subsisted on endorphins. I managed 4 hours a night. I wrote and wrote and wrote and I made plans and I felt like I used to feel when they prescribed me adderall only better. I stopped giving ANY fucks about school and took my first F nonchalantly for the most part. I stopped going to the class, didn’t take the final, didn’t write the final paper. This was not like me, the life time good student, and to do so with hardly a care? What was school in the face of the future, in the face of my true purpose? None of this shit is real anyway - life isn’t real, I thought. What is reality? I laughed. I am going to die and be forgotten, why am I so concerned with all this bullshit? I can do anything and I can be happy in any situation no matter what happens because I have love, I AM love. I threw in the towel at school.  

and then eventually I crashed some time after this, and it was unexpected still too. It never crossed my mind, even when my therapist put it there. Everything was all in the open now. I didn’t always do the right thing. It felt like I knew that I had wings, and no one could see them, but I flew anyway. And then something happened and my brain just decided to accept the social reality that I didn’t, so my wings only I could see shrunk into nothing and I fell thousands of feet to the ground. I realized in a speechless, horrified panic that was not the perfect, helpful, merciful, loving being I thought I’d been. I thought that I was god, but now I looked back and saw only the devil at the damage she’d caused without a second thought. What have I done? Who was I? How could I do this? I just wanted to die. What was wrong with me? Everything I’d ever done wrong in my life came back to haunt me. I didn’t know how to apologize enough. I felt miserable and like a disgusting excuse for a person. I felt like I deserved to die for my half-truths and redirected empathy. I was a werewolf. I was a normal human who turned into a selfish, hungry monster willing to do anything to fill the hole inside her that could never really be filled. I hated myself. I was no angel, no goddess. Who am I? 

It took time, lots of talking, lots of conflict, lots of effort, lots of facing fears, lots of honesty, lots of risk, but I felt like things were getting better. Part of me was angry. Why were my mistakes the gravest sins while similar sins from others were things I’d forgotten not long after they happened? Why were things always worse and more evil when I did them in comparison to others? Did I just forgive too easily? I don’t know. I had to pick up the pieces. I was knocked so far down. I’d climbed a ladder and almost reached the top, but my mistakes caused me to slip and fall to the fucking ground, damaged and terrified and uncertain of how to even go about climbing back up again. 

I started wondering if something more was going on? I’d given up on diagnosis a long time ago. It’s just the symptoms, not the label that mattered. But it felt like my symptoms weren’t even being addressed anymore. Isn’t being manic a symptom? Should I not look into this? 

“I wish you wouldn’t think of yourself as mentally ill,” he said, “it’s not productive.” 

I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t fit the full criteria for borderline personality disorder, but I am 100% certain there was a long stretch of time in my past that I did. Several symptoms still apply frequently, some less so. I was diagnosed with PTSD and don’t fit the full criteria, but I cope with symptoms off and on, some daily, some not. It changes you and it doesn’t matter if you don’t fit the criteria on a daily basis, at one point you did and it still can wreck havoc on your life. I look at bipolar disorder and there are several other episodes of my past I have failed to mention here to lead me to believe that’s something to consider in terms of symptom management and treatment. But I have a psychologist who believes that mental illness is changeable, maybe not in everyone, but in me for sure. I believe him and I believe that too. I believe that regardless of what someone might label me (because diagnosis is highly subjective and 5 psychs could give me 5 different opinions), I can learn to cope with the symptoms and function, somehow someway. I am not damaged beyond repair, but I struggle and that’s what matters. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and even my saying that would cause my therapist to be frustrated with me even thinking of myself that way. There’s a fucking problem when I’m hurting other people and not thinking about it. There’s a fucking problem when I feel indestructible and look back going “What the hell was I thinking”. There’s a problem when in the past I’ve struggled with mood regulation and had several “manic” type episodes where even if I wasn’t “happy” like I was this time, like most people stereotypically believe is all that manic means, I was agitated and motivated and hyped up in the same way directed into negative emotions, which can be part of hypomania/mania/mixed episodes. I’ve had delusional episodes related to my health. It hasn’t happened for a while, but its presence in my past matters. 

I just want to be well. I beat myself up, thinking that even when I’m happy it’s not because I’m really happy, it’s because I’m mentally ill and he, my therapist, was disappointed in me saying that. Part of me still feels that way, while another part of me knows I truly was happy. I don’t know what to think. Maybe both can be true. I don’t know how to be. I just am, and I’m just trying to pick up my pieces and function and love and live and be a good person, the best I know how. Sometimes I fuck up, but I’m always sorry and I want to do better. I don’t have a label and I don’t know if I really want one. I just know the things I do aren’t always like normal people - my feelings, my interpretations, my assumptions, my thought patterns. I was traumatized and that changed me. But even before that I was never normal, and I knew it. I was anxious, depressed, and fucked up as a child while my other 8 year old friends didn’t have these problems. I am mentally ill but that doesn’t define me or make me hopeless. It doesn’t mean I can’t achieve and accomplish and manage it and grow. I am a capable, smart, strong, loving person, and sometimes I mess up, sometimes I feel worthless, sometimes I feel spiteful and hurt and sad and afraid, and I’m not perfect. I just do my best in the moment and that’s all I can do, even when sometimes I realize immediately I can do better in the next minute. I push myself and I try to grow. Deep down that’s the thing that motivates and drives me the most. It’s my greatest desire and biggest hope.

I am everything. I’m an angel and a goddess and a werewolf and the devil. I am courageous and cowardly. I am loving and also selfish. I am impulsive and hesitant and I think sometimes that I’m not good enough, while other times I’m too good. I am petty and apologetic and loyal and untrustworthy. I am self-conscious and helpful and kind and would do anything to help a friend. A stranger. I am also confused and knowing and lost and settled and I am every fucking contradiction. That doesn’t make me fake or wrong or cruel, it fucking makes me human. I’m aware of my contradictions, I don’t deny them. It means I have choices to make about the reality of who I am and who I want to be. I am not in denial about either side of me and every combination of my traits. It doesn’t absolve me of responsibility for the bad things I do. It doesn’t mean I am above criticism or that I’m saying I am perfect and always justified. I’m not. I love myself and criticize myself and sometimes I hate myself too. 

I’m not perfect. But I do my best, and that’s all I or anyone can ever do.