#i am so mentally ill about this chapter you don't understand

[lu-is-not-ok]

Canto IV Part 3 discussion

No but seriously there is. So much. I would want to pick apart about this fucking dungeon and Canto as a whole, like there is just. So much.

The sheer amount of political commentary that’s not even subtle.

The way Dongrang is presented as just as much a victim of the system as everyone else, yet it doesn’t erase how deplorable his shitty actions are.

T Corp having a diagetic government-imposed Breaking Bad Mexico filter.

How manifesting an E.G.O is shown to not be a sign of personal growth or even always a positive thing, but rather simply a sign that you’ve accepted yourself and decided to no longer change, regardless if that means you decide to hurt more people or not.

Carmen.

Just Sang Yi in general. I want to put him under a microscope. The way he seems so morally ambiguous taking everything we know about him into account. On one hand he is the one who ended up helping Yi Sang break out of his cycle of depression. On the other hand, he was absolutely willing to exploit it to keep Yi Sang dependant on him until he realized just how much of a danger to himself Yi Sang truly could be.

The utter ambiguity of Sang Yi’s motivations or true intentions, especially when taking the context of Poem 13 from Crow’s Eye View and the fact that he’s supposed to be a partial representation of Yi Sang’s wife from The Wings into account.

Dongbaek getting to be the first one to say the Fuck word in one of the best delivered lines in the entire fucking game.

How the roles the Sinners played reflect them on a much deeper level than one might seem. From Ishmael continuing the “Can someone explain this to me this doesn’t make sense” theme even when she’s acting, to Meursault and Outis (after some awkwardness) feeling so in tune with their roles you could mistake the shit they say as Actual things they would say out of context.

How Hong Lu ends up playing the role of the emotional heart of the group, a man so kind and sentimental he made a technology to seemingly bring the dead back to life even if in just a small window, and who was constantly showing concern and understanding towards Yi Sang.

Hong Lu’s gradual unveiling over the course of the Canto as he shows more and more just how intelligent and perceptive he actually is until the very end where it pays off with him being the one to realize how to help Yi Sang.

The small moments in the dungeon where Yi Sang and Hong Lu understand each other a little more, as two men who are repressing their emotions in different ways as an after-effect of living a life where they lacked control over their own choices (presumed for Hong Lu).

Yi Sang’s smiles.

Dante’s Doomsday Clock moving an hour closer to midnight after they realized their memories can’t be wiped, thus bringing them a step closer to remembering who they are.

Alfonso being the one woman to make me question how gay I am.

Shit was fucking packed alright.

[some-pers0n]

Every once in a while I think about the ship I've been obsessed over for close to two years now and feel like I'm ascending to another plane of reality. Like sometimes you just encounter a ship that hits every single mark and is perfect in every regard and you're left stunned how something like that can even exist

[mrsnancywheeler]

the lakes (3) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

previous chapter / next chapter

midnight rain

2.3k words

warnings: angst, talk of mental illness and su!cidal ideations, allusions to trafficking, mentally unstable reader who's in denial, allusions to death and violence, hurt/comfort, arguments, something gets thrown in anger, terms of endearment, dreams of domestic bliss, savior complex Finnick and reader, no use of y/n, unedited

⠀ 𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The familiarity of the train car made you shudder. The first time its elegance had amazed you, but now it was commonplace, a trade for everything else that had been given. The escort who you'd known for years, but always blocked out because of her unmatchable insensitivity was babbling on in her overwhelming syrupy voice as your brain buzzed with anxiety. When the smashing of a glass on the train's wall brought you back to the audio of the train cab.

“Can we wait to break things until the games? After all this time, Finnick, you still need your manners." She tutted, waving her hand in the air. “Plenty of time to get the aggression out later, right now just bask in the attention. Now I'm going to go check over the mentoring plans." Her neon purple eyebrows were so animated when she spoke and the color assaulted your eyes, the click of her heels echoing she exited.

Finnick had buried his head in his hands over a counter top as you quietly knelt down to pick up pieces of shattered glass. An Avox would end up cleaning the mess later, but you didn't feel comfortable just leaving it there.

“Why can't I help you?" His voice was much softer and more broken than you'd expected. Calloused hands holding his face as he stared out the train window.

“Help me?" Your confusion was evident. "You have helped me.”

“No I haven't, I'm an enabler." He shook his head, sniffling through the tears you hadn't noticed forming, your heart cracking.

You stood, dropping the glass pieces you'd been holding to approach him. "No you're not, Finnick, enabling what? Talk to me.”

He turned to you, "Talk to me. You're always trying to take care of me, angel, and I love that about you. But you use it as an excuse to hide the fact you're not doing better.”

"I am doing better, I don't understand what you're talking about, Finnick! I understand if you're angry, I just-”

"What? You looked at Annie and thought, ‘She’s too fragile to handle this, so why don't I take it all on for her? I can handle this.’" 

You nodded, “I can! I couldn't let her- I couldn't let her die.”

“But you can let yourself?" He had raised his voice ever so slightly, but it was enough that your chest was tightening. “You're punishing yourself for what you had to do to survive when you were 17! This isn't about altruism, this is about guilt."

“I'm not selfish.” Your voice was steely, you were angry. Why was he trying to pry at things that were of no matter to the present issues? "I'm doing my part, it wouldn't be right of me not to!" 

"Nobody thinks you're selfish except yourself. You could die because you want to prove something about what happened in the arena. That arena is gone, you need to focus on the now. On your now, not mine. You want to suffer in silence, you want to focus on everybody else to make up for living.”

"Stop it, Finnick! I don't want to talk about this. Be upset with me, but there are more important things to focus on.” You refused to make eye contact as you wrapped your arms around your body. There was a rebellion to plan for, no time for a psychoanalyzation of your brain, so you needed to deflect.

“You're my wife, angel, there's nothing more important to me than that. Especially since I've done such a shitty job letting you sit there, comfort, and listen to my problems while you only ever ask to be held. Why don't you trust me?” He stepped closer to you, voice delicate.

"I do trust you.” You kept your eyes planted on the ground. He was supposed to be angry or sad, but not whatever this was.

"Then why don't you say anything after you get a call from the Capitol? Why is it always only a few minutes after your nightmares to discuss how you feel, but every other waking moment is about me? I want to protect you, I want you to stop ruining yourself over the past and let me help you like you do for me.”

“I don't want to talk about it, Finnick." You were pushing down the onslaught of tears beginning to fall down your frozen face. “Can we please, not talk about it." You whispered as you shrunk into yourself.

“We have to start dealing with it, you are self-destructive, just because you hide things doesn't mean you're better set then Annie is. You are not going to step into this arena and sacrifice yourself for someone to make up for the fact you killed Conway six years ago."

“You're being mean."

“No I'm not, I'm being honest. You won't deny it because you know I'm right, this is a suicide mission to make up for all of them. Dying the second time around doesn't bring them back and neither will anything else. But if you put yourself in danger to make up for things we all had to do to be where we are now, you'll be killing me too.” 

You began walking straight past him, to comfort and be comforted was the dance that held you which was being broken as each second passed. This was unfair, having trauma didn't make you as hurt as him or Annie. You just had natural human feelings about what had happened and reconciling for that wasn't dangerous.

“You can't just walk away when I stop coddling you for a second, this is all going to be okay, if you can recognize and let me help you heal. If we're gonna do this I need the rational version of you." He trailed behind you as you kept walking.

“I don't need to be coddled, I'm sorry if you're sick of me trying to help you and everyone else, but that doesn't mean-" You gasped for air, “I'm just, I'm trying to help, maybe I am making up for what I did. I'm just sorry and I'm trying to help because I can't bear seeing other people having that light snuffed out of them. I want you to feel safe, and Annie, and Mags, and Ondine, that helps me.”

"See we can start there, you don't have to make up for what you did. Everyone did things to survive, we were kids. I can help you if we talk about it.”

"How are you supposed to help me, Finnick? I did worse things than you did, of course I'm guiltier, I preyed on someone's mind, on their feelings for me and then I killed them. And I'm so, so sorry for it everyday of my life and I feel it gnawing at my insides. I'm sorry that he's dead. I'm sorry that I was manipulative. I'm sorry for the person's I created. I'm sorry that I lied to you. I'm sorry that you're right. I'm sorry that I need to make it go away, Finnick, and it won't go away until I give it something equal even if it means I-” You wiped the tears from your face, “Finnick, I don't talk about it because being with you is reason enough to keep my grounded most of the time. I don't need to say anything when I see you and it's an easy reminder why I'm living."

“You shouldn't want to live just because of me. I want to be there for you, but when you feel that way I need you to be honest. You don't need to atone for any things, you deserve life. If we're going to go into that arena, you need to start believing that because I will not let you die. I love you and I need you to survive, to make it through with me to the end.”

You'd stopped walking and were leaning your back against the train wall. Nodding slowly, you were exhausted.

"I know you don't believe that right now, but I will make you believe it, my love.” His hand caressed your face and the radiating warmth made your ice cold face shudder.

You stared at him in silence before you let the sobbing take over your body. " I'm sorry, I don't know how to deal with it. I want to be better, I do, but I just can't. It won't go away.” His arms enveloped you like sunshine, guarding you from everything else.

“I know, sweet girl, I know." 

             𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Meanwhile Haymitch had to take the initiative to begin introducing his new tributes to the pack of well known, well introduced victors. Unbeknownst to Katniss and Peeta, he would of course be pulling strings to make sure they were in close proximity or at least had the attention of certain victors for the plan being hatched.

Katniss had not seemed thrilled at the idea of Finnick, but she was rarely thrilled with anyone.

“This year we have some volunteering, which will definitely spice things up a little bit. Two couples in one game, especially when one has been adored by the Capitol for years will keep their attention." Haymitch gestured to the screen where you were sending Annie back to the line with the other female tributes.

"Didn't she also have a relationship with the male tribute last time, isn't that how she won her games?" Katniss asked.

“Yes, Capitol Princess, she is just as adored, but more tame. The less cocky side of the duo you could say."

“I bet you he's not going to protect her when it comes down to it since she did the same thing last time. He's got to know that's just how she plays the game." Katniss reasoned, doubt of everyone taking hold.

“I'd be extremely surprised if that happened, they've been with each other for years and oh-" The cameras zoomed in on the seaweed and made rings on your fingers as you held hands. “Looks like that bond has gotten ever stronger. They'll be a pair and if she does die it would be a sad day, Katniss. She's a really nice lady regardless of what she did to win at 17.”

"It's not that different from you, you just got lucky.” Peeta remarked.

“I'm just saying she wouldn't be an easy ally to trust, I mean didn't she kill all of them when it came to the end?" Katniss shrugged, leaning forward. 

“This isn't about trust, it's about survival. You need allies, even if it means they end up dead at the end, you need them to survive. You're both fresh meat, these people have built a repertoire with each other for years. You're gonna need some of them on your side for as long as you can." 

"And you want us to go with them?”

" It wouldn't be a bad idea.” Peeta shrugged, "If he's gonna protect her then we'll be protected too.”

"Yeah until we become perceived threats too.”

"Hey, I'm just laying out your options. There are 22 tributes to pick from, I know these people so I'm giving you my insight. Whether or not you decide to take it is up to the two of you.” Haymitch gestured at both of them before turning back to the screen." So District 5.”

              𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Finnick, what's the plan?" You asked as you two lay in the silky sheets of the bed.

"We have to get Katniss to trust us so we can get her out of the games. We'll be able to plan more once we get there.” His hand lazily lay on your shoulder,  grazing strands of your hair.

"And you'll keep me updated? No secrets?”

"No secrets, my love.” You hummed contently as you snuggled yourself deeper into his shoulder. "When we're in the arena, you need to stick by me. They'll probably try to split us up somehow, we can't let that happen.”

"I can take care of myself if it does.” You assured.

"I know that, but I need to know that you're safe. That you're not trying to throw yourself in front of someone else to save them before you.”

"Even if it's Katniss?” You said lightheartedly.

"We need to get her out of there, but I won't let that be at your personal risk. I owe you a real wedding, remember?”

"Oh, I remember. One with a dress.”

"Any dress you want, angel. So you have to listen to what I say, just this once, and stay with me in the arena and do as I say to stay alive.”

"That's two times.” You joked. " I don't know if I'm capable of doing that.” 

“Haha, very funny." He rolled his eyes. Silence took over for a second and you closed your eyes to let yourself rest with him. “I promise we'll get out of this and you'll get the life you deserve, we deserve."

“I trust you."

“Good because I mean it. We'll have our house back overlooking the ocean where little kids will run around outside, soaking up the sun and salt air. They'll have your beautiful laugh and your hair that'll whip around as they run.”

"And you're angel eyes, plus that disarming smile. We'll have to be on the lookout or we'll always give them their way.”

“You can read to me as I fish, you can sit on your favorite rock and I'll collect you all treasures. Annie and Mags will watch them so we can occasionally sneak away to swim in the sunset." 

"Oh you've got it all planned out, haven't you?”

"Of course, my love, the perfect life we can have when we're free from all of this.”

"Then I guess I'll have to listen to you to make that happen.” You laughed tiredly, body relaxing.

"Exactly, Mrs. Odair, so I can make sure our dreams come true, that everyone gets a chance to do the same.” Oh, your sweet, sweet boy. 

             𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you all so much for reading and for all the feedback! someone mentioned wanting to see haymitch presenting them and I thought that would be a great addition so thank @almostjollypizza for suggesting that! not gonna lie this was kind of a difficult chapter to write but I hope you guys enjoyed it, I'm excited to get to the Capitol and the stuff there. I have so many ideas! likes, comment, tags, reblogs, and asks are all super appreciated, love you guys, thank you! 💋

taglist: @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @darlingsoulbeautfulthoughts @thatonegayloser616 @skjdksjdhdjd @meri-soni-meri-tamanna

[rosesnwater]

Content Warnings and A Lesson From Lore Olympus

As some of you may know, I write a comic, which i occasionally post about here. I'd like to address a conversation around creators and content warnings in this post as well as the general tremd of authors overstating whats happening in their story. I've seen it come up recently in webtoon discourse within my own comic.

So first off, right after my three page prologue I have an authors note that details all the topics my comic will be going into throughout the course of the story.

It follows:

These are ALL the issues I tackle within the comic and I leave it here so people can decide whether they want to continue with the story. I have labeled my story as mature. There is a warning when anyone accesses the comic for the first time on both Webtoons and Tapas. I also have warnings that come in three degrees that I place before each episode that handles one of the mature themes I mention. However, what I don't do is tell the reader what they're going to see before they see it. I don't like doing this for a couple reason, some of the most important being, I think makes the story redundant because it's already explaining what's going to happen and this in turn disrupts the narrative.

I understand why people feel strongly about warnings and making content safe on a platform with a young audience. However, seeing as this is a work I have invested a considerable amount of time in, that I'm offering for people to enjoy (which i enjoy doing), I believe it is important I tell the story in my own way.

When you pick up a book you may get a warning in the synopsis (although I find this is rare) or in other people's online reviews of the book BUT you have to go looking for those reviews. As a creator I can only testify to my own experience, but like novels, comics are stories and in my own work, the story should NOT be bisected by warnings expressly stating what's going to happen in each episode.

I feel this speaks to a general increased uninvolvement in the material readers are reading and a lack of reading comprehension to the point authors think it necessary to guide their audience through their story.

There has been a decent amount of discourse in the UnpopularLoreOlympus reddit thread about readers reading comprehension. It is now common practice to have images like the one bellow before an episode.

On more than one occasion Rachel has put warning paragraphs at the end of her episode stating without any subtext what EXACTLY a character meant during the episode, even though readers would ideally understood the subtext as communicated by the narrative.

And before that she would have warnings signs like this before episodes where the content would be present:

The above warning is actually quite common amongst comics but it should NOT be required by the audience. If an author is doing their job, they'll have the proper box ticked off when submitting their webtoon

SPOILERS FOR MANY WORKS OF FICTION.

No one tells you at the beginning of jane Eyre that there will be violence, death of children, and abuse, let alone where these incidents will occur.

The hunger games won't warn you before the start of a chapter that there will be starvation or gruesome depictions of character death or content describing mental illness.

Most movies will have warning before the whole movie but they won't briefly cut out of the narrative to tell you what's about to happen and people shouldn't expect comic artists to do this either.

As a comic creator i am rellyng upon my audience's discretion to decide on whether or not a story is safe for their consumption. However, I'm adamant in my own work that that's where my required involvement ends.

I will explain things in the comments or answer reader questions, i will be happy doing so because i get to engage with people on something Ive spent hours creating. I will go onto my discord and jump into the deep world building or explain a particular scene, but this should not be required.

Holding authors accountable for going thoroughly over the controversial issues every episode they post is unreasonable and honestly (for me) damaging to the creative work. We end up with situations like lore olympus where authors are there to explain every warning and subtext to the audience without any work on the readers part.

I know this may be controversial to some, but as a creator, it's something that's bothered me for a while and something I think we should be able to talk about in the artistic community.

[messedupfan]

Chapter 18

Summary: Wanda has been seeing someone. Daisy reconnects with Reader. Jean and Anna have special plans.

A/n: Heeeyy, please don't hate me. Enjoy!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist | All Chapters

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Wanda checks her watch nervously. She had arrived at the office thirty minutes early to mentally prepare for the appointment. She wasn't sure what she was going to discover in that room. All she knew was that the idea made her feel ill. Her mind jumps to all of the people she slept with and she begins to feel like an idiot. Her leg bounces nervously as she thinks about how she will be judged by the doctor. It won't happen in front of her but she's almost certain it will happen. 

“Wanda Maximoff?” Her head snaps up at her name being called. “I'm ready to see you now.” Wanda nods and rises as she collects her things. She was going to be fine. Agatha swears by therapy. She was going to be fine. This was the next step to getting better and getting on with her life. 

You are standing in the backyard of your former home. “You wanted to show me my own craft space?” You ask with arms crossed over your chest. 

“No, we wanted to show you our future craft space,” Jean says and Anna waves her arms around as she presents a stack of boxes where your tools and materials used to be laid out. 

“What's this? You know that I need the space when I get an order. I know it’s been a while but it’s not just for me. I’ve been able to help you guys with the money I make from this side job. It’s not some frivolous hobby,” you walk around the room. 

“Yes, well, it’s actually been a year – close to a year and I’m pretty sure we were your last customers,” Jean says. “Besides, since we’re going to have all of this time we thought would be occupied by a baby… We want to make it into a craft space.” 

You clamp your mouth shut as you look at the boxes. It wasn’t fair for them to throw that in your face but this scenario was eerily similar to the one you’d witnessed with Wanda’s basement and Vision. You couldn’t stoop as low as that man so you sighed and nodded. “Okay, can you give me time to find somewhere to store it all? I don’t have the space right now.” 

“Sure,” Jean says, “just please don’t take too long. I have a lot of idea’s and I’m excited. Well. We’re excited.” She pulls her wife close to her and the two share a kiss. You find their behavior to be odd but you don’t think about it too much. 

“Okay,” you drag out. “I should get going. I need to do some grocery shopping and make some phone calls to see who will be willing to store my things until I can find a better place.” You walk through the gate to get to your car as they allow you to go. You scroll through your contacts to see who you can trust with your tools and supplies. You pause for a moment when you see Daisy’s contact. You know that you didn’t love her the way she deserved but it still hurt to see her name. You decide to leave that task for when you’re home because you needed to focus. 

You walk around the store with this nagging feeling that you should contact Daisy for some reason. You didn’t understand it. In the time since she ended things with you, you haven’t wanted to contact her once. Maybe it was because things with Wanda have crashed and burned alive. You don’t know, but you had to fight it because it wouldn’t be fair for you to try and insert yourself in her life again. As you shop you recignize her friend and you can’t stop yourself from saying hi. Because you mistakenly feel as though that would be rude. “Hey, Jemma!” You greet with as smile. 

Her eyes go wide and she almost runs but instead turns around smiles back. “Y/n, it’s been a while. How have you been?” 

You take a deep breath as you mentally run through the chaotic months you’d been having. “I’ve been better,” you nod. “Yeah, um, how have you been?”

She makes a face and narrows her eyes at you, “Let’s not waste our time here. I’m not the person you want to know about. Am I?”

You’re surprised by the implication and you shake your head. “No, I’m genuinely curious about you. I wouldn’t ever put you in a position to update me about Daisy. She made it very clear that she wanted me out of her life.” 

Jemma’s eyes scan you and she nods. “I’ve been well. Daisy, however, not so much. I’m telling you this because she is going to reach out to you soon. As much as I don’t like you, you do deserve the warning.” 

Your eyebrows twitch and you frown slightly, that was not what you expected to hear. “Oh, I hope I can help her with whatever it is. I just… She’s not going to try and get back together right?”

Jemma bursts out laughing and you smile and nod as she makes a big show of her amusement. “I’ve forgotten how funny you are!” She points at you with a grin. “No! She doesn’t want you back!” 

“I’m sorry,” you say as you try not to roll your eyes at her reaction. It was unnecessary. “Just, let her know that she can contact me whenever she wants. I’ll see you around, Jemma. Or maybe I won’t.” You walk away and continue to shop for the week. You go home and put your groceries away and don’t think about Daisy the rest of the day.

Wanda sits in her office and goes over her budget proposal for the project she was assigned. The company has been trying to score her former in-law’s as a client for years. She knew Stark Industries was a big corporation when she married into the family. It’s what paid for this house. It’s what allowed her to not work for six months. It’s what has paid for her new land. But for some reason she still feels weird about using her relationship to the Starks to help this company land them as a client. It made her realize why they probably hired her in the first place even with the unexplained unemployment gap after being fired from her previous firm. She runs through the proposal a couple more times and hopes that this doesn’t create a rift with the people she was getting to build a healthier relationship with. 

When she feels confident about the proposal she sets it aside and starts to work on the digital blueprint of her dream home. It has gone from sketches to utilizing the program on her computer to draft together a more visual representation of what she wants her house to look like. She has lots of windows and an open floor plan. She knows where she wants a dining room and how she wants the kitchen to look like. The second floor has a den space and an office space and multiple bedrooms. Then she considers adding a third floor but thinks it might be too much. 

She starts to shuffle the rooms around and considers moving the office to the ground floor. Then she adds a basement. Then she takes it away. She plays around with the design until her stomach grumbles and she is reminded that she has to eat. She shut down her work and walks downstairs to make herself something to eat. As she sets out ingredients, she fantasizes about you standing in the kitchen helping her. She wonders if you'd wrap your arms around her and kiss her cheek as she chopped vegetables. She thinks about how easily she could melt against your body. She allows herself to think about moments she could have with you without making herself feel guilty about it. She's tired of feeling guilty for wanting a better life for herself. 

As she lays on the couch and watches a show that she has been binging lately she mindlessly traces the letters M, I, N, E, on her upper thigh. In her mind, it's a memory of you, but really it's only another fantasy. She doesn't know why she can't just give in. She doesn't know why she pushes you away. She knows she shouldn't have but she also knows that she probably would have hurt you. She takes a deep breath and sighs. 

She walks up to her bed as her mind prepares her for waking up early the next morning. The mental checklist of what she has to take care of tomorrow. What she should wear for her meeting with Tony. What she should make herself for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Should she go out? Should she anticipate Tony offering to take her to lunch? 

She thinks about the therapy sessions she has scheduled for the next several weeks. She thinks about wanting to hang out with her friends. Then as she closes her eyes, she thinks about you and a small smile lifts up her lips. 

You are getting ready to take your lunch break when your phone goes off in your pocket. Your heart leaps into your throat when Daisy’s image covers your screen. You answer and start walking away from the job site. “Hello?” You say into the phone. There is a loud drilling sound and someone starts banging a hammer on a wall. “Hold on, I can’t hear you. One second please.” You cross the street and keep walking until you find a quiet area. You sit down on a park bench. “Okay, I can hear you now. Um, hey,” you say as you remove your hardhat. “This is a surprise. How are you?”

“Is it a surprise? Jemma told me that she warned you I might contact you,” Daisy says. 

“Uh, she did say that but I wasn’t sure when to expect your call. So it is still a surprise,” you reply as you run your fingers through your hair. “She also warned me that you’re not doing too well. Is there something I can do for you?” Daisy goes quiet and you think that the call has dropped, you move the phone from your face to check but the sunlight makes it difficult to tell. “Hello?” 

“I’m here,” she sighs and you can tell that she is trying to hide that she is crying. You take a deep breath as you brace yourself for what she might tell you. Maybe Phil is terminally ill. Maybe her mom passed. Maybe this, maybe that. 

“I’m here for you,” you tell her. “No matter what, it’s okay. You can tell me.” 

“I,” her voice cracks and you wish that you could do something more than sit here on the phone with her. “What I need to talk to you about is better done in person,” she finally says through her sniffles. 

“Okay, um where do you want to meet?” You ask. “I don’t have Rachel this week so you could come over to my place because it's a lot more private than yours or if you don’t want privacy I can go to your place after work. Um or we can meet somewhere public. I’m willing to do whatever you need.” You softly offer her options. Your heart is pounding from the anticipation. What could be so bad that she had to see you in person?

“I’m okay with coming over to your place,” she replies. 

“Okay,” you state, “does seven-thirty work for you? I’ve been working twelve to thirteen hour shifts to pay those pesky hospital bills.” 

“Seven-thirty works,” she answers. “I’ll see you then.” 

“I’ll see you then,” you say as the call ends. You sit on that park bench a little bit longer as you fear what Daisy has to say. What could she possibly be holding on to? What has her in tears? What can’t she say over the phone? Your mind races as you eat your lunch. It continues to run as you get back to work and think about what Daisy needs help with.

Wanda laughs with Tony as they sit together in a nice restaurant. Her pitch went well and Tony said that he would consider hiring her for the project. Then he offered to take her to lunch to celebrate. Now the two were discussing highlights of Vision’s finest moments during past holidays. “Oh, remember that time he convinced your dad to let him cut the turkey and he nearly cut his finger off?” Wanda says. 

“How could I forget? I’m the one who pointed out that there couldn’t be that much blood on a turkey!” Tony laughs as he lifts his glass from the table and swirls it around. He shakes his head. “I have no clue how I’m related to that man.” 

“I don’t know either,” Wanda says. “You are way more fun to be around,” she compliments and they clink their glasses together as they cheers to that. 

“You know, Wanda,” Tony starts as he leans in closer. “Why are you wasting your talents working for a company like Nexus Developments? You are family,” he puts his hand on top of Wanda’s. “We could have helped you land a job with the company we usually use or hell, we could have made a branch for you.” 

Wanda taps Tony’s hand as she pulls away and slumps back into her seat. “I know that you would have. But I couldn’t ask that of you or your family. Vision would have made it about him some how and lately,” she shakes her head as she feels tears building up. She takes a deep breath. “Lately, whenever your brother doesn’t get his way, my kids pay a price. Hell, even when he does get his way, my kids still suffer.” 

Tony nods and takes a drink from his glass, he sighs as the aged scotch goes down smoothly. “I understand your position. Just know that if you ever need help, we are still here for you. Vision can go fuck himself,” he tells her. Wanda laughs a softly as she agrees with his statement. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to convince you into a Maximoff and Stark partnership once again. This one being a profitable business instead of an emotional headache.”

Wanda shrugs, “We’ll see. The future is quite unpredictable after all.” 

As you walk through the your apartment building you run through the possibilities of the impending conversation over and over in your mind. The scenarios don’t stop until you see Daisy pacing in front of your door. You check the time on your watch and fill with relief that you’re not late, she’s early. 

“Hey,” you say as you sort through your keys to find the one that will unlock the door. Daisy startles as you announce your presence. “Sorry, I didn't mean to,” you notice that she doesn't look too good and you just move to open the door. “Let's just,” you hold it open for her and she walks right past you. “Would you like anything to drink? Water maybe?”

Daisy shakes her head. “No, I don't know how long you'll want me in here after I tell you what I need to tell you.” 

You make a face, unsure what she could possibly say that would have you kicking her out of your home. “I have a feeling this is something we should sit for. Come on,” you sit down on the couch and wipe the sweat from your forehead.

“Are you sure you don’t want to shower first? You’ve been working hard all day and I know you how much you hate sitting in–” Daisy rambles on as she paces the living room and you have to cut her off. 

“Daisy, I hate waiting even more,” you tell her. “Come, sit,” you pat the space next to you on the sofa. 

Daisy stands still and frowns at you. “No you don’t. You are the most patient person I know.” 

You nod your head slowly, “I can be patient, that’s true. But I still hate waiting.” You admit to her. “I’ve been worried about you all day, Daisy. I don’t want to be pushy but I want to be able to help you. I can’t do that if you don’t stop stalling and tell me what’s wrong.” 

Daisy sits next to you and drops her face into her hands. You sit there and wait for her to collect her thoughts and say something. Anything that will explain her behavior. You bounce your leg as your body decides to show your impatience. The movement has Daisy moving her hands from her face through her hair. “The night we broke up I,” the area around her eyes are red and her nose is pink. She doesn't face you because she can't say this and have you look at her differently. She doesn't know where you stand on a topic like this because every conversation the two of you had on the matter was purely hypothetical. She wanted to keep this to herself because she didn't want you to change in her eyes. She likes you the way you are. “I found out that I had um, sorry this is difficult for me to say.” 

You hold your hand out to her, “Daisy, it's okay. Whatever it is,” you trail as she turns her head away from you. “Are you sick?”  You ask softly as her shoulders shake. 

She turns her head to stare in front of her as she shakes her head and wipes her tears. “No, I'm not sick. That's not the kind of results I had received,” she reaches for the box of tissues in the coffee table and blows her nose. “I found out that I was pregnant,” she finally says. 

You feel your heart stop beating and drop to your stomach. You grow nauseous at the news. “Oh,” you grab onto the arm of the couch as if you're going to faint. “I um,” you blink a couple of times. “Is it someone else's?” The words stumble out before you can process the implication. 

“I never cheated on you,” she states sharply and she looks at you this time. 

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have… I mean, can you blame me for asking? You didn't tell me until today. You broke up with me instead of telling me. I can't think of why you would do that unless the baby wasn't mine or —” you stop talking as you look at her and clamp your mouth shut. Daisy avoids your eye contact as you recall her behavior that night. She didn't want to be a mother. She kept telling you that as she tried to leave. “Oh,” you react again. The tension in your body releases and you try to figure out how you can address this conversation respectfully. “You decided not to go through with the um the uh pregnancy? Is that what you're telling me?” You try to keep your tone even and your features neutral, trying to avoid showing any insensitive emotions out of respect. 

Daisy closes her eyes as she starts to sob. “I couldn't go through with it. I'm not ready.” She says through her tears. You nod your head because you don't know what to do or how to properly react. “It wasn't an easy decision, you know? I thought about it for a couple of weeks and I thought about telling you but I was so scared that you would be happy and I would have the baby to please you and I just —” 

“Daisy,” you call her name until she stops rambling and you enter her personal space, pulling her against your chest to let her know that you are there for her. “Daisy, I get it. It's okay. I’m not ready for another kid. Shh, shh, it's okay. It's your body, I would have never asked—” 

“I know you wouldn't have but I would have done it! For you!” She interrupts. “Because I know how much you love kids and you're a great parent. You're so great with Rachel and I know how much she wants siblings and I just couldn't. I couldn't be the one to give you that. But if I told you, I would have gone through with it and I would have been miserable,” she continues to ramble. You pull back and get her to look you in the eye. 

“Daisy, you're not listening,” you say calmly. “Breathe with me. Okay?” She nods with you and you count to four with your fingers as you inhale through your nose. Then you put down the four fingers as you hold. You lift them back up as you exhale. And you repeat the process with Daisy until she appears a little more relaxed. “Daisy, recently I've been asked by my ex-wife to have more kids with her and I told her no. I — this is going to sound horrible but — I wasn't ready to be Rachel's parent. I love her, she is my world. But it took me longer than anyone realizes to be comfortable being her parent. I wasn't ready and I know that a lot of parents will tell you that none of them were ready and that's,” you wave your hand to the side. “It's quite clear that they weren't and I don't think it should be that way.” You shake your head. “Daisy, I'm telling you right now that I'm not ready for another child. When you told me about the pregnancy right now I nearly threw up. You made the right decision. I'm not mad at you. I don't hate you for making this decision on your own. It's your choice, I'm just sorry that I didn't make you feel like you could come to me about this. I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you.” Daisy closes her eyes and leans against your chest. 

Neither of you talk for a moment. Allowing yourselves to process and accept the truths that each has shared. You think about how that night might’ve gone differently. You wouldn’t have lived with Wanda for almost two weeks. You wouldn’t have gotten as close to Wanda as you have. You would have been having back-and-forth conversations with Daisy. You would have developed a stronger relationship. Maybe. It could have turned sour. She could have grown distant and resented you or herself for the decision. Who knows? That wasn’t what happened. So it doesn’t matter now. But you can’t help but think where you could have been now had things happened differently. 

“Did you deal with this alone?” You eventually ask her. Daisy shakes her head against your chest. You’re surprised she is still resting against you because normally she couldn’t stand the smell of your sweat and the other odors that come from manual labor when the two of you were together. “Jemma?” She nods against you. “Can I ask, uh, what… or why did you bring this to me now?” You ask carefully. 

You feel Daisy take a deep breath and this is what pulls her away from you. She wipes her face and sits against the back of the couch. She plays with the rings on her fingers and flexes her jaw. “I didn’t get the abortion until a couple of weeks ago,” she admits. “I almost went through with the pregnancy because,” she takes another shaky breath. “Jean was at the same clinic I was at to make the appointment. I spilled my guts to her because Jemma had to leave halfway through since it wasn't the appointment and Jean was there when I had second thoughts. It took me a couple of weeks to even go in because I was in denial for a bit. I didn’t want to believe it was true. Then I saw the sonogram and I,” she shakes her head and looks up to the ceiling. “I had second thoughts.” She shrugs her shoulders and you take one of her hands to offer your support. It’s not an easy decision for most. That's assuming that it's ever an easy decision for anyone. “Jean offered to pay for my doctor bills and prenatal care if I decided to follow through with the pregnancy and gave her and Anna the baby and never told you about any of this.” You drop Daisy’s hand and turn away from her. 

You stand up with that nauseous feeling again, not sure what to do about a betrayal of this caliber. You know that Jean has a tendency to do anything and everything to get what she wants when she wants it but… This was too far. “I can’t fucking,” you shake your head. You want to punch a wall or break something but you can’t. You can’t afford the injury. You can’t afford the plaster to fix the wall.  You can’t afford to replace the things you have. You can’t afford any of this because you thought you were paying off debts before interest can build on them. You thought you were doing everything right. You thought you could trust Jean. You can’t believe she would go so far as to put Daisy through something like this. 

“Please don’t hate me,” Daisy begs, “I was confused and I wasn’t sure what I wanted. I only said yes at first because I thought you would be allowed to be in their life and I thought you would like that and–” 

“I’m not upset with you,” you cut her off. “It’s not your fault,” you try to focus on your breathing but you can’t calm down. You can’t focus on anything. You don’t know how someone can be so deranged. You look at Daisy and you feel so guilty for what happened to her. The position she was put in. It makes sense why one day Jean is ready to cut your head off for saying no and then next she’s perfectly fine. What kind of person could be so deceptive? What kind of person… you huff through your nose. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” you say to Daisy in the softest tone you could muster up. “You shouldn’t have… She shouldn’t’ve…” you shake your head and close your eyes. 

Daisy stands up and takes your white-knuckled fist and massages the tight skin until you release your grip. “I am going to be okay. I probably shouldn’t have told you. I just, I don’t know. At first the offer was that I just give them the baby. I wrongfully assumed that also meant giving you the baby. Then she eventually told me that you would not know that the baby was even yours,” she shakes her head. “I couldn’t put myself in the middle of this. I couldn’t put anyone in the middle of that. I didn't want to be part of why Rachel’s parents grew to hate each other. You guys are such healthy examples for her.” You begin to grow upset again thinking about how Jean deceived Daisy. How she was ready to deceive you. It was one thing to ask you to knowingly not be allowed in your child's life. But to go behind your back and essentially kidnap what almost was your child… you couldn’t believe it. 

“When I had the chance to think about it, I didn’t want to give birth. I couldn’t go through with it so without telling her, I went through with the abortion because that’s what I wanted.” Daisy closes her eyes as tears slip out and she continues to rub your hand. Something she learned that can keep you grounded. “The only thing that has been tearing me apart about this whole thing is how much of it was being kept from you. I haven’t been able to sleep because of it. You deserve to know.” 

“Thank you for telling me,” you state as you watch her rub your hands. You clench your jaw as your eyebrows knit together. Normally an action like this would calm you down but the information was far too upsetting. “I need to go for a walk or something. I don’t know. I just can’t be here right now.” You pull your hand away. 

“I don’t think you should be alone,” Daisy tries to pull you back to her. 

“Trust me, right now, that’s what’s best for everyone,” you say as you hold your hand up to stop her from coming any closer to you. Daisy stares at you, wanting to be in your arms again. Wanting to feel that comfort that you brought her. Both in the past and just before she dropped the bomb on you. But you weren't someone that sought after touch when you were going through something. You retreated. You isolated yourself. At least, that's what you did when you were with her. She might never know that there are other sides to you. Especially not after tonight. 

“Okay,” she says just above a whisper. “Okay,” she repeats as she walks to the exit. “I'm sorry for everything, again,” she says as she steps into the hallway. “Please, don't do anything stupid.” She disappears, leaving the door open. 

You stare at the door as you think of what you want to do. You think about getting into your car but you're afraid that if you do, you'll drive into a tree or worse. You'll drive to Jean’s house. You couldn't do that to Rachel. You check that you have your keys, phone, and wallet in your pockets and then you lock up your apartment on your way out. Stepping out onto the concrete sidewalk outside of your apartment building you look every which way. There are bars and restaurants down each way. You could easily find somewhere to drink but that's not what you want to do. So you start walking. 

You walk aimlessly for a long time. You walk until your legs begin to ache and your feet begin to hurt. You find yourself at a dock, there are many boats parked but you find a space without one. You sit at the ledge and look out to the water and breathe. The smell of the salty water is calming. You watch as the water moves causing the reflection of the lights to dance. You allow yourself to grieve because even though you didn't want another child, you contributed to almost bringing another life into the world. It was a weird feeling. You're not upset with Daisy for making her choice, you are grateful to her. But you still feel the loss. You didn't understand the feeling but you let yourself feel it. Because even though you don't understand why you feel the way that you do, you don't have to justify or explain it to anyone. You can just allow yourself to feel whatever you want to. 

Then you grieve the relationship you thought you had with Jean. You can't believe she would pull something like this. You don't understand where an idea like that would come from out of her. You don't know how you'll be able to move past this. You feel like she took everything the two of you built together over the years and tore it apart bit by bit. You feel disgusting. You feel used. You take deep breaths as you feel it all. Hoping to release it in a healthy way. It was done, there wasn't much else that you could do about it now except to confront her. You couldn't do that until Sunday.

When you stand up to leave, you slip and fall into the water. You don't try to swim at first. You let the water move you. Trusting that it won't take you away. That it won't pull you under and shorten your time on this planet. You just float in the water. Eventually, the need for air is too great and you swim up until you break the surface with a big gasp. 

You pull yourself up onto the dock and start walking home. You are grateful for the bulky phone case when you pull it out of your pocket to find that the phone is perfectly fine. You use the map application in order to navigate your way home. When you arrive at your destination you shower and eat a microwavable meal. You fall into your bed after taking a sleep aid and fall asleep. 

The next day, at work, Wanda stops by the job site around lunch time. You walk into Pietro’s office and find the two of them laughing with takeaway meals in front of them. You still feel horrible from the night before. But hearing her laugh heals the wounds inside your heart. 

“Y/n!” Wanda grins. “I brought you something too,” she holds up a container. You look at the container and try not to show that you have anything wrong with you by forcing on a smile. 

“You didn't have to,” you say as you move to the sink to wash your hands before you join them. “I appreciate this. Is there an occasion I'm not aware of?” You ask as you open the container. The aroma of your favorite food should have made you happier, instead you began to feel nauseous again. It has nothing to do with the food or Wanda's presence and everything to do with the feelings that you're suppressing. 

“No, I had lunch with Tony yesterday and it reminded me how much I enjoy having lunch with other people,” she shrugs. “Isolation can become a bit of a downside when it comes to working from home for me sometimes.” 

You nod, “Makes sense. Why don't you do the hybrid method? That's what Daisy did with school. She would do online classes and in-person classes,” you suggest before you take a bite. You chew slowly because you do need to eat. No matter how sick you're feeling. 

“That's a good idea,” Pietro agrees. “You could finally get better acquainted with the rest of the staff.” 

Wanda makes a distasteful face, “I don't know. Getting to know people always leads to getting stuck in the middle of their drama.” She shakes her head. “I think I have enough of my own.” 

Pietro shrugs, “You never know. Sometimes it's good to hear about other people's drama. It makes your life sound better. Why do you think I still talk to you? Just because you're my sister?” Wanda’s eyes widen and she punches her brother on his shoulder. “Hey! It's not my fault, you have the most dramatic life out of anyone I know! Y/n,” he nudges you, “back me up here!” 

You are snapped out of your head and try to catch up with the conversation. You look between them cluelessly. “I'm sorry, I probably have her beat when it comes to a dramatic life.” 

Pietro shakes his head, “What are you talking about? Other than that baby thing, you are relatively drama free. That drama even ended pretty well from what I remember.” 

You feel a little light headed as you are reminded by the development of that issue. That there is a new ending to the situation. But you don't tell him. You don't want to tell him. You're not even sure you want to tell Wanda. Not right now at least. You nod, “Yeah, I guess you're right.” You turn to Wanda with a playful shrug. “Sorry, I tried.” Wanda shakes her head and the three of you share a laugh. 

“Whatever,” Wanda mutters as she stabs her salad with her fork. 

When lunch is over, you walk Wanda out to her car. You're quiet as she talks to you about her current project and updating you on her boys. Then she asks you if you are okay because you seem a little off. You shrug and stop when you reach the car. “Um the other day, Jean and Anna asked me to move my workshop out of their shed,” you scratch behind your ear. Feeling queasy saying her name. 

“Your workshop?” Wanda asks as she unlocks her car. 

“Yeah, just my tools and some leftover materials that I used on my last order,” you explain as you open the car door for her. 

“Last order? What do you mean?” Wanda reaches over and sets her purse on the passenger seat but she doesn't sit in her car just yet. 

“I have a little side business. Haven't I told you about it before?” You are surprised with yourself that you haven't mentioned this to her before. You try to think of a time that you might've brought it up before but you come up with nothing. There just hasn't been a reason to. Wanda shakes her head as she does the same. “Ah well, I have a small business. I take custom orders. Anything that someone wants built, I build it.” You pull out your phone and show her your website. “Just something to help with the bills whenever I can't get a lot of hours.” She takes your phone and nods, impressed by the stuff you have built in the past. “Anyway, the reason it's on my mind, they want me to move my stuff out of the shed. I can't really afford a place to be able to store everything and be able to have the space to work on orders.” 

“I have a shed that, admittedly, could use some care,” she says as she hands you back your phone. “You could set up shop in there, at no cost, of course.” 

“Wanda, I can't take you up on that offer,” you resist. 

“Yes, you can,” she insists. “Why couldn't you?” 

You look away and lick your lips as you are reminded of the night she rejected you. “I would need a lot of access to it when or really if I get another order. I don't know if it's a good idea for us to spend that much time together.”

Wanda nods as she understands where you're coming from. “Technically we wouldn't be spending any of that time together. You'd be working and I would be inside my house or doing something. Come on, we're friends. Let me help you with this.” 

You focus your eyes back to hers and you think about just how much she has been helping you. It doesn't feel like there is a balance in the friendship with how often she helps you compared to how often you help her. “I don't know Wanda,” you say as you bite your bottom lip in thought. You can't think of a good reason to say no so you don't. You shrug and nod at her. “Okay, yeah, I will take you up on that offer. Thank you, Wanda. I really appreciate it. Is it okay if I bring it all by on Sunday?” 

Wanda smiles and nods, “Of course, come by then. I'm sure the boys will be happy to see you and Rachel again. They were pretty upset about not having you guys there last week.” 

“Yeah, Rachel wasn't happy about it either. She prefers cooking with you a lot more than she does with me,” you say with a soft laugh. Wanda smiles at her shoes as she thinks about how much she prefers cooking with you over anyone else. She looks back up and locks eyes with you. She feels like an idiot for pushing you away but she doesn't feel ready to tell you how she feels about you. 

“I'll see you on Sunday,” she says and you nod as you repeat her departing words as you step away from her. You wave as she drives off and you go back to work without thinking about your problems with Jean and instead thinking about Wanda and how pretty she looked today. 

Saturday night you can't sleep. You toss and turn even after taking a sleep aid. Your heart pounds as your mind races about seeing Jean the next day. You can't stop running through scenarios of confronting her. Are you going to do it right away? Are you going to choke? Is the sight of her going to make you nauseous? Or worse. Is it going to cause you to actually vomit? Will you be able to see her without getting angry? You're going to have to be there longer than you want to because you have to load your truck with your stuff but are you going to make it through? You don't know. And you're exhausted by the anticipation. 

You are lucky to get in a nap before you have to pick up Rachel. You have to drink two cups of coffee before you feel awake enough to drive. On the drive over, you are yet again practicing what you're going to say when you arrive. You yawn as you park and shake your head to get you ready to knock on the door. You stare at the house as you try to remember that she is your friend. She was your favorite person once upon a time. You loved her. But it's all tainted now. She has slowly burned you out and ripped you to shreds. 

You step out of your truck and knock on the door. You look at the welcome mat to keep yourself calm as you wait. When there's no response, you ring the doorbell. You take slow breaths as you try to clear your mind. You can't think about what Daisy told you in front of Rachel. 

Anna is the one to open the door. Since Daisy hadn't mentioned her, you can tell yourself that she isn't someone that you should be upset with and you can tell yourself that she has no idea. At least until you can figure out when to confront them about this. You walk through the house to get to your stuff in the backyard but when you bring the tools to your truck you go through the gate that leads to the front instead of going through the house. You don't say anything to Anna, you don't even ask why she's the only person you've seen so far. You just focus on your task. Move your tools from the shed to your truck. When you're done, Rachel greets you with a tight hug that you are happy to reciprocate. It's a relief to see her and to hold her. 

Jean is on the phone in the kitchen and you don't feel the desire to interrupt her conversation just to confront her. You decide to leave it alone. You take Rachel to the car and help her get inside. “Did you hear the good news?” Rachel asks as you get settled in the driver's seat. You shake your head and ask her what the good news is. “I'm having a baby brother! My mommies said so. I'm going to be a big sister!” Your heart stops as your entire body freezes. How could they tell her something like that? How do they even know what the gender would have been? 

“Wait right here, I need to ask your mommies something,” you tell your daughter with a tight voice. You climb out of the truck and walk to the front door. This time, you enter without knocking and walk up to Jean as she ends her phone call. “How dare you,” you start bitterly. Jean is thrown off and her confused smile drops. “How dare you put Daisy in that kind of position. How dare you tell our daughter that she's going to be a big sister before there is a baby. There isn't going to be a baby! There never should have been. You shouldn't have tried to talk Daisy out of her decision. You are a cisgendered female, you should have some respect when it comes to another woman making a decision about her life and her body. Not only that, you are my best friend. Or at least you used to be. I thought you would have enough respect for me to tell me the moment you found out about Daisy's pregnancy. I was mistaken to believe the lies you told me but I will not allow that behavior to affect our daughter. So you better be a thousand percent certain when it comes to something as big as a sibling coming into her life before you tell her anything!” You take a split second to decide whether or not to continue and with how upset you are, you can't stop yourself. “And I was going to let Daisy tell you this herself but I will do what you should have done. She went through with her decision. There won't be a baby. Now I suggest that you either start looking into fostering or adopting — no. You should get your fucking head checked be clearly you are out of your fucking mind, Jean!” Jean slaps you clear across your face. The slap was loud and the impact was hard. It stings and you lift your hand up to your face in shock. 

“Get out!” Anna shouts from behind you. You are shaking with anger. You weren't aware that you had gotten so furious with the situation. You try to say more but Anna won't let you. Jean is in tears and looking down at her hand, shocked by her own actions. Anna steps in between you and her wife. “Get the fuck out of my house Y/n! Get out! Get out!” She starts pushing you backwards. You hold your hands up and shake your head. 

“You're both unbelievable. I'm going,” you walk out after Anna's last shove. You can't believe the reactions. You can't believe the lack of accountability. You storm across the yard and climb into the truck. 

“What's wrong?” Rachel asks in a scared little voice. You feel terrible seeing her shaken up. You sigh and close your eyes before you look at her. 

“Nothing sweetheart,” you say as softly as you can. “Nothing, let's just… we're going to go home and I'm going to go for a run and then maybe we'll stop by Wanda’s house to drop all of this stuff off later. How does that sound?” You try to make her feel more at ease. 

“Why can't we go to Ms. Wanda’s first? I really want to see Tommy and Billy and tell them about the good news!” She asks innocently and you have to close your eyes to calm down. You open them and start the engine. You need to distance yourself from this house. From Jean and Anna. You're starting to wonder if your ex’s behavior is being instigated by her wife. You aren't sure how you can find out. But it's definitely something to look into with the lengths she's gone through to make this idea of theirs happen. 

“Honey, mommies were mistaken. You're not going to be a big sister,” you correct her. 

Rachel frowns, “Yes I am. They said so. My mommies don't lie to me, Baba.” 

“I know that sweetheart, that's why I said that they were mistaken. That's not the same as lying, it's more like they didn't know what they were telling you wasn't true,” you take a second to glance at her. “Does that make sense to you?” Rachel nods with tears building in her eyes. “Awe baby girl, what's wrong?” 

“I really wanted to be a big sister,” she says as she wipes her tears. You feel bad as you continue to drive. 

“I know sweetie, I know,” you sigh as you start to reconsider their proposal. But you quickly shove that thought out of your mind. You cannot allow your daughters disappointment to change your mind on a matter of this magnitude. “Do you still want to go to Wanda’s first?”

“Yes please,” she says as she continues to wipe her face. “I want to see my friends.” You want to calm down before you see Wanda. You don't want to pull her into more of your problems. But you feel bad enough for taking away your daughters smile. So you suck it up and drive to Wanda’s house. You text her that you're on the way when you stop at a red light. 

When you pull up the driveway, Wanda is waiting outside with a smile. She knocks on the window and talks as you roll it down. “I don't care what you say, I'm helping you move the stuff into the shed.” Her wide smiles drops to an expression of concern when she sees the red mark on your cheek. She looks further into the truck and sees Rachel's face is red from crying. “What happened?” She looks you over and you shake your head. 

“Nothing, why do you ask?” You say, oblivious to the evidence on your face while you try to hide your frustration from the day. 

Wanda leans in as close as she can get. “Have you looked in the mirror?” She says in a low whisper. 

Your eyebrows knit together and you frown before you drop the visor mirror to check yourself out. Then you see the mark and you shut it. You want to curse yourself for not going home first. “I can't talk about it right now. Can we start moving this stuff?” Wanda nods and allows you to get out of the vehicle. You walk to the other side to help Rachel down before you start to take stuff down from your truck. You hand some boxes to Wanda and she leads the way to her shed. She talks the entire way about how she spent her entire Saturday reorganizing the entire space. You hardly listen as your mind replays the last hour. How Jean slapped you and Anna pushed you. How angry you felt —  no, feel. 

Once the pair of you set the boxes down Wanda asks again what happened and the words come out of you before you can stop them. You tell her everything from running into  Jemma to what happened with Jean just moments ago. Wanda is quiet as she stands there and processes. She doesn't look at you as she does. You shift your weight uncomfortably as you wait for a response. When she finally moves you don't expect her to hug you the way that she does. She holds you tightly in a warm embrace that breaks your walls down. 

“I'm so sorry,” she whispers against your chest as you break down in tears and she rubs your back. You let her hold you and comfort you in ways that you hardly ever allowed anyone to take care of you. You allow her to witness a side of vulnerability that you rarely let many see. 

After a bit of time the both of you stop crying. You and Wanda sneak into the house and each go to a bathroom in order to wash your faces and then get back to work. Together the truck gets emptied of the tools and materials in an impressive amount of time and was put away in the shed. When the both of you finish, Wanda gets a phone call and excuses herself to answer. You follow her inside to wash your hands. 

You get a message from Nebula and you feel slightly guilty when you do. You open the message and you clench your jaw as she admits how much she likes you and asks when she can see you next. The two of you went out on a date shortly after Wanda rejected you. It was an okay date but with everything going on, it doesn't feel right. You close your phone and head upstairs to check on the kids. As you do so you pass Wanda's office. Her door is slightly ajar. You don't mean to listen in but when you hear the words,  “Thank you for introducing me… yeah he has made me feel things I haven't felt before,” and,  “I feel like he understands me better than I understand me.” You feel your heart sink. You continue to walk to check on the kids as you try to tell yourself that you didn't hear the entire conversation so you couldn't possibly know what she was talking about. But a small voice in the back of your head is telling you that she rejected you because she found someone else. A reality that you'll have to accept if you and Wanda are going to continue to be friends. 

After you check on the kids you schedule another date with Nebula for the next Sunday after you drop Rachel off. Then you continue on with your night with Wanda and the kids. Doing your best to keep your mind off of everything else.

Chapter 19

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @thatshyboy1998 @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @notbornbutforged @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52 @sisiofthemultifandom @fuzzyuniversityeclipsefriend @arcturusseer @scarlettwidow34 @chasethemoon @raven-ss @canyonyodeler @sokovianbaby @alexawynters @bittysworld @hopeless-romantic17177 @spongebobtentacles @the-ox-fan20 @shaniiwm

[tcookies777]

Where I am now

Many of you have left such kind comments and sent me messages out of concern for my wellbeing. For that, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I also appreciate your patience as I understand it can be difficult to wait months for a chapter update on a long, tedious fic such as The Anatomy of Love. Your patience for this story is always sincerely appreciated.

I've been struggling for months to find the right words to say. To decide whether to express the ache in my heart or draw lines and stay silent. But while a part of me wishes to say little to nothing on the matter out of a sense of shame, the better part of me recognizes that conversations like the one I'm about to raise are something that needs to be discussed more. If only to raise awareness of the topic or help destigmatize it. If only to normalize issues like these. If only to just help someone else who might be going through a dark period in their life as well.

It's here that I'll give a final warning of the sensitive topics of this post. So feel free to turn away now if the topic of mental illness might be upsetting.

Trigger warning: suicide and mental illness

Ok, so here goes....

My sister committed suicide. I won't go into details of course, but it was not peaceful or quiet - it was violent, gruesome, and excruciatingly painful. So much so that the police thought it might've been a murder and harshly investigated us, making everything more difficult and traumatizing than it already was.

She had battled with depression for nearly 2 decades, deteriorating far beyond recognition. We had grown estranged over the years of my childhood because she pushed loved ones away, blaming them for the way she turned out but also still relying on them to survive. An awful cycle of codependency.

I myself have been battling with high-functioning depression for the past decade, which is one reason why I struggle to respond to people's messages. From readers, friends, and family alike. I, too, have an issue of pushing people away. Because I'm ashamed for them to see how broken my life is. Because I have seen the way people judge you for having a mental illness. I have witnessed friends, family, and even Healthcare workers gaze upon the mentally ill as if they are a sore sight.

To be honest, I understand both sides; it can also be frustrating to pool all your time, effort and resources into trying to help someone who does not want to be helped. It burns you out. That despite your efforts to fight for that person, they do not fight for themselves and you're forced to watch them deteriorate in a slow, agonizing process.

"At the beginning, you’ll do your best to shoulder all my burdens. At the beginning, you’ll be strong about it. But over time, you’ll come to regret it—you'll come to regret me, and the burden that I have become to you." — Kakashi, Chapter 30 of The Anatomy of Love

On the other side, it's hard to take that step to accept the help offered to you. It's hard to find the strength to meet your loved ones halfway and help them to help you when you hardly have the strength to even get out of bed. Yet, you also feel guilty because it feels as if you are just dragging down those around you.

These are the feelings Kakashi expresses to Sakura in Chapter 30, when he tries to explain the reasons why they cannot and should not pursue a relationship. Guilt and self-loathing are the feelings that have been eating me up inside for years, as they ate at my sister as well.

We were born from a loveless, violent marriage. So we didn't know how to love each other, though we did whether we wanted to or not. Likely it was the trauma that bonded us. But put together, my sister and I were oil and water. Loving someone who is your family but is practically a stranger to you is incredibly difficult and taxing.

Yet, I understood completely. You just don't know how to show love to someone when you were never given love.

But despite my estrangement from my sister, I still love her. Being a 1st generation American often means you have nothing but your family. When you have no house, no savings, no relatives to turn to - just your immediate family - it can be a toxic, tough love where you have only that person whether you like them or not. And in Asian culture, family is especially everything even when it's completely dysfunctional.

So why am I updating TAOL now?

It's mostly for myself. Because it's my own comfort fic that allows me to engage in therapeutic writing. It's a story of loneliness and love of all forms (romantic, sexual, familial, etc). More importantly, it's a story about finding family, finding love, and finding home. Something that I've yearned for all my life.

And it's a story of pursuing happiness even when you think you don't deserve it. It's a story that shows good coping mechanisms and bad coping mechanisms and their consequences. It's a story of picking yourself up by the bootstraps even when you just want to sit and wallow in despair. And it's also a story of embracing the love of those around you and taking their hands when they reach out to you and offer their support.

At its core, The Anatomy of Love is a story about fighting loneliness, self-hatred, guilt, and mental illness with love. With the love of friends and family. And with the love for yourself. Because while it's important to have a strong support system to love and look out for you, it is just as important to love yourself and really put in the effort to take care of yourself. And sometimes that means being ""selfish"" and prioritizing yourself over others.

Why am I saying all this?

I'll admit, I'm uncomfortable revealing the skeletons in my closet to strangers online where everyone can judge and share my secrets. I'm embarrassed to admit that TAOL's themes are projections of my own desires, and for people to know that I write about such things in fanfic because of the fact that I don't have them. But I'm just too insecure to talk to anyone 1 on 1. Not to mention that, unfortunately, it's not that simple to just go to therapy (especially when the healthcare system is broke here).

Most importantly, I hope that if there's anyone out there reading this and going through a shitty point in their lives as well... I hope you are able to take comfort in the fact that you are not alone in this. We individually have our own demons to fight, but we're all fighting the same battle.

I wish I could say it gets better, but there's honestly no guarantee. So many times, I've had to stop myself from telling patients "things'll get better" because that's a promise that we're taught never to make. The truth is no one knows if things really do get better. Personally, I haven't been feeling better at all. For most of my life, people have been telling me it gets better and to just be patient, but every year it actually gets worse and worse. And just when you think things are starting to look up, it instead gets even more worse.

It's tiresome waiting years for things to get better when it seems it's nowhere in sight.

But I'm trying my best to take it day by day. I do my best to get out of bed, go to work, take a proper shower, feed myself. I do my best to love myself - mostly out of fear that what little family I have will one day disappear and I will have no one left to love me. No one but myself.

But sometimes my best does not feel enough. Sometimes I hate myself more days than others.

That's okay, I tell myself. I hate myself today, but I will love myself tomorrow. I will forgive myself eventually. I can be happy eventually. One day at a time.

Because on my better days, I realize that not every person can afford to wait for things to get better. You have to be the one to take the initiative - get off your ass and take that step forward and make things better yourself. All the people around you can offer you all the help that you need, but the most important thing is that YOU have to want to help yourself.

So that's all I am able to say for now. I do apologize if my thoughts are a bit discombobulated. I am still struggling to find my feet when it feels like I'm still drowning under pounding waves of darkness. If you've read this far, I appreciate you taking the time to read this.

Meanwhile, I hope you guys can continue to enjoy reading The Anatomy of Love. The chapter is not entirely to my satisfaction due to the last minute revisions I made, but I wanted a sprinkle of happiness in the moment. I think that's something we all need.

Also, thank you for the messages you have sent me and the comments you left. I'm truly sorry I do not have the courage or strength to respond, but please know I am forever grateful and touched that people would reach out to a stranger like me.

Hope to see you soon,

TCOOKIES

[littleredstory]

Beta Read my Story???

Little Red is red-y to be consumed as a draft, and I would appreciate it SOOO much if anybody out there would give it a read and tell me their thoughts! I know a couple people have already expressed interest, so please send me a message or email me @ spectascopes@gmail.com if you're willing to do it!!

*EDIT: SHORT SUMMARY: Russel and his older brother Stan are living on their own and working through a lot of issues from their shared past, but things are good. What isn't good is the stray, injured fairy that finds its way to their porch- fairies are a species of intelligent feline evolved to walk upright. They're a designer pet for rich people, and not a lot is known about them because of their small numbers. What's worse is that this one seems capable of understanding and speaking English just fine, so now the two brothers have to figure out what the hell is going on.

The story is 225 pages and 106,000 words long. It's a hefty beast! Because of that and the commitment it takes to beta read something so lengthy, anybody that does it and gives me their thoughts gets 1) a million of my homegrown organic kisses if they so choose and 2, more importantly) a drawing! A single character lined/shaded drawing, which you can see examples of here. One of the few ways I have to thank people for doing this for me!

I'd ideally like for 5 to 10 people to read and give me thoughts, but the more the merrier!

If you message/email to get in on this mundane once-in-a-lifetime opportunity (who else wrote a story called Little Red that they're asking to get beta-read in 2024?) I'll send you the story in whatever format works best, a downloadable file or link to a google doc, and when you're all done just tell me what you think! There's no "time limit" but within a couple of months would be great :]

I would like some detail in the thoughts, and please- be critical! Not mean, but critical! You could read it all and then do a little summary or do small thoughts chapter by chapter, whatever works. I'd say I would like at least hmmm 500 words of thought? More is better, but reading the story just to say "it was good" is not the most helpful feedback.

I'm looking for things like: did you like the characters? Which character was your favorite, and were any significantly weaker than the others? How was the pacing, did it feel too fast or too slow at any point? Did anything stand out to you as really well done or really NOT well done? These are just suggestions and not an exhaustive list of things I'd like to know, and if you have different things to comment on, chat away! It's just an example of some.

Once you do that, I'll reply with a handful of questions about potential changes to the story and if you, the reader, think they'd be positive or negative, and also ask what you'd like drawn.

Does this sound fair? Does this sound okay? I've never written a novel before! I'm going to ask people completely removed from the sphere to read it, too, because I want lots of diverse insight so I can make the story as good as it can be :]

(PS- if you beta read and are qualified to comment on things like how I, whitemen, have written the two black main characters, PLEASE share thoughts and feedback!! I want to write diverse characters, obviously, but I am fallible and human and research can only get me so far. Critique and thoughts on stuff like that, or handling mental illness, or a character with a lot of scars, or a mute character, don't hesitate to share!!)

[collapsedglasshouses]

An Angel for Noah || Noah Sebastian x OC [Part 4]

DIVIDER ART WORK BY @cafekitsune

MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Noah Sebastian x Jules [she/her]

SUMMARY: When Noah started to notice how things changed around him, he thought he might turn insane.

WARNINGS: angst, psychological tension, paranoia, mentions of mental health problems and mysterious occurrences, ...

A/N: Hi! So, here is the next chapter... I feel like this story is becoming really dear to me and I am so excited how you all will react to my ideas for this. If you enjoyed this chapter, please don't hesitate to reblog or comment! I love seeing your reactions!

TAGLIST: @trvshdxddy @blackveilomens @crimson-calligraphyx @measuredingold @cncohshit @signs-of-ill-portent

If you wanna be added to the taglist of this story, please DM me or let me know in the comments!

Keep in mind, this takes place in an alternative universe. Even though I write about real people, the way I write them has nothing to do with how they are in real life.

When Noah woke up the next morning, he felt strange. Everything felt unreal to him. He couldn't stop thinking about how everything had changed over the last four weeks. But something had changed, and he couldn't quite wrap his head around what it was.

He realized there were too many coincidences for him to ignore, and it was driving him insane.

It all started when he would randomly catch the scent of a perfume he didn't recognize. It wasn't the usual cologne his bandmates used. Instead, it carried a flowery fragrance that was both unfamiliar and oddly comforting. At first, he dismissed it as a strange quirk of his senses, chalking it up to fatigue from their hectic schedule on the road.

He even mustered the courage to ask the other band members if they had changed their perfumes or scents, but they all looked at him like he was crazy. They had no idea what he was talking about, and his concerns were met with bewildered shrugs.

After a while, he convinced himself that something was wrong with his nose, and he tried to ignore the mysterious scent. But then, the next strange occurrence began to unfold.

As their tour approached and they began working on their new album, Noah would lock himself in the small recording studio for hours, attempting to channel his creative energies into lyrics and melodies. It was during these solitary sessions that he began to experience something truly bizarre.

Random, brilliant ideas would come to him, seemingly out of nowhere. They were not like anything he had ever composed before, and they felt as if they were whispered directly into his ear. Noah couldn't explain it, but it felt as if someone or something was guiding his creative process.

At first, he dismissed it as a surge of inspiration, but it happened too frequently and felt too surreal to be a mere coincidence. It was as though he had tapped into a wellspring of creativity beyond his own understanding.

One day, he confided in Jolly, one of his closest friends, about these peculiar occurrences. Jolly, with a furrowed brow, listened to the new songs Noah had composed and admitted that they sounded markedly different from Noah's usual style. It was as if Noah's music had been influenced by an external force.

But that wasn't the end of it.

Noah's paranoia about the strange smells and inexplicable creativity began to seep into his daily life. He started to see things—shadows moving out of the corner of his eye, fleeting glimpses of figures that vanished as soon as he turned to look at them.

There were just so many things that were slowly driving him insane. He became increasingly jumpy, always feeling like someone was watching over him. It wasn't unpleasant; in fact, it brought an odd sense of calmness he couldn't describe. But it was still nerve-wracking, a constant reminder that something was amiss.

Slowly but surely, Noah was convinced he was losing his mind. The tipping point that solidified this belief occurred during the car ride. Noah had dozed off in the driver’s seat when he was abruptly awakened by a sharp pain on his cheek. Nick, who he had apologized to last night after a stupid argument, suggested it might have been a surge of adrenaline, but Noah knew the sensation was more than that. It felt like a physical slap, even though there was no one else in the car.

Terrified, he had turned and drove home, unable to shake the feeling that something unseen was with him in that vehicle. And as if to confirm his growing unease, he later felt a soft touch on his cheek just as he was about to drift off to sleep—a gentle, reassuring stroke that sent shivers down his spine.

Noah couldn't blame all of these unsettling experiences on a lack of sleep or stress anymore. There was something inexplicable happening, and it was consuming his thoughts and sanity.

He let out a frustrated sigh, rolling over in bed, and reached for his phone. The display illuminated with the time: 3:46 PM. He had almost slept the entire day away, but the exhaustion that plagued him was far from gone.

Yawning, he dragged himself out of bed and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. There, he found Nick sitting at the counter, engrossed in his phone.

"Do you feel better?" Nick asked, concern etched across his face.

Noah opened the fridge, hunting for something edible, and replied nonchalantly, "Why shouldn’t I feel good?"

Nick persisted, his concern growing, "You weren’t feeling so well yesterday, after the sleeping-in thing…"

Noah grabbed a small yogurt, closed the fridge, and turned to face his friend. "Talk to me, Davis," Nick said, his voice taking on a warning tone.

"I'm fine," Noah replied, a sense of frustration welling up within him. He quickly retreated, making his way back upstairs to his room, sighing in relief when he closed the door behind him.

The exhaustion that gripped him was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It wasn't just physical; it was as if his mind was weighed down by the inexplicable events that had taken over his life.

Noah lay back down on his bed, absentmindedly eating his yogurt before starting to game a bit, and contemplated the strange turn his life had taken. He had planned to work on editing a song that day, but all he wanted now was to silence the chaotic thoughts racing through his mind. The world around him felt surreal, like a waking dream he couldn't escape.

As he stared at the ceiling, he whispered to himself, "This can't be real." In a final act of surrender, he turned off his game console and closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would wash over him, even though he knew it would provide no escape from the enigma that had consumed him.

When Noah opened his eyes again, he jumped at his surroundings. He found himself standing in a small suburban garden, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight. About four meters in front of him, there was an old wooden bench, its weathered appearance suggesting it had seen countless moments of contemplation.

As he surveyed the garden, a sense of peace washed over him. There was a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees, and the distant hum of crickets provided a soothing backdrop. But what truly captivated his attention was the figure sitting on the bench.

There, on the bench, was a girl, her silhouette illuminated by the faint starlight. She seemed lost in her own world, gazing up at the stars with a serene expression. Her presence felt like a dream, yet it was all too real to Noah.

His curiosity piqued, Noah decided to approach quietly, his footsteps muffled by the soft grass beneath his feet. However, as he drew closer, a feeling of confusion began to creep over him. He couldn't explain it, but there was something incredibly familiar about this girl.

The mom of the girl suddenly emerged from the nearby house, her footsteps barely audible as she gracefully made her way to the bench. She carried an aura of maternal warmth that was noticeable even from a distance.

"What are you thinking about, Julie?" the mother asked, her voice filled with affection and concern.

Noah's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the girl's name. Julie.

Noah, hidden behind a tree, couldn't tear his gaze away. He strangely wanted to know more about Julie, as if he had known her for a lifetime.

"Nothing," Julie replied, her voice soft and contemplative.

"Jules," the mom said with a gentle smile.

"Mom, it’s okay. I’m just a bit anxious," Jules admitted, her eyes still fixed on the stars above.

"Why?" her mom inquired, her voice laced with maternal concern.

"My life is going to change so drastically from now on," Jules explained, a hint of vulnerability in her words.

"That’s okay, that happens," her mom reassured her, placing a comforting hand on Jules' shoulder.

"I'm scared I’m not good enough," Jules confessed, her voice quivering with doubt.

"Jules… my love… you will be great. It’s always been your dream to go to Juilliard," her mom said, her words filled with unwavering support and love.

Noah's heart ached when he witnessed the tender exchange between mother and daughter. It was a moment that brought back vivid memories of his own family—his parents who had passed away when he was younger.

As he stood there, hidden from view, Noah felt an inexplicable connection to Jules. He wanted to get to know her better, to understand the significance of this dream-like encounter. It was as though fate had brought him to this moment for a reason.

Unable to resist his curiosity any longer, Noah took a tentative step forward. But as he did, leaves crunched under his feet, producing a sound that pierced the quiet night.

Suddenly, the scene around him seemed to blur and waver, like a mirage dissipating in the desert. Within the blink of an eye, the garden, the bench, and the two figures vanished.

He was awake again, back in his own reality, but the memory of the girl named Jules and the emotions that had welled up inside him remained vivid.

"Jules," he whispered to the empty room, his mind filled with questions, a longing to understand the connection he felt, and a burning desire to unravel the mystery of the girl from his dreams.

PART FIVE

[damnfandomproblems]

Fandom Problem #4157:

Update beggars are the worst. I understand being curious about new updates, or curious if something is being continued, but I can't publish fanfics anymore because of how bad it was for my mental health.

It's a nag, it's entitled, it's selfish. I would always feel so guilty for not writing faster or not having the time to the point were I'd just cry and keep updating the author notes with apologies for being so lazy and for having writer's block/burn out.

I literally have two accounts in which I just orphaned because I couldn't take being pester over my fics anymore and being made to feel like I was disappointing people because I have a life outside of fandom and entertaining strangers for free wasn't my priority.

I even finished some of my abandoned fics but I don't even want to share them anyone because I know I'll just have people telling me I should add just one more chapter, that I need to write more fics.

I know it should be flattering that people like my works enough to want more, but it feels so dehumanizing when they don't even treat you like person because goddess forbid you have work, school, family and friends to prioritize.

And I'm not just talking about the "pls update!! :(" type of beggars. I'm talking about the:

"You're story literally is the only thing keeping me alive I seriously might kill myself if you don't update. it's the only happy thing I have"

and the:

"why are you even posting if you aren't going to update? You're a piece of shit to just leave people hanging and hoping for more finish your damn story lazy fuck"

And I'm so sad over this still because I still write, and still really want to share my stories with the people who'd appreciate it, but eveytime I look at the publish button I feel painfully ill with dread just remembering how I treated like nothing more the machine made to cater to my readers every desire.

Turning off the comments doesn't help because people will happily leave the rudest bookmarks, and I don't see the point in sharing a work if the readers who'll like it and be kind can't express their thoughts about it.

It's made it hard to even share my writing with my friends and family because it's so ingrained in me that people are just going to start nagging about it.

I know this submission has been really whiney, I'm blaming the mostly on the wine and the fact that it's like 4 am. Dunk on me all you want I guess for this stupid rant/vent/idk, I can't stop you, just know that will never be looking at the comments/reblogs any of y'all leave for my own sake because I'm a stupid wimp

[the-letterbox-archives]

response times in the archives - quick psa

hello, all! this is letters again, and i'd like to make a quick statement about response times around here. going forward, when i say 'response times,' i mean mostly tag games, but also chapter updates and interaction with posts i'm tagged in.

my response times are becoming slower recently due to mental ill-health and commitments outside the archives. make no mistake, i'm not going in hiatus (again) or quitting, i would just like to explain my situation.

i am beyond grateful for the support the archives has gotten, and the circles i find myself in are immensely gratifying, and i've made many great friends, who love my work and whose work i love.

when the archives began, i spent all of my time answering every tag game, responding to everything my friends tagged me in of their own work (because it's all amazing seriously you guys are so cool and talented <3) because it was easier for me then!

but in the time since the archives began, my mental health has been on the decline, through no fault of tumblr, the archives, or anything online. this is especially true as of recent; coming out of my hiatus i was overwhelmed by notifications and that feeling hasn't gone away. i won't go into the details because they're incredibly vague in my mind, i just know i was unmotivated to engage in anything socially and i was feeling pretty depressed.

this does not mean i am leaving again, that i don't want to be tagged in all the writing i'm tagged in, or that i don't want to play tag games, i love all of that and don't want it to stop. what i am saying is that i may be slower to respond than before and may miss or skip certain things due to low motivation/depression, or being flooded with notifications due to buildup. nothing will change exactly, i'll just be a little less engaged in everything all the time.

i'm working on volume 2's next chapters (leaving volume 1 for a tiny bit, but it is still in production), and organising more releases for the archives (the end of my next hiatus - date tbd, but not right now because i just came back - will see a lot of new content, that's my mission for non-crisis-related hiatuses), i'm quite busy. i don't mean to 'big-time' anyone, but i am tired and busy, that much is true.

i'm not going to alert any tag lists in an attempt to prevent clutter, and this isn't exactly what people signed up for when they agreed to being on my tag lists haha, but if this message has reached you, it was probably meant to! hope you all understand, and thank you for listening!

[system-of-a-feather]

hi, we're scared to tell our therapist we're a system, do you know how to heal at home? half our headmates think we're faking it and most of us don't have a lot of faith in authorities of any kind, but the symptoms are so annoying :(

Three chapters to this response (not sure if its actually three or if Ill remember all three main points, I'm just being flamboyant)

Chapter One - Communicating with a Professional

Honestly? While it is totally valid and it's not something you should rush into if you don't feel safe, my best advice would be to try to work up to telling your therapist in some way or form the reality of your symptoms as they are - even if not "I am a system" but just slowly drop the mask. If you don't relate to something you said before - whether its an alter or not - its fine to say so, same with memory gaps or anything.

You don't have to state you are a system or think you have DID to explain your issues to a therapist and have the real situation handled and discussed. I understand the fakies and I also understand distrusting authorities, but they are a professional and either they should be able to appropriately handle it, or there should be someone else in their place because you deserve care that you are capable of genuinely expressing your issues in so that you can address those issues.

DID recovery and treatment can be really difficult and sometimes dangerous without guidance so before anything else, I really would recommend trying to figure out a way you can at least communicate some of the aspects of the symptoms that are bothering you to your therapist and giving them a chance (unless there is a reason other than general distrust, to which if there is, then thats another story)

Chapter Two - The Fakies

TOTALLY understandable, been there done that (not meant to be disregarding) and honestly getting through the fakies is a journey in its own - but in regards to that specific topic, I did want to say some food for thought that might be unpopular, but honestly?

Who cares if you are faking.

Genuinely. I don't even mean "are confused" but like, actually genuinely trying to force yourself to present as separate people to cope with whatever you've been through. What are you doing that's so horrible? As long as you aren't spewing dangerous miss information, if it helps you, I really honestly don't care nor do I think its my business to tell you to stop (within the realm of dangerous topics and safety).

And to be honest? Any good therapist shouldn't care either.

If you are faking, you have something you are trying to cope with and are not doing well - you still have an issue to address and you are allowed to go through the phases of healing. If you aren't faking but feel like you are faking, you still have something to work through. Discussing your symptoms as they are will eventually get you down to the root of whatever is going on and you'll either outgrow it and find better coping mechanisms, or you won't and you'll get your real issue handled.

Personally, realizing that even if I was 'faking' - as long as I wasn't spreading harmful information - there was literally no real genuine moral consequence or whatever to expressing my mental illness in a form like DID really let me stop worrying about it.

If you are faking, what does that REALLY change? If you are confused, what does that REALLY change? If you are a system, what does that REALLY change? In the end you still have an issue that needs to be talked about and worked through and healing and recovery is a process that is going to be worth it albeit ugly in the process cause healing is Just Like That.

I really hate the notion "You would know it if you are faking" and "If you question if you are faking, you aren't" cause that shit just doesn't help cause as someone who was there, you just go "yeah deep down I do know" and it just makes shit worse. I prefer "if you are faking its whatever, what harm are you doing to any one in the NOT ONLINE world"

If your symptoms are distressing you as they are, they are distressing you and you have a right to mention it. The only difference is where the root stands when you investigate it professionally.

Chapter Three - Answering the Damn Question

Anyways, to answer the main question asked, assuming we take this ask and question's preface as unchanging unfixable situations and you want to completely ignore everything above (fair and valid) - most of what OP and I said here would apply as it is the general theme of recovery with DID imo

Past that, I would recommend steering clear from addressing and trying to process trauma unless it come to you. I am personally of the opinion that intentionally seeking out trauma processing without a professional to help you when you have DID can be a risky game to play and as someone that's done a lot of healing, it is UBER important to "clear" what is known as the Stabilization Phase before getting deep into the trauma.

The Stabilization Phase is essentially focusing on a few things:

Establishing basic self care and coping skills

Establishing something of an external support system around you

Establishing something of a stable enough living situation (or as much as you can at the moment)

Lessening stressors that you can lessen at the moment

Reviewing your current friendships, coping mechanisms, and behaviors to see what is helping you and what it hurting you

Getting to understand yourself and selves - ie knowing who you are and your skills, drives and dynamics, then having that done for a handful of regular fronters

Getting to know and building communication with parts of your system

Building trust and synergies with those parts to be able operate with them

Generally building a sense of safety within the parts internally and externally as a way to build up resilience and prepare yourself (as a whole) for stress, trials, and trauma

Typically, you would want to have a decent progress on all of those before intentionally diving into hard trauma processing and building all of that can take a while to do.

Of course this isn't to say repress trauma and trauma holding parts - if trauma comes to you, its a good opportunity to work on building that list of things as the actively surfacing trauma tends to be relevant to parts or your current living situation that could use improvement or deeper understanding of.

This is more to say to let sleeping dragons lie - ie, if the trauma doesn't come to you and isn't howling, don't wake it up. If there is no trauma, if you can't remember the trauma, cool - take it as a blessing for now and focus on understanding the big picture and helping improve your life better.

As for some ways and things to do to help build some of those?

Figure out what kinds of things you would like to do in your life or just things you would like to do in general

Figure out what matters to you, what do you value above other things

Interact with your social webs and people around you and see what works and what doesn't, what makes you feel good, what makes you feel bad, what is triggering and what isn't and work to fine tune who you spend your time around

Work on any self sufficiency stuff you are able to work on (physically, time, emotionally, etc there are limits and work with where you are)

Try to communicate with your parts and the IMPORTANT part of this is to just have fun with it. Trauma and DID is enough pain as it is, be silly, have fun, play games and try to go on dates (platonic or not) with yourself. Poke fun with yourself / among yourselves. Tease one another. Make inside jokes. BE CRINGE ITS FINE. ITS FREEING

Try to make friends with at least one part and build that relationship well and then try to branch out and keep doing this

Keep an open mind and a large amount of patience when dealing with any part - especially if they are causing problems or being Mentally Ill TM. Unforuntately most parts are going to be "stupid" in their own way and its important to accept each parts faults while focusing on their strengths

Once you know those part's strengths and weaknesses, try to lean on the unique strengths each have to cover eachother's weak points and - if possible - take a weakness and try to convert it to a strength. This varies from part to part so I can't get much more specific than that plus, honestly, Team Curation as Ray calls it is Coach Ray's job as he does most of that stuff in our brain so me talking about it is a bit abvove my pay grade

Just really

Have. Fun.

Shits bad enough and hard enough with healing and recovery. At home? Just try to enjoy the moments of peace when they come and have fun with your parts and just try to live your life when you are given breaks from the waves of symptoms.

Anyways. That's a bit of my take on the thing and some tips.

TLDR though?

Try to find a way to talk to your therapist honestly if you can, whether you are faking or not really doesn't matter in my opinion, and just have fun and live your life to the best of your ability.

[victoriadallonfan]

curious to see your thoughts on sidepiece

I hate Sidepiece so much.

I HATE HER.

I've mentioned it before on other servers and on the subreddit, but she is the one character that I hate the most in all of Parahumans.

For context of those who may have forgotten: Mockument creates a clone of Victoria that represents all the worst parts of herself and her fears, so it's highly sexualized, naked, and depressed, and constantly gushing about how much it wants to be mind-raped by Amy again.

Sidepiece, upon learning that Victoria was raped, then proceeds to mock her for being raped.

I. Flipped. My. Shit.

When I worked with EMS, I met awful, awful people in the field and outside of it who made rape jokes about victims/survivors we treated.

As I am studying in Psych, I've met fellow students who don't understand why it's traumatizing and didn't bother to hide joking about it, even when some students implied they suffered from it.

I have seen politicians on air talk about how rape is partially the victims fault and mock them in every way under the sun.

Fuck that.

Fuck Sidepiece.

Amy does evil things, but she is also genuinely mentally ill and easily manipulated. She's still a piece of shit person, but you expect that from a rapist.

Marquis makes incest jokes at Victoria, but he's also Amy's number 1 fan and enabler of her worst tendencies. You expect him to do that.

Sidepiece was a villain and potential murderer, and she definitely set the heartbroken on fire (for daring to defend themselves from being chopped up), but it wasn't until this point that I internalize, "Wow, you are absolute garbage of a human being."

Wildbow did an amazing job writing someone I want to punch through the monitor, but even now, I can't read most of that chapter. I have to take a walk and calm down or just skip it entirely.

[mishapocalyse]

Chapter Two: One on One Within The Great Hall// A Place To Call Home For Now

Description: Not many travel up the walls of Asgard, and you are one of the few. When searching for Atreus, you encounter much on your way as a long journey lies ahead of you.

Description for this chapter: You follow Heimdall to the Great Lodge, along the walk, you find Atreus. As it is a happy reunion there is much to unravel.

Pairings: Heimdall GOW! x Reader// Thor GOW! x Reader

Warnings: Language, Violence, Gore, Mentions of alcohol, Abuse, Sexual content, sexual assault, mentions of suicide, mental illness may be within this fan fiction. Reader discretion is advised.

You have been warned.

There could be other horrible more death craving things that you would have wanted. Instead, you were trailing behind a man, who had first insulted your presence but also had almost killed you on sight.

Either of those were not the most welcoming, as you glared daggers into the back of his head. Grötti chattered, slung against your shoulder, while you waved him off. You had done your best to silence him, gaining the glare in return from the god in front of you.

In silence, Heimdall held much hatred for your presence as you followed him through Gladsheim, towards what you were hoping was Odin's Great Lodge.

Had it not been for the sudden stop, face planting into the man in front of you, falling backwards onto your rear--you would have been less surprised.

"Watch where you're going...mortal filth." sneered the god of foresight.

You held your tongue, getting back onto your feet. In front of him was none other than Odin himself, who had Atreus by his side, deep in conversation with the boy about something secretive. When Heimdall had cleared his throat, you could tell that the All Father himself grew increasingly annoyed with him.

"What is it...Heimdall?" Odin had asked, while you caught eyes with Atreus, who practically beamed at your presence.

He had ran to you, arms outstretched as you drew him into a tight hug.

"My boy!" You cried, earning looks from both Heimdall, Odin, and the other bystanders nearby.

Atreus could not help but to shed a few tears, while they stained the cloth of your tunic, you couldn't help but to raise his face to look at him.

"My dear boy, Atreus...oh how I have missed you. You were missing for weeks. We have been worried sick at home." You cried.

Atreus buried his face back into the leather padding on your stomach. You wrapped him into a tighter hug.

"I am so so sorry, Y/N, I didn't mean to worry you." the boy cries into you.

You lightly rubbed his head, and hold him, just as a mother should when their child was upset. As for Atreus, since his mother had past years ago, you had stepped up into the role when you met the boy awhile after. So much had happened, and earning a son on your journey was one of the best things that could have happened to you.

So you basked in the moment as you always would, not caring about the eyes all around.

"Do not fret, Atreus. I am here, everything will be okay." You say, Atreus wipes away the few remaining tears that stained his cheeks.

Your attention turns back to the All Father and Heimdall before you.

"What are your intentions with my boy?" you ask. Odin raises his hands as if to calm your nerves.

"It is quite all right. Your boy is safe, and treated quite well amongst the other Aesir. There is nothing to worry about. But I understand a mother's right to know that her son is safe." He speaks softly to you.

Heimdall scoffs, crossing his arms. You had a hand placed on Atreus's shoulder firmly.

"I wish to take him home. He is but a boy."

"A boy who is old enough to make his own decisions, don't you think?" Odin retorts.

You look down at Atreus for a mere second before the All Father continues.

"Being as you are not his actual mother, yes?" You nod, yet Atreus leans into you as what a child would have.

"That may be so, but I take full responsibility for him. And I have worried enough don't you think?" you hummed.

This earned a laugh from the All Father, the way he chuckled wholeheartedly gave you some closure.

"Atreus is not a prisoner here. He is free to come and go as he pleases. The only reason I wish not for him to go is that we were in the middle of a session." Atreus raised, remembering that and looked to you.

"It's okay...I'll be okay, Y/N." He then looked to Odin with that same childish look in his eyes.

"Can she...stay?" Atreus says.

For a moment all there was, was silence, which drained all the hope from your eyes, and before Odin slapped the his sides, and gave another bellowing laugh.

"Why the hell not? We don't get much company anyways." Heimdall was quick to try and reason with Odin but had been turned away.

The All Father had motioned for you to follow him and Atreus, and now with Heimdall thick on your heels, this was turning out to be worse than what you had thought originally.

Now, you were making more enemies.

*********

When given your own room, you had been made aware that this had once been Thor's sons room. And you had tried to reason for another room, except the other rooms were small, unlike them to give a guest a small room. Since they were gone, there was no sense of leaving the rooms vacant. You took to respecting the wishes of your gracious host.

Night came too quick for you to grasp a hold of, as you were staring up at the ceiling above you, the way the candle flickered shadows, made you think of the flames back home at Sindri's. You wondered what the other's were up to. Hoping they were alright, and not worrying too much of your whereabouts as you were with the one you were searching for.

The sigh that escaped your lips pulled you out of bed, and out into the hall. A quick trip to the Great Hall for a drink of water would help you, at least you thought.

Your nightwear hung below your knees, hair tied into a loose braid, as it swung side to side while you walked down the hallways nd made it into the food hall.

Grasping hold of an empty cup you sloshed the cup into the water barrel and took a heavy drink, before the sound of a throat clearing had almost caused you to drop the cup in your hand.

Turning you found yourself not as alone as you thought you were. There with you was the large, burly god of thunder, himself.

Thor.

"Didn't think I would be sharing the evening with a new face." he says, taking a long drink of his mead.

You refill you water cup and walk over to sit with the god of thunder. From where you sat, adjacent from him, you were quick to notice he had been almost four times your size, but his inviting demeanor had intrigued you the most.

From others around here, they were quick to push you aside, yet with him, it was much more friendly. Unless that was the mead that was talking.

You laughed to yourself.

"What're you drinking tonight, little miss?" he asks.

"Just water."

"Ah, no fun."

"It is much into the night to be drinking as such, dear god." you stated, earning maybe your fiftieth chuckle from someone this day.

"No need for the formal shit. Thor is just fine. " And you did as such.

You stared into your cup as if it had said something to sour your mood.

"The boy...he your kid?" Thor asks, which made you look up.

"In a way, yes. I look after him, I've looked after him for quite sometime." You said, sloshing your cup once more.

"I can tell you care for him. He needs someone like you. He needs a mother. " Thor gave a small smile, which you gave in return.

"Do you..do you have children?" You asked.

"That I do. Or did." He looked away, down at the ground as if you had pulled a nerve. You reached over to place a hand on top of his. He turned back to look down at you. Whether it was rude of you to do such a thing, it seemed to ease the god, as he relaxed.

"I have one daughter." You smiled up at him. "She must be proud to have you as a father." You state.

Thor then proceeded to ask you about your children, in which your smile slowly faded away.

"I-"

"If it isn't the drunk and the mortal filth. Isn't it past your bedtime?" Oh no, you thought.

Heimdall.

Thor kept his back turned, keeping quiet. You did the same, hoping he would get the message and leave.

"Are you also deaf? My, my what are they teaching you mortals these days?" He snorts, grabbing ahold of a bit of bread and cheese from the shelf.

You bit your lip in frustration, looking down into your cup of water. You could handle the insults, but what you couldn't handle was him three times now,, was him breathing down your neck. Why would he not leave you alone?

"Have fun with drunk Aesir trash there. Father's unlucky son. Bid you the worst of nights, stupid mortal." With that he left. Which also meant you could have more peace and quiet.

Looking up at Thor you could see that same, sullen expression wafting over his face. His shoulders slumped forward. His cup empty. Reaching across you slowly unhooked the god's fingers from it, he gave you a look.

"Let me refill it for you." You said softly.

And he let you.

Returning from refilling his cup to the brim with mead, he had also returned to being silent with you beside him.

"I find this place...a little suffocating." You say, Thor jerking his head to you. It was such an out of place thought.

"How? Many find this realm, beautiful, astonishing--" You place a hand onto his wrist.

"Well I find it, suffocating, overwhelming and a bit stuck up." When you heard Thor laugh, it echoed through the entire Great Hall.

"You are something else," He paused.

"Y/N."

"That is a name, for sure." Thor compliments.

Soon after, you yawn, stretching. Time lead on well into the night, as you stood, excusing yourself. Thor had turned to you, getting up at well.

"I'd like to walk you back to your quarters, Lady Y/N." He quips.

You accept his offer, walking beside the large, burly god, out of the Great Hall. The walk had been calm, silent as you shared a few key conversations, as well as a couple of laughs. Nearing your door, Thor's composure changes immediately.

You smile up at him.

"I bid you goodnight, dear god." You give a slight bow to him, and when you raise he gives you the same small smile as before.

"Again, no need for formalities. Yet I do require more about yourself soon. " He says.

You nod, slowly closing the door.

"Goodnight, Thor, thank you." You say.

"G'night, Lady Y/N."

--------------------------------------

Those that want to be tagged:

@lunaryasha

[pianostarinwonderland]

Hi there! I really liked your post on Chapter 7 and Malleus's actions!

Gotta admit I was one of those people whose initial reaction to Chapter 7 part 2 & 3 was "Malleus divorce era", mostly because of the copious amounts of "Malleus is the physical manifestation of every abusive and obsessive boyfriend they talk about in trauma group therapy" takes I've seen over the past 3 years in the tags messing with my perception of how bad the canon situation actually is but I came around eventually.

One thing that really stands out to me is how, in the first part of Chapter 7, Malleus made the active choice to be a good person and do the right thing. He shut down Silver and Sebek and said "If that's what Lilia decided, then we have no right to stop him" and when he reflects on that time he froze the castle over it's clearly visible he, at that point, has no intention to do something like this again. He has learnt 0 coping strategies for these kinds of situations and he has a week (which is like, a blink of an eye for fae especially) to adjust to the loss of one of his closest loved ones. Most of us find a way to deal with grief in some way because we're powerless in the face of it and the only way is through it but I've seen my fair share of very mentally ill people and grieving loved ones and I can name a handful of people I could see pull this off if they had god-like magical powers. Right now, Malleus's idea of what the immediate future was going to be like is radically clashing with a (to him) infinitely worse outcome that his brain has a week to adjust to, so he snaps.

He's basically the "insanely op magic" equivalent of someone with a loved one suddenly ending up on their death bed and they're told "you have about 5 days to say goodbye to them" so they start suggesting all kinds of insane surgeries and hire a mystic healer who advertises they can cure cancer with crystals and call all kinds of specialized hospitals around the world because they can't process the fact that that person is gonna go no matter what. That's the mental state Malleus is in right now even if Lilia probably isn't gonna immediately die in a couple weeks, but there's still a very real possibility Malleus is never going to see him again.

[Reply to this post!]

i am so sorry that i'm only getting to this now :,3 woohoo end of year spring cleaning

also when i finally found the post that was being responded to, i was reading it and i wanted to cringe so bad. it could have been written better :,3 i'm glad you guys liked it though!

on the first long ask, honestly anon, you nailed it really well. i don't really have much to say because yeah... yeah malleus has never learned to properly cope with grief and loneliness. much of it is due to the way he was raised and the lack of social interaction especially prevents him from getting to experience enough and thus hindering his learnings. and you're right. a week is too much to really process for someone like him. it's hard.

and i'm pretty sure lilia is very well aware of this, so it brings to question why he's in a hurry to leave. which in itself supports the current theory going around that he's not actually leaving for retirement, he's leaving because the senate demanded him to.

for the second ask, weelllll not everyone got to understand malleus' extremities, either due to not reading properly or not getting to read his stories at all. and that's how things went bam during the second part of book 7.

[heyteenbookshey]

Turtles All The Way Down by John Green

So this came out when I had started grad school and was struggling big time with my undiagnosed OCD. I read one chapter and it freaked me out so much I gave it to my friend to read. Like a year later I decided I wanted to try it again and asked to borrow it, but she had gotten BED BUGS and had to throw it out and THAT freaked me out so bad I waited another five years and one severe OCD diagnosis to try again.

Turtles All The Way Down feels exactly like what it's like to be inside the mind of someone with OCD. John Green discussed* his own experiencing with OCD in a vlogbrothers video a few months prior to release saying, "it seems to me that the stuff happening way down inside of us is difficult to talk about, partly because those experiences aren't really accessible by the senses.  You can't usually see or hear psychic pain and it's difficult to describe without simile or metaphor..."

I can't be anyone but someone with OCD reading this book, already armed with knowledge of the psychic pain, but reading it feels like you are inside Aza's anxiety wracked terrified mind from start to finish.

Oh, here's the Goodreads summary:

Aza Holmes never intended to pursue the disappearance of fugitive billionaire Russell Pickett, but there’s a hundred-thousand-dollar reward at stake and her Best and Most Fearless Friend, Daisy, is eager to investigate. So together, they navigate the short distance and broad divides that separate them from Pickett’s son Davis. Aza is trying. She is trying to be a good daughter, a good friend, a good student, and maybe even a good detective, while also living within the ever-tightening spiral of her own thoughts.

WEIRDLY I am not going to talk about this whole mystery thing more than to acknowledge that it's part of the plot and I don't know why? It's such a strange plot that doesn't feel fully realized. I couldn't help but read it in terms of how it highlighted Aza's OCD (contact with things that scare her like a germy river, struggling to connect to others) more than the plot itself. Which I can excuse, I always feel internal conflicts are more interesting than external ones but in this case internal is SO MUCH bigger and more compelling, having an elaborate and strange mystery surrounding it just felt odd. The campy nature of the mystery in conflict with the gritty realism of mental illness felt unbalanced, like you couldn't process both at the same time.

It is a testament to how compelling Aza's struggle with OCD is that I'm still giving it 4.25 stars. I would recommend this book for anyone with a friend or family member who is struggling with OCD and want to understand more completely what is happening. Green doesn't shy away from the gross and scary and honestly OCD can get really gross and scary. It's awesome to read it done so well.

Possibly the best thing about this book is Aza's relationship with her best friend Daisy. Daisy is a highly successful Star Wars fanfic writer (fanfic portrayed right by the way!) who works so freaking hard--she works at a Chuckie Cheese type restaurant and does all her schoolwork on her phone, working hard to get to college and willing to go to great lengths for her friends and her personal goals. She's awesome, and I would pay any amount of money for to read Daisy Ramirez spin off.

While I could have done without the PLOT of it all, I can always do without the plot of it all. It's possible that having such a sticky strange plot to occasionally cling to balanced things out. Without something happening outside of Aza this book could have been one big long thought spiral.

I do recommend my fellow people with OCD be thoughtful about reading it (I recommend that of anyone reading a book that they will read in some way as being about them). There's a reason I ripcord ejected from it at the height of my illness. But reading it from a balanced (if not cured) place? It's just EXCELLENT

Date Published: October 17, 2017

Date Read: May 17, 2023

Rating: 4.25/5 tuataras

*possibly for the first time publicly, but I no longer have an encyclopedic memory of vlogbrothers videos

[toointojoelmiller]

🦒🦋🦒hello tumblr people 🦋🦒🦋

just dropping a lil personal note which feels weird but

I can't make gifs on my current computer set up which makes me sad lol. it was so fun. I am also missing writing and posting my lil fics sooo much. ur girl is strugglin

and it's extremely hard for me to make progress on writing right now. I'm still swimmin my way through the constant chronic stress fog and PTSD shit and I am doing ~*~Better*~* in that I'm medicated and not actively crying 24/7 and I'm going to work full time again, but the coping is a struggle, the executive dysfunction is a struggle, the getting up to walk around if I'm not at work is a struggle, and work is about as demanding as it has been which uh, not chill. ... lots more I don't even feel like complaining about cause the bottom line is it all sucks ass lmao. you get the jist.

Please understand that my stories aren't abandoned, I pick away at them every night, I literally fantasize about being able to have the time to write enough to be making faster progress. I am so excited for where they are going and I have so much planned, and i just.. my brain noodle got cooked for too long.

my job involves pretty regular exposure to vicarious trauma and straight ass trauma ... so writing traumatic fic is hard sometimes too. (even tho I love it lol and sometimes it feels like therapy)

long story short, I am very good at twisting myself up in knots over what i imagine another person might feel and I know a lot of people have loyally followed please don't go and enjoyed it. I loved getting to interact so much and update so frequently, it was a huge source of fun and happiness for me that i loved for months and months! so I miss it, and it really sucks to feel like I'm leaving people hanging now.

but right now I just really need to focus on making sure i get don't get depressed again (mentally ill ones will know🤘) .

and I'm also very particular and when I rush out a chapter I never like how it turned out so.. I'm not gonna do that anymore. bleh. so... picture my future updates like a very small slug... very far away... crawlin but like give it a while