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bonesandpoemsandflowers · 4 years ago

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So here’s a thing that happened, tumblr.

Many moons ago, I was in the Neuro ICU for a while. I was actually in there twice--for a week at first, then out, then in again for about two weeks. In between: “Nothing’s wrong! It’s resolved!” As you might imagine, given the spoiler there about how I went to the Neuro ICU twice: in fact, Something was wrong, and it was not resolved (then).

(it is resolved now, thank you)

This post is not actually ABOUT that, but we must start there, out of order.

This is a post about art and rivers and boys in cars. But we start in the Neuro ICU.

I don’t like talking about this time in my life. I would have been skittish and mysterious ANYWAY--I was raised like that--but I’m extra skittish and vague about my timeline because I don’t want to talk about it, you know? I survived something I had no business surviving. I had to relearn how to walk. That took months and that was the easy part. Because I am a big tiddy goth girl, and because I was very young then, people love to assume that the problem was drugs, and I did it to myself, as if that somehow makes anything less tragic.

I was 23 years old with a brain bleed due to a congenital defect, and even at the time, I had to defend myself: no, I’m not on drugs, I don’t do drugs, I didn’t do coke, I’ve never done coke.

I am also Colombian, which, I suppose, might play into their calculus about the coke, but WHO KNOWS. I was busy gibbering and almost dying at the time, which left little energy for noticing potential microaggressions.

Is it a microaggression, I guess, when you’re dying? Who knows.

I have never even been drunk, tumblr. I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. I don’t snort. I never have. This is mostly because I’m a paranoid loon with an off again, on again anorexia, ya know, thing, so occasionally I get really hung up on irrational concepts of bodily purity. People think it’s a flex when I try to explain this, that I’m relishing in some kind of moral superiority. I’m not. I admitting to SEVERAL defects (“quirks”) of personality there. The eating disorder. The deep distrust: I will not be vulnerable in the presence of others, I will not dull my senses, I will not allow myself to be weak. A certain perfectionism. A certain tendency towards slow burn self harm. Grand ideas made of nothing that sometimes take hold.

My point is that this big disruptive thing happened.

I survived, which is AWESOME. And yeah, I had to relearn how to walk, and some other things, but you guys know that I do yoga and aerial silks and lyra and ran off to Thailand to train kickboxing for a summer on fighter street and I STILL do not shut the fuck up about it.

So, cool, cool cool cool cool.

And I don’t even want to talk about that part, the medical drama, the body horror, the institutional whatever. My neurosurgeon was fantastic and like a week after my discharge I was high as SHIT on prescribed painkillers my caregivers insisted I take and wrote him a gushing effusive letter about how he was MY HERO because I was ALIVE and anyway that basically makes you BATMAN, DOCTOR LEWIS, I FUCKING LOVE BATMAN.

Again: high as fuck, ok.

My point is: I hate talking about this.

Because once you’re a survivor in people’s minds, that’s all you are. You are reduced to this one event that had very little to do with you. You are defined by this thing that happened to you.

And this isn’t even the weirdest thing that’s happened TO me! But still. Happened TO me. Not something I did. Not my action. Barely even my reaction.

But again, personality flaws. What does it say about me that I look at social norms about comfort and inwardly I snarl that I want no one’s pity?

Except I’m not actually that mean. I don’t snarl.

I just withdraw.

This is a tactic that has served me well in life a BUNCH of times. Is it always the answer? No. Is it often worth a shot? Listen. Yeah. Yeah, it is. Sometimes you flee an abusive home life because that’s the only option, and you don’t want to die. Hypothetically speaking: sometimes all you can do is run.

But sometimes you flee people with mostly good intentions, maybe.

This is all very high minded but what’s prompting me to write this isn’t exactly the upcoming (many year) anniversary of the event. It’s something way more mundane and dumb.

I have not logged into my facebook account since this happened. I never bothered deleting the account(s), either. I presume they still exist. I have no idea HOW to log back onto them, and, more importantly, no desire.

“So what?”

So, okay, back when I had my first stint in the Neuro ICU? Like, totally out of nowhere, I just disappeared from people’s feeds. (you all know I do this) Somehow part of the story got out and SOMEHOW, I have no idea how, a small group of my friends managed to independently track down the hospital I was at. And this is on next to no info, across state lines, like--I have no idea how the fuck they did it.

I also don’t fucking know who they were.

I was told, at the time. I have a vague idea of who two out of (I think) four were, or might have been. I was kind of busy at the time, with the dying.

And when I say I don’t like talking about this time: I don’t like even THINKING about it. I avoid it.

Fleeing. See?

So I don’t have a memory of the names. I don’t have memories of the memory.

“So what?”

So, I know from groups other than this one, groups less dedicated than this one, that people actually get REALLY fucking mad at you for not accepting their get better soon wishes. And like, I get it! You were very worried and I did nothing to reassure you.

I WAS BUSY.

I was busy dying. Almost dying. Not dying. I was busy sleeping 20 hrs a day. I was busy being unable to walk. I was busy re-learning to walk. I was busy relearning how to write with pen and paper and for months I COULD NOT DO IT, do you have any idea how that feels to someone who is and has always been and has always wanted to be a writer? Fuck it. Fuck you.

The initial disappearance. I am not to blame.

But then doing nothing to reach out to anybody for YEARS and YEARS--

Okay, maybe a dick move on my part.

“So what?”

So I think one of the people who managed to track me down in the hospital was my best friend from high school, a terribly sweet Brazilian boy who mostly called me not by my name, but simply: The Devil.

I dig it. Always did.

And it’s high school, right. Everybody is thirsty as fuck for their friends, one way or another. We never dated--we were both always dating or pursuing other people--but we had the typical high school bestie unresolved romantic tension deal going on.

This is important so remember it for later: the problem was not attraction. The problem was not one sided unresolved sexual tension. I had a particular thing for how he looked while driving, shades on, one arm slung over the wheel in that terribly and typically male lounging driving pose that’s probably a safety hazard.

We spent a lot of time in his car.

I didn’t drive, at the time, because my mother didn’t allow me to learn, and I got kicked out of my house and disowned when I was 17. This dude spent a LOT of time driving me places. Boys in cars is practically a genre of erotic poetry, thanks to Richard Siken. This is because boys look Cool driving cars, wearing sunglasses, pretending they’re not paying attention to you while you know they are.

So he was fun.

More importantly, I guess, the fact that he picked my ass up at like 6 AM over and over and over again for a big chunk of my senior year is one of the few reasons I managed to graduate despite being technically homeless.

He was not a morning person. I am not a morning person. He did it anyway.

Why didn’t we date, I wondered, years later, for a fraction of a second, and then I forgot about it.

“SO WHAT?!”

So I’m grown up and happy and fulfilled and in a lovely long term relationship (remember! we’re buying a house!), so it’s not about “what if?” It’s that I’m happy and grown up and I write books sometimes.

But there it is.

I write books sometimes.

Artists are constantly stealing ideas from everywhere and this is good. Artists also steal from themselves, grubby little hands on secret parts of our hearts.

So I’m writing this book, right. My Great Work. My Break Out Novel. My SERIOUS FUCKING BUSINESS book. My “this is the thing I’ve worked the hardest on in my whole entire LIFE” book.

And in this book there is a male love interest. He is a political statement. I’m writing him as sexy and heroic as possible. I want this to be the MOST attractive man I’ve ever written.

Latino. Sexy as fuck. Not a criminal. Overly responsible. Action ready, and terribly nurturing.

Hot Single Dad and Reluctant Necromancer is my masterpiece. A passionate statement and stance against the depiction of Latino men in media. A war cry to examine our own subconscious biases. A weapon raised against an unjust system.

I stole parts of him from Frank Castle. I stole parts of him from Geralt. I stole (MANY) parts of him from this one IRL hot dad former Army Ranger guy, Mexican American with a tattoo on his arm of a jack o lantern one of his kids drew. I stole parts of him from this cute Marine in my DMs who gave me story advice about guns and gear. I stole parts of him from indigenous leaders from centuries ago, from the peoples he is descended from. I stole parts of him from every man I’ve met who worked in dog rescue. I stole parts of him from myself, hiding secret parts of my heart in the male character so that no one will know.

Lovely. All good so far.

I got like two whole drafts in before I was thumbing through some printed out pages, idly thinking: how funny that I don’t have any real life, personal to me models for this guy.

All my prior male love interests, you see, are based on someone. In the werewolf trilogy, they’re BOTH based on someone--different someones. The villain, too, is jokingly referred to as the “evil werewolf ex boyfriend” for a reason.

Everybody is someone.

So how funny, I thought, that necromancer hot dad lacks any references from my own--

OH, wait, fuck--

Overly responsible brown dude with sad dog eyes drives the female lead/occult specialist around while good naturedly complaining that she’s weird as shit.

Oh, damn.

And suddenly a bunch of teensy little backstory details made sense.

Cool.

“So what?”

Bonus round of self realization: my own understanding of this time in my life radically shifted, turning, lurching, sickly rotating on a new axis.

Why didn’t we date?

Somewhere between then and now, post ICU but pre novel writing time--

This one time I overheard somebody talking to somebody else and it had nothing to do with me but sight unseen, on the other side of the stacks in a used bookstore, one dude said to another: “you know that if you were lighter, you’d have a chance with her, right?”

How terrible, I thought, and I forgot about it.

Why didn’t we date?

Because my mother told me, when I was very young, that boys from Brazil were all very wild, and I should avoid them. And she told me this so early and so plainly that I never thought to question it. When I was older she took harder stances that I easily ignored because I knew they were wrong--don’t you dare bring a black boy into this house. You’re dating a Jew? I can’t believe you did this to me. What are you going to do next, kiss a girl?

WELL, Ma, as it turns out, I mean, not til college, but yes.

But the smaller, more mild statement was so much more insidious.

I wonder if he knew. I don’t think he did. I wonder if he figured it out later. I have no idea, because we were friends when we were still essentially children, and now we are grown. Not everybody thinks about this kind of thing, and I don’t blame them.

How much damage did I do?

Does it matter?

Does he know?

I know.

I know, now, that my rallying cry against a system’s unfairness is also a cry wrenched wetly from my own subconscious depths. YOUR biases against? Yes. But more accurately: my biases against.

“So what?”

So this kind of epiphany shit leaves you breathless about it and you wanna scream. You wanna SHARE it. You must infect others with this knowledge.

But you can’t out of nowhere foist this apology on someone. That’s selfish. That’s about redeeming yourself in your own eyes AND asking someone else to confront unpleasant emotions on your behalf, even though they’re the wronged party. Selfish. Tell me I’m not a bad person, baby. Tell me I never hurt you, not even a little. Forgive me if I did. Wade through this pile of astral shit for me just to make me feel better. Reassure me. Hurt yourself for me in the here and now.

So I’m not going to do that, obviously.

“So what?”

But there’s that other part of it, right? Not the apology. The surge of emotion. The realization that all those morning drives back then added up to something deep within me, something so foundational to my concept of care and maybe even the start of something like love--the knowledge that this person gently carved some ideals for you, so long ago, so subtly that you never questioned it, never even realized, because it felt so natural, because something about it is so inherently good and right.

Despite everything--despite society, propaganda, colonialism, the prejudice of my upbringing, my own unexamined complicity, ALL of it--

Despite everything, this person taught me something so deeply about love and the shape of it, something so foundational that I built all my art on it and didn’t even see the beams of it until halfway through my most ambitious and soul bearing undertaking.

This is how you care for another, went the lesson, and I wrote pragmatic actions over words romantic male leads all the way down.

This is what love might look like, and in my own life, ever ambitious, I chose a poet talented with words and actions and good fight choreography, because I think that’s sexy and dichotomies are mostly bullshit, or at least things that happen to other people.

But I didn’t learn what love looked like from my childhood home life, obviously. How could I?

Without you, though, without you and your mirror sunglasses at 6 AM and your exasperated teasing, devil, witch, bruja, without any of those, where would I have learned? How long would it take me, to find someone who would teach me a wholesome lesson?

I’m small and cute and predators love a victim with a lack of context. I give myself and my wit some credit, but what’s pattern recognition worth if you never get any good data points?

Deep lessons.

Again: this kind of epiphany makes you wanna scream. Who to infect, with all this new knowledge?

Maybe no one. Probably no one.

But maybe, just a little, you wonder--

How would that conversation even go?

Hey, so I wrote this book--no, it’s my fifth, not my first, but thanks--so I wrote this book, and there’s this character, right, and he’s--well, hahah, I mean, he’s not exactly--I just--funny story, really--no, god, no, you don’t have to read it--it’s just--he’s just--I mean, no, you, you’re just--forget it, actually, just--

Like, what the fuck is there to say?

“I couldn’t have written this without you.”

And

“Did you check on me? When you thought I was dead?”

and

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice, at the time, that I meant anything to you.”

or is it really

“I’m sorry I didn’t realize until now that you meant something to me.”

What to do with all this emotion? Or more accurately--like rivers carve out gorges, here is the shape of something that once was. This shape will always be here. Even without a single drop of water ever again: we see the river.

What to do with the shape of all this emotion?

I consult the great Richard Siken via a feat of bibliomancy. Advise me, O Oracle. The oracle is War of the Foxes (2015), turned over blindly in my hands, opened randomly to The Worm King’s Lullaby, pg 45, verse 1:

The holes in this story are not lamps, they are not wheels. I walked and walked, grew a beard so I could drag it in the dirt, into a forest that wasn’t there. I want to give you more but not everything. You don’t need everything.

This advice is too good. I close the book.

The advice does not tell me what to do, but it’s too good. The verse reaches into my chest and carves out my heart, slices it open. Inside my heart: pomegranate seeds. Tiny jewels, fit for a dragon, snacking on garnets and rubies, and the apple of Eden wasn’t an apple, because it was the desert, wasn’t it? It was a pomegranate. Something with scales, maybe snakes. The serpent, the devil.

What to do with all this love?

I swallow the pomegranate seeds. I buy myself some time. I want to give you more, but not everything. Do you need everything? I don’t know. I don’t have it to give to you, in any case. Does it matter?

Why are you doing this, me?

Because art is messy. Art is cutting yourself open over and over again. You clean up most of the mess, try to bottle the fluids and label them nicely or deliberately misleadingly, fit for someone else’s consumption, but either way, you’re bleeding.

Maybe this urge is bleed with me or maybe it is oh, you already did.

I swallow the seeds. I buy some time.

I’m not done yet. I’m not.

Maybe all this adds up to nothing.

Maybe if I do this right, it adds up to a lot.

Maybe if I do this right it will feel real, maybe what I want is to gift the shape of these rivers to somebody else, all emotionally intimately with strangers. This is a shape that love can be. This is a silhouette you may recognize.

Maybe that’s a tribute, or a tributary.

But it’s not about you, not really, so don’t get too big headed about it. This is about Art and something like Justice. Big things. This is a book about big things, about history and dogs, history and gods, crimes and lies, slaughter and slander.

Right, yeah.

An act of faith, an act of will.

I swallow the pomegranate seeds. I buy myself some time.

It’s not harvest season yet. Not yet, not now, not yet.

If not now, then when?

When it’s ready.

There is no ready. Perfection is an illusion.

Yeah, sure, but page count is REAL.

You’re evading. That’s another word for fleeing. Do you know that?

Yes. I do.

How long will you run?

Just a little bit more. Just a little. I promise.

#it was boiling / i run to the sea #'i wrote this book because REPRESENTATION also possibly an unresolved crush from high school i am pure LITERATURE'#i have done everything in my power to find you! except get on LinkedIn

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peri-2f5l-5xg · 4 years ago

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What blob thing? Peridot didn’t get the chance to finish that thought.

The little technician’s tablet clattered to the floor, a sharp yelp escaping her lips as something lashed around her middle abruptly, lifting her into the air. “WH-- HEY--” Her struggle didn’t last long; all at once she froze, face-to-face with none other than Lapis Lazuli herself. The gem had come down from the second floor, descending the ladder behind Peridot while she was preoccupied.

Normally, Peridot would’ve laughed this off, maybe called her a clod and demanded to be put down. This was her best friend! A dork who prided herself in ‘whispering to frogs’ and parroting bits of Camp Pining Hearts dialogue and still didn’t quite get the concept of money. Lapis was ridiculous, and silly, and sometimes incredibly sweet... And against all odds, there was no denying that the pair of polar opposites had forged an incredibly strong bond.

But in that moment Lapis was staring at a total stranger, and Peridot felt the disconnect immediately. Her friend had no idea who she was, or what she was doing lurking around the pair’s house. And why should she? Peridot didn’t exactly look like herself right now. The cold judgment in Lapis’s eyes sent chills straight down her spine.

It was just like that first day at the barn, only even worse.

The last time Peridot felt this mortally terrified, she’d been facing down a timeline devouring eldritch nightmare... Not her own roommate.

An unfamiliar pounding beat in her ears; was that her heart? Were hearts supposed to be audible? Stars, she felt like her breath was caught in her throat, but there was nothing actually obstructing the former gem’s airways. Her chest was so tight, as though the visceral sense of fear had clamped around her abdomen like a metal vice.

Every tiny animal instinct in her body was screaming at her to run, hide, escape, but that wasn’t much of an option at the moment.

The gold-streaked gem was glaring at her grimly, expression charged with a vague sense of annoyance and contempt. Three of her wings had curled around from the left, wrapping around Peridot’s middle and holding her aloft; her limbs dangled helplessly, entirely out of reach of the floor. She kicked a few times furiously, but to no avail. Lapis’s expression didn’t change at all.

“Are you done? I could put you in a timeout bubble until you cool off, but I hear humans need air.” Peridot immediately stiffened.

“Yes, I’m ‘done,’” she replied meekly, struggling to find the right words. This definitely had to look pretty bad. As far as Lapis knew, the terrified human was a home invader at best. Gems didn’t just turn into humans, this was entirely unprecedented-- and she didn’t even have an explanation for it! Stars, what was she going to do?! Peridot was pretty sure Lapis wouldn’t actually hurt her on purpose, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t by accident.

Wow, it was weird actually being nervous about those violent jokes that the duo had previously tossed around like they were nothing. They were just jokes, right? Peridot suddenly wasn’t as sure of that as she’d have liked.

“Good.” Lapis scrutinized her a moment, eyes scanning over her as the blue gem picked up on a few details in sequence... Then focused very specifically on the necklace, or rather, on its crystalline adornment. Her gaze darkened, and Peridot felt that fear grip her all the more tightly as she realized this looked even worse than she’d initially thought.

Oh stars. She thinks that’s my gem. It looks just like it.

“What,” demanded the figure coldly, “Is that?” One sharp claw pointed straight to it, and the water tendrils around Peridot’s middle tightened abruptly-- she gasped in alarm, grabbing at them with her hands. It did no good, her fingers sliding through the liquid uselessly. Peridot was yanked closer, one of Lapis’s hands reaching out and grabbing onto the necklace to get a better look.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence; she had just enough space to breathe, but not very deeply. Mostly it just hurt, her ribs tightly compressed under the heavy pressure. Is she actually going to crush me?! I can’t believe I’ve only been a human for 15 minutes and I’m already going to--

“You have a really weird sense of humor.” The necklace slid from Lapis’s grasp, and the tendrils loosened. She immediately took deep gulps of fresh oxygen into her lungs, already feeling a bit better. The air definitely helped clear her head slightly, allowing for a few coherent thoughts to take form.

... Humor? What’s she talking about..?

“Just-- let me down--!” It wasn’t the most eloquent reaction, but at this point Peridot wasn’t sure she could formulate anything better. “This isn’t what it looks like!” Lapis raised one eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

“Then what is it? Because right now, I think I’ve captured a member of Peridot’s weird fanclub that came in here looking for a keepsake. I guess you really do exist.” Peridot stared. That... Was not the conclusion she’d been expecting. Maybe the necklace wasn’t as exact as she’d thought; it wasn’t like Peridot could actually study the shape of her own gem while she was poofed. She might have laughed if this wasn’t such a tense situation.

At the very least, the ridiculousness did manage to calm her nerves a bit.

“Well,” she decided finally with just the smallest hint of smugness, “I guess that’s technically correct, I’m a very big fan of myself.” Lapis stared at her even more intensely; Peridot hadn’t even known that was possible. Maybe that had been a bit too bold. Suddenly she felt like a scared rabbit, wanting to just shrink and disappear down a hole.

“... What.” She could practically see the gears turning in her roommate’s head; this was probably at least the third tensest silence of Peridot’s existence, and she really wasn’t enjoying it.

Then finally it broke with a surprising sound. Snort. Suddenly Lapis was laughing, and although the water holding Peridot aloft didn’t release her, she did notice herself being lowered to the floor. She couldn’t have been more confused, did that actually work? It sort of seemed that way, though the gem-turned-human had a feeling it wasn’t quite that simple.

“Okay,” Lapis stated finally, “Either you’re some sort of weird human alternate, or that was the best Peridot impression I’ve ever heard.”

On second thought, that was actually a pretty reasonable conclusion.

“Nyeheh,” she chuckled nervously, “Close. It’s...” Peridot paused, suddenly not sure how she’d even explain this. “It’s just me, Peridot, but somehow I’ve been transformed into a human. It doesn’t make any sense to me, either.” Judging by he look on Lapis’s face, that apparently wasn’t very convincing... Her green eyes scanned over the area; was there anything she could use to prove it? Wait, my tablet! She instinctively attempted to draw it to her hand, but to no avail; her hand lifted, but the device gave no response. No metal powers. Right. Ugh.

“... Very funny. Now, what’s the real story? That’s impossible.” Lapis was waiting, but the look on her face wasn’t patient. Peridot cleared her throat; stars why was this so hard? She could hardly remember a time when Lapis was actually scary to her. It was like the technician was facing her own newfound mortality.

“Okay,” she decided finally, “Just... Try the tablet. They can sort it out, probably. You can use my account, just make sure to introduce yourself so they know who’s speaking.” The hydrokinetic gem followed her gaze to the tablet, frowning. Finally she strode over, scooping the device up and taking a seat on the hammock nearby.

The water bindings finally withdrew, releasing Peridot entirely. “I’ll try it, but don’t go anywhere.” Peridot nodded anxiously and seated herself on the bench nearby. Lapis promptly started tapping away on the screen, scrolling through posts and starting to type up one of her own.

Now Peridot just had to wait. Hopefully this wouldn’t end with being chucked into the ocean; she was suddenly very aware of her inability to swim.

#ACTION POST #ooc #m!a; demoted to mortal #haha... whoops.#DRABBLE

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thelonelytraveler11 · 6 years ago

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Is this really the best I can do?!

It's been three years since I've done any form of research. I haven't worked in almost three years. Just in case anyone's wondering, yes, I filled out job applications (a lot, like ~250 before I gave up). For the past couple years, I've been living off my savings, the little bit of money I get from my family, and the little bit of money I get from having part time jobs. My work experience since dropping out has been pretty dismal (on average), I haven't been able to hold down a job that gave an appreciable amount of money for longer than 3 months at a time without being fired or being so miserable that I just said "fuck it" and quit.

I understand the concern some may have. You may consider it my fault for being unemployed. Quitting a job that I'm miserable while doing may seem irrational or irresponsible, but speaking as a person who spent almost the entirety of his college years being miserable, I can say with all honesty that being broke is better than being miserable. I envy those that can’t seem to comprehend my way of thinking, because that probably means they have a very good life. I wouldn't want to work in an environment that negatively affects my emotional state for 4 decades anyways. Having disposable income isn’t more important than my well being. Having a job I actually enjoy doing is very important to me because I don't have many sources of happiness in my life.

I'm kind of a loner. I don't have a strong relationship with any of my relatives and I don't have friends anymore (and even more troubling, I don't care to have those types of relationships anymore). The only potential source of happiness is my job. I don't foresee me failing in love or developing a close relationship with anyone. If the current trend continues, I think its more probable that it doesn’t happen.

I feel numb most of the time and when I do feel something, I'm usually thinking about my college days and that something is usually anger. It honestly was my biggest regret, going to the University of Illinois. Sometimes I wished I never went to college. Literally the only thing that was even remotely good about my college experience was my grades, everything else sucked. Looking back, I wish I went back to working at CVS after I graduated from HS.

In the alternate timeline, I probably would have been better off in the long run (very little stress, no debt, live rent free at my mom's house for a couple of years after graduation while working a presumably full time job which would enable me to save up a fair amount of cash before moving out). Instead, I came away with nothing. My college education was completely worthless, I reaped no benefits from being a degree recipient. All I did was waste 7 years of my life and thousands of other people’s dollars studying stuff that ultimately wouldn't matter. If I were a benefactor for the UIUC department of chemistry, I would be pissed to hear my story because that means my money isn't being put to good use, especially if I added into one of the scholarships that was awarded to me.

So, I know what your wondering, why am I writing this post? Well, I was trying to get ride time with CFD and I called for a specific person that wasn't in. Someone took a message and wrote my name down as Joel Dennison. Dennison was the last name of the NMR guy at UCI. That got me thinking about my college days and how I hated basically everyone. I caught myself looking through emails and for the most part, the more I read, the more I remembered, the more enraged I got. Now that's one sure fire way to put me in a bad mood, get me thinking about the bad ol' days. I bet many of the people I went to grad school with are enjoying their careers, while I was completely forgotten (and if they're not enjoying them, well at least they have them).

I’ve always wondered why were the other students so complicit? Is racism really that prevalent? Is there something else going on? See, it's one thing to not say anything while they were still students because it runs the risk of them being treated like I was treated. But to not even offer a helping hand even after their careers were established, knowing what they know, is un-fucking-real.

I never really felt welcomed in chemistry. People seemed to be more in love with the idea of me. I noticed the longer I stayed, the worse I was treated. At U of I, it was .... kinda bad. I experienced a form a discrimination where I would have written essentially the same answer as my lighter counterparts but received lower grades (slightly lower, but still). People assumed I did well in certain classes because the professor "liked me" (pretty sure no one at U of I liked me much). People also made statements that are crazy racist and then tried to pass them off as jokes. I fucking hated life in Champaign-Urbana.

SIDE NOTE: the following story doesn't necessarily reflect the chemists, but it does represent a subset of the student body at U of I. So, I'm sitting in the cafeteria with three dudes I already knew and some guy from the next table looks over to me and says "Sorry, if I offended you". I calmly replied "what did you say?" And Oh....My....God.... the look of utter fear was plastered all over his face. I said, "What did you say?", again, calmly. I can not stress enough that I was visibly calm throughout this entire situation. And then I noticed he was shivering, I figured I would warm up a lil bit by using my hot ass breath, so I repeated the question louder and slower (you know, to give the guy's body time to come to thermal equilibrium), again.......calmly. He was still frozen in fear. So now I am mentally gearing up to jump across this table to snatch this little boy's neck out from under him. And then something miraculous happened, my tunnel vision broke down and I realized someone was calling me. It was Jon (one of the kids I was sitting with) telling me to drop it...so I did......so, yeah, that's the story of how I almost got kicked out of U of I for snatching the neck out from under some little white kid during sophomore year.  

But there was one instance of me being the butt of racist jokes in chemistry that I can remember. Then UIUC grad student, John Overcash (who I believed worked for Ken Suslick), made mention of me "cooking crack up in the kitchen" on more than one occasion. Apparently, since I was a black chem major (that specialized in organic chemistry) I must have been a drug dealer beforehand. Or maybe he thought I was a drug dealer then....who knows...

To make matters worst, people have used the stuff other people made up to put themselves a head of me. Senior year I had an interview with eli lilly. My interview was at 9 am and there was one person interviewing before me at 8 am. The 8 am slot was taken by one Joseph Cullen (a fellow undergrad). During the end of his interview , I could vaguely hear what was said, but it sounded like Cullen told the interviewers that I was a drug dealer. The door opens up, the interviewer shoots me a look and goes into the room where my interviewers were and talks to them. Meanwhile Cullen walks past me. I give him a thumbs up and he walks away chuckling to himself. These are not good signs. I can’t say for certain that these people really believed I was a drug dealer, but their behavior suggested it. It was their reaction to me saying the phrase "nice white crystalline product", that’s what suggested it. I was describing the physical characteristics of the product from a reaction I ran and it just so happen to be a white crystalline solid (...smh). What I want to know why were these people so quick to believe Cullen? Yes, what Cullen said could be true (which it wasn't) but couldn't it also be true that he's trying to give himself a better chance of getting a job by undercutting the competition?

I wish I got a job offer as an undergrad. I honestly didn't want to go to grad school, but I had no other choice. Visiting grad schools was a whole ordeal, I was told in one way or another that I wasn’t welcomed ... at every school. At Scripps I was told explicitly that I wasn’t good enough to be there by complete strangers (how exactly would they know given that they never assessed my ability to think ... who knows). At Indiana University, I was placed in a hotel room by myself because they heard I slept naked. At UCI, I was told that I wouldn’t make it pass my first year (again, by complete strangers). At Caltech, I was told I didn’t belong because I was a drug dealer (or that I look like a drug dealer, apparently).

Now, I ask you, how do drug dealers look exactly? What are they’re defining characteristics? I ask because if you asked someone who lived in Champaign-Urbana for four years to imagine what a drug dealer looks like, they might imagine a srcawny white boy in a frat (not someone that looks like me). What makes the Caltech visit even weirder was that Prof. Sarah Reisman was just standing by, staring at me while I was being told I didn’t belong (by the help, you know, the people who was serving drinks). It was like she was trying to read my facial expressions to get a sense of what type of person I was (or am). Or was she using the help as a proxy to express her own thoughts (I’m not sure)? Was she waiting for me to “defend myself”?  How would I be able to do that exactly?

SIDE NOTE: it’s impossible to defend yourself when there’s no evidence for or against whatever accusations there may be. It all comes down to what people choose to believe. The help has already chosen to believe I’m a drug dealer (or at least look like one) and I’m willing to bet there’s really nothing I can really do about.

No matter how I analyze the situation, Reisman’s behavior does not reflect positively on her as a person. I’m not sure if she knows this, but she was the primary reason I had to not go to Caltech. I found her behavior to be very off-putting and I got the sense that she didn’t really want me to go to school there. On top of that there was talk of her wanting to have (oral) sex.  

DISCLAIMER: I am effectively asexual, I don’t have sex ... with anyone ... or anything (yes, I actually needed to say both).

Now, I didn’t believe the talk when I first heard it because I thought there was no way a self-respecting, competent professor would admit to wanting to engage in a sexual relationship with a perspective student ... this is what I choose to think. However, the more I heard of her desires to have (oral) sex, the more I believed it. But I never fully accepted the rumors as the truth until my first year at UCI. Reisman came to Irvine for a talk and as always almost all the Organic students showed up. Before the event, I was sitting at the small table with another grad student in my year, her name was Beth R. (I don’t know how to spell her last name and I’m not going to try to google it). Beth ended up mentioning how pretty Reisman looked .... I “mmmhmmm”ed her. I could hear the chatter going on behind me, Reisman seemed mildly disappointed that I didn’t agree. Beth soothed her ill feelings by saying that I didn’t disagree. After the event, I was talking to Prof. Scott Rychnovsky and Reisman came up in the conversion. This was the final nail in the coffin that made me believe the rumors were true. It wasn’t the fact that he said she would’ve blown me, it was the fact that he said it soooo enthusiastically. He was as enthused as a person could possibly be in a professional/academic setting. No one should that enthused by the thought of a man getting his dick sucked as much as Rychnovsky was by the thought of Reisman putting my dick in her mouth, no one. It was kinda weird.  

The thought this woman hocking loogies on my dick tip, and imagining the sensation of warm saliva slowly rolling down my shaft (as I quote lines from the movie, Shaft (the Samuel L. Jackson version...obviously)) as I knock my head back, praying to god that I don’t come away from this situation with paper cuts (she has thin lips) just to look back down after noticing she paused just so she could fill the waves from my pulsating erection and make eye contact as she goes deeper and increases the pace eventually moving to the point where she starts straggling my balls and moaning like Lady Gaga singing a lullaby to baby while stroking my hard cock until I cum for her as Nicole Nava sits beside her while taking notes shouldn’t be even remotely amusing.....TO ANYONE...EVER!!!!!! But apparently to Rychnovsky, it was. It was at that moment I never wanted to be affliated with Caltech as long as Reisman was there. If Caltech and Illinois were the only two places that offered me jobs after finishing the PhD, I’d have to change careers. 

Okay, so here’s the thing. I don’t really view professors as people. When I was a student, they were more like encyclopedias that could talk to me. They simply took the form of a human, kinda like a barbie doll. They’re anatomically incorrect, they lack genitalia, so they don’t have a gender. I honestly, believed this. One time, during senior year, I walked in the third floor bathroom in RAL and I saw Prof Steven Zimmerman taking piss. My face immediately screws all the way up, my inside voice says “How is he standing up and taking a piss when he doesn’t have a dick?”.....I thought that....I literally thought that....I shit you not. Just so you know, it wasn’t just Zimmerman, it was every professor. The women are doubly dickless, in my mind Suzanne Blum was like —(Mia Khalifa) because she has negative two dicks inside of her at all times.

DISCLAIMER: just so we’re clear, I’m NOT alluding to the fact that Blum has to get people to agree to have sex with her. Nor am I alluding to the assertion she’ll probably be nothing more than an afterthought for literally anyone. I’m merely trying to stress the fact that I don’t think of professors as people, but as encyclopedias that can talk to me.

I was made to feel unwlecomed at every school I visited. Why? Well, you'll have to ask them. I can honestly say that by the time graduation (from U of I) came around I didn't believe that i would have a successful career as a chemist, but I put everything into this so I couldn't just leave...

Grad school was even worst because on top of being the black kid, I was also the social pariah. The other students did a real good of making me feel unwelcomed. So much so that after two weeks of living in Irvine I stopped trying to make friends. No one seemed interested in being cool with me (I'm basing this off people's behavior ... obviously). And if some of them were, the way they showed it was so unique that I couldn't even recognize it as a sincere attempt to get my attention.

I also experienced some the same stuff I did when I was at U of I. Namely, instructors not giving me what I earned. In Dave VanVraken’s class I always received the second highest score on the exams. The really curious thing is that no one knows who received the top score. Once, when I asked to see the printed out distribution, the TA refused to show me (why?). I'm willing to bet that single point ahead of me was a dummy point. In Liz Jarvo’s class, when the first exam came around, we found out the high score was a 83. Who got the high score?...no one knows, but when I received my test the number 38 was written on (Also note I just so happen to get the same score as the other kid from U of I). At first, I was puzzled and glanced over to Peg (the TA). She sees my score, turns to Jarvo and says "he knows he didn't get that low". While I don't remember Jarvo’s exact words, she stated in some way that I would come to her and argue my case for a higher grade. So, here's the thing. I shouldn't have to defend myself or argue with you to ensure that I'm treated like everyone else. It should be a given.  

From what I hear the reason why I was treated this way has something to do with them not wanting me to "talk stuff" to the other students.  

Okay, so where is this coming from? I ask because I’ve been me long enough to know their opinion of what I’m like isn’t actually based off me. If they actually talked to my fellow classmates, the most common thing you’d probably hear is that I’m quiet. So either these people are just making up stuff to justify treating me how they want to treat me or my classmates are liars. I’m not really the type to talk about my grades (or really anything) unless the topic is explicitly brought up in conversation (and this is assuming I feel like talking at all). You can dress it up however you want, but treating me like a second class student for any reason solely reflects poorly on you (it gives no indication as to what I’m like). There were instances like this in half the classes I took. Some, admittedly were a smaller deal than others. In Vanderwal’s class I got marked off once because I didn’t draw both arrows in a mechanism that included a homolytic cleavage. For those that don’t know, if a homolytic cleavage occurs and you show one electron going in one direction, it is assumed that the other electron goes in the opposite direction and therefore does not need to be explicitly stated (minor, but mildly annoying). In polymer chemistry (taught by Aaron Esser-Khan), we had one assignment where we needed to propose something that wasn’t in the primary literature. I proposed a polymerization based off a derivative of the Hiyama coupling. Khan’s critique was that since it wasn’t already in the primary literature, it probably wasn’t a good idea ... really?! And don’t even get me started on spec because that spec TA was sketchy as fuck. He intentionally told me the wrong due date for a homework assignment and I’m pretty sure he shaved a couple points off one of my exams...

Okay, so these experiences are only a subset of the shitty things I experienced as a UCI student. But do you know what made life at UCI worst than life at U of I? My research advisor (Suzanne Blum)....and to a slightly lesser extent my fellow group members. Over the years I grew to hate them. I was lied about, I had a homework assigns hidden behind water coolers (Darius Faizi), I’ve had the nitrogen lines removed from air sensitive reactions (Darius Faizi, Suzanne Blum), I had products from reactions switch out for reagent alcohol (it’s a mixture of ethanol, methanol, and isopropanol) (Josh Hirner), I’ve had septums removed from reaction mixtures (Josh Hirner), I’ve had people try to placate me with sex (Katrina Roth), I’ve had people try to use the fact that I was in an agitated state to get something they wanted (Katrina Roth), I’ve had people turn on the indoor lights in my car in an effort to drain my battery while I’m allowing them to use my car to practice driving so they can get a U.S. driver’s license (Muhammed Al-Amin), I’ve had people ask questions just so they can not listen to the answer (Chao Zheng, Drew), I’ve experienced asking people for help just so they can not even try to help brainstorm what the answer could be (Darius Faizi, Kim Tu), I helped others brain storm shortcomings for a proposal, just to catch an attitude when they realize I didn’t catch everything the first time around (Quinn Easter).  

SIDE NOTE: To provide context, Quinn asked me to look through a synthetic route in his proposal that he was intending to present in his advancement to candidacy exam. There was something I didn’t immediately see but did bring up during a group when he was giving a practice presentation. He became visibly upset and mentioned he thought I was trying to make him look bad. If I was really trying to make you look bad, I wouldn’t have told you anything, so that you would’ve made the same mistakes when it actually mattered. Quinn, you’re an idiot.  

l’ve had people call me after I already dropped out and given up on chemistry from a redacted telephone number claiming to be an official representative of UCI calling me in an effort to get my address (Suzanne Blum, Ashley Davis), and I’ve had the experience where I ask for information pertinent to group website maintenance and they act like I’m hitting on them (Adena).

SIDE NOTE:  This is something that always amused/offended me, having someone assume I’m attracted to them because I acknowledged their existence. It’s funny because because they have the audacity ... but it’s also offensive because the operating assumption is that I don’t have standards, which couldn’t be further from the truth. (They seem to make a lot of faulty assumptions)

What was this experience suppose to teach me? How was I supposed to become a better person or scientist because of my affiliation with the group/university? Me coming to Irvine and working for Blum was a total waste of my time. I’m not entirely sure what her deal was, but it seemed she had a preconceived notion of who I was. No matter what type of relationship we have (or suppose to have) this will cause problems where there shouldn’t be.  

Is the request that someone’s opinion of you is actually based on you too much to ask for? Because I feel it’s a basic request that most people should be able to easily do. The contemptuous treatment did subside with time (mostly because I avoided talking to other students when ever possible) but it never really stopped. Why did it start to begin with? I’m willing to bet the only things they don’t like about me has everything to do with me reacting to the way they treat me. Again, I have to ask, is racism really that prevalent? 

Then one day, I started getting so fed up with life that I decided I needed an escape, even if it’s only for a couple weeks. So, I started planning a trip to Europe. I worked hard in the weeks coming up to the trip. I was trying to finish my entire project before I left (sadly, I didn’t, but I tried). Things were looking on the up and up. Before I left, Blum even said I was meeting her expectations, that was the nicest thing she ever said to me (it was the nicest thing anyone at UCI has ever said to me). I went off on my trip, and during the middle of it I received an email essentially telling me that my time at UCI was finished. Why? I still don’t know. 3 years later and I still don’t know why my career was ended before it was even given a chance to start. It’s hard to move on with your life when you don’t have closure. It’s really hard to move on when you still have to live with consequences of other people’s actions.

SIDE NOTE: I got the sense sometimes that Suzanne Blum did not really care about her job 100% of the time. I’m not entirely sure what to make of it. It’s like, either she truly didn’t understand the importance of her role (as the leader of a research group) or she truly doesn’t give a shit. Either way, she doesn’t deserve to be in the position she’s in.  

I still remember my last day in Irvine. It was bitter sweet. I was so happy to finally get to leave but also a bit anxious because I knew that the thousands of hours I spent studying and doing research was time wasted and it would never amount to anything. I knew I wasn’t going to get a job with my credentials. I even saw Eric (the other kid from U of I) in the student center when I went over to get lunch. He was looking at me all sad and shit because he knew I didn’t have a future in chemistry. We didn’t talk, we just walked past each other and exchanged glances. I tried to conceal a smile as I walked by. By the time my Dad’s flight landed, I had moved most of the stuff out my apartment.  

Life at home was hard. Depression is a mother fucker. I liken it to a less severe version of sleep paralysis. I felt like I was stuck in my own body. Kinda like how I felt in the early Irvine days when it would take me hours to roll out of bed. I would literally wake at 6 am and just stare at the ceiling for ~4 hrs before I could convince myself to get up. And to make things worst, no emotional support was offered by my family. Their assumptions that I’m somehow responsible for other people’s actions along with their snide remarks about me being lazy did the opposite of help. I regretted coming home, even more so when I found out I somehow failed the background check for CPD.  

Now, how in the holy fuck does someone without a criminal record fail a background check? The only reasonable thing I could come up with to explain this is that the work experience I listed (my research experience) doesn’t count as work experience because instead of working for a salary, I worked for credit hours or a stipend. I have to tell myself things like this to convince myself I’m not getting screwed over in every facet of my life. If this is true, then my college experiences are doubly worthless because not only can the credentials I’ve earned not be used to get a job I’m more than qualified to do, but they can’t even get me a job you don’t even need a bachelor’s degree for.  

I wish I moved to LA after dropping out. If I stayed in Cali, I’d be force to move on with my life because I wouldn’t be able to sulk in my mother’s house for months. What would I do for work? idk...but I’d find something, and when I get fired, I’d just move on to the next dead end job.

As time went on, I found it easier to move, I still have scars though. Scars that may never heal. What can I do from here on out? I’m not sure. Going back to graduate school isn’t an option (or any program that requires letters of recommendations) because after experiencing what I’ve experienced and allowing those that I depended on for letters of rec to learn about my experiences, everyone seemed to be complicit. Either they didn’t do anything to change the course of action or it seemed like they were trying to cover it up by telling me to take the site down. I lost faith in everyone, I don’t think I can trust any of the profs to submit a letter of rec on my behalf when they either have done something that goes against my interests, are complicit in the wrong doing of others, or seem as though they’re attempting to cover up what happened to me. Even if I could get in anywhere, I still don’t want to go back to school. I lost faith in higher education. I lost faith in people. Whatever I do, I have to be able to do it without a college degree.

Just in case you’re wondering, I can’t depend on my college friends either. Mostly because I wasted no time trying to make friends. I’ve come to believe that friends are a worthless luxury.

I honestly believed that if I studied hard and knew my shit someone would hire me. I was wrong. I learned the hard way that to the outside world you are not you. You are not the sum total of your thoughts and actions. You are your skin color. You are your hair texture. You are the clothes you wear on your back. You are what people choose to believe you are. You are not you. People don’t care to get to know the people around them, they just want to feel as though their justified in believing the way they do. So I guess in order to get by in life you just need to be everyone’s friend and present yourself in such a way that everyone deems acceptable. Having the skills needed to do the job is more of an afterthought, huh? You know, one of the corollaries is that you’re expected to exhibit a certain level of extroversion. Welp, it just so happens to be the case that I’m an introvert and if the previous statements have some truth then I can honestly say this system was set up for me to fail. The only way I can get by in life is because I’m better than the other guy. No one will ever choose me because I’m their best friend.

I believe that’s where some of my problems stem from. When people see my face, they expect an extrovert (or at least someone who is more extroverted than me). When they find out I’m not who they want me to be, the reactions can range from essentially nothing, to mild disappointment, to mild hostility. And I think this is because people are more interested in the idea of me than actually getting to know me. So when they meet me and actually get to know me after building me up in their heads they’re kinda like “...oohh, this is it?!”. I don’t understand people. It’s like people just assume that you’re going to conform to their world view while refusing to even bend to yours. Now, I’m totally opposed to the very concept of “fitting in” because of all that. I got the sense “fitting in” means assimilation, which may involve losing qualities that make you unique (ones you may actually like about yourself). I don’t see why I should change in any way for people I don’t like, that I don’t see the benefit of being associated with, or for people that never liked me to begin with. People even sometimes mock my behavior, presumably because I’m not what they want me to be and this is just their way of trying to get me to conform. 

The most recent example of this is my cousin Sonia (she’s multicultural). I went to her graduation party during the summer. And as with most family functions, it pretty much consisted of me sitting quietly most of the time. So fast forward to when it’s time to go home. My mother and 2/3 of my brother’s children are making their way to the car, noticing the third one is missing I go back for her. As I’m making my way up the front porch, three of my cousins (one of which is Sonia) are in my path and I say “watch out”. As I walk past Sonia, she says something along the lines of “woah, he must be serious....” while laughing... I’m going to say this once, “Mocking my behavior because I don’t act how you want me to act will never help anything”...... unless you’re actively trying to get me to dislike you. I have to remember that Sonia is just a child. Maybe it hadn’t dawn on her yet that there’s more to life than what she’s experienced. She’s probably never met a person like me, so she won’t know what to say in order to get me to interact with her. But then I’m like, “But what makes her think making herself look like an ass would actually help her in any capacity?” How does this explain the behavior of grown ass men and women who do the same thing?”. I wonder if it’s a cultural thing, and these people just don’t realize how bad they make themselves look to people that aren’t like them.  

On the way home, I started thinking, “Is this really the best I can do?”. Have I been doomed to live a life where I’m not really happy? No, it can’t be the case. I still have faith. I may not have faith in other people anymore, but I still have faith in myself. I believe I can make something out of nothing, even if no one else does.

After going through all I’ve gone through, all I want is to not suffer anymore. I just want to be insanely rich for no reason. This won’t solve all my problems but it will eliminate many. If I ever come into having an ungodly amount of money, I’d give some of it to my family so they can afford many of the things that they want in life. Then I’d disappear, never to be seen or heard from again. 

I’ve become acutely aware of the fact that people want to learn useless knowledge without ever having to talk to me.

DISCLAIMER: the knowledge is useless because we won’t/don’t have a relationship of any sort. Why waste your time learning information that isn’t relevant to your life?

So I’m going to take this opportunity to answers some personal questions because the thing I hated the most about you people is your unique combination of arrogance, ignorance, and obliviousness. While I can’t help with the arrogance and the obliviousness, I can help with your total lack of knowledge. So, without further ado ...

QUESTION TIME

Did you ever like life in Champaign county?

I was excited to be there in the beginning, then I met the people and all that excitement went away quick.

What’s your fondest memory from college?

That one time when Chipotle was doing that 2 for 1 deal. That was cold.

So, what’s up with your sexuality?

I don’t have sex because I don’t want to take the risk of having children, also no STDs. People were oddly obsessed with my sexuality and I never quite understood it. Here’s the thing, I’m a little self centered and I’m like you in the sense that I don’t immediately acknowledge other people’s way of thinking all the time. I honestly don’t understand why there was as much “interest” in knowing what I’m interested in (I use quotes because if people were actually interested they probably would have try talking to me). My viewpoint is that your claimed sexual orientation is irrelevant, it’s not even worth bring up in conversation. The reason why is simple. If you see a pretty girl and you know she’s interested in men, it doesn’t necessary mean she’s interested in you (assuming your male) right? That’s why the only thing that matters to me is whether or not the person I’m interested in is interested in me.

It’s funny because if you completely ignore the fact that not everyone thinks like me, it would seem as though there were ALOT of dudes that wanted me to fuck them when I was in college.

To the people “interested” in knowing my sexual orientation. Ask yourself two questions. Do you want a shot? Do you think you have a shot? Think hard about it. If the answer to one of those questions is “no”, don’t waste your time.

If you haven’t already figured it out by now, I don’t think like a normal person. I’m never going to adjust or change to make you feel comfortable, the best thing I can do is not talk to you at all. I don’t adjust to you, you adjust to me. Why? because fuck you, that’s why.

Are you ever going to have sex?

Maybe, maybe not. What’s it to you?

Do you think people like you?

I know they don’t. Based off their actions, they don’t want to like me either. They’d spend less time gossiping about the negative characteristics I could have and more time actually getting to know me if they did.

You don’t think people know anything about you?

It all depends on what you think it means “to know”. Personally, I don’t. I’m never around people long enough for them to be able to get a true sense of who am I as a person. All people get are snapshots. Sadly, that isn’t good enough. That’s something I don’t think most people realize, actually.

What if after reading this, people actually started trying to get to know you, how would you react?

My recommendation is that you don’t waste your time. You can’t undo the damage that’s already been done. I’ve already stopped caring.

If you could go back in time and pick another college, which would you pick?

Xavier University in NOLA. I’d pick this HBCU because I’m fairly confident some of the problems I encountered at U of I wouldn’t have existed there.

Why did you choose UCI?

Because they told me I wasn’t going to make pass my first year. I knew what type of student I was. I knew I had what it took to make it through any program. But I was at a low point in my life, where nothing seemed to be going right. I figure If I go there and get forced out after a year, it wouldn’t be my fault. The devastating thing is they let me get so close to graduating before just booting me out like they did.

Why did you use the word “they”?

Someone easily could have stepped in and did something. The department just enabled her (Suzanne Blum).

What grad program do you think you should have choose?

Indiana University or Rutgers probably would been better for me.

What motivates you to do well?

Meaningful positive reinforcement. Don’t just give out compliments for the sake of giving out compliments.

What’s one thing you hate most about people?

Their stupidity. Before I was told I failed the background check fro CPD. I’d get calls from some sort of case worker for CPD who was suppose to determine my eligibility. This dude asked me if I “resigned” from the Blum group and acted like that was a perfectly valid question. This wasn’t a job, it was a component of an academic program. I WAS A STUDENT. There was no resignation. You don’t resign from school. You either graduate, drop out, or get expelled. I know some college education is required for employment with CPD, so it’s far more likely that this guy is an idiot. REMEMBER GRAD SCHOOL IS STILL SCHOOL AND THERE ONLY 3 WAYS TO LEAVE.

Did you ever consider taking legal action?

Yes, but I know the people I’m dealing with aren’t above lying. Since there’s no physical evidence (that I have in my possession) proving that wrongs did occur, I’m reluctant to believe I’d actually win. It’s not smart to get into a “he said she said” battle with people that are believed to be pathological liars.

Are there any common misconceptions you’d like to clear up?

I wasn’t doing the school shit to make friends. I only wanted to make money. That’s the only reason why I was there, to make money. Every time someone why I as getting a PhD, my answer essentially went like, “I’m getting a PhD because money.” I see no point in trying to make friends with people who seemed to have been conditioned to dislike me.

Also, just because I’m quiet it doesn’t mean that I’m stuck up. It is in fact possible to be someone who isn’t a big talker.

Contrary to popular belief. I am in fact a HUMAN BEING. I have emotions and sometimes something could happen in one part of my life that can affect other parts of my life (like how well I do in school or how productive I am in lab).

Why did you just give up?

What’s the point of playing the game when you know you’ll never win.

It seems like the college years were a hard time for you, did you ever do something to ease the pain, like drugs or alcohol?

No, I love myself too much to potentially set myself up for problems later. I gave comedy a thought, but I found really hard to want to be funny when all I’m thinking about is the depressing shit that inspired the joke. If I’m gonna do something, it’s gonna be something were I don’t have to live with the consequences of my actions. I was suicidal. I was planning to kill myself the night before my thesis defense.

Why then?

I was fairly confident that no one there cared to save me from myself. But just in case someone wanted to surprise me, I figure it would be best to do when no one would expect it.

How?

potassium cyanide. The night before my defense I was going to make it my point to get a bottle of potassium cyanide. a couple months before my trip to Europe, I looked up who had it. It was on the fourth floor (or maybe the fifth). Go all the way down to the last lab space on the right hand side. When you walk into the lab space go along the right hand side and go through the door on your right. After that go to the first door on the right hand side. I placed a bottle on KCN in the first column on the left hand side, top shelf. The bottle should be on the wall on the left side (assuming it’s still in the same place I left it). I figured it wouldn’t get much use due to its inherent toxicity so it would probably be in the same place I left it when I needed it. I wouldn’t be surprise if the bottle is still in that exact spot. 

Did you ever think about getting help?

From who? When I did finally ask for help, the first thing I was told was that the department sided with Blum (mind you this is before any type of investigation occurred). As soon as I posted the email from Chris Vanderwal on this blog, his tune changed immediately. But his actions didn’t reflect the words he put out in the public space. He was of no use. He had no interest in helping me in any capacity. I’m sure of it. I’m all alone in this world, I don’t have a safety net so if I fall, that’s my ass.

What about the professors from UIUC?

My previous statement stands. I had no one.

Is that why you started the blog? You felt like your were all alone and just wanted someone talk to, even if that someone was actually a void in space?

Yes, that’s exactly it.

Is that why you’re still posting, you still feel alone?

yes

But what about your family?

With them I’m a dependent not a provider. They’d be okay without me.

So have you really never sought out a therapist?

I couldn’t find steady work. I can’t afford it. Depression is a rich people disease. When you’re broke you’re just labeled as lazy.

What’s one thing you want everyone to know?

You shouldn’t let your assumptions or the assumptions of others affect how you treat me. Remember, you don’t know me. I could come to be your best friend, your faithful and supportive business partner, or the love of your life and you’d just let me slip away all because someone told you dislike me.

(Also, please don’t waste my time talking to me about all the typos I made)

#introspection

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thollandthot · 6 years ago

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i can take care of myself ; peter parker.

A/N: anonymous asked hi i love your blog btw! could you do a peter x reader where she has abandonment issues from shitty parents and she gets really sick or hurt one day and insists on taking care of herself because she doesn’t want to burden him or “have him leave too” and it ends really fluffy with him stepping up and giving her the love she deserves? thank you I know this is a weird one that may not make a lot of sense <3 WORD COUNT: ~1.5k PAIRING: peter parker & female reader. TIMELINE: post-homecoming, pre-infinity war. WARNINGS: mentions of blood, guns, murder and death.

i can take care of myself

The problem with troubled pasts was that they were difficult to forget. Perhaps it was the fact that your father wasn’t around as often as he should have been, or that your mother was too busy with work to give you more than a second thought, but you had decided early on in life that it was for the best. You decided that you didn’t need them, or anyone, for that matter. That is, until you had met him. But the saying old habits die hard wasn’t just some made up story, you realized, finding it increasingly difficult to break down your walls for the only boy you’d ever dream of allowing them to come down for.

Enter Peter Parker; a boy who possessed the strange ability to make the girl with a chip on her shoulder laugh. The boy whose smile made the girl who almost forgot what smiling felt like remember the sensation. The boy who made you forget that troubled past you had.

Perhaps the reason you had connected so well with each other was the similarities in upbringing. Although your parents were at least somehow still in the picture, Peter’s parents skipped early, and seemingly, for no reason. He was left with a loving uncle and doting aunt, until a few months ago when aforementioned uncle was murdered. The difference between you, though, was that Peter seemed to hold no grudges. He had no hate towards the world, or the universe, or some cosmic being for giving him the life he was given. Rather, he counted his blessings, and you admired him for that.

Seeing his face in the school hallways every morning brought what was once a foreign smile to your face, and Peter had vowed to do whatever he could to keep it there. “Morning.” He brightly greeted you at your locker before first period, as he always had, causing you to reciprocate the greeting, only in a much less cheery tone. He didn’t seem phased by it. “Listen, I hope it’s okay, I can’t exactly walk you home today.” It was a gesture you had grown used to, not because you asked him or wanted him to, but because Peter had offered, and the fact that he couldn’t today took the temporary smile off your face. “It’s just the Stark Internship, he really needs me today, you know? Just a one time thing, I swear.” You mentally cursed out Tony Stark and Peter’s damn Stark Internship, but you had nodded, nevertheless. It wasn’t like you needed him to walk you home, anyway. You had learned to get by on your own.

The rest of your school day had dragged on like a cloudy day; dull, boring, and uneventful. You had no classes with Peter on B days, so it was a feeling you had grown used to. As you slung your backpack over your shoulders, you geared up to go home on your own, instead of with the pair of Converse sneakers and dorky grin that usually accompanied you.

Perhaps it was your seemingly permanent scowl that deterred people from you, but your trek home seemed to be the usual until a strange hand cupped itself over your mouth, another wrapping around your waist, pulling you into the depths of the alley you were walking past. In an instant, you were kicked to your knees, the cool muzzle of a gun pressed against your temple. Time seemed to move in slow motion as your breath caught in your throat.

“Give me the bag.” A low voice grunted at you. Perhaps you were too much of a sadist, silently wondering what someone would want with your beaten old backpack. Granted, they could probably sell some of your textbooks for a quick buck. You clearly hadn’t answered as promptly as your attacker would have liked, because they swiftly kneed you in the head three times in quick succession before he delivered a sharp kick to your stomach, which caused you to let out a whimper.

Slowly, you slipped your arms out of the straps of your backpack, the gun still pressed firmly to your head. It was then that the pressure left your skull, hearing nothing but a thud and grunt behind you.

“Get away from her!” The voice seemed familiar, but you were far too terrified to see anything other than the blue and red suit of what was now known to New York City as Spider-Man. The masked figure helped you to your feet slowly, allowing you to see your attacker excessively webbed to the wall. “Oh my god..” Spider-Man gasped, pressing his clothed finger to your forehead, seeing the red material stain darker, which alerted you to the fact that you were actually bleeding. “I gotta get you outta here.” His arm wrapped around your waist, far too tightly and far too similarly to the way it was only a few moments ago, that caused you to shove your savior away.

“I can take care of myself, thanks.” Your tone was almost bitter, as you tried to adjust your backpack on your shoulders once more. Even through the mask, you could tell he was looking at you incredulously. He sighed.

“The thing is, you don’t have to.” The words sounded familiar, a deja vu moment of sorts, but you were only going to crack it up to being a possible concussion from too many blows to your skull. You didn’t respond, only winced when you tried to shift your backpack to its rightful place on your shoulders. “And you definitely can’t.”

You were too stubborn to argue, and too damaged to give him a witty reply, so you allowed Spider-Man to help you up to the top of the nearest building where he could examine you properly. Your head pounded and stomach churned. You hated feeling this damn vulnerable. In fact, it was probably one of your biggest fears.

You felt too weak to do much, so you left yourself at Spider-Man’s mercy (for the time being), allowing your eyes to shut as he placed you down on the floor of the roof’s observatory. His touches were calculated and gentle, slowly tilting your head from side to side to assess the damage, but then his hands reached for the bottom of your shirt.

You instinctively grabbed hold of his wrist, your eyes now open and alert. “Watch it, buddy.” You seethed at the stranger in red and blue spandex.

“Just let me lift your shirt up a little so I can see if you’re bruised or not!” He got defensive and his voice rose an octave higher than it was previously. Your eyes narrowed.

“I would rather die than have a stranger grope me.” There was venom laced with your words before you slowly released his wrist from your death grip. Spider-Man stayed silent for a moment, as if he was trying to figure out what to do next. It took him a beat before he sighed, tugging at his mask.

Underneath the red suit was a mess of familiar brown curls, and the dorky smile you adored but would never admit aloud. His eyes a deep brown, kind, and concerned. Peter.

“Peter?” You thought for sure you were hallucinating. You were concussed and your brain was making this up as a coping device. But the sensation of his hands on yours made you think otherwise. “You’re the -- but how are --”

Peter pressed a finger to your lips, “Just let me take care of you, okay?” It took you a moment to respond, but you trusted Peter much more than what was previously a stranger in the Spider-Man suit. Now, it was your best friend in the Spider-Man suit. You nodded slowly, wincing at the pain it caused your head.

Caring brown eyes locked on yours, silently asking permission to lift your shirt up once more. You could only hum in response, and it wasn’t in protest, just this once. Peter rolled up the fabric gently, only far enough to see your navel before smoothing your shirt back down over your stomach. “Uh, nothing too serious. I should take you home.”

You were fading in and out of consciousness as Peter put his mask back on, cradling you gently and yet still managing to swing the two of you from building to building before ending up at your apartment’s fire escape. You could feel you best friend tuck you into bed and place the gentlest of kisses to your forehead before you drifted off, and for the first time you could remember, you fell asleep content.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #spider-man x reader #spider-man fanfiction #mine #sorry if it feels rushed it's because it sorta was lmao

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starfleetdoesntfirefirst · 6 years ago

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Philippa Georgiou headcanons, Part 1: A few different backstory headcanons

In the year and a half since I fell in love with this character, I've developed a bunch of headcanons about Georgiou, most of which I've only used in my writing or gabbed about to people. So, I thought I might as well toss them onto my blog, too. :)

So far, each of the fics I've written/am writing has a slightly different take on Georgiou's backstory, and then I have a few common elements to all of them (e.g. that she started as security track), which I'm putting in a separate post since this one got already got long enough for me to put in a cut. :D

Please talk to me about any of these at ANY time, I would love to gab more about them or answer asks or swap headcanons or anything else! :D

Backstory Headcanon #0.5

Ironically, the first time I wrote a fic about Philippa Georgiou--which I wrote after the “Starfleet doesn't fire first” trailer aired, several months before the show began--I initially started thinking of potential tragic backstories that could have led to Georgiou having strong feelings about Starfleet principles, and then thought to myself, “You know what, self? A fictional character having strong convictions because of a tragic backstory is a really obvious and common way to go. Why don't you experiment with writing a story that shows how a character could develop strong convictions about Starfleet without a tragic backstory? That would be interesting.”

And I did that, and I'm glad I did that because it was interesting and fun, but...it is, of course, also ironic, since one of the few things we now know about canon Georgiou is that she does have a tragic backstory. (And, of course, that “I was a human who had seen a life of loss but still chose hope” is foundational to what I love about the actual character we finally got to meet; I'm not complaining about the canon there at all.)

(Like some other fans, I do think it'd be interesting if not every Starfleet officer had a tragic backstory...but that's not Georgiou; she does have a tragic backstory that she made her way through to become the person that she is, and I love her for it.)

Anyway, if I wrote a Georgiou backstory fic now with the same snapshots-of-a-life format as that first fic (which is here; blinking gif warning at the link), I'd come up with pivotal moments that fit the “life of loss” narrative, so, while technically that fic is still plausible (the character could, after all, have had other, additional horrible things happening to her as well as what's in the fic), it's on the back burner for me as far as headcanons go. Although there are some things included in that fic that are in the common-elements-to-all-my-Georgiou-backstories pile, like her having a cat named Captain Cat when she was a babby :D

(I just remembered that I also gave babby Janeway a teddy bear named Captain Tribble in a fic. Oops? :)

Backstory Headcanon #1

This headcanon fits pretty well with the beginning of that backstory fic, and is that Philippa has a pretty happy childhood and time at the Academy, then experiences losses and traumatic events in the service (and maybe in her personal life) as an adult.

I have an outline of a longfic set in this universe, which I will almost certainly never have time to write, where a 20something Philippa loses her entire team of colleagues in horrible ways on a mission gone wrong. (Sarek was also attached to the mission, which is how they first meet, and the two of them are the only survivors.) She then doesn't really get proper counseling because at this point there isn't enough oversight in making sure that all Starfleet counselors are able to address the kind of trauma she has experienced, and none of the counselors she works with are able to help her effectively.

Feeling extremely isolated/grieving/angry, she ends up channeling those feelings into violence and gets involved with Section 31 or another similar, even shittier part of Starfleet (this plot point is inspired by mirror!Georgiou joining Section 31, as well as an arc where Seven of Nine is recruited to Section 31 at a vulnerable point in her life in Gina Dartt's “Just Between” series).

At the crux of an especially unethical mission, Philippa decides that this isn't what she wants to do or be, and makes the ethical choice on the mission. She subsequently helps unravel the Terrible Subset of Starfleet and throws herself back into real Starfleet and proper counseling and a renewed personal life. At the end of this fic-I-probably-won’t-have-time-to-write-but-really-wish-I-did, she bumps into Sarek again and they talk, a conversation that ultimately leads, many years later, to Sarek having the brainstorm that “hey, I know who can help my traumatized human daughter :)”

Backstory Headcanon #2

This backstory basically just exists in the world of my Chakotay x Philippa fic. In this universe, Philippa had a traumatic early life, joined Starfleet and went to the Academy because she believed in Starfleet principles and wanted to be part of the vision she had of Starfleet, had more traumatic experiences (and/or simply unfair and distressing experiences) at the Academy because of low accountability for staff/students from Starfleet families, and developed anger issues and got into a bunch of mutual fights as well. She ultimately decides to stick to the principles of what she believes Starfleet is/should be and channel her anger into making lasting changes, believing that in attempting to do so, she is going to not only fail to actually make any changes but also get kicked out by retaliating staff members.

Instead, she actually does manage to kickstart some systemic change, and becomes known for having stopped a whole bunch of abuse and corruption, an achievement that jumpstarts her career. (Since I imagine Starfleet/the Federation as being a genuine utopia populated by genuinely decent people, 97% of Starfleet officers are THRILLED that Philippa exposed whatever problems had been festering at Starfleet Academy for the past few decades).

Backstory Headcanon #3

I'm using this one in a third fic that I am planning to finish at some point (it's a little crossover adventure ficlet where Uhura, Janeway and Georgiou meet)! At the end of the day, I think it might be my favorite of the Georgiou backstories I've come up with, so I might have it in mind when writing her characterization in other fics, too.

In this universe, Philippa didn't attend the Academy as (what we would currently think of as) a “traditional student,” instead joining Starfleet later in life. (Terminology note, because idk whether the same term is used elsewhere in the world: in the U.S., anyone starting their first year of college/university in the 17-to-20ish age range is a “traditional student,” while anyone older is a “nontraditional student.”)

Obviously, the whole tranditional-versus-nontraditional thing is something that I’d hope would be less of a division in the 23rd century; I'd like to think that by that point both civilian and Starfleet educational institutions would be much more geared toward serving and welcoming people from all phases of life, rather than mostly being geared towards 18-year-olds they way they are in the U.S. right now (especially at more prestigious institutions). (As a bit of a tangent--to its credit, imo the term “traditional student” is actually relatively good about not inherently holding some kind of value judgement. In a literal sense, it's just an acknowledgement of what kind of path has in fact been “traditional” in U.S. higher education up to the present.)

However, what we see onscreen in Star Trek is that “Starfleet Academy” is an institution attended mostly by students who enroll in their late teens, just like modern U.S. colleges and universities (and modern U.S. naval/military academies, I assume, since that's what the whole idea of Starfleet having an Academy for its officers is based on, though I don't know as much them).

That's what the student body looks like when we see the Academy onscreen, and most of the 23rd and 24th century officer characters who reference their education imply that they went to the Academy in that age range. So, my hewing-fairly-close-to-canon headcanon for Starfleet is that “traditional” students are still the majority, though older students are much more common than they are in our time. The upshot is that Philippa is still a little out of the ordinary for having had a longer, fuller adult life before she joins Starfleet in her thirties.

The awesome thing about Michelle Yeoh being in her fifties is that this timeline is totally conceivable—she could enter the Academy in her early 30s, receive her first commission at 35 (three years older than Kirk at the start of his five-year mission, and only four years younger than Janeway at the beginning of Voyager), become a captain by age 45 (from Kirk, Janeway & co., we know that officers making captain after ten years in the service is possible and fifteen years is normal—and that's for kids graduating from the Academy as 22-year-olds with no life experience), and have been captain of the Shenzhou for several years before she meets Michael.

In this headcanon, when looking back over her life Philippa sees the value in her own path and is proud of it, though she's also a little wistful about not having had the “classic” Academy experience, and has faced some difficulties integrating with and relating to colleagues who had the “normal” Starfleet career trajectory. She tries to be especially welcoming and supportive to others outside the “normal” path, which is one reason she ends up being the captain who accepts Michael onto her ship when Michael joins Starfleet after attending the Vulcan Science Academy rather than Starfleet Academy.

Backstory Headcanon #4

This one is just a twist on Headcanon #3 where Philippa starts out (at any point in life) as enlisted personnel. (Give me a show with a captain protagonist who started as an enlisted servicemember, Star Trek. Give me that show, and have a flashback episode showing the Mars training base Memory Alpha says enlisted personnel train at. I WILL THROW ALL MY MONEY AT THIS, STAR TREK, PLEASE.)

So that’s my totally-not-excessively-long list of Philippa Georgiou backstory headcanons haha. Like I said, it would absolutely make my day if anyone wants to talk about these, or tell me about your own headcanons, or talk about Georgiou in any context, really :)

Just in case this is ever relevant, a note about credit...if you wanna use one of my headcanons in detail in a fanwork, I’d be thrilled, but please credit me! (I.e. I’d never expect credit for something basic like writing her as being in security track or having a bad time at the Academy, but would appreciate credit for using one of my backstory ideas as a whole, or for borrowing original details like Captain Cat). Thank you! :)

#meta #philippa georgiou #once again I had to debate whether to put this in the tag since it's just one writer's rambling ideas #but since the character tag is so quiet most days I feel like it's legit to go ahead and tag anything created in good faith #since at least a few people might like to see it #trauma cw #character death cw #georgiou

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agl03 · 7 years ago

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Now What?

I’ve now reached that critical mass point with the asks that I have no hope of addressing them all personally, some cover multiple points and its hard to lump them together because I would miss another bit of the ask.

So I’m once again going to do a mass answer and try to clear out most of my ask box that way. I apologize to those that won’t receive a personal answer.

This is my take on what the big issues seem to be coming off the finale. These are my personal feelings and I’m not trying to invalidate what anyone else is feeling right now. I continue to move from anger to acceptance to even rare points of positivity.

How the &*#(*$! was that supposed to be rewarding or satisfying?

This I believe is on of the biggest issues I have right now. Hearing those words from the writers in interviews gave me a sense of calm and hope that no matter what they threw at me, it was going to be alright. Because that was what they said about the 100th, and I absolutely adored the 100th. Yet after, I feel anything but. I am merely frustrated, heartbroken, and betrayed.

Had they warned me as they did going into to the season 3 finale where they were up front MONTHS in advance that it was going to be heartbreaking and tragic, I could have mentally prepared myself better.

In the end the writers have a different take on things than we do, they were obviously very proud of what they did there and thought we as fans would love it.

Also remember that the writers pitched Season 6 as part of the process to get renewal. They know where they want to go with this.

Thank goodness we fought so hard for renewal and it didn’t really end like that.

They separated Fitzsimmons, again!

Not only did they separate them again, but I am upset as all get out that they were downright excited they could do it it again. They know very well its been overdone, they have said as much. But once they saw it, it was too tempting for them to pass up. The parallel of having Jemma searching for him across the cosmos just as he’s done for her on top of fixing what they saw as a plot hole with Cryo Fitz.

I completely agree that is is so over done. It’s frustrating. Every time they do it they lose fans because they are taking something that people love so much and toying with them with it. Every time they do it they errode that trust they have with the viewers even more. They take away from the good moments because we know every time they give us something good they hit us with something absolutely awful shortly after.

I don’t feel valued as a Fitzsimmons or fan in general right now (Philinda fans my heart goes out to you too because I feel like they got screwed too). I did a lot of work pushing for renewal. I stood up for them. I supported them. And I feel like I was just slapped in the face at the end. That they though that finale was a reward I as a dedicated fan would have loved and been happy with.

There is nothing we can do to change what they’ve done. It happened. All we can do now is be excited that they will once again be reunited and just pray they don’t drag it out. My hope is that they play it more as an amnesia story line. They aren’t getting a different Fitz, its the same Fitz, this one just won’t have the memories of from when he woke up at the Lighthouse.

We didn’t get ANY Fitzsimmons in what could have been the final episode!

This one I get. Again HATE they could have ended it with not giving us one last scene from this amazing couple and between the two actors that mean so much to each other. I am downright pissed they would do that to Lil and Iain. It’s because they were gearing up to kill Fitz. And ANY scene Lil and Iain would have done together would have been too much too bear.

Seeing Jemma’s full on reaction would have been too much and it would have taken away from Coulson’s departure.

They also didn’t want to focus on the fact he was dead, because he’s not. In a way its like the team being taken through time or Jemma to Maveth in they are gone, not dead. By not focusing the on the fact that Fitz wasn’t dead, just needing to be rescued also indicated that is just what they are going to do, rescue Fitz.

They never showed us Fitz’s or the teams full on reactions to Jemma getting taken by the Space Rock.

As Fitz will be back they needed to focus on the departure that is more permanent in nature, Coulson’s.

Cryo Fitz/Thrown away a season’s worth of character development:

I know this fandom, they know this fandom. Had they not done something to address Cryo Fitz, the fandom would have been like a dog with a bone and never let it go. Look at Gravitonium, people never stopped asking when it would come back into play.

Cryo Fitz IS NOT a different Fitz. He’s our Fitz.

The best way I am looking at it is he’s going to have amnesia. He won’t have memories, both good and bad, of that time he was in stasis but it doesn’t changed those events happened. IE He’s still married to Jemma and for the love of all things writers at the very least give me a vow renewal.

I had theories out there as to how they could just start a fresh timeline and then not have to worry about Cryo Fitz, but they kept the same timeline and they want to keep Deke (he’s totally going to pop back up one day). Had they made Deke fade away they would have had to have Cryo Fitz fade away then the death would haven’t have been possible. Because with the loop broken the situation that lead to Fitz going into Cryo would have never happened and thus he wouldn’t have been there to rescue.

And honestly I would rather they get this out of their system now vs down the line when we’d lost even more character and relationship development.

Like it or not, this is going to help Fitz heal.

A lot of fans were unhappy with how things with the Doctor went down. That they used such a serious issue as nothing more than a plot device. They broke Fitz and had no intention of fixing him...and they didn’t....that version anyway. Knowing they were going to be going for Cryo Fitz they allowed him and themselves to cross lines and not have to deal with the consequences.

Yes, this is a bit frustrating as well because it falls into toying with the fans and shock value plot twists for the sake of a shock value plot twist.

He and the team get a rare second chance to deal with the Framework Fall out. This time Fitz won’t be repeatedly under the stress of saving to save everyone and having to tap into The Doctor to do so.

Fitz is also going to wake up and his wife knows the demon his he fighting inside him and can help him deal with it. Support him. And he doesn’t have to hide it from her.

It does add what will be an interesting and at times painful dynamic for the team and Fitz. Mack is burdened by having to have watched him die, the words that were said between one another before that happened, and the events of 16. Daisy has the fall out from 14, she has that trauma and those scars but this Fitz has no memory of that happened.

Some of this is meant to be painful, some moments Cryo Fitz will never be able to get back. That moment in the elevator with Coulson before his wedding, Coulson marrying them, or even him getting to give him a proper goodbye as the others did. At most Coulson could have left a letter for Fitz when they find him, but sadly some of this does need to be sad and this is one of them.

This is long, so under the thing.

What on earth is going on with Deke and his map?!

His fate has been left in absolute limbo. But the fact his tool was still there in his room for Jemma to find means he didn’t fade away when the loop is broken. The tool would have faded with him.

Being a Fitzsimmons he’s going to get into all sorts of trouble until we see him again.

I have a lovely head canon in he inadvertently runs into none other than Lance Hunter and become good buds before they put the pieces together.

That map he snatched from Qovas’s ship no doubt will come in quite handy when it comes to searching for Fitz. After all the team knows where to start looking for Chronicoms...they repeatedly told us where their home world was and that could be the first step in finding Fitz/Enoch.

However, we don’t know what was done with said map. Did he upload it to the Shield Database and its already on the Zephyr.

Does he still have it on him. It doesn’t do the team much good with him wandering around earth and them in space. No one even knows he has it so unless he did update it it could take him somehow being reunited with the team to get it.

As Deke doesn’t have a spaceship and unless he’s stowed away somewhere on the Zephyr, do they not get access to the map until they are forced to return to earth for some reason. Perhaps to resupply? Only then do they get what they need to find FItz.

How long will it take them to find Fitz, I do not want to wait 5 episodes again?

Iain’s agency has confirmed him back for Season 6.

I also personally feel that Fitz will see a bit more of an uptick in terms of story arcs with Coulson’s departure.

I don’t think long. With the magic of time jumps they’ll do what they do every season and bring us back right before things kick off and the full action beings. IE pretty dang close to finding Fitz.

I expect to get him back around 2 at the latest and at some point in 1 we know at least were he is and if Enoch moved/woke him. But we won’t know anything until filming starts

With only 13 episodes they don’t have a ton of time to waste just looking for him. They also have A LOT of upset fans, they need something good/big right off to pull them back in.

Is this the end for Coulson and May?

I honestly don’t know. They had something that could be seen as pretty finite and I did personally like that Coulson was able to go out on his own terms with the woman he loved at his side.

Clark’s contract hasn’t been renewed yet and he said that he was talking about his possible role in Season 6. But with the send of got, his role will likely be via flashback or smaller cameos. His ending is very much like Bobbi & Hunters, in it was good so in bringing him back you risk undoing it so it needs to be done right. I think there is a better chance they get him back as a director or I would love if they let him pen an episode.

Ming posted what could have been a farewell post on Instagram the other day. However, there has yet to be confirmation if she’ll be back as a regular, recurring, a cameo or too, or not at all. She’s still on earth and the team is in space. So its like Deke, unless there is another spaceship lying around they can’t catch up with the team until they get back to earth.

In a way the show is doing a bit of a soft reboot. Only not as drastic as the one OUAT did. They possibly closed the door for the ‘old guard’ of characters. Coulson, May, and Talbot (Adrian said this in an interview). They wrapped up story lines for good in Gravitonium, Centipede, LMD, Ivanov, and Hydra (Please be done with Hydra). While at the same time many beloved characters will go on with new adventures and new stories to tell. Space Zephyr just one of many doors they opened.

This could be a big reason for the shorter order season. They want to see how this will play out with fans.

I can’t trust the writers anymore.

Yeah, I get that one too. I’m embarrassed and ashamed I stood up for them so publicly and avidly them the last few weeks. I’m mad at myself for trusting them. And I sincerely apologize to my followers for doing so and in a way I feel like I failed you. I really never thought they would do this and I should know better.

I feel betrayed and used too. That they use something I love so much and just hurt me with it. They were excited they could do it again even though they KNOW it’s been over done and they couldn’t realistically do it again....then they realized they accidentally allowed a ‘realistic’ way to do it again. Then they called it satisfying and rewarding.

Reviewers are sick of it, Fitzsimmons fans are beyond sick of it, and even non Fitzsimmons fans are sick of it. I’ve heard from a few of you and thank you...heck I’ve heard from other fandoms with their condolences.

I see people voicing their displeasure on social media. Totally justified. I am all about staying positive but at the same time I’m mad and upset and want to shout at it for a bit. But don’t attack the writers personally for the show. They will get defensive and from what I’ve seen in a lot of interactions are truly surprised at how upset fans are. There are other ways of sending in your feedback. But also remember that you can not send them story ideas, they won’t even look at them. If you choose to do this, please be polite, cursing them out won’t achieve anything.

ABC Show Feedback Form

I think I covered a good chunk of what is in my ask box. I still have 20 or so to go that don’t fall into these major categories and I’ll continue to pick at them as I can over the next few days.

I appreciate the love, support, and continued patience.

#aos spoilers #aos meta #covering 50+ asks with this one

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proxylynn · 6 years ago

Text

UNDERFELL: FILE NAME NOT EDGY ENOUGH part #6

Chapter 6: Door

WARNING: I WANT NO RESPONSIBILITY OVER SPOILING THINGS FOR OTHERS. THAT BEING SAID, THIS IS HOW FILE NAME NOT FOUND WOULD FUNCTION IN THE AU OF UNDERFELL. BEFORE YOU READ THIS, UNLIKE THE NICE TIME OF UNDERTALE, THIS WORLD IS KILL OR BE KILLED. THIS STORY WILL BE GRAPHIC, GORY, USE SWEARS LIKE NOBODY'S BUSINESS, AND DEAL WITH SENSITIVE SUBJECT MATTERS. FOR EXAMPLE, THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE READ THE FILE NAME RELOCATED SPOOF WILL KNOW HOW I PICTURE THIS VERSION OF LYNSIE COMING TO THE UNDERGROUND. IT IS NOT AN ACCIDENT. IT IS NOT BECAUSE OF SOMETHING DUMB. IT IS BECAUSE SHE CHOOSES TO END HER LIFE. SO TAKE THIS WITH A GRAIN OF SALT. I MADE IT BECAUSE I NEEDED TO LET SOME OF THIS EDGINESS OUT OF MYSELF. WHICH I GUESS MAKES UNDERFELL LYNSIE EVEN MORE TRUE TO WHO I REALLY AM. ANYWAY, ENJOY. ^_^

It's been a week since the incident with Toriel. I have trained nonstop, practiced my magic, sat through Toriel's teachings, and even took some personal time to meditate on the chaos of my mind. I have done enough work to go up another stat level. I am now at HP 32, ATK 19, and DEF 13. Flowey tells me the next time my stats increase, I should get a point for more defense. I have done so much over so long...And yet after all that...All the things I've been distracting myself with...I've found myself standing at the fated door she fears. I know she says it leads to doom but I sense no danger about it. It just seems to be a normal exit. I'm just staring at it contemplating the idea of opening it over not bothering to. Why? Why am I compelled to be here so damn much? Why do I keep doing this? I could be doing something else, anything else for that matter. I could be reading, sleeping, thinking up new food plans, or even help Toriel with her snail hunts. So why...What's so god damn special about this fucking door?!

"Are you going to stare at it all day or open it?"

I don't even flinch at Flowey's voice, mostly because I'm the one that let him loose down here.

"I'm contemplating a Schrödinger's cat scenario."

"A what?"

"Schrödinger's cat is a thought experiment, sometimes described as a paradox. The scenario presents a cat that may be simultaneously both alive and dead, a state known as a quantum superposition, as a result of being linked to a random subatomic event that may or may not occur."

"Uh..."

"Let's say this...A cat, a flask of poison, and a radioactive source are placed in a sealed box. If an internal monitor, such as a Geiger counter, detects radioactivity, such as a single atom decaying, the flask is shattered and releases the poison, which kills the cat. The Copenhagen interpretation of quantum mechanics implies that after a while, the cat is simultaneously alive and dead. Yet, when one looks in the box, one sees the cat either alive or dead not both alive and dead. This poses the question of when exactly quantum superposition ends and reality collapses into one possibility or the other. It's at that point the whole multiverse theory of things happen wherein one universe's timeline I open the door and in another I don't. Basically, this would be a hypothetical group of multiple separate universes. Together, these universes comprise everything that exists: the entirety of space, time, matter, energy, the physical laws and the constants that describe them. The different universes within the multiverse are called the 'parallel universes', 'other universes' or 'alternative universes'. But that's another barrel of fish I don't want to waste my bullets on shooting."

I look at Flowey and confusion paints his face. I can literally see the gears in his head trying to turn but are stuck from the info dump I took on him.

"In essence, I have at this moment both opened and not opened the door. Only when I make a choice does the timeline split. Thus creating universes that are similar up to the point the choice was made but differ on the path that reflects what I did. If I open it, that world doesn't. If I don't open it, that world does. That make sense?"

"...What the hell is Toriel teaching you?!"

"Oh, none of that. This is the sort of thing I'd look up for fun or out of boredom when I was on the surface."

"Wait, hold up...So you're telling me that you are actually smart?"

"Never said I wasn't. What gave you any indication that I was missing brain cells?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the lack of listening to reason and the idea of hugging the homicidal monsters that try to kill you! That ring any crazy bells for you?"

"To be fair, there is a fine line between genius and madness because they share the same places in the mind. Psychologists have discovered that creative people have a gene in common which is also linked to psychosis and depression. So who knows? Genius and madness have something in common. Both live in a world that is different from that which exists for everyone else. So maybe I am nuts. Or maybe I'm just seeing things others can't. There's a fine line between brilliance and insanity, my flower friend. And I have erased this line from my life in my own subtle way. Hehehe..."

"The creepy giggle tells me different."

I sigh through my nose and turn on my heels.

"I guess this is a world where I..."

[You hear a faint clicking sound.]

I pause and listen.

"Well?"

"Shhh..."

[You hear it again.]

"Looks like the cat lives!"

I spin around and kick the door hard, parting it open.

"Geez! You know you could've pushed it open, right?"

"Now where's the fun in that?"

[knock, knock]

"Sounds like an opportunity. Best not keep it waiting too long."

"You are so corny sometimes."

I smirk, letting my curiosity get to me and follow the sound. With the door open, the dark path before us is cast in enough light so we can see. I bet Toriel uses her fire to see down here. Flowey dives into the ground and I wander down an extremely long corridor. And I do mean very long. Light no longer reaches the point where I am so I feel along the wall for guidance.

"Yo, flower-boy, you out there?"

"Just a bit further...You should be able to see me soon."

"Why's that?"

"There's a small hole in the ceiling that light shines in from."

"...For real?"

I get distracted and slam my face into a brick entry frame.

"Son of a bitch!"

"You okay?"

"I don't know...hoping my nose isn't broken."

I crawl into the room and meet up with Flowey who has sprouted on a small patch of grass growing in the sunlight that managed to pierce the mountain.

"Here, let me see the damage."

"Is it bad?"

He puts his leafs on my nose and wiggles it a litter, earning a little wince from me.

"Hmmm...I don't think it's broken. But no guarantees about getting black eyes."

"Great. Like that'll help these raccoon eyes."

[knock, knock]

Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Flowey held my full attention so much so that I didn't hear the knocks coming from the exit door across from us. This door, it's archway holding the Delta Rune like the last door.

"Do you know who is doing that?"

Flowey shakes his head.

"I know a lot of things, but that one I don't. I learned not to go beyond that door the first time I tried."

"Oh...Well, here's hoping curiosity doesn't kill this cat."

He groans as I move over to the door that's a good 20 or 30 feet away.

[knock, knock]

"Who's there?"

There's silence.

"I said...Who's there?"

"...doughnut."

No...Did I really just get set up for a joke? Fuck it. Might as well play along.

"Doughnut who?"

"i doughnut recognize your voice. ya must be new."

Clever. Very clever. Not very funny, but clever. Okay mystery monster, two can play at this game.

[Knock, knock]

"...who's there?"

"Avenue."

"avenue who?"

"Avenue ever knocked on this door before?"

It's both a joke and a real question. First, there's snickering, but it doesn't last long and they sigh as composure is regained.

"heh...yeah, i do knock here often. but normally the old lady is the one who responds. where is she?"

Why do I feel like being a jerk right now?

"You mean Toriel? Oh, I killed her..."

"you what?!"

"With kindness. And if you're not careful, I just might slay you with sweetness too, buddy."

There's silence on his end.

"Oh come on. It was a joke. Like I'd really hurt the lady that took me in and calls me daughter. That would be the biggest bitch move in history."

"...that wasn't funny."

"Yeah...It left a bad taste in my mouth."

"best wash your mouth out with soap."

I sigh and lean my back against the door.

"So you chat with mom often?"

"we talk sometimes. she's mentioned you a little bit."

"Anything interesting?"

"nothing much...just...the two of ya got into a fight not too long ago."

I rub my face.

"Of course she'd bust that out to someone she'd figure I'd never meet."

"can i ask why?"

"Why what?"

"why'd ya fight?"

"She thought I was leaving her."

"...were you?"

"*scoff* No! Why would I leave? I have her, fucking mom of the millennium. What moron walks out on someone that gives a shit over someone so pathetic? The humans that fell before me were dumb shits to want to leave."

I kick the dirt in annoyance.

"You okay over there?"

"I'm fine, Flowey! Thanks for asking!"

He's paying attention to me only because it's what Toriel wants. He's sort of became her little spy.

"flowey? the fuck is flowey?"

"Talking flower that's been my buddy since I fell down here. He watches out for me. Teaches me how this world works and junk. Not a bad dude for someone with a weak sense of humor."

"ya fell down here, huh? so you really are a human."

"Last I check, yes."

"that's funny."

"Why?"

"i'm actually supposed to be on the watch for humans right now."

"You don't say."

"but...y'know...i don't really care about capturing anybody."

"Good to know."

"capturing is too much work. it's way easier just to kill ya."

I tense up a little bit.

"And this went south real quick."

"relax. i'm only fucking with ya."

"Tell that to the other monsters that try to kill me."

"they must suck at doing so, as by law, you should be dead right now."

"Good luck on that happening."

"why ya say that?"

"Because of all the crap I've been through, I can honestly say I can't die. I get hurt, yeah, and pretty damn close to good Sir Death, but never do we meet. Only pass by one another like old friends saying hello before continuing on. *sigh into a groan* The fuck am I saying? Probably creeping you out by getting all deep and shit. Forget I said anything."

There's silence again.

"Yep. Scared you away. Go figure. Great job, Lynsie, ya idiot. No more than two minutes into a conversation and you say stupid crap."

I drop to sit on the floor. I belong in the dirt anyway.

"...wow, kid. that was...heh, ya sound nothing like what the king said you humans were like."

Part of me is glad he didn't leave. The other part is embarrassed because of the shit I said.

"While I can't say I'm like other humans, I'm glad to not be lumped in with such a dumb bunch."

"from what the old lady told me, you've been showing mercy to each and every monster ya come across. that true?"

"You sound as confused by this as everyone else."

"that's because it's not how things work down here."

"I know. Almost every day, someone reminds me that this is a kill or be killed world. But I don't see why. Why is it like that? I don't have to go around killing to become stronger. Nor do I want to end someone's life. Monsters are cool. And while I'm down here, in a place the world doesn't remember, I'd rather make a home than a tomb."

"you actually like it down here?"

"Better than being up there."

"man, how fucked up was your life before if people trying to kill you makes it better by comparison?"

Now is my turn for silence.

"kid? ya still there?"

"...I don't talk about personal shit to people I don't know properly yet."

"fair enough. the name is sans. sans the skeleton."

"Sans? Like Comic Sans the font?"

"you got a problem with my name?"

"Nah, dude, it's cool. I like that font."

"oh..."

"Your name is cooler than mine."

"what's your name?"

"Lynsie. It's an old name that comes from the United Kingdom. There are many different ways of spelling it or pronouncing it. One way is the old Scottish habitational name from Lindsey in Lincolnshire, England. This is first found in the form Lindissi, apparently a derivative of the British name of Lincoln. This was later added to the Old English element 'island' as a reference to the Isle of Linden Trees since the place was virtually cut off by the surrounding fenlands. The surname was taken to Scotland at an early date and is the name of an important and powerful Scottish family. The Irish later adopted it as an equivalent of various Gaelic names."

"damn! ya know a lot about your name."

"That's not the lame part yet."

"huh?"

"Before the mid-twentieth century, it was solely a male's name."

It's quiet for a moment before I hear laughter.

"hahaha...ya got a guy's name!"

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. It's my name and I have to live with it. So enjoy your fun, ya cheeky ass."

"heh...i'm a skeleton, dummy. i don't have an ass."

Hearing that makes me grin evilly.

"Oh really? Huh...Well, that's rather disappointing."

There's a sound like he choked on air and I laugh loudly.

"Oh my god...I so wish I could see your face right now!"

"fuck you!"

"I bet you would, but you probably don't have a dick for that either!"

"*snarls* you cocky lil' shit!"

"*snickering* Sorry...I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself when the joke was presented before me."

"can ya speak up? i can't hear you over the sound of my shattered pride."

"Ah man...Don't be that way. Tell ya what...Take a free shot at me. I promise not to counter it."

He gets quiet in thought and I wait for what punches he'll throw my way.

"how old are ya?"

"Huh?"

"i said, how old are ya? i wanna know so i don't weird out some kid and piss off mommy."

"Smart move. I'm twenty-eight."

He goes quiet and for some reason, it feels unsettling.

"okay...i think i got something."

"Hit me with your best shot, bone-boy."

"alright...are you an archaeologist?"

"Why do you ask?"

"heh, because i've got a bone for you to examine."

I bite my tongue and he laughs.

"hehehe...yeah, that's what i thought. my jokes are too powerful for ya. try to remember that before ya step up to me again, kid."

I smirk to myself.

"Is that a challenge?"

He snorts.

"ya really want to pick a fight with me?"

"A fight, no. I'd rather pick your bones. Starting with your funny bone. I hear that one can be rather humerus."

There's a pause that becomes a chuckle.

"girl's got jokes...i like that about a woman."

"This explains where Nanny gets her jokes from. But it seems you hold out on her when it comes to the hard stuff."

"is that a good or bad thing?"

"A good thing. I find her humor cute when she does it right. You, however, are on a whole other level. I'd say god tier of jokes."

"flattery will get ya nowhere, kid. still nice to hear it though. it's also nice to hear someone else that likes sans-ational jokes."

"Heh...There might be a door between us, but you're the adorable one here, buddy."

He pauses for a moment.

"not sure you'd be saying that if ya ever saw me."

"Why?"

"well...i'm a skeleton."

"...So?"

"...ya do realize it kinda sounds like you're flirting with me, right?"

"Really? I thought I was just being cute."

Was I really flirting? It didn't feel like it. Wouldn't I know if I was? One man's flirt is another girl's compliment I guess.

"are all humans as weird as you?"

"I like to think I'm one of a kind. But being realistic, there are probably others like me out there. The universe is a pretty infinite place. Who's to say such things such as multiple 'me's wouldn't be a thing?"

"getting nerdy on me now?"

"I'll be nerdy if you geek out with me, bone-boy. That is...If you can get on my level."

"kid, ya got no idea what you're asking for."

"I don't know about that. We seem to have some great chemistry going on here."

"don't say i didn't warn ya."

"You didn't."

"...okay, now i won't feel bad about this."

"Bring it on!"

"fine...since ya brought up the whole infinite universe thing, then i take it ya know about multiverse theory."

"Funny enough, I was just talking about it earlier."

"then you understand the possibilities don't just extend to two worlds being made by a single choice, correct? any and every possibility that can or could happen makes a world. so there's this world where we're having this conversation, but another world where we aren't. a world where you didn't fall down here and someone else did. a world where you fell but died. a world where ya got killed by the first monster you met. even a world where you kill every monster ya see. anything, any little change or subtle difference here and there, makes up a whole other world. so if you think about it, one universe can have thousands upon millions of alternate timelines made up of varying changes."

"Dude...And here I thought I was the deep one."

"s-shut up!

"You're right though. All of that is a possibility. Like a hair with split ends, each branching path is different but still part of that same universe it originated from. It's fascinating to think of the crazy things that could be. Like, can you imagine a world where this was reversed? Where humans were forced underground and monsters ruled the surface?"

"hmmm...sounds nice."

"Or a world where humans and monsters switched race."

"me as a human? i bet i'd be hot as fuck."

"Or a world where this was all just a story someone made up for a video game or fanfiction."

"oh my god, could you imagine the shit that would make? random weirdos shipping people left and right regardless of lore, relationship status, or even blood. what a bunch of freaks."

"Dude...You guys know what shipping is down here?"

"uh...let's just say a lot of human trash ends up down here. some of it may or may not be things called anime and manga."

"...Got a favorite?"

"...maybe?"

"*snickers* Nice. Oh! Or a world where we swap roles with relatives/spouses."

"nah. screw that one. i like being the older brother."

"You have a brother?"

"just one. and you?"

"Human or monster?"

"um...both?"

"On the surface, I got an older bro and a younger sis. Down here, I consider Flowey like a bro. Not sure how old he is. Oh! Do ghosts count? 'Cause I got this spooky little kid that talks to me sometimes too."

"uh...what?"

"Eh, but enough about me. I've been prattling on for too long as it is. I wanna hear about you. This bro of yours got a name or am I digging too deep for my own good down here?"

"heh, i don't mind. a guy as epic as my bro needs his reputation to precede him."

"He's that cool?"

"the coolest."

"Nice."

"his name is papyrus..."

"Like the font?"

"it's a skeleton thing. tradition if you wanna call it that."

"It's cute."

"*gruff* anyway...my brother, papyrus...he's a human-hunting FANATIC."

"Sounds like I'm in trouble if he sees me."

"damn right. he isn't second in command of the royal guard for nothing."

"Most impressive. You must be proud."

"hell yeah, i'm proud. my bro is the best. no one messes with him unless they're looking to die."

"Awesome. That must mean as the older bro, you're a badass too."

There's a pause.

"y-yeah...i...i'm a real tough customer."

"You don't sound like you really buy what you're selling."

"i don't want to talk about it."

"Very well. I'll only say this...If the world beyond this door is as dark a place as everyone tells me, then I must admit to being envious of your ability to not only survive in such a world but to be able to share life with a sibling no less...That alone tells me you are far stronger than you know."

There is no sound for a long time after that. I want to think this skeleton named Sans is thinking over my words. In a world where people kill to gain strength, sometimes a little pep talk goes a long way.

[knock, knock]

Guessing we're back to this. That's fine. We can joke if you want us to.

"Who's there?"

"sans."

"Sans who?"

"are ya freaking kidding me? how did you forget me so fast?"

"*giggles* Never, bone-boy. I'd never forget someone so punny."

"heh. glad to hear that, kid. if ya really like my jokes, then be ready for more. i've got a skele-ton of them."

I smile to myself, finding peace in this moment.

"Sans..."

"yeah?"

"This is nice."

"eh, not a bad way to kill time on my end either."

"If it's okay with you...I wouldn't mind this being a thing. Not trying to make this weird or anything. I just...I feel comfortable talking with you."

"ya know...you seem rather trusting of monsters you don't know."

"I like to think showing some kindness can be a nice way to open more doors than being a huge cunt."

"are you sure that's a smart idea? being nice around here isn't a good thing. it's seen as a weakness. and weakness is seen as a big ass target for others to off ya. like, you could literally open your front door and witness a monster get killed because it was justified on the grounds of the dead one being 'too weak'. and that's something ya gotta live with. knowing that everyone's always watching ya. wanting ya dead and waiting, just waiting, for the first sign of weakness so they can kill ya."

"I know. But it's just how I want to be."

"so you know that one of these days, your 'kindness' is going to get ya killed."

"Heh...I have no doubt that you're right. But...I think I'd be okay with that."

Where the heck is this coming from? Why am I opening up like this?

"I'm being weird again, aren't I?"

"just a little."

"Sorry about that. But if you think I don't have my guard up, then you're the one that's too relaxed right now. I'm on my toes each time I leave the house. I've had to convince many monsters in here that I'm not worth the EXP. So many encounters, so many repeated actions and words. But it's not like I'm not learning from all this."

"what does that mean?"

"For a while now, Nanny's been teaching me how to do soul magic. I know only a few basics, mostly because humans can't do magic like we used to. Yet one of these tricks is to sense or see souls and reading its feelings."

I close my eyes, concentrate, then open them slowly. Looking at the door, I see a faint upside down heart come into view, a bit blurry due to being on the other side of these huge doors, but there all the same.

"I can see you, bone-boy. Your soul feels confused, much like anyone else down here that I've met so far. So, I can't really say you're a good guy or a bad guy. You're like on this strange middle level I can't pinpoint. This is why it seems like I'm not on my guard. I don't see you as dangerous...for now anyway."

"you can see me huh? then what am i doing right now?"

"I see your soul, not your body. There's still a door in the way, dingus, and I don't have x-ray vision. But if I had to guess, you probably just flipped me off. Am I right?"

"clever bitch...but x-ray vision would be a pretty cool power to have. though you wouldn't need it when it comes to me or my bro."

"Why? You boys naked or something?"

I hear what sounds like a scuffle then pounding on the door. That must have got him pretty good.

"no, we're not naked! why would ya even ask that? are ya some kind of freak?"

"Been called that most my life. So, maybe?"

"look, i'm just...nah. ya know what? forget it. i ain't gonna spoil it for you."

"Oh? You make it sound like we'll be seeing each other soon."

"maybe we will, maybe we won't. but that's up to you really. the doors to the ruins can't be opened from the outside."

"Dumb design flaw."

"so if ya do decide to show yourself out here, i guess that means you'll have to fight the old lady again."

"I doubt that. There might be some yelling or other shit like that, but we learned from what happened last time. That isn't happening again. I am not fighting her. I barely made it as is."

"oh yeah? what's your LV level? had to be pretty high to withstand her attacks."

"One."

I hear what sounds like a spit-take. Guess he was drinking something.

"one?! you're only a level one and you survived a fight with the old lady?!"

"Yep."

"how?!"

"The power of plot armor."

"no, seriously! how did you not die?!"

"I told you. Friendship. They say it's magic."

"you...you have to be bullshitting me. no one gets in a fight here and both people get out alive. at the very least, someone's badly hurt and forced into submission. but..."

"Hmmm?"

"but...the old lady...she told me what you did."

"And that was?"

"ya tried to talk to her...ya tried to be nice...she said at one point...you snapped..."

I feel my heart falter and not start up again after a couple seconds.

"ya tried to kill her...didn't ya? was that a lie?"

I pull my legs up to my chest.

"...Something happened at that moment. I don't know what it was. I felt...I felt this deeply seeded despair suddenly raise from the depths with such force and it consumed me. I was blinded by this feeling. I was in so much pain...I wanted her to feel it...Feel the hurt that I was experiencing...But I stopped myself before I did something I'd regret. That's not me. I'm not a killer. It's not who I am."

"but for a moment...it was."

I hold my breath.

"even if it was a moment of weakness...the intent was there. you were going to kill her."

"...Stop it."

"don't think of it as a bad thing. ya wanted her to listen to ya and she wasn't. what better way to get her attention than to come at her with a knife?"

"Stop it!"

"oh, i'm so sorry. am i hurting your feelings? is the big bad human gonna cry? or are ya gonna try to kill me too?"

"I҉ ̶Ş̨A̛̛I̡D̀ ̡̀͜S̛T̕͜O̷҉P̸͟!͜"

I hear gasping, both from him and Flowey, as I try to keep myself in control.

"Stop it! I'm not a killer! I don't want to hurt anyone! Stop saying I'm bad! I'm not like that! I'm not! I'm not! I'm not...*whimpering* I'm not a bad girl...Please...Just...Stop..."

My chest hurts.

"h-hey...settle down. look, i shouldn't have said that shit. just...don't go getting all teary-eyed over it."

It feels like there's a vice on my soul. Shit, this is bad.

"Fuck...Getting worse...Flowey! Go get Toriel!"

"What? Why?"

"J̶u̷st ̸d͡o̵ it̷!̕"

Flowey dives into the ground and I slam my head back against the door.

"A̕rg҉h!"

"human? what's going on? hey! talk to me, damn it!"

I grip my chest in one hand and claw the ground in the other. The pain is breaking past my tolerance.

"kid? ya there? what's happening? say something!"

"*roar* M͏҉a̴m̵a̛͞!"

The loud thunder of Toriel's running stampede can be felt before I actually hear it. I'm a wincing mess by the time she comes into view. Her expression is one I was expecting, overprotective concern.

"Child? What is happening?"

I don't think I can talk without making noises of pain, so I opt for a different way of communication. I show to tell. Meaning, I pop my soul out and now we both can see the damage. The small green heart is dulling to faint swirls of black that are creeping in.

"*gasp* Oh no...Not again...Do not fear, my child. I shall help you however I can."

"M̡ak͠e̷ įt͟ s̸t͞o͠p...M͝ake i͞t̶ st͘o̵p͟ ̴be͟f̛ore ͜I ̢d͘o͢ so̴m̴et͜h͠i͢ng͞ ͞b҉àd..͠.I̶ d̶on̕'t ̵w͠a͝n̨t̛ t͘o̡ do ͝a̴nýt̴hi̛ng̶ ͢ba̡d͢.͡.."

She terrified. I can see it in her eyes. She has no clue what to do. But I can tell there's an idea in her head and she scared from it. Now I'm the one that's worried. I'm worried because...I'm wanting her to do the idea she has. I want her to do something, anything if it'll keep this darkness from spreading out and taking over again. Forgive me Toriel...I trust you...But I'm scared too...So don't hate me.

"W̡h͢a̷t͝ ̡arȩ ͜y̶o͡u̡ doinģ? ͡H̴e͢l͝p̶ me̕.̀.̨.Do͡n'̷t͟ just͞ ͟s̡tar͡e at̕ m͟e li̢ke ̡I̛'͟m som̴é ̨s͢ìde͟sh̕ow͏ ̸fre̡àk..͘.Do̕ so̴m͢ęthi̧ng b̷e͟fòre I d͞o!̵"

The darkness is gathering more, removing color from the soul. Knowing what happened last time, when that black soul formed, she reacts in desperation.

"Forgive me, my child!"

Her hands go around my throat and start squeezing. Naturally, instinct has me trying to stop this. My fingers claw for her hands, my legs kick out, my body overall thrashes in its desperate need to breathe so it can live. All this made even harder against the door. Most likely scaring the shit out of Sans. If he's still there that is.

"Shhhhh...Hush child...It will be okay. Do not fight this. I am helping you as you wanted me to. Now settle down and go to sleep. All will be better when you wake up. You will see. I promise. Things will be better. *crying* So just do as I say and sleep!"

I can normally hold my breath for around three and a half minutes underwater, with that only being about two minutes on land. This is minute four and my lungs are burning with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns! Air isn't the only thing cut off in this choke. The blood supply to my brain is also being cut off. I...I can't move...Getting hared to form thoughts...Sight fading...Please stop at making me pass out and not strangle me to death or break my neck...okay mom?

"*weak* T҉hank̡ ̛yo͞u̴.̨...nanny...."

My limbs fall motionless and my head lolls back like a rag doll. The last thing I see before everything disappears when my eyes go looking at the back of my skull is her sad face and all those tears.

Toriel on her end gives it a few more seconds before releasing the human's throat from her grip. There is no life in the body now and the soul flickers faintly as the black ebbs from it before slowly sinking back into its host.

"*whimper* What have I done? How could I..."

"holy shit! did ya just kill the human?!"

Sans's sudden voice startles her.

"Sans?! W-What are you...How long have you...?"

"been here quite a while really. been chatting with your 'daughter'. is she...ya know...dead?"

Good question. Toriel wasn't trying to kill but as a Boss Monster, her strength can be immense even when controlled. Slowly, with trembling fingers, she reached out and felt the human's neck. It took a bit of searching, the small beating was very hard to find, but it was there none the less...a pulse. Toriel heaved a heavy sigh of relief.

"Thank goodness...She is still alive."

"geez...well, that's some good news."

"Are you not a sentry that hunts humans?"

"yeah?"

"Would it not please you knowing of her death?"

"and have to do my job? fuck that. it's too much crap and paperwork. not like anyone will believe me if i show up with a human soul. fuckers will think pap did it and i'm just the errand boy making his delivery. believe me, i like it better when no humans fall. that way, i can just nap the day away."

That made her smile. Sans had been a friend of sorts over the years. They met by random timing when she was walking around and he knocked on the door. One thing leads to another and a small bond was made over bad jokes. Sometimes he'd bring her books and read them to her, or play silly word games. But she enjoyed the company that he was, even if it was short lived. He can't be at this door 24/7. He has a home and a brother to tend to. A family...Much like the human had now become to her.

"so...mind if i ask what happened?"

She pulled the unconscious human into her arms.

"Her soul...It does something I have never seen before."

"like what?"

"It changes color."

"...really?"

"And moments ago, it tried to become another color. The bad one I told you of before."

"ya mean the black soul?"

"Correct."

"never heard of a black soul before. i don't even think it's in the official books."

"I have not seen one either till this child. Only in rumors during the war did whispers of black souls reach my ears. Relentless humans of power that were like the berserkers of myth. This child...I have been caring for her a long time now...She is not like those beasts I heard of."

"but her soul turns black, right? that's when she...snaps?"

"I do not understand why or what makes her flip like that. There is so much she does not tell me about her past. So much pain she keeps hidden to herself. I...I think it comes from her suffering."

"...then...what are ya gonna do?"

Her hold on the human tightens.

"I will do my best to quell the demons of her past and keep her soul pure. She is not a violent human by nature. It is not in her to do harm."

"but what if she does? what if one day, ya can't fix her and she goes nuts? do ya really think ya got it in ya to kill another kid? and one ya call family no less?"

She goes quiet.

"tori? you okay?"

"Sans...If the human ever comes through this door...Could you please, please promise me something?"

"...tori, ya know how i feel about making promises."

"Please!"

She trembles, clutching the human in her motherly embrace.

"Please...*sniffling* Please...As long as she remains the good girl that she is...Do not harm her or turn her into the Royal Guard...Show her the mercy that she has shown others."

"you're asking me to keep a very big promise."

"I'm not finished..."

She bites her lip in knowing of the next words to leave her.

"But...But if she changes...If her LV ever increases or she loses herself to the darkness of the Black Soul...I need you to spare her from becoming that which is feared...Please...If she ever stops being my child...Do not let her remain in such misery. Can you do that for me, Sans? Can you be strong for me?"

"tori..."

"I beg of you as a friend and not order you as your Queen. I...I cannot bring myself to do harm to humans anymore. I cannot allow my husband to collect another soul and bring about more pain. I just...I cannot do this for much longer if I know nothing is going to change. This child...She is the first ray of light to come to this hellish world in so long...If her light goes out, then I cannot see myself going any further..."

"hey! don't say shit like that! ya can't throw in the towel over some stupid human!"

"This human is my daughter! My only living child! She is all I have left in this world of the family I have lost! And I will not live with knowing I was still too weak to save even a single life that I hold dear!"

There's silence for some time as she calms down.

"Forgive me...I am not as strong as I once was. I should not have to burden others with my problems."

She stands up and turns away from the door.

"tori..."

She pauses.

"i...*sigh* i promise."

"You...You will?"

"i ain't gonna like it. but i can try to keep a socket on her if she ever does leave the ruins. it is my job, after all, to look out for humans."

She smiles softly.

"Thank you, Sans."

"don't thank me, tori. i ain't doing this because ya want to put your hopes and dreams into the kid. i'm doing it because i don't want ya to beat yourself up over some stupid shit and end up dusting yourself. we monsters died enough in the war and die enough now that it's over. don't go hurting yourself over a human or i'm gonna bust in there and beat the crap out of the both of ya! ya got that, old lady?!"

She can't help the giggle that escapes her.

"You are a good friend, Sans. I hope you can be as good a friend to her as you are with me."

"*scoff* whatever. i gotta get going anyway. papyrus will be stopping by my station soon and i don't feel like being yelled at for the next hour or two. so...chat with ya later, tori."

"Take care, Sans."

She listens as he leaves, the crunching of snow fading in the distance.

"Are you still down here, little flower?"

Flowey peeks from the grassy patch.

"Is it safe? Is she okay?"

"For now, she rests. You were with her when this happened, yes?"

"Y-Yeah."

"Tell me, do you know what caused her to shift?"

"I...I couldn't hear everything. I was here and she was at the door, talking to him. It looked like they were having a good time. Then...She...It looked like she was getting sad. Then she was shouting that she wasn't bad and refused to kill. It looked like she was fighting the change but wasn't sure she could. So she had me get you."

"Hmmm..."

She thinks as she begins to head back to the house stairs.

"Come, little flower. We must make sure she is well before she wakes."

Flowey nods and sinks into the ground to return to his pot at the base of the stairs. Toriel soon follows, picking up his pot while heading upstairs and bring them to the child bedroom. Here is where the three remain. Toriel and Flowey monitor the human, making sure she's okay until she wakes up. Although for Toriel, the waiting wasn't the hardest part. In fact, waiting made it worst. The more time passed, the more her neck began to show the bruising of her hands. The guilt weighed heavily in her stomach.

~~~~~~

The world is dark again, cast into the shadows of an unending emptiness. I must be about to dream of that voice again, the jerk. How many times have I had this dream already? Eight? Nine? Maybe ten times now? Who the friggidy fraggle knows. But something feels a bit off. The cold isn't so bone-chilling as it normally is. This is different. I can move. I can see my body. I am more than able to experience this place in thought alone. This world isn't just all nothingness. There is a single gray door.

Curiosity compels me to open this door without even thinking. It was like the odd call to go down to Toriel's basement. A strange force pulls me inside, causing the door to shut and disappear as though it never was. There's a sudden flash that blinds me for a moment and when my sight returns, I find myself in a gray room...but not alone.

There's a much taller than me figure at the back of the room facing a wall with its back to me. Its body is shrouded in black with the only color I can see being the bleach white of its head. Vaguely the faintest hint of red around collarbone of its neck, a sweater maybe? I know better than to alert this figure to my presence. I concentrate and try to read its soul, but I can't find it. There's a spot where it should be yet no heart appears in my vision. Is it damaged or something? What the hell is this thing?

Suddenly it perks up, turning its head to look my way. Yep, called it on the red being part of a turtleneck sweater, but that's the only part there is as everything else is coated in blackness. It gives me a twisted smile and its eyes light up red, all of which is even freakier looking due to the cracks on its eye sockets, one going down from his left eye the other going up from his right eye.

Nope! So much nope right now! Fuck this! Fuck this dream! Fuck this guy! Fuck my life! Fuck everything!

I attempt to move, only to discover I can't. The familiar chills of death run down my spine as this thing turns completely to face me.

"💧⚐ 🕈☜ ☞✋☠✌☹☹✡ 💣☜☜❄ ☞✌👍☜ ❄⚐ ☞✌👍☜📪 ☹✋❄❄☹☜ ⚐☠☜📬" (SO WE FINALLY MEET FACE TO FACE, LITTLE ONE.)

Don't show any weakness to this fucker. All he does is mess with you. Send all power reserves to the deflector shields! God, I'm a nerd even when I'm giving myself a pep-talk!

"☟💣💣💣📬📬📬❄☟✌❄ ☜✠🏱☼☜💧💧✋⚐☠📬📬📬❄☟✌❄🕯💧 ❄☟☜ ☞✌👍☜ ⚐☞ 💧⚐💣☜⚐☠☜ ❄☼✡✋☠☝ ☠⚐❄ ❄⚐ 💧☟⚐🕈 ✌☠✡ ☞☜✌☼📬" (HMMM...THAT EXPRESSION...THAT'S THE FACE OF SOMEONE TRYING NOT TO SHOW ANY FEAR.)

God dingus damn it!

"❄⚐ 🏱🕆❄ ✡⚐🕆 ✌❄ ☜✌💧☜📪 ✌☹☹⚐🕈 💣☜ ❄⚐ 👍☹✌☼✋☞✡ ❄☟✌❄📪 ✋☠👎☜☜👎📪 ✡⚐🕆 💧⚐🕆☠👎 👌☜ ✌☞☼✌✋👎📬 👌☜ ✞☜☼✡ ✌☞☼✌✋👎📬" (TO PUT YOU AT EASE, ALLOW ME TO CLARIFY THAT, INDEED, YOU SOUND BE AFRAID. BE VERY AFRAID.)

Don't ask stupid questions! For the love of God, resist the urge to ask...

"Why? And how is that suppose to put me at ease?"

You fucking idiot!

"⚐☟📪 👎✋👎 ✋ 💧✌✡ 🏱🕆❄ ✡⚐🕆 ✌❄ ☜✌💧☜✍ 💧✋☹☹✡ 💣☜📪 ❄⚐ ☟✌✞☜ 💧🕆👍☟ ✌ 💧☹✋🏱 ⚐☞ ❄☟☜ ❄⚐🕆☠☝☜ ☹✋😐☜ ❄☟✌❄📬 ☟☜☟📬📬📬🕈☟✌❄ ✋ 💣☜✌☠❄ ❄⚐ 💧✌✡ 🕈✌💧📬📬📬" (OH, DID I SAY PUT YOU AT EASE? SILLY ME, TO HAVE SUCH A SLIP OF THE TOUNGE LIKE THAT. HEH...WHAT I MEANT TO SAY WAS...)

He rushes at me so fast I'm not even sure I saw actual movement. All I know is now I'm pinned to a wall that he's holding me to.

"✋ ✌💣 ☝⚐✋☠☝ ❄⚐ 🏱🕆☹☹ ✡⚐🕆 ✌🏱✌☼❄ ✋☠❄⚐ ☠⚐❄☟✋☠☝ 💣⚐☼☜ ❄☟✌☠ 🏱✋☜👍☜💧 💧⚐ 👌☼⚐😐☜☠ ❄☟✌❄ ☠⚐ ⚐☠☜ 🕈✋☹☹ ☜✞☜☼ 👌☜ ✌👌☹☜ ❄⚐ 🏱🕆❄ 👌✌👍😐 ❄⚐☝☜❄☟☜☼✏" (I AM GOING TO PULL YOU APART INTO NOTHING MORE THAN PIECES SO BROKEN THAT NO ONE WILL EVER BE ABLE TO PUT BACK TOGETHER!)

HOLY FUCKING ASS CRACKERS!!

"🖂💧❄✋☞☹☜👎 💧☠✋👍😐☜☼✋☠☝🖂" (*STIFLED SNICKERING*)

Wait...Did he just...

"☟☜☟☜☟☜📬📬📬☞⚐☼☝✋✞☜ 💣☜📬 ✋❄ ☟✌💧 👌☜☜☠ 💧🕆👍☟ ✌ ☹⚐☠☝ ❄✋💣☜ 💧✋☠👍☜ ✋ 🕈✌💧 ✌👌☹☜ ❄⚐ ✋☠❄☜☼✌👍❄ 🕈✋❄☟ 💧⚐💣☜⚐☠☜📬 ✋ 👍⚐🕆☹👎☠🕯❄ ☼☜💧✋💧❄ 👌☜✋☠☝ ✌👌☹☜ ❄⚐ 💧👍✌☼☜ ✡⚐🕆 💧☜☠💧☜☹☜💧💧📬" (HEHEHE...FORGIVE ME. IT HAS BEEN SUCH A LONG TIME SINCE I WAS ABLE TO INTERACT WITH SOMEONE. I COULDN'T RESIST BEING ABLE TO SCARE YOU SENSELESS.)

He puts me down and my knees give out much to his interest.

"💧☜☜💣💧 ✋ 💣✌✡ ☟✌✞☜ ⚐✞☜☼ 👎✋👎 💣✡💧☜☹☞📬 🕈✌💧 ❄☟✌❄ ❄⚐⚐ 💣🕆👍☟ ☞⚐☼ ✡⚐🕆✍" (SEEMS I MAY HAVE OVER DID MYSELF. WAS THAT TOO MUCH FOR YOU?)

"I think I just shit out my heart..."

"☟💣💣💣📬📬📬💧🕆👌☺☜👍❄ ✋💧 ☜✠❄☼☜💣☜☹✡ 💧🕆👌👎🕆☜👎 🕈☟☜☠ 🕆☠👎☜☼ ✋☠❄☜☠💧☜ 👎🕆☼☜💧💧📬 ✋🕯☹☹ 💣✌😐☜ ✌ 💣☜☠❄✌☹ ☠⚐❄☜ ⚐☞ ❄☟✌❄ ❄⚐ 🏱☼☜✞☜☠❄ ☞🕆☼❄☟☜☼ ✋☠👍✋👎☜☠❄💧 ✋☠ ⚐🕆☼ ☞🕆❄🕆☼☜ ☜☠👍⚐🕆☠❄☜��💧📬" (HMMM...SUBJECT IS EXTREMELY SUBDUED WHEN UNDER INTENSE DURESS. I'LL MAKE A MENTAL NOTE OF THAT TO PREVENT FURTHER INCIDENTS IN OUR FUTURE ENCOUNTERS.)

He offers me his hand while I get my breathing back under control. Dear lord, he fucking almost scared me to death. He went from zero to Satan in nothing flat. I better keep my cool around him for the sake of my health and sanity. When I'm able to stop shaking, I cautiously give him my hand and I notice something odd about him. Well, more than usual I guess. The parts of him that are white appear to be like bone yet different. There are also holes in the palms of both hands like something's missing or was taken out. He jerks me off the floor with ease. The guy is strong for looking like a stiff.

"☜✞☜☼ ❄☟☜ ⚐👌💧☜☼✞✌☠❄ ⚐☠☜📪 ✌☼☜☠🕯❄ ✡⚐🕆✍ ☜✡☜💧 ✌☹🕈✌✡💧 ⚐☠ 💧⚐💣☜❄☟✋☠☝📬 ❄☟✌❄🕯💧 ☝⚐⚐👎📬 ✋❄ 💣☜✌☠💧 ✡⚐🕆☼ 💣✋☠👎 ✋💧 ✌☹🕈✌✡💧 ✌👍❄✋✞☜📬 ✋❄ 💧🏱☜✌😐💧 ❄⚐ ✡⚐🕆☼ ✋☠❄☜☹☹✋☝☜☠👍☜📬 ✋ ☹✋😐☜ ❄☟✌❄📬 ✋ 👍✌☠🕯❄ 💧❄✌☠👎 ❄✌☹😐✋☠☝ 🕈✋❄☟ ❄☟☜ ✋☝☠⚐☼✌☠❄ 🕆☠👎☜☼👎☜✞☜☹⚐🏱☜👎 💧👍🕆💣📬" (EVER THE OBSERVANT ONE, AREN'T YOU? EYES ALWAYS ON SOMETHING. THAT'S GOOD. IT MEANS YOUR MIND IS ALWAYS ACTIVE. IT SPEAKS TO YOUR INTELLIGENCE. I LIKE THAT. I CAN'T STAND TALKING WITH THE IGNORANT UNDERDEVELOPED SCUM.)

"Thanks, I guess? Not really sure what's going on here. But quick question...Are you...?"

"✌ 💧😐☜☹☜❄⚐☠✍ ✡☜💧📬 ✋ 🕈✌💧 👌☜☝✋☠☠✋☠☝ ❄⚐ ❄☟✋☠😐 ✡⚐🕆 🕈☜☼☜☠🕯❄ ☝⚐✋☠☝ ❄⚐ ✌💧😐📬" (A SKELETON? YES. I WAS BEGINNING TO THINK YOU WEREN'T GOING TO ASK.)

"How do you figure that?"

"✋ 👍✌☠ 💧☜☜ ✡⚐🕆 ✌☼☜ ☞✋✠✌❄✋☠☝ ✡⚐🕆☼ ☝✌☪☜ ⚐☠ 🏱✌☼❄💧 ⚐☞ 💣✡ 💧😐🕆☹☹ 🕈☟✋☹☜ ✡⚐🕆☼ ☟✌☠👎📪 🕈☟✋👍☟ ✋💧 💧❄✋☹☹ ✋☠ 💣✋☠☜ 👌✡ ❄☟☜ 🕈✌✡📪 ✋💧 ☞☜☜☹✋☠☝ ✌☼⚐🕆☠👎 ❄☟☜ 👌⚐☠☜ ✈🕆✋❄☜ ✋☠❄☜☠❄☹✡📬" (I CAN SEE YOU ARE FIXATING YOUR GAZE ON PARTS OF MY SKULL WHILE YOUR HAND, WHICH IS STILL IN MINE BY THE WAY, IS FEELING AROUND THE BONE QUITE INTENTLY.)

I blush and yank my hand back, which makes him smirk.

"💧🕆👍☟ ✌ ☠✌🕆☝☟❄✡ ☝✋☼☹ ❄⚐ ☞☜☜☹ 💣☜ ☹✋😐☜ ❄☟✌❄📬 ✌☠👎 ✋🕯💣 ✌ 💧❄☼✌☠☝☜☼ ☠⚐ ☹☜💧💧📬 🕈☟✡📬📬📬🕈☟✌❄ 🕈⚐🕆☹👎 ✡⚐🕆☼ 💣⚐❄☟☜☼ 💧✌✡ ✋☞ 💧☟☜ 😐☠☜🕈✍" (SUCH A NAUGHTY GIRL TO FEEL ME LIKE THAT. AND I'M A STRANGER NO LESS. WHY...WHAT WOULD YOUR MOTHER SAY IF SHE KNEW?)

I'm getting too flustered for this shit.

"Buddy, I am so close to slapping you that it ain't even funny."

"☠⚐ ☠☜☜👎 ☞⚐☼ 💧🕆👍☟ ☼☜❄✌☹✋✌❄✋⚐☠📬 ☠⚐❄ ☹✋😐☜ ✡⚐🕆🕯👎 ☟✌☼💣 💣☜ ☜✞☜☠ ✋☞ ✡⚐🕆 ❄☼✋☜👎📬" (NO NEED FOR SUCH RETALIATION. NOT LIKE YOU'D HARM ME EVEN IF YOU TRIED.)

"Are you implying that I'm weak?"

"☠⚐❄ ☜✞☜☠ 👍☹⚐💧☜📬 ❄☟✋💧 ✋💧 ❄☟☜ ✞⚐✋👎📬 ✌ 🏱☹✌👍☜ 👌☜❄🕈☜☜☠ ❄✋💣☜ ✌☠👎 💧🏱✌👍☜📬 ❄☟✋☠☝💧 ☹✋😐☜ 💧❄☼☜☠☝❄☟ 👎⚐ ☠⚐❄ 💣✌❄❄☜☼ ☟☜☼☜📬 ☠⚐❄☟✋☠☝ 💣✌❄❄☜☼💧 ☟☜☼☜📬" (NOT EVEN CLOSE. THIS IS THE VOID. A PLACE BETWEEN TIME AND SPACE. THINGS LIKE STRENGTH DO NOT MATTER HERE. NOTHING MATTERS HERE.)

Joke detected. Proceed with being a dork.

"You're wrong."

"☟💣💣💣✍" (HMMM?)

"Everything is matter!"

I laugh nervously as he blinks at me a few times. Wow...My lameness has hit new lows. This is around the time Flowey or Chara would mock me for it. I sigh in defeat, only to perk up when I hear him slap a hand over his mouth. He's trying not to chuckle but the hole in his hand doesn't really help.

"❄☟✌❄📬📬📬❄☟✌❄ 🕈✌💧 ✌🕈☞🕆☹📪 ☟🕆💣✌☠📬" (THAT...THAT WAS AWFUL, HUMAN.)

"Then why are you laughing, sir?"

"✋❄🕯💧 ✌ 🏱✋❄✡ ☹✌🕆☝☟📬" (IT'S A PITY LAUGH.)

"Heh. If you say so. Figured all skeletons had easily tickled funny bones. At least, that's the impression I got from Sans anyway."

He flinches upon hearing that name.

"Judging by that reaction, I seem to have struck a nerve. Rather interesting considering, as a skeleton, you don't have the guts for such things."

A small amount of red dusts his cheekbones and he groans at my increasingly bad puns.

"❄☟✌❄ 👌⚐☠☜☟☜✌👎📬📬📬✌☹☹ ✋❄ ❄⚐⚐😐 🕈✌💧 ⚐☠☜ ✋☠❄☜☼✌👍❄✋⚐☠ ✌☠👎 ☟☜ 👍⚐☼☼🕆🏱❄☜👎 ✡⚐🕆 🕈✋❄☟ ☟✋💧 ❄☜☼☼✋👌☹☜ 💧☜☠💧☜ ⚐☞ ☟🕆💣⚐☼📬" (THAT BONEHEAD...ALL IT TOOK WAS ONE INTERACTION AND HE CORRUPTED YOU WITH HIS TERRIBLE SENSE OF HUMOR.)

"So you do know him? Cool. Does he randomly get pulled into weird doors in his dreams too?"

"☠⚐📬 ✡⚐🕆 🕈✋☹☹ ☠⚐❄ 👌☜ 💧☜☜✋☠☝ 💧✌☠💧 ☟☜☼☜📬 ❄☟✋💧 ✋💧 ✌ 🏱☹✌👍☜ 🕈☟☜☼☜ ⚐☠☹✡ ✡⚐🕆 ✌☠👎 ✋ 🕈✋☹☹ 👍⚐☠✞☜☼☝☜ ❄⚐ 💣☜☜❄📬" (NO. YOU WILL NOT BE SEEING SANS HERE. THIS IS A PLACE WHERE ONLY YOU AND I WILL CONVERGE TO MEET.)

"So...This is going to be a thing with us then? Me randomly popping in and saying hi?"

"✌ ❄☟⚐🕆💧✌☠👎 🏱✌☼👎⚐☠💧 ✋☞ ✋🕯💣 ☠⚐❄ 💣☜☜❄✋☠☝ ✡⚐🕆☼ ☟✋☝☟ 💧❄✌☠👎✌☼👎💧 ☞⚐☼ 👍⚐💣🏱✌☠✡📬" (A THOUSAND PARDONS IF I'M NOT MEETING YOUR HIGH STANDARDS FOR COMPANY.)

"That's not what I meant. Don't take it the wrong way, I'm just confused by this...whatever this is. I recall each of these moments. Each time we chat. I'm not even sure these are dreams anymore based on I'm able to vividly remember all this. So finally meeting the owner of the voice that comes into my head is throwing me off a little. I'm not very good at making the best first impressions."

"✋ 😐☠⚐🕈📬 ✡⚐🕆 👍✌☹☹☜👎 💣☜ ✌ ☼✌👍✋💧❄ ☞🕆👍😐📪 ☼☜💣☜💣👌☜☼✍" (I KNOW. YOU CALLED ME A RACIST FUCK, REMEMBER?)

"*nervous giggles* Oh yeah...heh...I...I forgot about that. My bad?"

He sneers a little before regaining composure.

"❄⚐ 👌☜ ☞✌✋☼📪 ✋ 🕈✌💧 ☹☜💧💧 ❄☟✌☠ 🏱☹☜✌💧✌☠❄ ✋☠ ❄☟✌❄ ✋☠❄☜☼✌👍❄✋⚐☠ ✌💧 🕈☜☹☹📬 💧⚐ ✋🕯💣 🕈✋☹☹✋☠☝ ❄⚐ ⚐✞☜☼☹⚐⚐😐 ❄☟✌❄ 💣⚐💣☜☠❄ ✌☠👎 👍✌☹☹ 🕆💧 ☜✞☜☠📬 👌🕆❄ 💣✌✡👌☜ ✡⚐🕆 💣✌😐☜ ✌ 🏱⚐✋☠❄ ✌👌⚐🕆❄ ☞✋☼💧❄ ✋💣🏱☼☜💧💧✋⚐☠💧📬 💧👍✌☼✋☠☝ ✡⚐🕆 ☟✌☹☞ ❄⚐ 👎☜✌❄☟📪 🕈☟✋☹☜ ☜☠❄☜☼❄✌✋☠✋☠☝📪 ✋💧☠🕯❄ ❄☟☜ 👌☜💧❄ 🕈✌✡ ⚐☞ ☝☼☜☜❄✋☠☝ ✌ ☠☜🕈 ☞✌👍☜📬" (TO BE FAIR, I WAS LESS THAN PLEASANT IN THAT INTERACTION AS WELL. SO I'M WILLING TO OVERLOOK THAT MOMENT AND CALL US EVEN. BUT MAYBE YOU MAKE A POINT ABOUT FIRST IMPRESSIONS. SCARING YOU HALF TO DEATH, WHILE ENTERTAINING, ISN'T THE BEST WAY OF GREETING A NEW FACE.)

I guess if he's willing to forgive and forget, I can be a big girl about this too.

"Then allow me to introduce myself. Greetings good sir, I am Lynsie. Might I be so bold as to ask who you might be? Since this will be a reoccurring and continuing thing."

"✋ 😐☠⚐🕈 ✞☜☼✡ 🕈☜☹☹ 🕈☟⚐ ✡⚐🕆 ✌☼☜📪 ☟🕆💣✌☠📬 ✋🕯✞☜ 👌☜☜☠ 💣⚐☠✋❄⚐☼✋☠☝ ✡⚐🕆 💧✋☠👍☜ ✡⚐🕆 ☞☜☹☹📬 🕈☟✋👍☟📪 ✈🕆✋❄☜ ☞☼✌☠😐☹✡ ✋ ☟✌✞☜ ❄⚐ 💧✌✡📪 ✋🕯💣 ✌ ☹✋❄❄☹☜ 👎✋💧✌🏱🏱⚐✋☠❄☜👎📬" (I KNOW VERY WELL WHO YOU ARE, HUMAN. I'VE BEEN MONITORING YOU SINCE YOU FELL. WHICH, QUITE FRANKLY I HAVE TO SAY, I'M A LITTLE DISAPPOINTED.)

"You've been watching me? Wait...I'm disappointing? What? How? Why?"

"✡⚐🕆🕯☼☜ 😐✋☠👎 ⚐☞ 👌⚐☼✋☠☝📬" (YOU'RE KIND OF BORING.)

"I'm boring? How the hell am I boring? Did you not see any of the crap I've been through?! Did you not see Toriel need to strangle me?! How the fuck is that boring?!"

A cheeky smirk plays on his face...that cocky son of a bone!

"☟☜☟📬 ✋ ☟✌👎 ✌ ☞☜☜☹✋☠☝ ❄☟✌❄ 🕈⚐🕆☹👎 👎☼✌☝ ✌☠ ✌💣🕆💧✋☠☝ ☼☜✌👍❄✋⚐☠ ⚐🕆❄ ⚐☞ ✡⚐🕆📬" (HEH. I HAD A FEELING THAT WOULD DRAG AN AMUSING REACTION OUT OF YOU.)

My eye twitches.

"I'm just a toy to you, aren't I?"

His expression changes to a more serious one.

"☞✌☼ ☞☼⚐💣 ✋❄📬 ✌☹☹ ☟🕆💣⚐☼ ✌💧✋👎☜📪 ✋ ☞✋☠👎 ✡⚐🕆 ☼✌❄☟☜☼ ✋☠❄☜☼☜💧❄✋☠☝📬 ❄☟✋💧 ☼⚐⚐💣 ✋💧 💧☜🏱✌☼✌❄☜ ☞☼⚐💣 ❄☟☜ 🕈⚐☼☹👎 ✡⚐🕆 😐☠⚐🕈 🕈☟☜☠ ✡⚐🕆 ✌☼☜ 👍⚐☠💧👍✋⚐🕆💧📬 ☠⚐ ⚐☠☜ ✌☠👎 ☠⚐ ❄☟✋☠☝ ☟✌💧 ☜✞☜☼ 👌☜☜☠ ✌👌☹☜ ❄⚐ ☼☜✌👍☟ ☟☜☼☜ ☠✌❄🕆☼✌☹☹✡📬📬📬❄☟✌❄ ✋💧📪 ⚐☞ 👍⚐🕆☼💧☜📪 🕆☠❄✋☹ ✡⚐🕆 ☞☜☹☹📬" (FAR FROM IT. ALL HUMOR ASIDE, I FIND YOU RATHER INTERESTING. THIS ROOM IS SEPARATE FROM THE WORLD YOU KNOW WHEN YOU ARE CONSCIOUS. NO ONE AND NO THING HAS EVER BEEN ABLE TO REACH HERE NATURALLY...THAT IS, OF COURSE, UNTIL YOU FELL.)

"You're suggesting that this place is a dimensional rift or pocket dimension that solely consists of this room and only this room."

The grin he gets is creepy.

"✋ 😐☠☜🕈 ✡⚐🕆 🕈☜☼☜ 👍☹☜✞☜☼📬 ✡⚐🕆☼ 🕆☠👎☜☼💧❄✌☠👎✋☠☝ ⚐☞ 💣🕆☹❄✋✞☜☼💧☜ ❄☟☜⚐☼✡ 🕈✌💧 ✞☜☼✡ ☜☠☹✋☝☟❄☜☠✋☠☝📬" (I KNEW YOU WERE CLEVER. YOUR UNDERSTANDING OF MULTIVERSE THEORY WAS VERY ENLIGHTENING.)

"I have a basic understanding in most scientific studies. It's amazing the kind of stuff I end up looking up when I'm bored. My most recent studies being string theory and multiverse theory."

"❄☟☜☠ ✡⚐🕆 👍✌☠ ☝☼✌💧🏱 ☟⚐🕈 ❄☟✋💧 ✋💧 🏱⚐💧💧✋👌☹☜📬 ❄☟✋💧 ☼⚐⚐💣 💧❄✋☹☹ ☜✠✋💧❄ ⚐☠ ❄☟☜ 💧✌💣☜ 🏱⚐✋☠❄ ✌💧 ❄☟☜ 💣✌✋☠ 👎✋💣☜☠💧✋⚐☠ 🏱☹✌☠☜📪 👌🕆❄ ✋💧 ☠⚐❄ ✈🕆✋☜❄ ⚐☠ ❄☟☜ 💧✌💣☜ ☹☜✞☜☹📬" (THEN YOU CAN GRASP HOW THIS IS POSSIBLE. THIS ROOM STILL EXIST ON THE SAME POINT AS THE MAIN DIMENSION PLANE, BUT IS NOT QUIET ON THE SAME LEVEL.)

"Hmmm...Like a weak rip in the fabric of the blanket of time. This room is still connected by the loose threads but isn't fully patched in, if you mind such phrasing."

"☜✠✌👍❄☹✡📬 ✞☜☼✡ ☠✋👍☜ ✌☠✌☹⚐☝✡ 👌✡ ❄☟☜ 🕈✌✡📬 💧✋💣🏱☹☜ ✌☠👎 ☜☞☞☜👍❄✋✞☜📬" (EXACTLY. VERY NICE ANALOGY BY THE WAY. SIMPLE AND EFFECTIVE.)

"I try. But I do believe we are missing a very important part of this equation."

"✌☠👎 🕈☟✌❄ 💣✋☝☟❄ ❄☟✌❄ 👌☜✍" (AND WHAT MIGHT THAT BE?)

"How the heck am I here? I'm just a mere human with the weakest amount of magic you can possibly imagine. How could I possibly be capable of inter-dimensional travel?"

An inquisitive look falls to him, his pinprick eyes close in thought. It's not a bad look on him. Kind of charming actually. Very natural looking. Did I stump you, mystery man?

"✌ 🏱⚐💧💧✋👌☹☜ ☜✠🏱☹✌☠✌❄✋⚐☠ 👍⚐🕆☹👎 👌☜ ✌💧❄☼✌☹ 🏱☼⚐☺☜👍❄✋⚐☠📬 ❄☟☜ ☞✌☹☹ 👍⚐🕆☹👎 ☟✌✞☜ ❄☼✋☝☝☜☼☜👎 ✡⚐🕆☼ 💧⚐🕆☹ ❄⚐ ❄☼✡ 🏱☼⚐❄☜👍❄✋☠☝ ✡⚐🕆📬 ✌❄ ❄☟☜ ☼✋💧😐 ⚐☞ ✡⚐🕆☼ 👌⚐👎✡ ☹✋😐☜☹✡ 👌☜✋☠☝ ☼☜☠👎☜☼☜👎 🕆💧☜☹☜💧💧📪 ✡⚐🕆☼ 💧⚐🕆☹ 💣✋☝☟❄ ☟✌✞☜ ❄☼✋☜👎 ❄⚐ 💧✌✞☜ ✡⚐🕆☼ ☜💧💧☜☠👍☜ ☞⚐☼ ☼☜💧☜❄❄✋☠☝ 🏱🕆☼🏱⚐💧☜💧📬" (A POSSIBLE EXPLANATION COULD BE ASTRAL PROJECTION. THE FALL COULD HAVE TRIGGERED YOUR SOUL TO TRY PROTECTING YOU. AT THE RISK OF YOUR BODY LIKELY BEING RENDERED USELESS, YOUR SOUL MIGHT HAVE TRIED TO SAVE YOUR ESSENCE FOR RESETTING PURPOSES.)

Now I'm the one confused.

"What do you mean by that?"

"✡⚐🕆 🕈✋☹☹ ☞✋☠👎 ❄☟✌❄ ⚐🕆❄ ✋☠ 👎🕆☜ ❄✋💣☜📬 ✋🕯💣 💧🕆☼☜ ✌ 👍🕆☼✋⚐🕆💧 💣✋☠👎📪 💧🕆👍☟ ✌💧 ✡⚐🕆☼💧☜☹☞📪 🕈⚐🕆☹👎 ☜☠☺⚐✡ 👎✋💧👍⚐✞☜☼✋☠☝ 💧🕆👍☟ 🕈⚐☠👎☜☼💧 ⚐☠ ✡⚐🕆☼ ⚐🕈☠📬" (YOU WILL FIND THAT OUT IN DUE TIME. I'M SURE A CURIOUS MIND, SUCH AS YOURSELF, WOULD ENJOY DISCOVERING SUCH WONDERS ON YOUR OWN.)

Wait, what does he mean by this? The why is he speaking in like some vague character in a game?

"I...I'm not sure I follow what you're saying. Can you be a tad more specific?"

"✌💧 ✋ 💧✌✋👎📪 ✡⚐🕆 🕈✋☹☹ ✋☠ ❄✋💣☜📬 👌🕆❄ ☞⚐☼ ☠⚐🕈📪 ⚐🕆☼ ❄✋💣☜ ✋💧 ☠☜✌☼✋☠☝ ✋❄🕯💧 ☜☠👎📬 ⚐🕆☼ 💣☜☜❄✋☠☝💧 ☠☜✞☜☼ 💧☜☜💣 ❄⚐ ☹✌💧❄ ☹⚐☠☝ ☜☠⚐🕆☝☟ ☞⚐☼ 👎☜👍☜☠❄ 👍⚐☠✞☜☼💧✌❄✋⚐☠📬 ✌❄ ☹☜✌💧❄📪 ☞⚐☼ ☠⚐🕈 ✌☠✡🕈✌✡📬" (AS I SAID, YOU WILL IN TIME. BUT FOR NOW, OUR TIME IS NEARING IT'S END. OUR MEETINGS NEVER SEEM TO LAST LONG ENOUGH FOR DECENT CONVERSATION. AT LEAST, FOR NOW ANYWAY.)

I can feel it happening. I'm regaining consciousness.

"Wait! You never told me who you are and why you're here? I have so many questions!"

He gives me a crooked smile and pats my head like an elder sibling would.

"❄☟✌❄📪 ☹✋❄❄☹☜ ⚐☠☜📪 ✋💧 ✌ ❄✌☹☜ ☞⚐☼ ✌☠⚐❄☟☜☼ ❄✋💣☜📬 👌🕆❄ ✋ 🕈✋☹☹ ✌☠💧🕈☜☼ ⚐☠☜ ⚐☞ ✡⚐🕆☼ ✈🕆☜💧❄✋⚐☠💧📬" (THAT, LITTLE ONE, IS A TALE FOR ANOTHER TIME. BUT I WILL ANSWER ONE OF YOUR QUESTIONS.)

He leans down and we lock eyes, my heart stops in mid-beat as I forget how to breathe.

"✡⚐🕆 💣✌✡ 👍✌☹☹ 💣☜📬📬📬☝✌💧❄☜☼📬" (YOU MAY CALL ME...GASTER.)

His eyes flash and I'm consumed in the light.

#undertale #underfell #Anomaly #Lynsie #Sans #Gaster #Papyrus #Grillby #Napstablook #Mettaton #Flowey #Asriel #Asgore #Toriel #Undyne #Alphys #grandpa semi #Chara #Frisk

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fans-of-fiction · 7 years ago

Text

F-fuh-Fuck Off, B-Bowers - Bill Denbrough x Reader (IT)

-|| To the anon that requested: tysm ily and I hope you’re having a good day<3 I’m really sorry that the reader walked home from the library in July and not from school in another season. I hope it didn’t tinge your idea. <3 xoxo E ||-

Request: Could you write a bill x reader where she’s walking home from school & the bowers gang shows up and keeps messing with her but bill shows up & just helps her out? I’m a sucker for cliches.

Warnings: Language (haha, oops), Sexual References. Potential bullying triggers (It’s Bowers. I’m sorry)

A/N: Written in both Bill and Y/N’s POV. There are more flashbacks (whoops) but the timeline’s noted. Italics are internal thoughts. ‘Italics with quotes are past quotes.’

Words: 4613

July 1989 - Bill

The warm wind pushed Quarry water across my face as I pedaled home. My hair was plastered to my head, still wet from swimming with the Losers. Silver was kicking up gravel as I rode down Kansas street. As I admired the foliage of the Barrens below I could hear birds chirping in the thick branches. If Stan were there he would’ve told me what bird it was before he could manage to pull out his binoculars. I laughed at the thought as the green street sign for West Broadway appeared on my left. I made a wide curve onto the street and immediately spotted her.

It was Y/N. She was far ahead, nearly at the end of the street, but I could still see the wind sweep through her hair as she made her way south-east, her backpack bobbing with each step. I would have pedaled closer to her, tried to talk maybe, but any conversational topic was water in the desert of my brain, so instead, I rode safely behind her, and with luck she’d turn onto Witcham too. But as I glanced past Y/N, I determined there was no luck on West Broadway street, because where Witcham appeared, so did Henry Bowers.

I could feel anxiety bubbling in my guts like hot, sappy tar. I’d ridden past Bowers before. He–as well as Victor and Belch–had thrown sticks and rocks at Silver’s wheels, trying to get me to fall off. ‘How does it feel to be an ass, you stuttering freak?!’ Henry had yelled. Their laughs echoed in my head as I rode closer to Y/N. A sickening thought emerged from the tar that had made it’s way to my head. What if Bowers does it again? What if he succeeds this time? I thought. What if I eat shit in front of Y/N? The hot tar got hotter. I could feel my feet spinning around Silver’s gears at a slower pace as I subconsciously put off passing him, even if it meant never passing Y/N before she found where she was going.

I was watching the bullies with a concentration I could never muster in class. Y/N was close to them now. Close enough for one of them to reach out and grab her. “You b-better wuh-watch yourself B-Buh-Bowers.” I mumbled to myself, far out of their earshot. I was glad they couldn’t hear me but I was disappointed when I couldn’t hear Henry, who smirked down at Y/N and mumbled something.

It couldn’t have been something nice because Y/N stopped in her tracks and turned to the group. Victor and Belch were giggling to each other, but Henry seemed focused, determined. Like a wild cat studying its next meal. No, I pleaded in my head. No, Y/N don’t stop. Keep moving. God, please. But she didn’t move. She looked up at Henry defiantly as he continued to talk down to her, his eyes dancing over her frame. Something clicked in my head and suddenly I knew what was happening. He must’ve catcalled her. Bowers was trying to get in her pants.

The tar in my stomach was gone. It had bubbled into full-blown fire, fueling my feet which were spinning faster now, around and around the gears. Any trace of fear had vanished, giving way to anger and a longing to protect Y/N. Go ahead, assholes. Touch her, I dare you. I spat in my head. Give me a reason to put you in the hospital. I was surprised by my own courage, but made no effort to stunt it. Y/N was pure, and I’d die before I let those jack-offs tinge her soul.

I was close–within 150 feet at this point–when Henry whipped his arms up and grabbed Y/N by the shoulders. Any confidence that once radiated from her face was gone, leaving behind only fear. She was terrified, and I knew the feeling. She no longer looked like the stunning girl I saw the first day I met her. Instead, she looked like a stunning girl who was afraid. I could remember what she looked like that day. What she felt like. How she made me feel. How she made the world feel right.

May 1989 - Bill

“…and then I said, ‘that’s what your mom said last night,’ and he just wailed on me!”

The Losers burst out laughing at Richie, who was holding the left side of his face. “Well, no wonder he punched you,” Beverly chuckled.

“Hey, don’t trash the trashmouth,” Richie objected before furrowing his eyebrows and looking around. “Where the fuck is Eddie?” Richie turned on the bench in front of Mr.Keene’s pharmacy, still holding his face. With his free hand, he rapped on the glass and yelled inside. “Hey, Eddie Spaghetti! Where’s that ice?!”

Eddie pushed open the glass door and chucked a bag of peas at Richie’s chest. “Hey! It’s cold!” He yelped.

“Of course it’s cold, Einstein. I couldn’t find any bags of ice, but the peas should help. And don’t call me Eddie Spaghetti.”

“You know you love it when I call you that,” Richie chuckled and ripped open the top of the bag. “So how much am I supposed to eat?”

The Losers erupted in laughter again. Eddie threw the palm of his hand against his forehead with a clap. “Dumbass.”

Life felt good as we all laughed at Richie, who was spilling peas all over the sidewalk. The only thing that bothered to interrupt us was the deep rumble of a truck engine making its way down the street. MacPherson Moving Company was printed on the side in big, black letters. We all stared at the truck as it pulled over in front of the pharmacy. It managed to block out almost all of the sun hitting the store window.

None of us knew what to expect in terms of who was going to clamber out of the MacPherson Moving truck, but it wasn’t a young girl, who must’ve been our age, with a dollar bill in one hand and a Walkman in the other. She hopped out of the passenger’s side, gingerly landing on the pavement, then strolled into the pharmacy; and not for a second could I peel my eyes off her.

Ben must’ve noticed because he was giggling. Mike, Stan, and Beverly all joined him. Richie looked over, confused. “What?” He questioned. “What are you dorks giggling at?”

Eddie ducked his head beside Richie’s but didn’t bother to whisper. “Bill’s totally into her.”

Richie’s eyes widened at an alarming speed and he nearly dropped his peas. “Holy fuck!” He turned to me. “Are you into that hottie, Bill?” I could feel my cheeks growing hot. Richie noticed and laughed. “What the shit, dude? Why are you still here? Go in there and talk to her!” The Losers all nodded and mhmm’ed. Anxiety was bubbling in my guts, hot and viscous, like tar, but no matter how much it spat, I couldn’t stop thinking about the girl. She was so elegant. So beautiful. So- “Well, Billy? Are you gonna stand there all day?”

I turned to him. “R-Richie, even if I wuh-w-went in th-there and s-said ‘Hi’, what could I p-puh-possibly talk to her ab-bout?” Richie stood up. The bag of peas was completely empty, tossed on the ground near the bench. Richie put one hand on my back and the other on my chest. He leaned into my shoulder and whispered, “Just go in there, buy her a Dr.Pepper or something, and talk about your massive-”

“Richie!” Eddie yelled, disgusted. “That-That’s enough.”

Richie laughed again but was cut off by Mike. “Just ask her if she’s moving to Derry.”

Ben nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good idea! You can offer to give her a tour of Derry. You know, the big tourist sights.”

“Ha!” Richie coughed out. “Ladies and gentlemen; On the left: the Derry Public Library, on the right: Bassey Park, and if you look over here you’ll find my tasty shorts.”

Richie was howling. Stan wasn’t impressed. “Eddie, would you control him.”

“Me?!” Eddie Bleated. “You think I don’t try?!”

I may have laughed at Eddie but I was still thinking about the mystery girl. Though I wasn’t excited to admit it, Richie was right. If I didn’t talk to her soon I would drive myself batshit. I shoved my hand in my right pocket and rooted around, pulling out three dollars and twenty-eight… twenty-nine… thirty cents. Richie was still laughing when I turned and opened the door. The AC bit my chest as I stepped into Mr.Keene’s. She was directly ahead, just arriving at the cashier, her Walkman in her back pocket. I had taken several steps forward before the door shut and the jingle rung. She looked back at me, her eyes locking with mine. Suddenly the tar returned. It was roaring and churning so badly I almost turned and left, but looking back I saw Richie, his mouth hanging open, shocked that I wasn’t copping out.

Don’t back out now, Bill. I thought to myself. I looked at the shelf to my right. The minute-rices were looking extra interesting. I was within ten feet of her. It was an acceptable distance for a conversation, but I still couldn’t muster up the courage to talk, until she spoke first.

“I’m sorry,” She said softly. “How much did you say?”

Mr.Keene adjusted his glasses. “It’s fifty-five cents per cone, young lady. Plus taxes. So that puts us at… well, we can call it a dollar sixteen.

I knew she only had a dollar. I knew I had enough to cover her cost. I knew what to do. I grabbed the closest item I could find. She shook her head at the dollar bill in her open hand. “I’m afraid I only have a dollar. I-“

I tossed two chocolate bars on the counter and handed Mr.Keene the change from my pocket. “I’ll cover b-both of us, M-muh-Mr.Keene.” I whispered, suddenly hyper-aware of my stutter. What if she thinks you’re a freak, Bill? I questioned in my head. The tar broiled and bubbled up to my throat.

Mr.Keene looked down at me with a smirk on his face. He knew what I was doing. “Why, that’s very kind of you, Bill,” He said with a crafty tone. I glanced at the girl, but apparently, she didn’t value being stealthy. She was staring at me in disbelief. I couldn’t help but chuckle. Mr.Keene opened the register with a metallic clank and breathed out through his nose, frustrated. “Would you look at that,” He puffed. “Fresh out of nickels.” He closed the register. “Be right back, kids.” And with that, he turned and stepped into a back room.

I looked at the girl again. She was still staring, but her face had adopted a look of guilt. “You really didn’t have to do that for me.” Her voice washed over my ears like melted gold.

I wanted to pull her into my chest and wrap my arms around her frame, but instead, I forced a chuckle and shook my head. “It’s f-fuh-fuh-f-” I stopped. The word wouldn’t come out. Brush it off, Bill. Try again. Just try again. “I-it’s f-f-f-fuh-” I could feel the pressure of tears beneath my eyes, threatening to emerge and overflow like a burst pipe beneath the bathroom floor. That’s it, Bill. I was surrendering in my mind. You blew it, you freak.

She put a hand on my arm. It was warm and comforting and very surprising. “Thank you.” She confided. “I really appreciate what you did.” She was being genuine, looking in my eyes and suddenly I was the one staring. The tables had turned so quickly they made my head spin, but looking at her made me feel grounded, like I had found my center of gravity. “Mr.Keene said your name was Bill, right?” I didn’t know what to say–even if I could physically say it–so I just nodded. She chuckled. “It’s very nice to meet you, Bill. I’m Y/N.” Y/N, I repeated. There’s a name to the face. That beautiful, beautiful face.

Her eyes were so captivating that I had a hard time looking away, but I managed to glance off so that she didn’t think I was brain dead. Looking out the door I found Richie–surrounded by the rest of the Losers–gawking in the window. Everyone’s mouth was hanging open except for Richie’s, which only mouthed ‘Holy fuck’.

I chuckled, having found security knowing that the Losers were practically there with me. I looked back at Y/N, who was taking in the sight of the group of dorks. “Your friends?” She laughed.

I laughed too. “Y-yuh-yeah.”

She smiled ever so softly and looked at my lips. The tar had given way to pleasant heat. “How long have you had a stutter?” She asked. Her tone shocked me because it wasn’t demeaning or sarcastic. She was being legitimate.

I never had to answer that question to anyone that wasn’t a doctor, and it was odd, but not unpleasant. “E-ever s-ss-since I w-w-wuh-” I was struggling again. Shit.

I looked at her to see if I should just stop and let her finish the sentence herself–Knowing when to stop was the biggest lesson my stutter had taught me. That, and don’t open your mouth around Bowers–but she just smiled and said “It’s ok. Take your time.” It was as if someone had shone a new light on Y/N. In addition to the warm glow she gave off, being a genuine soul, this new light allowed me to see her in her purest form. A kind, soft, beautiful girl, who truly cared, and I could hear wedding bells.

“S-since I w-was y-yuh-young.” I managed to croak. Despite my struggle, I felt a sense of accomplishment in completing the sentence, and in knowing that Y/N didn’t think I was a freak. She was like my favourite sweater and a good book, a source of absolute comfort. A cozy hiding place. I could feel the struggle wearing off my tongue. “Thanks for l-letting me f-fuh-finish.” I managed. “M-most puh-people just think I’m a-an ass.”

She threw her eyebrows up in surprise, then let them down and chuckled. “Well, if they’re dumb enough to bother to tell you that then they’re the real asses.”

Suddenly Mr.Keene appeared with shiny new coins. He handed me my change and my chocolate bars. “Here you go, Bill.” He gave Y/N her ice cream cones.”Miss.” Then he smiled like he had single-handedly saved the world. “Have a good day you two!” And with that, he walked off again.

Y/N chuckled and shifted both packaged ice cream cones to one hand. With a soft precision you could only find in the most talented artists, she raised both arms, gently wrapping them around the tops of my shoulders. Her hug took me by surprise, so it took a second for me to hug her back, though I had no problem doing so. She radiated warmth, like the sun on a perfect summer day. “Thank you again, Bill. I’ll repay you someday.” She cooed into the crook of my shoulder. Fuck, she smelt like happiness. “And if it means anything,” She said, turning and starting for the storefront. “I like the stutter.” She reached the door and smiled back at me once more. ”I think it’s cute.”

I could feel my heart melting, sending waves of heat up to my cheeks. It stopped me from leaving the pharmacy for a few seconds, but I managed to toss the bars in my pocket and step out, just as the truck was pulling away.

All the Losers were in shock. All except the trashmouth. “So, Billy.” Richie chuckled. “You gonna-” He was laughing so hard at himself that he could hardly finish his sentence, but he managed to spit out “You g… bone… new girl?”

Stan scoffed and Eddie wailed but I couldn’t take my eyes off the truck. I realized that I never actually asked her if she was moving Derry. You may never see her again. I cried to myself briefly, before abolishing the thought. She could live across the world… it wasn’t going to stop me. “No, Richie,” I mumbled. “I’m gonna marry her.”

July 1989 - Y/N

You had walked home from the library using West Broadway countless times, but not once had you ever been faced with Henry Bowers. Not once had you been reduced to getting catcalled by a kid with a mullet. Not once had Bowers ever actually scared you… until today, which you figured just wasn’t your day.

You had seen Bowers parading around school like some hillbilly king but never paid him any mind. You knew the stories of things he did to scrawny little kids, but you figured it was all a show, like expensive clothes on a broke kid, or a brave face on a coward. You knew that’s all Bowers was. A coward, a phony, a paper man.

In all the days you passed him getting shit from the principal, or brushing his ratty hair in the window of Belch Huggins’ Trans-Am, you realized that not once had he ever seen you. This realization dawned when you tried to make your way past the group of guys, not far from the junction of West Broadway and Witcham. You figured they wouldn’t give you trouble. You figured you’d be fine at your current distance of seven feet, but as Henry scanned you up and down while Belch Huggins joined Victor Criss in whistling and cawing beside him, you got anxious. Not fine, You thought to yourself. You felt like hot tar was burning and bubbling in your guts. Just let me make it to Witcham, You pleaded. Just let me make it home.

Bowers had waited for the right moment to make his move, and now that you were directly in front of him, he had found it. He smirked down at you from his height and mumbled, “Hey, babe. Penny for a piece of your shorts?”

Just a paper man, Y/N. You reassured yourself. Give him his own medicine. Stopping in your tracks you looked up at Bowers with defiant eyes smeared on fake confidence. “I’ll give you a nickel if you jump in the barrens and never come back, Bowers.”

Belch’s jaw dropped and Victor made a sound that resembled an injured owl. Both were staring at Henry, neither had any clue how he would react. They viewed Henry like a time-bomb under Derry, waiting to blow a hole in the small town without any warning, but Henry knew himself. He knew he wasn’t about to be stood up. Not by anyone. “What,” he spat. “You don’t think could handle a little work like you?”

You forced a chuckle. Another layer on the canvas of fear that you desperately tried to cover with false confidence and various splotches of bravery. “I don’t think you could handle your own little work, Bowers.” That’s good enough. You babbled to yourself. Now’s the time to leave.

Henry threw his arms up and clamped them down on your shoulders, causing you to squeak out in surprise. You quickly became hyper-aware of your surroundings. You could feel the wind pulling on your hair, you could hear the trees rustling in time with the wind-chimes that hung from the porch of the house across the street, and you could see the hatred buried deep in Henry’s eyes. You knew he was leaving red patches on your shoulders where he refused to let go. “You know what, bitch?” He spat. “You should know not to fuck with me. I think you need a lesson on who you’re messing with.”

You had no motivation to throw on the tough-girl act again. They knew that wall had crumbled, and Henry was feeding on it like a starving animal. You caught a look at Victor, who looked a little pale. He had no idea what Henry was about to drag his ass into and it made him antsy. At that point you figured you had two options; The first was delivering a swift kick to Henry’s little work and bolting for it, praying the whole way home that you could out-run them. The second was staying and getting the shit beaten out of you by Bowers. The first option was surely the better of the two, but Henry was still fixed to your frame, and fear had made your knees weak. You knew you couldn’t outrun them. Please, God. You prayed. Please help me out of this. Send a guardian angel to take me home. Please, God just let me get out of this.

As if he heard your plea, God filled your ears with the sweet sound of rubber scraping gravel. He had sent angel on a bike to rescue you, and craning your neck to the side you found your savior; Bill Denbrough. You could remember the first day you met him. You were short on change and swooping through the cold Air Conditioned pharmacy on his golden wings he had rescued you then too. Bowers didn’t let go but you couldn’t feel him anymore. The memories of Bill flooded over you like a warm shower on a cold December night. You remembered how sweet he was, how selfless. You remembered how red his cheeks got when he stuttered. You remembered how he felt like sunshine and smelt like happiness when you hugged him. You could still feel the regret of leaving him in Mr.Keene’s. You could still feel how he made the world feel right.

Bill skidded up to the group. “Hey Buh-B-Bowers,” He struggled. He was nervous but he hid it well. “How about y-you leave h-her a-a-lone?”

Bowers actually let go at that point so that he could turn to the newest challenger. Mocking Bill, he ragged with a bad fake-stutter. “H-huh-how ab-buh-bout y-you fuck off, freak?”

Bill looked at you with concerned eyes. You could see the purity in his face, the worry. Bill genuinely cared about you, and you loved him for it. You made a mental note to kiss him once you were both safely away from these assholes. Henry looked down at you again. It ignited a black fire in the back of your mind. How dare you demean Bill, you scrub. Your thoughts fumed. I hope he tears you apart.

“F-fuh-fuck off, B-Bowers.” Bill snapped.

Not only did it shock you, but it shocked the bullies too. Both you and Bill saw it. Henry–for the briefest amount of time–let fear shine through his unforgiving exterior. Paper man, meet lighter, Bill seemed to say with his stance. He was off his bike at that point.

Belch and Victor repeatedly exchanged glances. They were worried that Henry would do something beyond his usual raging threshold and that he would drag them into trouble whether they liked it or not, and for the first time ever you agreed with them. You all wanted to leave and let Henry fume on his own. Bill acknowledged them by making and maintaining eye contact. ‘We’re not afraid of you.’ He chided silently. ‘So you can quit pretending you enjoy this and leave us alone.’

Victor, who appeared to get the message, tugged on Henry’s sleeve. “What the fuck do you want, pansy?” Bowers shouted.

Victor was clearly more afraid of the punishments Henry would bring upon them than he was of Henry. “Dude, how ‘bout we just get outta here, huh?” He whispered.

Belch nodded. “Yeah, Henry. We were gonna hit Costello, remember?”

Henry’s anger shifted from you and Bill to Victor and Belch. You and Bill caught this, and you weren’t complaining. “You two are a bunch of fuckers, you know that right?” He scolded, before turning to you and leaning down. Henry wasn’t all that taller than you, but he still managed to make you feel minuscule. Thought taking another look at his face allowed you to see that he was tired. Being a brooding asshole really takes it out of you, huh, Bowers? You chirped. The fight was over, and with Bill at your side, the two of you had won. “This isn’t over, you shitheads. We’ll be seeing you soon.”

“Yeah,” Belch added. He seemed proud. “Real soon.” and with a final ‘Shut the fuck up, Reginald.’ from Henry, the gang walked off. You and Bill were free.

July 1989 - Bill

The bullies scuffed off, heading the way both Y/N and I had walked down West Broadway. We watched them walk away, with Henry occasionally looking back at us, flipping us off only once.

I turned to Y/N. I could see the fear melting from her face as she watched Bowers walk away. It was reassuring to the point where I finally felt the weight of what I had done. I turned Bowers away in front of Y/N. Is this what Spider-Man feels like after saving Gwen? I pondered. Y/N turned her head to me. Her cheeks were rosy. All the fear was gone, leaving behind her usual sunshine.

I smiled at her and she smiled back. “You shouldn’t have done that, Bill.” She joked. “Bowers is going to be after the both of us. I owe you big time now.”

I shook my head, unable to wipe the grin off my face. “Y-you don’t o-owe me a-a-anything, Y/N.” I managed, but the temptation to reach out and kiss Y/N was growing in my chest, making me nervous. I was close enough to do it, but God she was too beautiful for me to handle. I could barely handle myself and my stutter, much less her. “W-we can c-c-call i-i-it e-” I couldn’t form my sentence. My head was tumbling and my lips were on Y/N’s.

Looking down I found her hands gently placed around the back of my neck. She had pulled me in, her soft lips on mine. I couldn’t help but close my eyes and thank God.

She pulled away, glanced at my lips again, then looked me in the eyes. “Thank you, Bill.” She said softly. “You may have just saved my life.” The only thing I could think to say was ‘Ditto.’ She chuckled. “I swear you’re my guardian angel.”

I wanted to hold her close and say ‘I’m not the angel here’ but instead I just laughed. Then I remembered that she was making her way somewhere. I don’t care where you go. I thought. As long as I can take you there. Reaching down I grabbed my bike off the concrete. “Need a ride?”

Y/N beamed. She was exhausted and whether or not she wanted to show it, I knew. “I don’t want to trouble you, Bill. I live up Witcham and-”

“Don’t w-worry.” I assured, smiling. “Me too.” I took her hand gently, leading her to the bike. “I’ll t-take you to your house on one c-condition.” She furrowed her eyebrows a little, confused. “You have to promise me I can take you to Bassey Park tomorrow, too.”

She smiled again, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’d love that, Bill.” She cooed, sliding on the seat behind me before kissing me on the cheek. Thank God she was behind me because I could feel my cheeks heating up again. She wrapped her arms around my stomach and laid her head on my back as we started again down West Broadway, then Witcham. I yelled “Hi-Ho, Silver. Away!” and off we rode, happy and free.

I adore you all with everything i am and I hope you’re having amazing days, nights and/or work breaks. With love and appreciation: E <3

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judas-had-a-crown · 7 years ago

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writer tag thingy

I’ve been miracously tagged by @wearemykingdom like eons ago, so let’s do this :P 1) is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

Yes. More than one actually, but at the moment it’s my. Fucking. Goddamn. HUGE-ASS. Mount Olympus / Roman Empire Batman / Crossover Gotham x Arkham Games AU.

It has become so complex lately that I just can’t find the will to continue structuring the plot at the moment.

2) what work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?

You really think I’d give you the means to search for it eh. But well, when we’re talking about English works (I have written more stories in my first language of course, so the ones in English are rather limited) it’s probably one of my earliest Hannigram fics. The theme is horrid because ao3 was so new to me back then including all the porn there and I was like “Hey, I can do this too! I want so many views as well!”

So I wrote a smut OS. And I despise it to this very day.

I’m not averse to smut in the least, but I didn’t like it mostly because it lacked a good plot, it lacked any kind of finesse, and, frankly, it also lacked dignity for both the characters. I also hate this OS in particular since I wrote it merely for the sake of gaining attention, I guess. I was a tag-along. You see, I don’t write smut too often, but when I do, I can’t help but try putting in a story which at least compliments the kinks.

Which reminds me, I should probably delete said shameful OS… but it is on my old account. Shit, need to search for the password.

3) what order do you write in? front of 📓 to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

Fucking mess. Usually, my ideas start with that one goddamn scene in my head and I scribble it down in mere desperation whereever I can. Then I search for a good song accompanying the general mood of the story and somehow work up to this very scene if I can get my ass in gear. So, I usually start at the beginning.

4) favorite character you’ve written

Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham. They have wonderfully complex psyches to play with.

5) character you were most surprised to end up writing to write?

Daryl Dixon and Rick Grimes - I don’t know anything about The Walking Dead, never watched one darn episode. It was a gift for a friend back then.

6) something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now

I was much on the sappy and dramatic / sentimental side of prose for what seems like ages. I would stretch dialogue and thus doom it to become artificial in the long run. Purple prose is no bad thing, but I certainly overdid it more than once. Which is why I’m currently trying to keep my writing as true as possible.

I still love fancy words, but I need to find my own voice between the lines. And I need to finally figure out for whom I write in particular aka who I believe worth of being called ’my muse’… I already know the name of said creature, but I simply can’t decide about their appearance. Suprisingly, Persona 5 has given me great concepts to work with concerning this. I hope I’ll figure it out in time.

7) when asked, are you embarrassed or enthusiastic to tell people that you write?

I do not like to tell people I write if they don’t write themselves. I’ve been having bad experiences otherwise, including family members as well as friends and strangers. Mostly, I have been ridiculed, laughed at or looked over with a furrowed brow.

The only time my writing was kind of acknowledged back in my youth when I would read essays and short stories we would sometimes be tasked with in school. My classmates were glad when I read my stuff, but let me just say… they were happier they didn’t have to read their stuff instead than anything else.

8) favorite genre to write

Is “Give me thee pure and I’ll make thee cry and die” a genre ?

To be honest, I’m not sure which genre I usually write in. I think it’s tragedy / drama.

9) what, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

Listening to music is one go, watching amvs, Let’s Plays of Horror Games and movies plus reading books are the others. I also cry.

10) write in silence or with background noise? with people or alone?

@wearemykingdom I’m mostly with you on this one holy shit.

to quote her wise words : SILENCE. FUCKING SILENCE. I LOVE SILENCE. AND ALONE.

Alone indeed, I’m a sucker for solitude -> Solitaire - Marina & The Diamonds

The problem is, I have a problem concerning silence - it’s never enough silence. I have grown used to write on my laptop with in-ear headphones on the ready, but even the sound of the keys or my own breathing would disturb me. Since then I have tried to find in-ear headphones (I can’t wear on-ear headphones due to reasons I won’t explain further) which isolate me from literally anything but fuck, it’s hard to find them, not to mention how much some of them cost. I’m also no friend of bluetooth which makes it all the more difficult to find anything usable. *sigh* Currently - to drown out all the noise of the outside world - I try listening to classical music. Especially violines are soothing for me.

11) what aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

I have literally no ass clue.

12) your weaknesses as an author

I’m always busy with plotting things out, imagining scenes and stuff, but I’m often strangely scared of really WRITING IT DOWN. Also I often get bored in the middle of a story and tend to discard it. Also I have been doubting myself quite much lately which is annoying.

13) your strengths as an author

I have literally no ass clue. My writing style has changed dramatically since last year - it will take a while till it gains some consistency again.

14) do you make playlists for your current wips?

“I spend more time on making playlists than writing on my current wips these days” I declare in shame, with four youtube tabs open.

15) why did you start writing?

To find my voice. Also to finally shut down the other voices and people occupying my head.

16) are there any characters who haunt you?

My OCs who want to kick my ass for me outlining their stories - but little old me is still too afraid to write them down.

Oh, also Joker and Batman aka Batjokes. I run into so many new kinds of story takes on their relationship these days and each has its special charm, this isn’t funny anymore.

17) if you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

Me: OH MY GOD STOP MAKING THEM TALK SO MUCH ADD SOME DESCRIPTION INSTEAD YOU DUMB POPTART

fledgling author self : *opens up another conversation about death and undying love with a crazed glint in her eyes*

Me:

18) were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? what were they?

Perfume - The Story of a Murderer by Patrick Süskind. The descriptions are various and exquisite.

Duma Key, Lisey’s Story and many other novels of Stephen King. You, good Sir, ruined me and my standards concerning horror fiction.

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. A special book with Death lending his perspective and word.

The Bartimaeus Sequence by Jonathan Stroud - So funny it made me laugh out more than once. Close to my heart.

19) when it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

Miley: outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.

John Travolta: Me

20) do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?

I used to write in long sit-down sessions but currently I’m having a hard with them. I’m happy with little spurts.

21) what do you think when you read over your older work?

22) are there any subjects that make you uncomfortable to write?

Not yet. Which reminds me, I should probably expand my field of writing themes.

23) any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

Besides always feeling like I don’t belong to anything or anybody like some weird E.T. shtick? Dunno.

24) have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?

I have never known so much about homosexuality and ransoming people sold into slavery in the times of the Roman empire than I do now. So yes, more than once. I want every detail as accurate as possible.

25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of

This isn’t short, because I am proud of this whole scene. Enjoy. ->

The fire is bright and hot and all-consuming as it licks across the doorframe and drags itself into the room with sharpened, yellow claws.

He might be blind, but the cackle of burning wood crawling closer to his position is a guess as sure as a man can get. He leans against the wall, fists numb, mind dazed by pain, flickers challenging the red-rimmed shadows behind his eyelids to join the dance. Why is he in pain again? He doesn’t know. The muscles in his legs are jelly, the flesh of his arms clad in stone. It feels more like his natural state to dwell in than anything else he has come in contact with in STEM yet which is impressive to realize if you think about it. But this isn’t STEM, is it? No. The fire came before they plugged him into this machine manufactured in hell. He tries to breathe in but can’t, not really, no matter how hard he tries; someone must have poured ice into his lungs. And why doesn’t this surprise him either? Everything seems to go the way it’s supposed to be.

He looks ahead and sees nothing but wary shapes taking form.

There stands Lily. And Lily screams, tears streaming down her cheeks like liquid glass. The fire catches her from behind and presses its lambent teeth into her hair, immediately going up in flames. Her skin bursts open und reveals tender muscle cords and bones which will never have the chance of growing out. They turn from white to pale yellow, from yellow to ocher, from ocher to a shade close to carbon black. He watches teary-eyed till her screams ring in his ears to the rhythm of his blaring heartbeat. What he called his daughter turns into a pile of ash and he could never put in words how much he despises himself for feeling relieved - if only for a moment, lost and uncared for - when the screaming dies down with her and fades into whimpers that are easily drowned out by the fire’s roar of triumph following behind.

When it turns its ugly orange head at him, jaw-grinding and repellently jubilant, he is as ready as one can be while they catch a beast’s eye. It teeters into his direction like a drunk whore that had their fill but are too far gone to realize it’s already over. He neither welcomes the plague nor shoos it away. And when it’s so close that its claws reach out to scratch the stubble on his chin, he couldn’t care less.

Being bathed in flames hurts less than he expected and more than his nightmares have ever dared to introduce him to. Heat engulfes him, the pain of thousand ant bites impaling his skin and rip through muscles and sinews. Thank fuck Lily had suffocated before she could feel this way… but no, she hadn’t, had she? Mobius took her. The charred corpse they found, the size of a child; four tiny fingers barely intact, the others scrunched to nothing. Myra and he had buried a forgery. Then she left and had made him live a forgery himself.

He only recognizes in passing that the ash started crawling up the floor and drapes over his sizzling bones. One could have called it a last act of consolation. A mercy he doesn’t deserve. The moulding ember is balm to his raw-burnt limbs, hovering over him, weaving a blanket of dead life upon his shoulders and his heaving back. He doesn’t struggle, nor does he think about getting up. He sits and pants and allows the dark remains of wood and flesh and cotton candy to encloak his body like a banshee offering her grave-cold kiss. The room has turned into furnace by now, the smell of his cooking flesh stuck in his nostrils. There is no end, no beginning, no remorse to deal with; only a hunger he is meant to satisfy but can’t. He just can’t do anything right, can he? The fire does not mind his inability. The fire is hungry, and Sebastian is easy prey.

Darkness, sweet as nectar, drinks him in. He lets it. Yet again I will torture tag @universallylightcherryblossom - (I’m sorry honey, but I don’t know too many writers here). Whoever reads this and wants to do it is more than welcome to feel tagged.

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jollyreviewcreation · 4 years ago

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i’ve been fighting myself recently. i’m pretty convinced i have adhd. but what if i’m just faking for attention? i show countless symptoms like seemingly struggling with executive dysfunction and being unable to perform simple tasks right away. but what if i’m just being lazy? i can usually kick myself back into gear to get things in by their official final deadlines. but i do that after being unable to make myself work when i want to, yelling at myself for being unable to make myself work even though there’s no reason to not be working, and finally after one or several breakdowns, become briefly uber productive.

i’ve noticed i especially have a hard time doing things when i’m not interested in them. and when i am interested, i’m 110% interested and it’s one of the only things i can make myself work on until it’s done. sounds pretty similar to the hyperfixation symptom of adhd, doesn’t it? but what if i don’t have it, it’s not a hyperfixation if i’m not neurodivergent, it’s just an interest. i procrastinate going to the bathroom. what neurotypical person does that? i want to do tasks and be productive but my brain says ‘no, go scroll twitter for another hour even though you’re completely caught up on all three of your different timelines’.

i want to turn assignments in on time but i can’t bring myself to do them until the two-week-late-then-no-more-credit final deadline is almost up, and then i’m scrambling to do my normal high quality work anyways because i can’t fail, i refuse to get a bad grade. i’m perfectly capable of getting a 4.0 and i know this, so why is it so hard to make myself do it? why are all my friends not struggling like i am? we’re in the middle of a pandemic and my teacher told me in our one-on-one meeting called because i haven’t turned in a single assignment in six weeks that i am the only student he knows is capable of learning the material and performing well on his assessments that just,,,, isn’t.

how do i fix myself? clearly i’m just being lazy because when i am productive i can get several assignments done no problemo. i just need to do better. i’m fine and nothing is wrong with me, except something is wrong, but is it really? normal people don’t yell at themselves to work until they cry because they would rather just sit staring at their desk for 30 minutes than work on the assignment, except that’s not actually what you want but you can’t stop staring and your hand won’t move to pick up the pencil like you’re so desperately willing it to and goddamn it why won’t you just write down the notes and start the assignment, it’s not even due till sunday 11:59pm so WHAT is your problem??

i take four days to respond to my two best friends, four weeks to respond to everyone else. i cannot bring myself to open my email inbox most days because they’re just piling up higher and higher and responding to people takes so much effort and what if i say something wrong or what if i have to make a plan? that is taxing and i hate it so instead i leave it sitting unopened and by the time i have gathered enough energy to open all these emails most are already null and void, past their Read By date, the function they are tied to drained away.

there is no way normally functioning people struggle with these problems, is there? don’t i deserve to live easily? i want to get diagnosed and put on pills, but that sounds too good to be true. what if the pills actually work and all of a sudden i’m a new person who can get assignments turned in on time and doesn’t struggle to shower and wash her hair more than once a week. all of a sudden i don’t have to yell at my hand to make it move and do what i want when i want. is that even possible? it doesn’t sound possible. and if it is, can i even live like that? do i deserve to live so easily? would living like that even be me anymore? there must be some hard battle i have to fight, some mental gymnastics i must perform before i’m allowed to live that nicely and it will takes years of hardship and struggle. but that sounds horrible. i so desperately want to live easy right now. is that possible?

#adhd post #i uhhhh don’t actually know if i have it #but in the past year i’ve seen so many posts that i relate to that are like ‘yeah this is what adhd is’#so i feel like i might have it.....

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starsaboveyouadoption · 4 years ago

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light years

As you’ll come to know if you haven’t already, like any world of idiosyncrasies, the adoption community has its own jargon to navigate. One term you may not be as familiar with as others is the concept of “cocooning”. This is a widely used word within adoption to refer to a period of time immediately following your child moving home with you, whereby you make your child’s world as small as possible in the early days of forming an attachment, and is a vital process in the timeline of your child coming to feel safe and secure in their new family. This blog will take a look at what cocooning actually is (especially in practical terms), and some helpful tips for how to manage this space of time so that it has its best intended effect. Again, I can only talk of my own experience, and as a parent to a fairly young toddler, I didn’t experience some of the added complications that may arise with older children, but most of what I’ll write should be applicable to most age groups. On this note, even if something sounds geared to babies, chances are you would want to replicate the same principles for an older child, however strange this might seem, and sometimes especially so, given the more complex layers of emotions they (and you) may be going through.

So, “cocooning”…what am I talking about?

Cocooning is a term used to describe a timeframe of usually a few weeks once your child is home, immediately following introductions where you take certain measures to help your child settle with you. It will be something your social workers will discuss with you on preparing to take your child home, and certainly will be a point of conversation during review meetings in introductions. It is essentially about limiting your child’s exposure to, and involvement from, people outside of their immediate parent(s) – you – in the very early days for certain therapeutic reasons related to trauma and attachment associated with their move.

It serves a few purposes:

· It allows early bonding and attachment to start taking place between child and parent by providing physical and emotional space for your family unit. This is, in many people’s views, the work of months, years, and perhaps a lifetime, but the cocooning phase acts as a crucial kick starter and sets the template for the beginning of your life together.

· It allows your child to settle into their new home, to start feeling comfortable, safe and secure in their new environment.

· It provides crucial space for your child to begin to heal and recover from the trauma of separations from their birth and/or foster family, and for all parties, the intense emotional toll of transitions that came with introductions.

· It enables your child to understand their relationship to you and attach to you as their parents, as opposed to other adults who have been caregivers to them, but not fulfilling the parental role. For some older children, this may be particularly confusing given that they may have lived through several foster moves, and have conscious memory of time with their birth parents, not to mention all of their involvement with a whole team of social workers and outside professionals, without ever having parents of their own. This period of time helps to transmit the message that you are permanent, safe, and in a special relationship with them.

· It allows adequate time to put your foot on the brakes and allow your child to gradually, and appropriately attach to members of your wider family and friends network, without some of the pressure that may come with traditional expectations associated with the arrival of a birth child.

· It helps you as a family to find your routine and to put into practice everything you have learnt about your child to date, to care for them, and provide them with a sense of security.

· It helps highlight any potential issues that you may need support for as a family, and gives you the space you might need to work through some initial surmountable, but stressful challenges with professional help before you add the additional pressure of enmeshing wider family into your new life.

· For many children, young and older, it can help fill in the blanks of some of the care and stability they have missed

The cocooning period is also part of the period of time between your child moving home and being able to apply for their legal order. This period stretching beyond cocooning, will involve lots of review/settling in meetings with your social workers to provide a space to discuss how things are going. For us, this meant weekly meetings for the first 6 weeks, followed by fortnightly meetings and 2 formal reviews thereafter before our legal order came through (which happened comparatively quickly to most adopters for whom this period would stretch out further).

On a practical note, “cocooning” with your child will look something like this (of course with some exceptions depending on the advice you receive about your child):

· All main care done by the parents only – so personal care, washing, feeding, toileting, dressing, sleep etc

· Physical contact and affection limited to parents only – this will mean asking others not to pick up, hug, kiss, hold your child for the first few weeks

· Providing a solid, very consistent routine, emulating their foster routine as much as possible for the meantime, with no major changes in the first few weeks. As pedantic as this may sound (though I promise it makes sense when you’re living it), this might mean anything from keeping their toiletries, clothes, and smells the same (there’s an awful lot of washing powder chat on the adoption forums!!), through to ensuring their routine, clothes, comforts such as blankets and dummies etc, and toys/activities remain familiar to them for the first few weeks while adjusting.

· No or very limited introductions to wider friends and family, and no visitors to the home until they are settled. Typically, the recommended period for an under-2 may be about 2 weeks, whereas for older children, this could mean more. Thereafter, ensuring introductions are very gradual in line with your child’s needs and comfort level.

· Cocooning doesn’t have to mean staying inside the house like you’re on lockdown (ha!), but might mean local trips to low-key places such as parks, playgrounds, and local shops so they start to get used to the area. We were conscious that our hometown was geographically a long distance and a change from a rural to an urban environment for our Little Star, so had to be mindful of how busy/overwhelming it could potentially be.

· For older children, it is likely to mean a delayed start to their new school. For younger children, a limit on clubs or playgroups for now.

· By virtue of the above, this will necessarily mean your child not being babysat with friends and family in these early weeks. After cocooning, as part of our process, we had to nominate a few close family (grandparents) to be DBS checked during Stage 1, to be able to provide care other than us during the period before the legal order and were unable to leave Little Star with anyone else, including registered childcare providers. Remembering at this stage, that you will not have full parental responsibility (you share this with the state until the legal order and will be given papers outlining what you are/aren’t able to do during this period, which usually includes needing to seek permission for stays outside of the home for longer than a couple of days. It also includes other elements such as your level of permission to authorise medical treatment)

I’m sure it’s needless to say that as you’re reading this, you’re imagining cocooning as an intense time, and it certainly is! It’s a weird limbo between bringing your child home and really being able to ingratiate them into your daily lives, because of the added ingredient of separation trauma that you will be trying to mitigate with cocooning. This does mean that at your most emotionally vulnerable time, you can find yourself feeling a little isolated and unable to access some of the usual things that would help such as seeing family and friends, getting away, etc at a time of stress. I had a bit of a struggle in my first I’d say 4 weeks at home with Little Star and found myself getting very depressed and anxious. I’m grateful that this was relatively short-lived and passed, but hindsight is a wonderful thing, and there is so much I wish I’d remembered to do to take care of myself at such an important juncture of my life. For what it’s worth, here are some tips based on my reflections of that time (which by the way I feel the need to say is in equal measures beautiful at the same time as all the stress – I intend this blog to be a real view of adoption but I equally don’t wish it to scare people off!):

Cocooning Survival Tips

· Treat this time as if you have had a new-born. What’s a little strange in adoption is that both your own, and others’ reaction to you bringing a child home, is not always the same as if you had just come out of hospital having had a new-born baby. There is a sense of excitement but also sometimes inadvertently a sense of carrying on as “before”. Here you are with this enormous life change overnight and a child you are having to get to know on the spot, and sometimes because they are not a tiny little 6lb bundle, you can set yourself completely unrealistic expectations which are just not warranted. I’m the first person to say that I never wanted to be one of those parents who centres my entire life on one aspect of my identity as a parent, but it would be ridiculous not to acknowledge that my whole world (at that time) had been shaken upside down, and I can’t return to the exact “same” person I was pre-child. My perspective and priorities have necessarily had to change. I would encourage any new adopter to “think new-born” within cocooning. Would you expect yourself to socialise, be available for a barrage of visits, be putting on a full face of makeup every day, replying to messages and emails, if you’d walked out of the hospital a week ago and were recovering from a caesarean? I think not. We may not have the scars of child birth but we do have the scars of our child’s traumas and we are becoming new parents too, but you will likely learn that as adopters we don’t always get the same grace and validation that birth parents do in terms of what we are taking on. Certainly, give yourself permission to be selfish, recognise this huge adjustment for what it is, and if you need to go off the radar for a short time, go off the radar! The right people will understand and this all links back to the work you will have done during Stage 2 on really testing your support network.

· Allow yourself full permission to be as slobby as you need to be to focus on the most important things! Obviously a lot of it was just the sheer anxiety of having a baby in the house and largely being on my own in the house looking after them, and with time this got easier, but I can tell you, I didn’t take a lot of showers in those early days! I struggled to find time to eat, message people back, to keep people updated with the latest “news”, and I wasn’t always enjoying it. I wasn’t basking in some heavenly earth mother glow. I was stressed, down, anxious, and my memory seemed to dissolve overnight. I thankfully can tell you it all came back in a few weeks! But during that time, I was just headless chicken mode. I didn’t know Little Star well enough to know what they liked, didn’t like etc and it meant every day felt like a guessing game, so I just didn’t have any head space. If I ever did this again, I would now fully prepare for those first few weeks to be that way and plan accordingly!

· Some small little things really help with self-care. Having some alone time with your partner when you can (nap times, evenings etc) can help you reset and recharge and check in with each other about how you feel it’s going. For single adopters, your social worker is likely to encourage you to make especially strong use of your support network, even if it has to be remotely. Someone to lean on and talk to about how you’re honestly feeling (not what others expect you to feel) is so important. I thank the stars for my Mum who listened to me over so many texts about how I was feeling, sent flowers when I was bursting into tears in front of the highchair, and who heard me out when I wasn’t sleeping and was at my wit’s end trying to be perfect (but of course failing miserably!). These things will pull you through. Early nights will help you get as much sleep as possible, and some outside time will work wonders for clearing your head. PJ days are more than fine, and for me, I am an early bird admittedly, but getting up half hour before baby meant I could at least get a cup of tea into my system before starting the day.

· Structure really helps. You’ll of course want space for spontaneity but that’s probably not so much the order of the day at this point. I found the empty days really hard especially when my partner returned to work and thinking of the day as 4 blocks (AM/PM before/after naps) meant each chunk felt more achievable. Sometimes all I did was sit in Costa having what I called my little “pity-latte”(!) but it got me out, got me to feel I was having a treat, and it provided a focus for the morning. Now I look back and I truly don’t have to even think about how to pass my day – it’s gone in a blur, I enjoy it 9 times out of 10, and we get on fine, but time can slow when you’re in a bit of an enforced bubble. You’ll hopefully notice that feeling dissipate when you’re back out of the bubble and able to see family and friends (just being able to see my Mum and my brother in person made an enormous difference) but for now, do what you need to do to feel sane!

· If you are the person taking the main leave, and you have a partner, as long as they are able to take off to help with cocooning and transitions the better. People advised us of this at the beginning and I can really see how relevant it was in practice. The thing is, it is arguably a bit of a middle-class advantage to be able to take extended periods of time off work, and it won’t be possible for everyone financially and that’s okay – it’s just an ideal. My partner had frustratingly just started a new job, so whilst we had originally planned a 50/50 split with shared parental leave, we ended up with me taking the main leave and him having a fairly standard 2 weeks off, which included a week of introductions and I can say this felt nowhere near enough time. In an ideal world, I think we would have had about a month together, but it really is down to your circumstances. Do consider shared parental leave – in practice, I think with adoption having a more steady presence of both parents can make a huge difference (bizarrely we have come to benefit from us all being together during lockdown, though in sad circumstances). If this isn’t on the table, think about how a combination of parental leave, annual leave, and if an option for you, unpaid leave might work to give you that little bit longer.

· I felt so much pressure to be “on” all the time when Little Star first came home. I felt I had to be actively playing with them all day and attentive to them every single second otherwise I’d feel a huge wave of guilt and/or imposter syndrome, and that’s part of why I struggled to look after myself well enough in the early days. Every parenting blog I read seemed to suggest that all stay at home parents were literally doing nothing but sitting adoringly playing with their baby for hours on end, and I just couldn’t understand how anyone was up to that. It got exhausting. It didn’t take that long for me to work out that in reality, parents are people. We zone out, we get bored sometimes, and God forbid, sometimes we are just watching the clock for bedtime! But that doesn’t take away our wanting for our child, it just means we’re human. I’d have put much less pressure on myself in this regard. Don’t beat yourself up if you have lazy days, PJ days, days where you give them less than ideal food or they are subjected to a bit of TV – it may conversely be the thing that saves everyone’s sanity!

· Showing affection to your little one is a weird one. I know I certainly felt a bit strange about kissing/hugging them at the start. Being honest, it felt forced and a bit surreal. Now I think nothing of picking up my Little Star and squishing their face, and harassing them for cuddles, but back then, I felt odd about it. In any other circumstance being intimate with a child I’d just met would feel inappropriate. Somehow through it all, I managed to strike a bit of a balance. I put absolutely no pressure on myself to instantly feel love for them (more of that in other blogs), but I did try to make a conscious effort to find opportunities for touch that felt as natural as possible. A bit of rough and tumble, some light hearted chasing games and peekaboo, kisses and cuddles at times that felt natural such as bedtime, and as Little Star was used to a very particular soothing method, I had opportunities for lots of close proximity. I can’t liken it to skin-to-skin for new-borns as I don’t know enough about that, but I guess the principle is similar. Finding opportunities for touch and eye contact really helped us bond.

· I cannot state this one enough – utilise your social worker! Cocooning is in many ways an extension of introductions and your social worker will fully expect you to be struggling at times. Don’t be a martyr or feel you have to keep up a perfect image – it’s okay to call and say you’ve been having a rough time. Our social worker was brilliant and never made me feel judged or less than for how I felt. Oftentimes they will be able to make visits to you if you need some human contact outside of your bubble and a space for a vent – they should also be able to provide practical hints and tips as I guarantee you they will have heard it all before.

· Staring at the walls all day can really take its toll during cocooning. We spent a LOT of time in outdoors spaces like woodlands, parks, and farms just having long walks and enjoying some quiet family time with Little Star. It served the purpose of bonding, practice being out and about with a little one, and a chance for us to clear our heads. I’d highly recommend it.

· Accept help – if like me you’re useless at asking for and accepting help this can be a real challenge but do try to think about ways your support network can be there for you. People are happy to help and there may be small things that help make your life easier. They may not be able to see you physically but it could be things like video calls, dropping off meals/shopping, running errands for you, or if you already have other children, doing the odd school pick up to help out. Now’s the time to draw on that network you spoke about in your assessment.

· Finally, all of this comes at a huge caveat – nothing is more important in those early days than your mental health. So if that means that you need to “break the rules” and meet up with family a little earlier than planned, or take some time out while your partner picks up the slack one day, the benefits of that for your wellbeing entirely outweigh anything else. The emotion I most closely associate with becoming an adoptive parent in the first weeks is “shock” – you are trying to adapt at immense pace to this huge life-changing event. Don’t be afraid to reach out and put your head above water to breathe if you need to.

So that’s cocooning, and let’s say that you’ve survived the experience intact, and are starting to introduce your child to friends and family. Knowing when the right time is will be a combination of your own instincts, your child’s comfort level, and your social worker’s views on appropriateness. I have a large family and because social workers knew this, I felt quite “monitored” in this regard, but it was all with good intent and after 2-3 weeks, it felt okay for us to start branching out. Here are some considerations to help this stage go smoothly…

· Understandably, most people in your network won’t be fully familiar with adoption processes, and the concept of cocooning is likely to be alien. It can help to provide friends and family with a heads up about what to expect which may seem out of the norm ahead of time. First4Adoption do a fantastic crib sheet for loved ones on how best to support a new adoptive child into the family:

https://www.first4adoption.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2017/06/how-family-and-friends-can-help.pdf

· Think about the best physical space to meet in. Usually it is best to opt for a neutral space like a park or a café – somewhere your loved ones can spend some time with your new arrival without too much pressure and where your child will not feel their space is being invaded, nor be confused about going to too many new houses, especially after having just gone through a transition between two houses in quick succession. For us, it actually felt best for Little Star to meet people at our home where they were comfortable, but you will know your child best. If you do have visitors at home, think about making visits short and not too intense with too many people at a time – we tended to introduce people in pairs so as not to overwhelm Little Star.

· If you are adopting an older child, it may be worth explaining to your family that this child may have some behaviours or understandings that are out of sync with how your family do things. It takes time for any child to know what the established “rules of the house” are in new settings, and many older children in the system will have experienced differing rules at their foster homes, or may have been removed at an older age from a birth family home where their home environment was far different. It is not uncommon for older adopted children who have experience of their birth homes to struggle with following “expected” social rules about noise, politeness, silly things like how to use cutlery, sharing etc, because this may not have been their experience in the harsher world they lived in. Setting everyone’s expectations at the start will avoid unnecessary awkwardness and embarrassment, and ensure your child is put at ease. Some babies/children will demonstrate behaviours younger than their developmental stage, due to the level of disruption they’ve had. Not least this may make you feel a little “odd one out” as a parent – hopefully you will have as supportive a family as I am so lucky to have but if you do feel there could be some misunderstandings, better to discuss them in advance.

· On the same vein, it’s worth giving people a heads up about affection. We had a few situations where people innocently went to pick Little Star up and give them a cuddle, and at the time I didn’t deal with it very well as I felt awkward about it and didn’t want to come across weirdly. If you have the conversation before meeting up, that way people know where they stand. The same goes for things like taking photos, sharing information or news about your child with other people and social media.

· Advice which worked really well for us was to start with people who you expect will have close relationships with your child, working outwards to wider family at a later date. You’ll want to pay special attention to meetings with key people such as Grandparents, Aunts and Uncles etc which all helps your child to differentiate that these are special people and not just another adult they are meeting. We had to expediate some things a little earlier than ideal as Little Star moved in with 6 weeks until Christmas, but somehow we found a way to make it work by thinking about the best order to do things in.

· For introductions, especially for babies, you will likely have made use of photo books for close family members for your child to familiarise with faces and names. These come in handy to reinforce key people again and again on the build up to real life meetings – we found this particularly helpful for Grandparents.

· If your child has a comforter like a blankie or a dummy, make sure they’re on hand when meeting new people. It may seem a small thing, but them having a little piece of familiarity with them can be very soothing

· If your circumstances mean that family helping with childcare will be a necessity in the near future, find small ways to build up to this. I ended up having a couple of times I had no choice but to ask Grandparents to babysit Little Star in the early days for short periods of time but ideally I would have waited longer. Ideally, it would take some months before you ask family to babysit, and certainly if this involves any over night stays, but of course it isn’t possible for everyone to wait this long, especially single adopters. We found good ways to build up were small things like watching them for half an hour while you grab a coffee or pop to the shop for a small chunk of me-time, or perhaps watching them while you attend an appointment. Unfortunately this is an area we’ve not been able to work on well as Lockdown was a spanner in the works so at present Little Star isn’t particularly used to being in others’ care almost a year in but we hope to resume working up to this as soon as we’re able.

· This may seem overly rigid, but try not to compromise too much on your little one’s routine to work round others in the early days. In the first few months, a sense of familiarity and predictability will be important for your child and even seemingly innocuous changes can be quite destabilising. Others will understand and it needn’t be forever, but this will pay in dividends later when you’ve created a solid foundation to start from.

· And finally, try to avoid overwhelm when you do branch out to doing meet ups. For me, meetups actually felt like a lifeline when I was feeling low and desperate for some familiar faces, but for many there may be a lot of pressure involved. People will naturally be excited to meet your child and this may result in slight pushiness or unannounced visits which are less than ideal. Keep the diary for the weeks following your arrival home clear as possible, limit visitors to what feels the right balance for you, and put expectations of “hosting” aside.

And we come to the end of another rambly blog! As always, I hope this was useful, and I’m looking forward now to opening up the blog to more general adoption topics now we have followed a broad timeline of the process from Stage One. We will talk about the legal order in other blogs, but for now, our next stop will be reflections on our first 100 days as adopters – some thoughts I put together some while back when I was thinking about what we’d learned so far at that stage of the journey.

Until then, take care and keep safe.

#adoption adoptionblog adoptionblogger adoptionrocks adoptionislove adoptioncommunity ukadoptioncommunity

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