#i pray he secretly has a huge role to play in the new game

[fablexdreams]

Look...I acknowledge that there is a very slim chance Reaver is in this new game given...well...everything we know about it thus far. I know I'm probably setting myself up for disappointment and a lifetime of pain I will never truly let go of by letting myself hope, trust me, I KNOW. But...c'mon, let a girl dream. I'm probably gonna love the game either way, and I genuinely have a lot of faith in it after seeing the latest trailer, but I do truly believe that it'll feel empty if they choose to not include iconic characters such as Reaver, knowing he's such a staple character of the franchise lol. All of this to say...Reaver, come home please, the kids miss you. (You too, Theresa. I miss you as well. But that's a whole different box to open, I fear.)

[thequietoftheroom]

I need to start using this again. I’ve sort of been neglecting it and posting my personal information on Facebook and Twitter, probably because more people started responding. But if my mental breakdowns are on display, I’m doing everyone a disservice and editing myself to call for attention. This is supposed to be about therapy, about talking to myself via my blog. I don’t mind much on tumblr because people hardly read things anyway since most people have moved to tumblr mobile by now and anything resembling an essay scares them away.

I’ve definitely gotten myself together again since I last wrote here but I’m falling, and I need this. I need help. I’ve got so many things weighing on my mind lately. First of all, I still have not finished paying off my debt to Chase. Putting my faith in the wrong hands because I wanted so badly to have a job, cost me the entire past months of sanity, which was worth 3 thousand dollars. I only have 700 left to pay, and I’ll be paying off 600 of that come my tax returns. It’s taken such a huge hit on my because I’ve had to use Christmas money and every last cent of any job I’ve worked from August till now to pay it back, Bank Of America doesn’t treat its customers much better and I was told that all major banks pretty much have the same leaders in corporate so that if what happened to me at Chase happened to me in Bank Of America, I could be kicked out of all banks in the city. Full stop. It was a wake up call to how naive and immature I am. The cost of trying hard to find the silver lining in every situation. No good deed goes unpunished.

Then there’s the fact that I’ve started gaining weight again. This summer took an emotional toll on me that I haven’t fully recovered from and both my piano playing and my exercising took a hit. I escaped in games and in food and didn’t take advantage of my special shakes when I had them. Now that I’m ready to get back out there I don’t have them and I have to take care of all 3 meals and 2 snacks on my own and I neither have the money or the drive to do that. I ended up, this time around at the supermarket, buying large bottles of fruit shakes to use as my main meals. At least breakfast and lunch. I’ve also been drinking a lot of water and have gone running twice recently. I’ve also started playing piano more. I’m still behind on lessons but I’ve been substituting the lessons with tutorials on how to play some of the more complicated compositions I’m into. I’m starting to be able to write music just by hearing it and gain better hand independence. I even think my singing, which in all honesty belongs in the shower or drunk karaoke, has improved significantly. Because I’ve let myself go my self image is starting to shatter. In November I shaved my head to come face to face with my hair thinning. I’m not bald and my hair is growing long and fast, but it’s thin enough to notice many splotches of skin, a constant reminder that I’m not as young as I’d like to be. I’m almost 30.

I’m almost 30. This is the first time in my life i’ve been able to come up with a plan of some sort for what I’m doing with it for the next few years. The light at the end of the tunnel. I can’t fault my parents too much because they were raised with strict expectations and gender roles that they very clearly thought their children belonged to so they never explored my interests in the arts, minus guitar. I’ve always loved singing and writing. I used to play on toy pianos all the time and when my sister got a keyboard it was amazing. On the first night i played Joy To The World by ear. But my parents only ever gave her lessons because piano is a woman’s instrument. I tried to learn on my own and I had tried to get my sister to teach me, but I was always so eager to excel that I couldn’t concentrate. I still can’t to this day but since I’m my own teacher I let myself explore chords and harmonies and things beyond the lesson that I’m currently in because that’s a sign of passion. Of love. And my depression almost took that away from me. With music I always find my way back.

Except with Christmas. The little elves that once constantly and painstakingly (to others around me, at least) converted my heart into a Yule Hall have vacated the premises. I didn’t feel anything this Christmas. Not even happiness. I kept searching in all the songs, the films, and the decorations for hope, for my heart to grow as the Grinch’s did. But it never came. For the first time in my life this December was just that: December. i was terrified. Never has my mental illness destroyed or taken from me something that was so important and pure, something that was one of my defining characteristics. And now it’s just gone. So i’ve been living with the constant fear since then that maybe my love of music will be next, or my love of films. Or maybe I’ll wake up one day and someone I love entirely will mean absolutely nothing to me. Not hatred or contempt. Just... nothing.

Then I’ve also been dealing with “daddy issues”. I don’t like my father for one second. He’s problematic in the worst way and a conservative republican whom in parties boasts about all the gay men he’s beat up or killed (that part could be a lie because he’s a pathological liar who can’t stand the spotlight being away from him one second so he’s well known for embellishing his situations to make him look favourable). He’s always been a negative force in my life who has done nothing but abuse me both emotionally and physically. He’s the sort of man that has a very specific idea of what his son should be and if there is deviation from that ideal, there is no love. To be honest, he’s like that with most people. You have to be someone he likes and meet him at his level or you’re a lost cause. There is no compromise for the egotistic. Unfortunately I’ve picked some of that up in my willingness to protect myself from the world and my depression; something that I’m actively fighting to tear down. I thought my “daddy issues” meant that secretly I loved him and wanted him to love me so I fought them. But I know better know. As the song The Living Years says “I know that I’m a prisoner to all my father held so dear”, I’ve come to realize my issues stem from me realizing how much of myself I’ve screwed over and changed to avoid having problems with him. Similarly, to quote Simon/Lola, “I’m not my father’s son”. I’m me. Gavroche. And because I live aesthetically and have romanticised the nuclear family through years of family based media, I was longing for the ideal father. I’ve discussed this already but what I was longing for was that. A dad. And life has given me a few dads. They weren’t my father, but they treated me for me in a way that he never will. And I’ll have more dads in life. 

Just like I’ll have more moms. My mother stopped being a mom a long time ago. My sister is still battling to hold on to her relationship with her because of Gilmore Girls but shes’ struggling. My mother has always been cold and judgemental. I just always thought her critical sharp words were reserved for my sister and I. But they were used for everyone else. To her love, compassion, and empathy only extend to the people she knows, and fuck all to everyone else. That’s not love, and love doesn’t have conditions. For such a religious person she always fails to love her neighbor. And in her own way she thinks she’s doing right but every time my sister, or my aunt (her sister) try to call her out, she plays the victim and never listens. Because she doesn’t need to. She’s convinced herself she just needs to pray and that will solve everything. But prayer won’t make me love her again. Nothing will.

So I’m finally alone in my family. Sure, people try with good intentions but no one will truly love me for me. Ever. Not in this family at least. And I find myself searching for one desperately and I realize fully why people throw themselves to have children and get married so early. Just like men have mancaves to escape their wives, people make new families to escape their own. But I don’t have a place to start. I have close friends. However, most of them don’t live near me. With me. And that’s my fault. If I had applied myself better in school I could have colleagues and maybe even a friend group. I graduated with honors with nothing to show for it but for the fact that I could do it. No friends or connections. No place to call home. And so I’m drowning and trying to force myself  to do things I wouldn’t like downloading grindr to try and make friends in NYC or considering eharmony. I want a physical friend circle. I want to feel alive. To feel loved and wanted. Online friendships are real but they don’t fill you. They are mostly full of routine. I need an adventure. And that’s not to write off the numerous and wonderful friendships I’ve had but to say... I need more.

I’ve got all this and more weighing on my day by day. I haven’t even begun to discuss the unapologetic jealousy I’m filled with, married to the happiness that I wish I experienced more of, when I see my friends in relationships. I’ve learned it’s not bad to be jealous, that’s human. It’s bad to be petty. It’s bad to write off other people that you hold so dearly because they’ve finally found a happiness you can’t experience. That turns life into a competition and it’s not. Someone, some day, will love me. And that’s all I can hope for.

[thoseoverwatchimagines]

[SFW] Baby Headcannons for Soldier/Genji/Road/Rein

Soldier 76

Assumes the role of Dad 76 after the first positive pee test

Goes out and buys every book in the parenting section

Plus a small collection of dad jokes

challengeaccepted.gif

You have to remind him not to tell everyone until the second trimester

But the socks’n’crocs give it away

He spends every spare moment at the hardware store

Not because he’s trying to build a crib by hand

But because he bought one from IKEA and it’s impossible to put together

Missing half the damn pieces

Fucking astrological chart for instructions and shit

He’s never discouraged though

Sometimes you catch him staring at you

And he’s like

You’re just so beautiful. I love you so much. I just... Need to appreciate you...

Wants to name the baby Jack Jr.

If it’s a girl you pick but supports Jaqueline or some variant

He just loves this baby so much

Like, if this little girl wants to wear a tutu to the grocery store, he’s going in one too

Peter Pan and Wendy every Halloween

Or Ash and Pikachu

Costume game on point yo

He video tapes the birth

Tries to narrate it like David Attenborough but you put a stop to that shit real quick

Cuts the cord while taking a selfie with the doctor

Cries like the baby he’s holding

Falls asleep that first night home with his hand in the crib

Genji Shimada

I hope you have room

For all the things

From every store

Because he is going to shower this baby with material things

Uncle Hanzo will be spending plenty of time at the house too

And he’s buying the finest clothes for the little dumpling

Genji rubs your feet every night

Becomes super over cautious

Kinda polices what you eat and drink and do

You have to tell him to back off a bit

Extra foot rubs that day

He does all the cutsey things with your big belly

Draws kitty faces on it

Sings to it

Takes progress pictures with you

He floods social media with all the updates

Spends afternoons wondering what kind of personality they will have

Secretly worries he’s not ready

Or that the kid will be ashamed of a cyborg father

Needs reassurance that everything is okay

He waits outside the delivery room

Tries to stay calm

Maybe meditates with Zenyatta

Absolutely loses his shit when the baby comes

Picks the first name he can think of after seeing your child for the first time

Worships the ground you walk on for bringing this beautiful life into the world

Stays up all night watching you and the baby sleep

Handles all overnight feeding and changing

Roadhog

Never wanted to be a father

Has a hard time accepting it

Uses his work as an escape

But then Jamison gets wind of it...

And holy shit

He shows Roadie the light

Hog cooks and cleans for you

Gives you money to get pampered like the queen you are

Thinks pregnancy is this huge unnatural burden

You roll along with it

Is super concerned with you and baby’s health

Wants desperately for everything to go smoothly

Praying for a little girl

Couldn’t handle another boy, you already have Junkrat

Wants to spend his days doing her hair and playing with makeup

But also teach her how to throw a tomahawk because that’s the kinda guy he is

Loves to meet up with the other dads for playdates

Him and Soldier fight over the grill master title

It’s him

Soldier burns the burgers every time

Is constantly pranked by Jamie and Toddler

With a little help from mom of course

But he loves it

Helps draw fake tattoos with magic marker

So she can look just like daddy

He’s so proud of her

The best days end with the family watching a movie together

Falling asleep on the couch

Then waking up late for midnight snacks

Reinhardt

Words cannot express how excited he is to be a father

Would go door to door if you let him

Asks Lucio how to download the Tweeter and Facespace so he can share the good news

Takes charge or designing the baby’s room

Paints a mural right from all his favorite fairy tales

Builds everything from scratch

Has a new book to read every night for the next 3 years

He doesn’t quite care about the details

But loves the idea of being a father and making memories

Goes to every lamaze class with you

Breathes harder than all the other women there

Champion childbirther here

The big day finally comes

And he’s got like, 6 suitcases in the car

Ready for anything

One bag is just for books

Spends like an hour deciding what the first story should be

Seriously conflicted

You pick The Three Little Pigs

Coaches you through your labor

Wipes the sweat from your brow

Gets a little queasy when the baby pops out all slimed up

Stays strong for you

Hovers protectively over the doctors trying to see what they’re doing

Sheds a joyful tear when he holds his son for the first time