#i sleep with mine in and constantly lose the backing for my tunnels because of if

[ammalythic]

The diary of a Norwegian troll

[Sorry for my bad English, I'm French. I do my best]

My oldest memories date from my 5 years.

I remember my last year of kindergarten. During this period, I had a "click" compared to other children my age. I quickly felt out of step. First of all because my way of defending myself was very childish but also because I was a clumsy, hypersensitive, anxious, nervous, anxious, obsessive, maybe even having a certain dyspraxia. I was diagnosed much later with Asperger's.

It is true that, since my elementary school, I have always had the role of the "scapegoat". I couldn't integrate myself. They called me "the plague". I was the contagious beast that you should never approach.

I do not know the exact origin of these mockery (which lasted until college). I have always been stigmatized by others without ever really understanding why. I wasn’t an unhappy kid though, it was just like that and that’s all, "fatality". Sometimes I was jealous of well-integrated people but nothing more.

Many children have been subjected to bullying at school. Many children have been stigmatized, described as "bizarre" or "different". And, while this is absolutely terrible, other children have experienced sexual assault. Not all of them, however, began to identify as creatures. No, in reality, something happened in my head. In fact, I began to consider myself "non-human." Maybe because of the stigma, maybe because of the disgust of the human being, or whatever.

After all, in my stories, humans always played the role of villains. At that time, I was already clearly saying to myself "I am not a human". I thought I was some kind of alien sent to Earth, on a mission or something like that. It must, among other things, explain my difference from other kids. I don't know if I really believed it, but I know I wanted to believe it. I thought I was close to Adi / Adibou, an alien character from a French video game / children's series.

I remember, at the end of the lessons, I explained to my "best friend" that my father secretly built a rocket to bring me back to my real planet.

In primary school, I started to read many fictions. Harry Potter being my favorite (especially fantastic creatures). I read about witches, fairies, vampires, dragons and werewolves. I felt like they could understand me better than anyone.

I particularly liked the comic strip "Witch". In this fiction, there is a “Metamonde” named “Méridian” populated by “hideous” but nice creatures. I felt good reading these stories and made up my life there, accompanied by these benevolent monsters.

My favorite scene was obviously the one where the professor turns into a monster: her true form.

So I saw my creatures like this: Often green/brown skin, troll or elf ears, triangles on the coat, fangs, claws, often horns and a long tail.

I invented for them a new way of life, more wild and animal (because in this book, the beings of Méridian live as in the Middle Ages). I was this kind of alien from an alternative world, I also saw myself with a lion or cat tail. My imaginary diet consisted of insects, snakes, fruits and berries.

I saw myself living in a cave or a burrow (or a house like that of the Barbapapas / Teletubbies) and I developed a passion for digging in the ground. Listening to the song “dig a tunnel” (The Lion King 3), watching “The Magic School bus” or reading “My adventure under the ground” (French children's book) giving me real well-being and a feeling of inexplicable complicity with the characters. So, my aliens liked to play in the mud, get dirty, dig, collect insects and molluscs, just like me.

  Our way of life was simple, a bit like Peter Pan's “lost boys”. The group behaviors were mainly animal (body, ear and tail position) and play and behave like animals (in one of my “fictions”, I said that the aliens bit their tails to play) .

Mine wore a simple loincloth, clothes didn't matter (just like for me in "real life".)

I remember a few anecdotes about my aliens: I imagined their daily life before sleeping or whenever I had time.

I don't prefer to go into details. I just remember that I had two imaginary best friends and I visualized them in our world as soon as possible. We had a special treasure, made up of spiders, snakes, insects, bones, feathers and snake molts, something that wicked human villains. My creatures could speak "human" but it was extremely painful for them.

Subsequently, I invented all kinds of stories of humans "not quite human" but these "aliens" were the first.

When I was 9 years old, I started to lock myself up mentally, to live only in my head. I discussed my creatures with my friends, my need to see them, to imagine their suffering as an outlet One of the girls spoke about it - at school - in the canteen, in front of all the students. I was so ashamed that I erased my texts with white corrector before tearing them up and throwing them in the trash (something I bitterly regret today).

Right after entering school, I reconciled with my mental critters and tried to accept them. During an alien-themed drawing assignment, I was shocked to see myself having a bad grade when I had a strong feeling of having shown the "absolute truth".

I also created a fiction about my aliens, to explain on the internet how they exist. Then I was ashamed, I was afraid of mockery, so I erased everything (I'm even more disappointed now).

When I was 12, I experienced the most incredible trip, that of visiting Norway. I saw the troll figurines, the songs, the landscapes and it was a revelation: I was also a troll, from the start! Everything matched: The physical, the way of living, the habitat, the food, the animality ... EVERYTHING! I later had this strong feeling of having an invisible tail and ears that only trolls could also see.

Small comparison between the creature of my 5 years and that with which I identify myself today:

Then, over time, I moved away from the trolls, I developed - badly influenced by "friends" - that I had to be a much more powerful and fierce creature, like a vampire or a werewolf. I was lost, turning sometimes to angels, sometimes to wizards: I was magic and non-human, it was obvious.

Screen capture from one of my blogs in 2011 (in French)

Translation : “I always felt a little different from others but for me all the weird phenomena I was going through were part of me! I thought everyone was like this! Then one day, I realized that what was happening to me was strange. I was a little panicked and asked on the internet if it was okay to act like this. Two people made me understand that no and that I should not worry because after all, I have always been like this and learning who I am will not change anything. For about a month, they didn't explain the basics to me, what to do and what not to do. Then, little by little, I tried to manage on my own, continuing to ask them for advice from time to time.” (2011)

Translation : “I’m a creature of the night, half animal half human “ (2011)

Traduction : "I am very close to nature, the forest is my favorite place. I feel close to plants and animals, maybe even more than human beings, I think. I am more animal than human." (2011)  "I feel different from other humans, I feel more like a 'forest human'. I feel constantly connected with nature and animals. I feel closer to animals (especially wolves and foxes) than men. Sometimes I feel like I can go so far as to lose control: I attack, I bite, I claw. Humans probably see me as a monster. " (2011)

See the movie Twilight played on my animality (I was young, too). And many people tried to convince me that I was an overpowered werewolf ...

Then I discovered the otherkins community in 2012, after very long researches to discover myself, I was disturbed by this resemblance. I then turned to therianthropy and the European badger, abandoning this "troll" side that was also in me ...

So today, I search over and over for ancient writings that would have survived. I'm trying to find bridles from my non-human childhood.

The troll must also be seen as a pillar of my existence. A pillar that, unfortunately, that I absolutely don’t assume ...

[sagurus]

two lives counterclockwise - a playlist for saguru and kaito

created for: @ask-the-gosho-boys​ gosho boys playlist boom ↳ submission [ 3 / 3 ]

detailed tracklist under the cut; each song has an indicated pov!

ready to go (get me out of my mind) – panic! at the disco – saguru you're such a pretty thing to be running from anyone a vision with nowhere to go

razorback – rachel mallin – saguru distance, distance keeps you safe and i don't wanna scare you away your laughing 'cause it's funny how you're fooling everybody but me

fluorescent light – stars – kaito so come out with me tonight, come out with me tonight no one falls in love under fluorescent light

do i wanna know? – arctic monkeys – both are there some aces up your sleeve? have you no idea that you're in deep? i've dreamt about you nearly every night this week how many secrets can you keep?

grace kelly – mika – kaito i could be wholesome i could be loathsome i guess i'm a little bit shy why don't you like me without making me try?

factories – autoheart – saguru you are my delightful intruder taking lessons from the deluded i'm the wretched obstacle in your way

fourth of july – fall out boy – kaito you and i were fire, fire fireworks that went off too soon you are my favorite "what if" you are my best "i'll never know"

believe – mumford & sons – saguru This is never gonna go our way If I'm gonna have to guess what's on your mind

when the party's over – billie eilish – kaito don't you know too much already? i'll only hurt you if you let me call me friend but keep me closer (call me back) and i'll call you when the party's over

no one's here to sleep – bastille – both what goes on behind these doors i'll keep mine and you'll keep yours we all have our secrets

no one is lost – stars – saguru you had the looks, you had the lover you're being brave, but we know that you're afraid put your hands up if you ever feel afraid

superposition – young the giant – saguru i don't believe in fate no psychic vision but when things fall into place, superposition in any universe you are my dark star

skydiving – lights – saguru it all starts here, with a rush of blood to the head and i feel no fear, and nothing's happening yet

young – vallis alps – kaito look back to when midnights broke their sleep awake in our memories of when we would make believe collide

bloodstream – transviolet – saguru jumping frames in strobing light fingertips drip down my spine cruel desire, danger in our consequence you look my way and I lose my--

sirens – soren bryce – kaito it's fine when you go off at midnight not worrying you're head about how finite life is lying, say it's tiring sleep til the days out, sleep when you got down

collar full – panic! at the disco – saguru i won't leave any doubt or stone unturned i've got a collar full of chemistry from your company so maybe tonight I'll be the libertine

the last of the real ones – fall out boy – kaito i am a collapsing star with tunnel vision but only for you my head is stripped just like a screw that's been tightened too many times when i think of you

lazy lies – capital cities – saguru sick and tired, and you wanna see a change but you don't wanna change for me be so kind to explain what's on your mind you’re the riddle of the century

clementine – halsey – kaito because in my world, i'm constantly havin' a breakthrough or a breakdown, or a blackout

catch your death – skittish – saguru you'll catch your death, you keep living like this. you clearly care none for yourself, just please don't leave me here alone. ‘cause i know plenty of dead folk

the crossfire – tom dickins – saguru and you'll keep your thumb hovering by the button while i try to keep you under my thumb but i'll be your parachute if you'll be my trigger tonight is the catalyst, bring us undone

fever dream – mxmtoon – kaito life's a losing game when you don't play don't hold your cards too close is what they say now, love is just another leap of faith but i jump right in

never look away – vienna teng – kaito so if you're out there in the cold i'll cover you in moonlight if you're a stranger to your soul i'll bring you to your birthright i want the storm inside you awoken now i want your warm bright eyes to never look away don't you ever look away

clover – cold weather company – both there's a reason why two lives can feel like they're both counterclockwise, know that you were still made to feel aligned

[reneejuliet]

If These Walls Could Talk

Welcome back.

I’ve wanted to make another post for well over the last week, but unfortunately that desire came while I was working 7 straight days in a row, 12 hours each day. So to say I was a little more than exhausted by the time I got home each day is an understatement. In addition, I’m once again switching to my night shift schedule, so my mind and body are all out of whack. HOWEVER. As I try to go back to sleep this beautiful rainy morning before returning to work tonight, I can’t. Because my mind is alive with everything I haven’t been able to share with anyone this past week, and it needs said.

It’s still a little strange for me to turn to my blog in these moments, and not my journal. As you can imagine, since I was never a very good blogger, I certainly am not a great journalist, either. But it was an outlet - is an outlet, still. Only, with carpal tunnel in my right wrist/hand, it’s become increasingly harder to hash out all the thoughts I want to on paper. Plus, my fingers have always kept better pace with my mind when keys are involved versus a pen; not to mention the legibility this affords me upon later reflection, as sometimes I’ll write so goshdarn fast and messy that even I, myself, can’t decipher what the hell I was trying to say. 

So, sleepy and shivering, I welcome you back into the pit of thoughts.

I am going to be addressing some slight depression issues, “broken home”/family issues, self-harm, and anxiety issues in this post. Still not sure how exactly this whole thing works, so I hope this is enough of a warning for anyone sensitive to those.

Without unraveling the entire rat’s nest that is my childhood, let me just say that I’ve never really known a “peaceful” home. Brief summary: my mother was absent a lot due to her own depression, my father has quite a temper, and they both fought like it was their jobs. This is why I came to love Peter Pan - whenever the yelling came pounding through my walls, I curled up underneath my window with my suitcase packed and wished for nothing else than for Peter to come take me away to Neverland. Obviously, this never came to fruition, but it helped some part of my tiny brain cope. If you’ve ever read Peter Pan, you know each child’s Neverland is their own making - I cannot tell you how upset it makes me that every. single. version of Peter Pan never includes Wendy’s pet wolf. All the same, whenever I imagined my own, it was fantastic. Full of wonder and joy and happiness, just like in the story. Only, very unlike the story, I always came home. Here, however, my home was happiness. My parents didn’t fight, my sister didn’t hate me (of course, she didn’t really hate me, but I was the pesky younger sibling that she just couldn’t be bothered with), and no one was ever angry with me. This, I realize, is probably where my anxiety began to stem from - always wanting to please everyone, at any cost. It made for a very self-inflicted traumatic childhood on my end, because I quickly learned to silence a lot of who I was just to satiate what everyone wished of me.

And for a long time, I remained this person. It wasn’t until I was about 10 years old that the depression hit, though we hardly knew that’s what it was at the time. See, I had finally made friends with a group of girls that I could be myself with, and I was happy. But, we were considered weird. Or, at least, they were - they were still more free with themselves than I was, comfortable with making strange noises and doing strange things just because they wanted to. And while I indulged in those moments shared with them, I still kept fairly quiet and reserved when on my own. This led to bullying from my classmates, because of who my friends were. It wasn’t so much aimed at me personally, but at my choice of friends. And these girls meant the world to me - they still do, 2 decades later as our friendship remains as strong as those early days. I couldn’t grasp why someone would make fun of me, tease me, because of something that finally made me happy. There just had to be more that my little preteen brain wasn’t understanding.

There had to be something wrong with me, right?

I promise, this has a point.

My non-diagnosed anxiety (I didn’t even know what anxiety was, back then) only worsened as I began struggling with finding some reason for why these kids were picking on me. None of my friends seemed to care - why did I? Because I was a people-pleaser. It ate away at me to know that someone didn’t like me, regardless of the reason for it. I tried so hard. I let people say what they wanted to about me, I gave people second and third and fourth chances all because I was afraid of what would happen if I stood up for myself. I changed how I acted, how I dressed (a whole other can of worms we will probably never address, haha), how I lived, just to try and fit in with everyone. It was exhausting, and it wore me down quick.

It also didn’t help that by this point, my older sister had hit high school. She was pretty, she was popular, and she was damn good at sports. I’m pretty sure her track record at high school is still intact, and she graduated 16 years ago. This only served to create my inferiority complex.

Why couldn’t I be as great as my sister?

Going back to the family issues - my dad was my everything growing up. He did so much for our family, made sacrifices I never knew how to appreciate until I got older. All I ever wanted was to make him proud of me, to prove to him that everything he did for us wasn’t in vain. I could see that pride in his eyes when he watched my sister excel at sports. Field hockey, basketball, track and field. She had his love in a way I coveted. I played those sports too, while in middle school, but never nearly as well. Never well enough to see that shameless pride gleaming back at me from my father’s eyes. And that killed. Because no matter how I tried, I wasn’t her.

I was more like my mother. Interested in arts (though not art itself, I can’t draw to save my damn life), music, theatre. When I finally made it to high school, I was too damn scared of failure, of being compared to her, to really try anything I had once enjoyed. It distanced me from my father. You would think, then, that this would have brought my mother and me closer; it did not. That chasm carved between us by the lack of her involvement as I grew up was too wide to bridge entirely. I grew to feel isolated in my own family, unwanted and certainly unneeded. What did I possibly bring to the table?

When I turned 16, I told my mom I needed to talk to someone. Depression still wasn’t something anyone really talked about. A taboo in society, frowned heavily upon. Full of labels and judgments I wasn’t able to bear just yet. My mom understood, even if my dad didn’t. He never used to believe in depression. He was one that agreed it was all attention-seeking, an excuse. And here I was, drowning hard and fast in it, afraid to confide in him lest he think less of me as well. So I got good at hiding it. So damn good. Because how do you tell the man you idolize that you’ve started cutting when he’s made the statement of, “if you’re going to start it, you should just finish the job”?

It wasn’t until I was much older that I was able to tell my father much of any of what I suffered through back then. Now, he tries to understand. But he’s getting older, and more ornery, and sometimes that patience wears so thin it could snap in a light breeze. More so now, because I finally stand up for myself. And while he encourages that, he certainly never anticipated I would have to do it against him.

There’s still so much screaming inside these walls. Some of it is mine, now. I hate it just as much, hate how involved with it I’ve become. But I simply cannot shoulder the weight of the world anymore.

Atlas, I am not.

My father and I never used to have such blow-out arguments. I never used to have to scream until my throat burned, my lungs ached, and my chest collapsed. Not with him. Yet I’ll do it a thousand - a million - times over if it means remaining who I’ve become. This version of me may not be perfect, and I’m certainly not happy with her just yet, but it is so much better from who I used to be. Because the girl I once was would have been dead by now. She already very nearly was.

ANYWAY. 

This particular fight started over something incredibly stupid - a statement. A belief I have that doesn’t necessarily align with my father’s. I have no political affiliation. He’s a strong Republican. I made the mistake of voicing a belief that apparently leans more liberal, and he just... lost it. Got super nasty with me, made hurtful comments, refused to hear me out. And I know it’s only because he’s getting older, and like his father before him, losing his temper more often because of it. My mom constantly insists I be the bigger person, that I understand the true reasons behind his behavior and brush it off. “You know he doesn’t mean it. You know he’s in pain, how that makes him lash out.”

Yes, I do know. That doesn’t make it okay.

All my life I’ve been the punching bag for this family. The therapist listening to every member complain about each other. All my life, I’ve tried and given everything to fix it. To somehow fit this family into the mould I had imagined for us. All my life, I have sacrificed more and more of me just to make things right.

When is enough, enough?

I called my boyfriend that night, shaking and crying. Trying to understand how a parent can talk to their child that way, wondering when my family became... well, this. He listened oh so patiently, let me just cry in silence until my body was spent. He will never know just how much I loved him in that moment. Because though Peter Pan never came to steal me away, I know exactly where my Neverland is. And it’s in my boyfriend’s arms.

My father still hasn’t apologized for how he spoke to me, let alone what he said. He’s not the type to. I love him with everything I’ve got, I wouldn’t be the woman I am today without him, but. I am done. I am done suffering for his - or anyone’s - sake. Sometimes, it has to be about me. As hard as that is for me to do.

If you have made it this far - if you have read any of this at all - know that you are worth so much more than you think. It isn’t always obvious, and it certainly isn’t easy, but there is meaning in your existence. I still have yet to find what mine is, but I know it’s there. Somewhere. Yours is too.

If these walls could talk I’m afraid of what they’d say The shouting they would echo The image they’d portray But I’m not afraid to hear it because I don’t know what was said No, I heard it all the first time It still rattles in my head

So give me all the silence All the quiet that you’ve got Enough to end the crying And drown out my own thoughts

[awkwardturtleaffairs16]

Tunnel

Prompts:

(1)    @honey-bee-fangirl Nick is really really badly injured, really ill and weak and bedridden, Sabrina kissing Nick’s forehead, and Sabrina saying I love you; and

(2)    @whcczes Prompt #24 “that was, by far, the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”

Her whole body was hurting. She might have been bleeding from a gash on her stomach, but she wasn’t sure. Her eyesight was getting blurry and the smoke was filling up her lungs rapidly. She needed to get them out of here.

 She struggles to carry Nicholas, his arm slung on her shoulder, a dead weight on her side. She doesn’t stop trudging on the path. They have gotten so far away from the battle. The war between heaven and hell was waging on in the depths of the fiery pits of hell, but nothing really registered in her head other than the fact that Nicholas was so near now beside her, that she could feel his warmth seeping thru his blood-soaked clothes. She needed to get him out of here. Fast.

 The ground shook and the walls were starting to cave in. There was so much dust and soot in the air. She was having a hard time breathing. The entrance was getting closer, but her consciousness was waning, closing in. If they don’t get out of there now, they were never leaving hell.

 It seems like the light at the end of the tunnel was getting brighter and she could almost imagine tasting fresh air, she could almost imagine seeing Nicholas cradling her face, healthy, safe, and smiling, with an amused smile, laughing at her worry. Telling her it was going to be alright. ‘God Please, Satan, Lilith, Jesus Christ. Whoever is there. Please let it be alright’, she thinks.

 She drags every inch of strength left in her bones and carries on. She doesn’t see the ceiling collapse and come down just right in front of them and she loses her balance. They both fall on the ground. She doesn’t notice her knees start bleeding. She doesn’t waste a minute and scrambles up to his side, she tries to keep her tears at bay, but she chokes.

 “Nick. Nicholas. Nicholas! Wake up please! We need to get out of here. Wake up.”

 She chokes on her tears, his eyes are closed, he doesn’t move a muscle. There was blood running down his head and she desperately tries to wipe it away but the blood flows thoroughly. He was deathly pale. She panics for a minute and tries to feel for a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. She breathes a small sigh of relief.

 She realizes there was no way out anymore. The exit was blocked by debris, most of which were bigger than her. There was no way she can get past that. The cave was getting darker now, she knows she is left with no choice.

 She gently cradles his head to her chest. Presses a kiss on his forehead. Prays to the Gods that her powers would work. She closes her eyes and visualizes the pool of magic within her. The well was almost empty. There was nothing much to draw. She concentrates harder. The transportation spell was easy if she needed to transport herself. But it was trickier with an unconscious person. If she didn’t have enough magic left, the transportation spell could take hold of her, but not on Nicholas. Initially, she didn’t want to take the risk. But if they stay longer, the less likely they were to escape.

 She focuses her mind and draws deep, she feels the murmuring of her power on her skin and with a hoarse voice, she shouts, “Lanuae. Magicae.”

 She doesn’t remember to whom she prays for, Satan was clearly dead. They had no Gods. But she remembers praying hard. Her vision spins and the last thing she remembers is being engulfed by cool blinding light, Nicholas in her arms, her grip iron tight around him. She was not letting him go this time.

 ---

 She wakes up feeling warm, bright sunlight streaming down the room. The walls that greeted her were yellow and cheery, and she could smell cinnamon. A sign of protection. A safe haven.

 She closes her eyes again and remembers that she was having a dream. They were attending the ball at Baxter High, she was swaying to the music, head on Nicholas’ shoulders. Her eyes cast away to Harvey and Roz’s direction. She remembers smiling, closing her eyes with content, and leaning further into Nick.

 She remembers thinking how terribly sad and poignant was it to say goodbye to a person you knew so well like the back of your hand? How can leaving a relationship that was a great imprint on your soul, be okay? The truth was, it wasn’t okay. The love she and Harvey shared was the most – innocent and young, that she will ever know. That time when they had it, it was perfect. It was hard to accept the other truth in life – people change. The things you feel before will not always be the same things you feel now. And that was okay.

 Day by day, you learn that there are matters in life that you know you cannot give up. Other matters, you must know because your soul seeks it. There are relationships in life you will learn to outgrow, while some you realize you will grow old with. She loved Harvey. That never really changed. It was just a situation where they both learned that they had exceed each other.

 But love was not something you learn to quantify. Love was just that. An unexplainable feeling that takes over your soul. A compulsion that makes you reach to another, maybe in search for a home. She gave a piece of her heart to Harvey. And now she knows, she was giving away a distinct piece of her heart to Nicholas too.

 How do you explain an unfamiliar love that exceeds a love that is first and pure? How does she even begin?

 She feels Nick disengage from the dance, feels him stare at her, a silent burning question in his eyes. She knows the question. She knows, he wonders constantly about the need to surpass Harvey. When will he leave his shadow?

 She feels speechless in front of his unwavering stare. She didn’t know how to answer him then. For the first time, she felt afraid. How can she contain all the love overflowing from his soul?

 -

 She hears a crash downstairs and reluctantly she opens her eyes. Wait. Nicholas. She recalls him in her arms. The Mines. Escape. Transportation Spell.

 She jolts out of her reverie and she feels a chill run down her spine. Where was she? Where was Nick? She stands hurriedly and ignores the pounding pain in her head and runs down the spiral staircase. “Nicholas! Nick!”, she shouts.

 She reaches the end of the stairwell and sees a surprised Auntie Hilda balancing a tray full of dark porridge and mandrake juice.

 “Sabrina! You’re awake! My dear, oh my goodness dear.” Auntie Hilda engulfs her in a tight hug. The bowl of porridge clatters unattended on the floor. They hug and cry, but she wastes no time and asks, “Auntie, I was – I was with Nicholas. I tried to teleport us both back – but, but, I, I don’t know what happened. He might be in the tunnel. How long have I been asleep? Where is Nicholas?”

 Hilda smiles slowly and places her hand on Sabrina’s cheek, “Hush now baby girl, Nicholas is here. He’s safe. I was just taking this porridge to him.”

 Immense relief courses through her. She didn’t know how, but she found herself on the floor. Strength sapped. Her knees weak. He was alive. He was here. He was here. The spell worked. She saved him. Dear God. She feels her tears pool from her eyes. She’s been crying a lot these days. She doesn’t normally stray away from feelings of sadness, but since Nicholas left, there were days when the sorrow was unbearable.

 “Where is he, Auntie?”, she asks.

 Hilda takes her to the corner room on the second floor. When she opens the door, Sabrina stays rooted on the spot for a moment, but then she takes the first step and rushes by his side. She sees Nicholas on the bed, his eyes closed, (she doesn’t remember the last time she’s seen those eyes open), his forehead was bandaged up, a cut from his left eye down marred his cheek. She could see bruises on his arms, his chest. She knows his right leg was broken. She saw how mangled it was the first time she found him.

 She kneels beside him and picks up his hand, and cries.

 She found Nicholas in the ninth circle of hell, injured, weak, and on the verge of imminent death. He was in the middle of the frozen lake. The 4th round, Judecca. He did not recognize her or anything for that matter. When she tried to talk to him, he would stare at her face blankly, eyes empty, no light. She remembers pulling him in her arms and promising to take him back home.

 But where was home? She was sure Nicholas knew the answer to her question. She needed to hear him say it again. She needed Nicholas to wake up. She knows the answer now too. She needs to tell him that her home was him. And she was his home now. She needed to tell him so many things.

 She stays beside him and waits.

 ----

 He stirs and he knows he is somewhere safe. The sheets were warm, and a breeze was coming in. He knows he is safe because there was no breeze in hell. He struggles to open his eyes, his whole-body hurts, and he can’t feel his right leg. His throat was parched. His ears disoriented from the empty ringing. But he feels grateful. It’s been so long since he’s felt anything other than excruciating pain. Hell was no joke. The torture was beyond imagination. He’s never going back again.

 He feels something heavy beside his arm and he tries to turn his head sideways. A soft sleeping face. White platinum tresses. Sabrina.

 He struggles to keep his emotions in check, he feels his throat close up, his eyes water, a heavy sense of need flooding his chest. He thought he would never see her again. Good God.

 He winces when he tries to lift his right hand to pull her in. His ribs were apparently also broken. But he doesn’t give up. She doesn’t stir. When he’s gathered her in his arms, he breathes a sigh of relief. He kissed the top of her head. He imagined this one too many times while he was in Hell. When he felt the burning pain of Satan, imprinting on his soul, he thought only of one thing. Sabrina.

 Sabrina in his arms. Sabrina smiling, laughing. Sabrina running. Kissing.

 He realizes that he is alive and safe now, yet he still thinks of the same thing.

 He closes his eyes to sleep.

 ---

 When he wakes up the second time, he finds her still there. Awake.

 “It’s been a while, Spellman.”, he says. His voice was hoarse from lack of use.

 Her face crumples up and she has a ridiculous smile on her face, tears falling on her cheeks. She tries to clear her throat and with snob, she says, “Nicholas Scratch, that was, by far, the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”

 He takes her within his arms. And he laughs, “I love you, Sabrina.”

 She takes a deep unhurried breath, decides and says, “I love you, Nick.”

[clevercatchphrase]

You Monster Chpt 33

(Full story found on my ao3 under the same username. I’m no longer linking chapters because tumblr won’t show them in the search results otherwise!)

Mettaton’s parts are heavier than they look. You aren’t surprised. After all, they did pack a pretty hefty punch every time he hit you, but trying to carry all four of his limbs is nearly impossible. Beside you, Alphys is having similar troubles, trying to get his body off the ground. All the while, the robot still hasn’t decided to enter sleep mode, instead insisting he provide words of encouragement.

“You’re doing excellent, darling! Remember, lift with your knees, not your back! Atta girl!”

“This is taking forever,” Alphys groans wiping her brow. “I’m gonna call for back up.”

Pulling out her phone, Alphys taps away on the keys as she writes out a text message. A moment later and her phone chimes with a response.

“Okay, Undyne, Sans and Papyrus are on their way to help move him. They’ll meet us in the MTT resort, so we just gotta make it that far.”

You push onward, carrying Mettaton’s arms draped over your shoulders and one leg under each of your arms. The going is slow, and the limbs drag on the ground and constantly trip you up as you get into the elevator and down the corridor back towards Alphys’ lab.

You’re greeted with screams of excitement when you open the door to the hotel lobby. The room is packed with monsters holding posters and t-shirts with your and Mettaton’s images plastered to them. News reporters with cameras and mics are asking for interviews and pictures.

Overwhelmed, you and Alphys clump together as the paparazzi surround you. Nervously, you smile and wave as cameras flash.

“Ah! There are the photographers!” Mettaton says, and begins cycling between faces of teasing winks and flirty kissing lips as his picture is taken. “I was wondering when they’d show up! Smile for the camera, darling! You’re a super star now!”

People crowd closer and ask for autographs while the reporters beg for exclusive interviews. You’re just about to get overwhelmed when I voice you didn’t think you’d ever find yourself missing shouts over the crowds.

“NYAGH! OUTTA THE WAY, PUNKS! VIP ROYAL GUARD COMING THROUGH!”

“And future royal guard also coming through!” A more nasally voice echoes.

“And also a sentry, if you want my two sents,” a third voice drawls at the end.

Reluctantly, the masses part as Undyne muscles a pathway through to them with Papyrus and Sans in tow.

“Guys! You made it!” Alphys beams.

“You called for backup?” the warrior asks. While she’s no longer in her iron uniform, Undyne is no less intimidating when she flashes that toothy grin at the both of you.

“Y-yeah!” Alphys blushes. “W-we need to get back to my lab pronto before Mettaton’s batteries completely drain. C-can you help?”

“Can I?” Undyne tucks Mettaton’s body under one arm and Alphys under the other. “Papyrus! Grab the kid and let’s blow this popsicle stand!”

You pass Papyrus Mettaton’s legs, which were definitely the heavier pair of limbs, but no less cumbersome than his noodle arms which still threatened to tangle up your legs. Beside you Sans watches with passive amusement.

“Do you want to give us a hand, Sans?” suggests Papyrus with irritation when he catches his brother just standing on the sidelines.

“Good job, bro” Sans claps lazily. “I’m really proud of you for giving a leg up.”

“Ugh! Never mind!” Papyrus groans.

“We’re ready, Undyne!” you announce. “Lead the way!”

“In that case, hang on tight, ‘cause we’re outta here! NYAGH!” Undyne bursts forth, leaving it up to the monsters to decide if they want to get out of the way or not as she charges through the lobby. The royal guard explodes out the front door, leaving you and Papyrus to do your best to keep up. The public scream in delight at your flashy exit and surge after you like a tidal wave.

“SANS!” Papyrus shouts, glancing back. “This is no time for antics! Keep up, brother!”

“It’s too late for me, bro. I’m a goner.” Sans says nonchalantly as he surfs the crowd, being passed around by monsters like a beach ball. “Save yourself. I’ll meet up with you again back at the lab.”

With Undyne waiting for no one, you’re forced to abandon Sans to the whims of the crowd and dash out of the hotel. The streets of Hotland are only a little less crowded as you make a break to the elevators. Along the way, monsters begin to point and whisper and cheer as your party scampers past and a few very overzealous fans begin to give chase.

“Crud, how are we gonna lose them?” Undyne asks when she sees the pursuers.

“I know! Head to the west elevator!” you say. “Go through the spider parlor!”

A wicked gleam flashes in Undyne’s eye as she follows your train of thought. She takes a sharp right, away from the hotel and into the narrow tunnel.

“Muffet! Are you here?” you call out when you reach the main foyer of the spider parlor.

“Back again so soon, dearie?” Muffet says as she crawls down the walls. “I just saw your performance on TV. Beautiful dance, mon ami! I’ll have to show a few of those moves to my spiders!”

“Yeah, the dance off was… certainly something!” you tell her. “But now we really need to get Mettaton back to the lab, and we’re being chased by rabid fans! Do you think you can slow them down for us and sell them a few of your backed goods?”

Muffet’s eyes crinkle with mischief. “Oooh, mon ami, that sounds delightful! Okay, girls!” she claps her three pairs of hands. “We’ve got a lot of customers headed our way! Let’s make this place spic and span so they never want to leave! Break out your oven mits!”

“Thanks, Muffet!” you shout as you jog on your way. Muffet merrily giggles and waves you farewell.

You reach the west elevator with no trouble and make it to the ground floor without any hiccups. The doors part and you’re greeted with clear streets, and at last you relax.

The sight of Sans reading a newspaper and leaning against the wall of Alphys’ lab meets you when you approach the building.

“Sans?” you speak up, looking back in confusion. “What- How did you get here before us?”

Sans shrugs. “Eh, I took a short cut. But that’s not important. Check this out, Kiddo. You’re in the newspaper.”

Sans turns the sheet over to show you the front page. Right smack dab in the center is a picture of you and Mettaton dancing together on stage. The editor captured a brilliant shot just when you and Mettaton both struck a pose while fireworks were exploding behind you.

“Wow, they work fast.”

“Eh, there’s never really much to report on down here, so the journalists ain’t exactly busy.”

From under Undyne’s arm, Mettaton squeals with joy.

“Oh darling! We made the front page! We’re headlining! This is the highest point of my career to date!”

“Hey, Sans! No fair!” Papyrus stomps. “I want a newspaper with a picture of my cool friend and favorite robot on the front to commemorate this moment too!”

“No problem, bro. Take mine,” Sans says, handing the newsprint to his brother.

Now it’s Papayrus’ turn to squeal like a school girl. He unceremoniously drops Mettaton’s legs and swipes the newspaper from his brother’s hand. “This is the greatest day of my life! My cool best friend is friends with a famous super star, which means I’m friends with a famous superstar by vicarious extension!”

He turns to you, hope in his eye sockets.

“Hey, pal? Mettaton? Do you think you could both autograph this for me?”

“Of course, darling! Bring it here!”

“Uh, sure. Anyone got a pen?”

Borrowing a pen from Alphys, you put your signature above your head, and then pass it to Mettaton, before remembering his current state.

“Er, do you need help holding the pen?”

“No need! Bring the newspaper close to my beautiful face.”

You do as instructed. Mettaton sucks his lips in, then puckers them out and smooches the space next to his image.

“Mwah! There we are!” He says craning his head back, and you pull the paper away to find a silvery blue lipstick mark.

Papyrus shrieks with joy when you hand him back the newspaper.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Papyrus says squeezing you in a hug so tight that your lungs threaten to collapse, before letting you pass out. He twirls around and raises the newspaper high above his head to admire it.

“Hang on to that autograph, darling, because it’s the only one of its kind. I’ll be worth a fortune one day!” Mettaton winks.

“As if I’d ever sell this!” Papyrus scoffs. “This picture here commemorates the exact moment when my super cool best friend and super cool robot idol made their break out performance and went from rivals to allies! This is the greatest gift anyone has ever given me! I’ll cherish it for as long as I live!”

You realize, too late, to warn Papyrus to knock on wood for such overconfidence, but either the universe like a cruel joke,

“Arf! Arf!”

Or fate does not like to be tempted,

“Arf! Arf!”

Or maybe a certain little someone had an ear for hubris and just loved to wreak chaos wherever he went.

“ARF ARF ARF!”

Three quick barks are all the warning he gives as he darts through your legs. From out of nowhere, the small white dog leaps from the crowd and snatches the newspaper from Papyrus’ raised hands.

At first no one says anything- too dumbfounded by the sheer fact this tiny toy mutt cleared a vertical leap ten times his height.

The annoying dog does a graceful half turn in the air and lands with masterful precision, back into his signature play bow, facing the flabbergasted group.

There’s a tense moment as he stares you down with that devilish canine grin of his. And maybe the wind had blown the fur on his face the wrong way for a second, or maybe a cinder got in his eye, or maybe, just maybe the dog knowingly-

and intentionally-

winked at you.

“GET! HIM!” Papyrus explodes and tears after the pooch.

Apparently not understanding Papyrus’ rage, the dog wags his tail harder as the screaming skeleton runs up to him to play. Bursting with overstimulation, he races off, running circles around the other monsters, faking lefts and rights to trip Papyrus up and even running back through the skeleton’s legs. Yelling in borderline mania, Papyrus closes in on the dog, coils his legs beneath him, makes a desperate lunge with outstreched hands- and falls just short of grabbing the pooch, spilling to the ground.

The dog stops, play-growling and panting simultaneously so that it sounded suspiciously like huffing laughter, before skipping off in the direction of Waterfall.

“Noooo!” Papyrus wails, face down in the dirt. “I can’t! He’s won! This is the last straw!”

“Never fret, darling!” Mettaton says. “It’s not the end of the world!”

“Yeah, Papyarus,” You console him. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“No you don’t understand!” Papyrus pounds on the earth, throwing a tantrum on the floor. “That dog is always stealing MY things! MY action figures! MY cellphone! MY special attacks! NEVER anyone else’s! He intentionally went after MY newspaper! There are dozens being circulated right now, but he had to have that one because it was MINE! And knowing him, he’s probably running off to line is crate with it!”

“Darling! Don’t worry!” Mettaton assures. “We can get you another newspaper and I can autograph it again!”

Papyrus is silent for a long minute as he laments to the soil. “Fine,” he sighs at last when he regains his composure. “Though it won’t be as great as the original. This one just won’t have the same sentimental value, but I guess it would still suffice as a memento...”

Picking up Mettaton’s limbs once again, your group finally makes it inside Alphys’ lab where she guides you and the others to her upper balcony to deposit his pieces.

“Hup! There you go!” Undyne huffs as she slips Mettaton back into his docking station.

“Oh yes!” the robot sighs once plugged in. “That feels miles better already. Thank you, darlings.”

“Th-thanks for your help, Undyne,” Alphys stutters. You place Mettaton’s arms on the table while Papyrus drops off the legs. Is it your imagination, or is there a rosy hue on Alphys’ face? It could just be due to exertion from lifting Mettaton’s heavy parts, but the dreamy adoration shining in the royals scientist’s eyes as she watches Undyne stretch makes you think otherwise.

“Heh! Anything for you Alphys!” Undyne beams, her smile wider than you’ve ever seen. You blink, suddenly remembering the last conversation you had with the royal guard and Kid before you parted ways, and the teasing you heard from Bratty and Catty. Silently, you study the two out of the corner of your eye, noting the way they shyly brush hands and awkwardly fidget, and a realization hits you like a ton of bricks.

“You like her don’t you?” you ask the scientist when Undyne moves a ways off.

Alphys jumps. "W-what?! Wh-who told you!?”

“No one. I figured it out for myself just now. And, well, I guess it was pretty obvious when you said Undyne’s name to Bratty and Catty, too, but I didn’t make the connection then.”

“W-w-well d-d-don’t go telling anyone! Especially Undyne! Just the thought of her laughing at me makes me nauseated.”

“Laugh at you? Why do you think she’d do that?”

“Look at me!” Alphys throws her hands in the air. “I’m already a huge science nerd! She’d never want to be with a geek like me! All my statistics say so!”

“Says who?”

“Says ever media trope and dating simulator ever! When has the jock EVER hooked up with the nerd? It’s statistically impossible! Just… just keep it to yourself, will you? Please?”

Reluctantly you nod, and Alphys seems satisfied. You keep your eyes trained on her as she moves closer to Mettaton to back up his coding, then you uncross your fingers from behind your back.

You tiptoe around Alphys and Undyne and head back down stairs where Papyrus and Sans chat.

“Papyrus, I have a problem and I need your help,” you tell him.

“Fear not, friend! For I, the Great Papyrus, shall find a solution! Now tell me of this trouble!”

“It’s Alphys and Undyne. I think they’re friend zoning each other.”

“I… I am afraid I don’t follow,” Papyrus admits. “Alphys and Undyne have always been great friends! Why is being in the friend zone an issue?”

“Because they both want to be in the date zone but neither will tell the other, and they don’t know how the other feels about them.”

Papyrus gasps as if horror struck. “I see! Yes, this is a very serious problem indeed!”

“I need your help to get one to admit to the other how they feel. Then they’d both be happy.”

“Noble plan!” Papyrus says, giving you a fist bump. “And I have the perfect idea to get them together! Let me run home and get a plate of my spaghetti and meatballs. Sans, can you play the accordion?”

“No, but I can play the trombone.”

“Close enough!”

“Um, how is any of that supposed to get Undyne and Alphys to confess their feelings for each other?” you ask.

“Don’t worry! I saw this in a movie with dogs once! The lovely couple share spaghetti and end up kissing! Viola! Instant relationship!”

“Um, I was more or less thing something along the lines of forging a note from one of them to give to the other, and I was wondering if you could help me write it, since neither of them seems brave enough to do it themselves.”

“Also a brilliant idea!” Papyrus claps, and begins searching Alphys’ desk for blank paper. “We may have the best luck if we impersonate Alphys. Undyne’s writing style is a bit too flowery to imitate, with all her pink poetry and what not.”

“Purple prose,” Sans corrects.

“That too!” Papyrus smiles, placing a wad of paper and pencils between the three of you. “Okay! How do we flatter a fish?”

“Run over it a second time,” Sans quips.

“SANS!” Papyrus interjects while you barely contain your giggles. “…That was, admittedly, a really good joke, but slightly inappropriate for our current situation! But I like your enthusiasm! Keep it up, brother! We will woo Undyne yet!”

Grabbing a pen and paper, you begin jotting down as many cheesy pickup lines and science puns as you can think of.

--

It’s barely twenty minutes later when Undyne decides to take her leave, much to your dismay. You and Papyrus have only written one draft of your love note, but it will have to do.

“Well, I guess I’d better be going, then.” Undyne says as she moves towards the exit. “See you around sometime, Alphys?”

“Uh, s-sure Undyne!” Alphys fidgets, like she’s dying to say something else, but can’t find the words. “O-our usual anime night?”

“Sounds like a plan!” Undyne says, but you can tell it’s forced, like she want to say more as well, but can’t find the nerve. “See ya on your rounds tomorrow, Papyrus. Sans.” She nods at them. “And I guess… good luck with Asgore, kid.”

Undyne leaves through the front door and Alphys sighs. “W-well, I guess I’d better get started on reattaching Mettaton’s legs…” with a defeated exhale, she heads back upstairs.

Once you’re alone with the skeletons, you give them a nod. They nod in return and pass you the note. You flash thumbs up and run out the front door to catch up with Undyne.

“Undyne! Wait!” You shout as she makes her way to the ferry, waving the note above your head. “Alphys forgot to give you this before you left! She said it was very important and that you had to read it right away!”

You hand Undyne the letter and she opens it without hesitation. Her eye scans the page, creased with seriousness before her brow raises in surprise. She blinks a couple times and rereads it again, slower this time as she absorbs the words.

“Wow… I can’t believe this…” She says looking at you. Your spirits rise with hope. “I can’t believe… you’d thought I’d actually fall for this crap!”

And just like that, you’re hopes are crushed. Panicked, you try to back away, but Undyne presses closer to you, jabbing you in the chest with one finger. “What’s the big deal, punk?! Everyone knows Alphys’ handwriting is worse than chicken scratch! She’d never write this legibly, and not to mention in PAPYRUS FONT! Why under the earth are you trying to impersonate her and send me fake love letters?”

“Because she won’t do it herself!” you huff. “She’s crushing just as hard on you as you are on her, but she doesn’t have the nerve to tell you!”

"Wait, who told you I have a crush on her!?” Undyne demands, recoiling in horror.

“Oh, come on, it’s clearly obvious to any monsters with eyes that you two like each other,” you snort, crossing your arms in indignation.

“Wait…so what you’re saying is that Alphys… feels the same way about me?”

“Yeah, but she thinks if she tells you, you’ll turn her down or worse, that you’ll laugh at her. She already thinks you just put up with her weird interests to be a good friend.”

“That’s ludicrous! I’d NEVER laugh at her for what she’s passionate about! It’s what I love about her the most!” Undyne grips your shoulder as if ready to shake some sense into you.

“Then why don’t you tell HER that?” you retort.

The pupil in Undyne’s eye dilates, as if seeing clearly for the first time.

“You’re… you’re right! I DO have to tell her! And now that I know she shares the same feelings as I do, I don’t have to worry about her turning ME down!”

Without warning, Undyne grabs you by the arms and lifts you off the ground.

“C’mon I gotta tell her I know and I feel the same way! I gotta tell her everything!”

Undyne tucks you under one arm like a football and takes off at mach speed. If feels like you only blink once before you’re back at the lab, where Undyne drops you to pry open the doors when they don’t open fast enough.

“ALPHYS!” Undyne shouts, standing proudly in the door way, dramatically back lit from Hotland’s glow. “I have something very important to tell you! A confession, if you will!”

“U-Undyne??” Alphys jumps from her computer chair. “Y-y-you’re back! I-I-I wasn’t expecting you to come back so soon! I-Is something wrong?”

“Yes! Alphys, I am afraid I’m sick.”

“You are? Well, quick, come sit over here and I can give you a diagnostic-“

“-SICK OF KEEPING MY FEELINGS TOWARDS YOU A SECRET!”

Alphys pales and you don’t blame her. You thought Undyne was going to be gentler about this. You didn’t expect Undyne’s confession to be so… abrasive. Undyne sounded more like she was about to command you to do a hundred pushups instead of confess her crush. She storms over and lifts Alphys up until they’re eye level.

“Alphys! Ever since the day I met you in the dump, I saw the dedication in your eyes! The passion you had for the work you did, and the things that inspired you! That fervor! That zeal! Your ability to accomplish anything you put your mind to! It’s infectious!”

“U-Undyne, I never knew you felt that way about me!”

“Alphys, it’s your dedication to your goals that inspires me! It’s what I love most about you!”

“Y-you do?”

“Yes! And I would be greatly honored if you gave me the privilege to be that partner to help you achieve those goals!”

“I-I-I… y-yes! Yes, Undyne!” Alphys cries out in delight, wiping away tears of joy. “I-I would love nothing more!”

“My, this certainly seems cause for celebration!” Mettaton says from the upper level, having overheard the conversation below. “This day has been just full of dramatic revelations, hasn’t it? All in favor of a little festivity?”

“I would, but I really should be going now,” you say. Your work here is done, and you’ve still got a king to meet.

“Darling, you can’t leave just yet!” Mettaton insists. “You must stick around for the after party where we’ll do Q and As and talk to the press, strike up some brand deals, and then following that is the after-after party where we’ll shoot the behind the scenes 'Making Of' special, and then there’s the after-after-after party where you can only get in if you know someone who knows someone-”

“And d-don’t forget,” Alphys says from within Undyne’s embrace. “There are still throngs of people out there in the streets. I-It’d be impossible to get back to the MTT resort without being mobbed by your new fans looking for an autograph… H-how about you wait it out here for a while?”

“Yeah, punk!” Undyne adds. “Alphys and I can finally show you what anime is!”

“Oh! And we can finally have that sleep over! For real this time!” says Papyrus.

“Just… one more night, Kid?” Sans asks, clasping a boney hand on your shoulder. “What do you say?”

With four faces looking at you expectantly, it physically hurts to think about disappointing them.

“Alright,” you fold, smiling in good nature. “I guess one more night won’t hurt.”

The impromptu party is thrown together with remarkable speed. Papyrus and Sans are quick to arrange a table full of snacks while Alphys and Undyne queue up at least five movies to watch on her big screen monitor. The first movie on the list is one about dinosaurs trying to find a new home, then it’s followed by a movie about the trials of a baby deer, and after that is a movie about lions in Africa, and after that is another movie about dinosaurs trying to find a new home, except this time the dinosaurs are CGI, and to wrap things up is, finally, an anime about a wolf and a goat. It was a great pain Alphys had to go through not to find anime with humans in it, but she succeeded in the end.

It takes a while for the party to settle, for the thrill to die down and the atmosphere to shift from alert, high energy to a relaxed air where one could just enjoy another’s company. The human hangs around the sidelines around the time the first movie ends, waiting for when either of the two newly announced daters needed a break to catch Alphys alone, and finally manages it when she gets up to refill her popcorn.

“Hey Alphys?” The human says carefully, not wanting to draw too much attention to themselves while Undyne laughed at some anecdote Papyrus retold.

“W-what’s up?” The scientist asks.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” they fiddle with the sleeves of their sweater, clearly nervous. “I’ve been meaning to say this earlier, but I never found the chance with Mettaton constantly getting in the way and all, but… thank you.”

“Th… thank you?” Alphys stammers, completely taken off guard. “For what?”

“For everything,” the human says. “For helping me solve the puzzles, to helping me escape Mettaton, and everything in between.”

“What, that?” Alphys smiles weakly. “Th-that was nothing. I didn’t do anything important. You did all the hard work.”

“But you did!” The human says firmly. “Maybe you don’t believe what you did was that significant, but for the first time since I left Snowdin, I feel like you’re the only one who actually tried to HELP me get home. Everyone else just tried to get in my way to slow me down, but I feel like you made an honest effort to get me through Hotland. I can’t thank you enough for that.”

They smile at her, and Alphys forces a smile back, but she can’t hold it.

They’re… thanking her? But… she HAD tried to slow them down. Honest? But she had lied worst out of any of them.

“S-sure thing,” she says quietly.

“And when I see the king tomorrow it will be all thanks to you.” And the next thing she knows, they’re hugging her, tight and safe and trusting, and she can’t take it. Oh, no. Alphys didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to get the girl of her dreams, she didn’t deserve to be the hero, she didn’t deserve their praise. Not when she's deceived them. Not when she's kept secrets from them- from everyone- worse than anyone could imagine! And when they smile at her, genuine and true, it’s the last straw. The last drop of guilt that makes the dam crack and break, and her outward reputation built on a foundation of lies starts to crumble.

“N… no…” Alphys says grimly, pushing them away. “You shouldn’t.”

“Oh, sorry,” the human apologizes, thinking they’ve invaded her personal space. “I didn’t mean to-“

“No, not that.” Alphys says, gripping her upper arms. “You… you shouldn’t be thanking me. I’m… I’m no better than anyone else you’ve met. In fact, I’m probably the worst of them all.”

“What?” the human laughs nervously, probably wondering if this is some elaborate self-deprecating joke. “Of course you are!”

“No, you don’t understand!” Alphys sniffs, raising her voice, and other heads turn her way. “I’m probably the least honest monster you’ve met so far! I-I’ve been lying to you from the very beginning!”

“Alphys…” Sans says in a cautious tone.

“Lying about what?” The human asks, worried.

“About everything! I-I-I was working with Mettaton the whole time!” The scientist sobs. “Y-y-you were never in any real danger up until the hotel. All those traps he caught us in were set up. I knew how to get out of them from the very beginning.”

“What… what do you mean?” The human takes one step forward towards her, and she takes three steps back, determined to keep distance between them. Her friends nervously get to their feet, worry clearly on their face, but unsure about moving forward if it would only push her away.

“Alphys?” Undyne says cautiously from the other side of the couch.

“A-a-and I’ve lied about helping you! I was trying to slow you down just as much as everyone else! In fact, all this time I was really studying you, because-!”

Across the room, Alphys’ phone blares an alarm. All the monsters in the room jump at the sudden noise, being as tense as a loaded bow string.

“It’s six o’clock,” Alphys gasps, hands flying to her muzzle. “Oh no, I forgot to give them dinner!”

“Alphys…?” the kid speaks up nervously, clearly distressed about the sudden outbreak. “Are you okay?”

Alphys looks at them sadly, and then to her friends who all wear pleading, desperate expressions.

“No, I’m not,” the lizard monster says sadly, inching towards the “restroom” along the north wall. “M-my lies go deeper than anyone realizes. I didn’t just deceive you; I deceived everyone in the Underground and I can’t take it anymore. I’ve got to… take care of something now, and whatever happens next, please don’t follow me.”

The “restroom” door parts and Alphys backs into it. The door slides back down before anyone has a chance to react.

“Alphys!” Everyone leaps for the door, scrambling over and around furniture and work benches, but none get to it in time. Undyne bangs on the metal panel so hard that it starts to dent, but still they don’t give.

“DAMNIT! Why won’t the door open?”

There’s a soft ding, and a faint light shows up on the restroom sign to the right of the door. It’s then that you notice that the restroom label is slightly crooked and… peeling?

Curious, you reach for the corner of the label, betting on a hunch, and tear it away to reveal a panel with two letters and a row of colored dots between them.

“G and B…” You read out loud. The letter ‘B’ is currently illuminated.

“Hey, this isn’t a bathroom!” Papyrus says. “It’s… an elevator?”

“But where does it go?”

As soon as the question is asked, the lights of the sign begin to shift, tracing backwards from B to the G. It chimes a pleasant note when it reaches the ground level once more and opens its doors expectantly.

“Down, apparently,” Sans notes. “Should we go after her?”

“Well DUH, dummy!” Undyne says, stepping in without a second thought. “You heard how upset Alphys was! We gotta make sure she’s okay!”

“Agreed!” Papyrus seconds the notion. “Alphys is our friend! We should be there for her if she needs us!”

Everyone piles into the elevator. There are no buttons on the inside. Instead, the doors automatically close and the lift descends, lowering far too slow for anyone’s comfort. All four occupants are tense and antsy as they try not to bump into anyone else in the tight space. Everyone keeps their eyes straight forward, anticipating the second the doors reopen.

At last the elevator rumbles to a steady halt and the door slides open. The group stumbles out of the lift, into a dimly lit hallway that echoes with bad vibes that instantly give everyone second thoughts about coming down here. A wave of cold, musty air hits your face as you step forward into the dim, murky hallway. Motion sensor monitors blink awake as you pass. You only pick up snippets as you try to keep up with the group, but you think they mention something about research on fallen monsters, human souls, and flowers.

“What is this place?” Papyrus asks, marching down the hallway.

“It’s like… some sort of sublayer of Alphys’ lab,” Undyne says, pointing to the blueprints on the wall and the shelves of beakers and vials. “Sans, you used to work with Alphys, right? Have you ever seen this before?”

“No, I haven’t,” Sans says mystified. “My main area of research was the CORE. To be honest, I never really saw how Alphys’ “research station” on the ground floor was considered a good set up for soul research, but this… THIS is a true lab.”

An ominous warning feeling prickles at the back of your neck in trepidation. You avert your eyes and keep your head low as you pick up the pace. The corridor opens into a lobby, complete with fake ficuses, fold up chairs and a vending machine. Across the other side of the room is another gaping doorway leading into darkness. The four members of the party stare at it. In the silence, scraping noises could be heard in the distance.

“I don’t like the looks of this,” Sans says.

“Well, there can’t possibly be anything… bad… down here,” You point out. “I-It’s just dark. We know Alphys is down here, so there can’t be anything dangerous nearby… right?”

“Yeah! We can’t wimp out now! It’s just Alphys!” Undyne says. “C’mon! Let’s find her!” And with that, Undyne forges ahead into darkness.

The hallway immediately turns right as it guides you past rows of locked offices, the names on each door long since peeled off or have been scratched out by some resentful claws. At the end of the hall is a door labeled “Dormitory”, and it’s slightly ajar. Is it your ears playing tricks on you, or do you hear breathing coming from the room beyond it?

“Looks like she went this way.” Undyne says, grabbing the doorknob and pushing it open. The hinges whimper only a little, as if frightened they’ll be punished if they make too much noise. A strange mist curls at your ankles, curiously poking at your footwear.

The four of you enter. It takes a while for your eyes to adjust. In the gloom, Undyne’s eye has dilated until her black pupil almost obscure her yellow sclera. San’s eye lights seem to have grown as well, but only cast about as much light as a glow stick in the dark.

When you can finally distinguish shapes in the low light, you discover the room is filled with medical cots, arranged in perfect columns and rows. Along the far wall, you spy more hallways branching off into the unknown. The four of you fan out, standing shoulder to shoulder. You take a step forward and your foot kicks a bowl. Bits of dry dog food scatter on the floor. You can’t shake the feeling you’re being watched.

“This place is huge,” Sans whistles as you creep along the northern wall. Your party turns north into the first branching hallway you find, but before long the corridor splits again at a T intersection. Hesitantly, you all look down each fork as far as you can see. “Should we split up to look for Alphys?”

“You dolt!” Undyne scolds him, flicking him on the top of the skull with her thumb and index finger. “Haven’t you ever watched a scary movie in your life? You NEVER split up from the group! There’s safety in numbers!”

“Yes, but we could cover more ground, Undyne!” Papyrus points out.

“Yeah, not to mention the whole “arguing about not splitting up thing” is becoming a trope in of itself,” Sans adds.

“It’s way too dark to see safely down here,” you add, siding with Undyne. “This place could be a labyrinth. We could get lost.”

“Yeah, but if we split up, one of us might get hurt, or something worse, and no one would be able to help!”

“We could travel in pairs!” Papyrus suggests.

“If we all stick together we could just as easily all get lost at once compared to if we split up,” Sans notes. “Mathematically speaking, spreading out is more beneficial to our cause. After all, it’s just us and Alphys down here, right?”

The question is rhetorical, but no one makes a noise of agreement. Everyone’s eyes shift side to side in uncertainty.

It’s just you and Alphys down here. And maybe if you say it enough times, you’ll start to believe it.

“R-right. Pairs it is, then. Papyrus, you and your brother start searching the west corridor. Me and the kid will head east.”

There’s a silent nod of agreement as your group splits into pairs. Turning right, you take one last look as the skeleton brothers’ head west before following Undyne into the pitch black hallway east. The air seems to drop in temperature the further you go.

“Alphys!” you call out into the darkness, your voice reverberating off the walls. “Please come out! We just want to talk with you!”

“SShhhh, punk!” Undyne hisses. “You gotta be quiet!”

“Why?” You ask. “Aren’t we the only ones down here?”

“Well, yeah! I mean, I think. Ugh! I don’t know anymore! The longer we’re down here, the more I feel like we’re not alone…”

“But we can’t be quiet if we’re trying to find her! How else will she know we’re here?”

Undyne can’t seem to find a response to that, and instead marches on.

Side by side you tiptoe down the hallway. Half way down, you unconsciously reach up and take the warrior’s scaly hand for comfort. You don’t even notice what you’ve done until Undyne is squeezing your hand back for her own reassurance. You hold her tight, not wanting to lose her in the low visibility.

The path you’ve chosen ends in a dead end room packed floor to ceiling with cooling fans on two of the three walls, quietly emitting an ever-present hum. At the far end of the room is a switch.

“Light switches?” you say optimistically.

“A light switch? All the way down here in this dead end hallway on the other side of the room?” Undyne says skeptically.

“Hey, you never know,” you argue and go up and flip it.

The monotonous thrum of the fans dies down instead as their blades still, leaving the room more deathly silent than before.

“Tch,” Undyne clicks her tongue as she studies the ceiling. “Well, it was worth a shot, I guess.”

“Yeah, I guess this means we can go back the other way and meet up with the guys now, huh?”

A low rumble sounds behind you.

“What was that?” you say quickly.

“Maybe it was just one of the fans who didn’t get the memo about turning off?”

The grumble from across the room turns into a growl. The two of you spin around on your heels to catch an amorphous form emerging from the darkness.

There’s… a creature lurching towards you from across the room, but it doesn’t look or behave like any monster you’ve met so far. Its body is stark white and dripping like melting snow. An ever-changing, uncountable number of limbs protrude from his body, sprouting and retracting back into its mass, a self-contained shadow, darker than darkness is collected under its legs with glowing eyes peering at you from between its shifting limbs. The bulk of it tapers off into one lump you dare call a head, but instead of a face, there is just a circle of blackness with no texture or shape to hint its depth, just a pure space of void that is aimed right at you. The creature is huge, bigger than you and Undyne combined.

And it’s blocking the only exit.

“St-stay back!” Undyne shouts, throwing her arm in front of you like a shield. You are not sure if the statement was directed at you or the creature. She summons a spear to look threatening. “What are you, and did you do anything to Doctor Alphys, you freak?!”

The thing in front of you seems confused as well. Its many legs jerk and spasm as it clamors toward you to inspect you closer.

“I’m warning you!” Undyne yells, pointing her quivering spear in its general direction. “T-take another step and you’ll get to know this spear up close and personal!”

The beast makes a snuffling sound, the void on its head constricting with each huff of air. Two protrusions on its head perk up as it begins to erratically inch closer.

“H-hey! Didn’t you hear me, freak? By order of the Royal Guard, stand down! I’m giving you to the count of three to back off or I. Will. Fire!”

Undyne lifts her spear high and stands at the ready. In the same moment the beast in front of you crouches as if ready to pounce. Its whole body quivers violently.

“One…!”

You narrow your eyes. Why is there something so familiar in the way that it’s poised? The tilt of its head, how its hindquarters are up in the air…

“Two!”

The wag of… its… tail- oh god you know what this is.

“Thr-!” “Undyne! Don’t hurt it!” you tackle the guard in a panic, barreling into her waist just as she looses her spear. The weapon goes flying far off target to the left, and the creature immediately spins around and lunges after it.

“Punk, what the hell???” Undyne screams at you. “That thing was about to attack us!”

“No, it’s not,” you say as you get up on your shaking knees. “I-it’s a dog, Undyne. It’s just a dog.” Your voice won’t stop trembling.

“A dog!? Brat, I work with dogs, and I can tell you that thing ISN’T a dog!”

“B-but it is! Watch,” you blow a shrill whistle, then turn your attention to the room’s exit, and just as you figured, the white mass comes charging back. It skitters to a halt, its head turning to each of you, not sure who summoned it. You step forward to catch his attention.

“H-hey boy,” you coo, patting your knees with all the bravery you can muster.

“Sh-show Undyne here that you’re just another old pooch. Come here!”

The amalgamate’s body goes ridged at the command, before its ears fold back and it leaps forward, It lets out an ecstatic ear-piercing shriek as it knocks you flat, its tail wagging so fast it’s just a blur. It rubs its face all over your sweater, coating your shirt in dog hair and a cold aqueous gel you’d rather not think about.

Behind you, Undyne screams and grabs the collar of your shirt to yank you out of harm’s way.

“Brat, are you trying to get yourself killed?!” Undyne says, holding you two feet off the ground.

“No, look! He’s calming down!” You fight back. “Really! Try petting him!”

“I’m not going anywhere NEAR that thing and neither are you! What if this hell spawn ate Alphys?”

The culmination of canines whines as if struck and cowers, placating.

“It’s okay boy, or… girl, or whatever you are. You’re not in trouble. You’re a good dog.”

Seeking affection, the amalgamate crawls closer and stretches out its neck to meet your out reaching hand. You ruffle the fur on the top of its head and the monster’s body shakes with joy.

Half way through your pet, the monster pulls back and begins to heave, and its whole body spasming as it hacks something up from what you only hope is its stomach.

With a violent cough, Undyne’s blue spear falls out of the hole in its face and onto the floor, coated in slobber.

The three of you stare at it for a second, and then the amalgamate puffs up its chest proudly.

“Ha ha, see? It is a dog,” you tell Undyne. “It brought your spear back for you.”

“Well if it’s a dog then it should be able to find someone by scent!” Undyne says. Her shoulders un-tense at last, and she almost looks impressed at the monster. “Hey, mutt! Find doctor Alphys!”

The monster’s ears twitch at the name, but it doesn’t move.

“Go on! Sniff her out!” Undyne repeats.

The canine tilts its head.

Undyne rolls her eye. “You know; FETCH.”

The amalgamate leaps to its feet and does a one-eighty so fast that its claws skit on the tile, making it cartoonishly run in place for a second. The creature lets out a bark so deep, you feel it in your bones. When at last it finds traction, the amalgamate tears off, its rear end fishtailing and crashing into the wall of fans as it lunges for the door way.

“Guess we’d better follow it,” you say. “It’s as good a lead as any.”

You catch up to the amalgamate in the hallway. Its face is so low to the ground its almost touching it as it snorts at the floor, head swiveling back and forth as it searches for the scent. Its face traces over one spot before it slingshots back, and studies it intently. After a tense moment of sniffing, its head comes up and it brays, loud and deafening when it finds a trail and takes off towards it.

If the halls weren’t so narrow, you don’t know if you’d have been able to keep up with the amalgamate. Its feet constantly scramble to keep it up right, as if not acquainted with having so many legs. Sometimes the amalgamate doesn’t even stay on the floor, instead choosing to crawl along the walls and ceiling as it snakes through the tunnel.

Making a hard right, the canine amalgamate leads you through the showers and into a room lined floor to ceiling with shelves of video tapes, where it proceeds to spend several minutes sniffing the shelves.

“She must’ve been here recently,” you note, eyeing the strange VHSs and old TV in the middle of the room.

“Well, she isn’t here now,” Undyne says, before the amalgamate takes off once more. “Come on! We can’t lose it!”

Ahead the amalgamate makes a sharp left, skirting a pit so deep, you can’t see the bottom of it. The amalgamate disappears down another hall, only to have screams answer a second later.

“Sans and Papyrus!” you gasp. “Quick, we gotta stop them before they hurt the dog!”

You race into the room as fast as you can. “Stop! Heel!” you preemptively shout, only to find a cage of blue bones trapping the amalgamate.

“Nobody move!” Undyne orders as she enters the room.

“No need to fear!” Papyrus says when he catches the sight of your confused faces. “I have detained the threat! We are uninjured and safe!”

“It’s not a threat, Papyrus. It’s a dog!” you explain.

“He won’t hurt you.” Undyne grunts. “Typical dog. Can’t stay focused if there’re bones nearby!”

The amalgamate twists around in circles. You can’t tell if it’s fascinated or confused by the blue bones, but then to everyone’s surprise, it hunkers down close and then the void on its face begins to expand. With a great intake of air, like the magnetic pull of a black hole, the amalgamate inhales one wall of bones into its orifice, completely unfazed.

“Well then!” Papyrus says only slightly perturbed. “I should have anticipated that bone attacks would have no effect on a dog monster!”

The amalgamate lets out another earth shaking bark before pouncing on Papyrus.

“Hey! Paws off the little brother!” Sans shouts, his eye flaring blue.

“Sans! No! It’s okay!” you scream. “It’s just a dog! It won’t hurt him!”

Beneath the pile of white sludge, papyrus shrieks a bone rattling cry. “Help! I’m being affectionately licked to my death!”

“A dog?” echoes Sans, eyeing the enormous conglomerate of canines. “If that’s true, what kind of dog, then?”

“Uhh, mixed breed?” you offer. In the distance, you think you hear a snicker and a shiver runs down your back. Blinking, you momentarily put the thought to the side but keep your eyes peeled. “It likes to be pet and knows how to fetch, at the very least. We were hoping it could help us find Alphys, but it looks like he caught the scent of you two instead.”

“Leave it to a dog to find a bunch of bones!” Undyne snorts. “You two having any better luck?”

“No sign of Alphys so far,” Sans reports. “It was really foggy in here and we couldn’t see anything for the life of us, but then it suddenly cleared up. Maybe a second look around wouldn’t hurt.”

“As much as I’d love to find Alphys,” Papyrus grumbles, affectionately stroking the canine monster, “I can’t get any searching done if I’m constantly being assaulted by over excited canines! Can we please get this guy out of the room?”

“Sorry, Paps. You know the rules.” Sans shrugs. “Once you pet a dog, the pact is sealed. He’s yours now.”

“But he’s impeding our search and rescue efforts!”

“How about we regroup?” Undyne suggests. “It seems pretty clear this mutt isn’t going anywhere without you, Papyrus so how about you and I take him back to the dormitory where he can stay out of the way, while Sans and the punk keep looking for Alphys?”

“UGH! Fine! I will be on dog-sitting duty!” Papyrus grumbles, wiggling his way out from beneath the amalgamate. He looks over his shoulder blades at you and Sans as he leaves the room with the canine in tow. “You two! Be quick about it! We don’t have all night to find Alphys!”

“No worries, bro,” Sans assures him. “We’re keeping our eye-sockets out for her.”

Undyne and Papyrus groan as they exit the room. But from somewhere behind you and Sans-

“Ha… ha…”

That uneasy shiver runs down your spine again. Sans must feel it too, for his eye lights shift from side to side as he tries to pin point the haunting laughter.

“Who’s there?” he flinches, looking sharply over his shoulder. In the very back of the room, you think you see a figure wince and withdraw into the shadows behind a row of refrigerators. Whatever is over there sure isn’t Alphys, but if it’s just as scared of you as you are of it, then it can’t be all that dangerous.

“Sans…” you say quietly. You point to the last fridge. Sans nods. “No sudden movement. Turn around… very… slowly.”

You creep over to the ice box and slowly peer around one of its sides while Sans does the same on the other. Huddled in a corner is another amalgamate, pale blue and white. Timidly it squawks when it realizes its cornered, shedding snowflakes from its ruffled feathers and forcing you to back away.

“Hey there,” Sans says softly to the creature. “Sorry if I spooked ya. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. Mind coming out?”

“Who’s … there…? Who’s… there…?” The monster mimics Sans in a tired voice. “Knock… knock?”

“Is…. Is this a knock, knock joke?” Sans asks, beads of sweat forming on his brow. “’Cause I’m great at those, but it doesn’t’ really work if you tell ‘em backwards like that.”

“Maybe WE should try telling the knock, knock joke?” you suggest, inching closer to Sans. “It did laugh at your eye socket pun.”

“Worth a shot.” Sans shrugs. “Can’t do any harm, anyway. Knock, knock.”

There is a moment of silence before the monster pokes its head out from around the side of the fridge again, and you get a clear look at it for the first time. Its eyes are sagging and vacant. It’s got a beak and wings like a bird, and much like the canine amalgamate, it seems to melting, or, err, molting in this case. Parts of it seem more plant-like than feather like. A cold mist clouds around its beak when it exhales, and the general air around it is so cold…

“Who… is… there?” It asks curiously.

“Their snow.”

“Their… snow… who?”

“There’s snow door bell, so I have to knock!”

“Ha… ha… ha...” the melting monster chuckles, feathers and slush dripping from its amorphous body. “Sn… snowy…”

Clumsily, the amalgamate steps forward and you have to fight back a gasp of shock. In better lighting you can see the monster more clearly. It looks like some hybrid of the Snowdrake you met in Snowdin combined with the Vegetoids you know in the Ruins.

“Hey, I think it worked.” You say let’s try another.”

“No problem, kiddo,” Sans winks. “I can dish out jokes for days. Listen to this one- where does a snowman keep his money?”

“Where…?” The amalgamate asks.

“In a snowbank!”

“Ha… ha… Thank you…” the amalgamate laughs.

“Pardon us, but I didn’t realize you hybrid monsters could talk.” You ask quietly. “Who are you?”

“I… don’t… remember…” It says, ruffling its feathers. “Got… got lost… so… long ago…. Where…. Where did… they… go? I… need to… go home… want to… go home… Where is home?”

The more it talks, the more agitated the amalgamate becomes and the less definite its shape holds, like it’s losing itself.

“Hey! Hey! No worries,” Sans says comfortingly. “We can help ya. No need to fall apart on me.”

“Heh… heh…” the amalgamate smiles weakly. “I… remember… now.”

“You do?” You say hopefully. “What happened to you?”

“We… I… Missssess drake… me.” The monster says, trying to keep its words straight. “F… fallen… down… The doctor… said… she could… help…”

You stifle a gasp. Beside you Sans goes ridged.

“Mrs. Drake? Snowdrake’s mother?” you say nervously.

“Ah… little… Snowy… so funny…” she smiles fondly. “Just… like his… father.”

“Mr. Drake…” Sans says absently. He turns to you. “His comedy routine’s been in the pits since his wife fell down and his son ran away from home.”

“Did Alphys do this to you?” You ask sadly, looking at the depressing amalgamate.

“Al… phys… doctor…. Alphys said… stay determined… she… would… help…”

“My God…” Sans says. His eyes go dangerously dark. “I knew Alphys had wanted to run tests on monsters, but I didn’t think she’d do THIS to you.”

“Not… her… fault…” Mrs. Drake says. “Not… her… fault… no… one’s… fault… no… one… knew…”

The amalgamation begins to shiver again, becoming upset once more.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Drake,” You comfort her. “Do you know where Alphys is now?”

“Know?... No…” the amalgamate says.

“We’re gonna help you get home,” Sans promises. “Don’t worry, we won’t be mad at Alphys.”

“Let’s take her back to the dormitory with the others,” you say, lending her a hand. Mrs. Drake places a wing into it, and at once your hand goes numb as it’s enveloped in the strange gelatinous sludge.

“Might as well. This way is a dead end.” Sans notes, nodding at the room. “Alphys wasn’t down this direction. Was there more to explore where you found the pooch?”

“No, but I think there was another hallway that led out the dormitory. We can still go that way.”

You retrace your steps back to the main room with the beds, where you discover Undyne and Papyrus have shoved several cots together for the canine amalgamate to curl up on.

“Sssshhh!” Undyne hisses at you when you enter the room. “We just managed to get Endogeny to calm down, so don’t make any loud noises!”

“Endogeny?”

“Yeah!” Undyne says, pointing to the dog bowl you had kicked when you first came in the room. “That’s their name! Or at least, that’s what Papyrus and I assumed. They respond to anything you call them if you say it in a mushy voice. Isn’t that right, stupid face?” Undyne coos. Endogeny whines ecstatically.

“Wait, where is Papyrus?” Sans says, looking around the room and noticing a lack of brother to be found.

A lump beneath Endogeny’s fur begins to move and a gloved hand pops out between one of its many pairs of legs.

“Over here!” Papyrus says. “It seems Endogeny feels anxious when they do not have a chew toy to cuddle with, so I had to be a substitute.”

“Chew toy?” Sans asks in concern.

“Ah! Do not fret dear brother! I may have been the role of chew toy, but I was not in harm’s way, for Endogeny has no teeth! Or mouth! Or a face for that matter! So there was never any danger!”

“Never mind all that!” Undyne interrupts. “Did’ja find Alphys?”

“No, but we found someone else,” you and Sans step aside to let Mrs. Drake enter the room. “Oh God, another one?” Undyne says.

“It’s Snowdrake’s mom, Undyne,” you explain. “One of the monsters Alphys was trying to prevent from falling down. We think Alphys accidentally did this to them.”

“Wait, these guys are the monsters that Alphys TESTED on?” Undyne shutters. “Then that means… these dogs-“

“Were probably formal guard members.”

Undyne looks at Endogeny with new light. A look of sadness shadows her face. “What did Alphys do?” she whispers sadly.

“Not her fault… not her fault…” Mrs. Drake repeats, shaking. “The doctor… is good… she did not… mean to…”

“Hey, hey,” Sans says, patting the amalgamate’s back the best he can. He has to stop when his hand starts to meld into her form. “We aren’t mad. Just worried and concerned.”

“There’s still one more hallway we haven’t searched yet,” You point out. “Alphys could be down there.”

“I think I’m gonna have to stay here, bucko,” Sans says. “Mrs. Drake seems pretty shaken. I think I’ll keep her company and tell her a few more of my stellar jokes that are out of this world.”

The amalgamate chuckles and begins to grin.

“See? There’s the smile I’m looking for.”

“Okay, then. Undyne?”

“Don’t think I can, punk.” Undyne says. “Endogeny only stays relaxed if someone can maintain a constant petting environment with supplemental head scratches at a Mach Five speed, and if I don’t do it there’s no doubt in my mind Endogeny will go on another rampage that will surely kill hundreds via love tackle. D’you think you’ve got the endurance for that?”

“Uh… I don’t think so.”

“Ah! It looks like it is my turn to go exploring dimly lit corridors with y new best fried!” Papyrus says, squeezing out from under Endogeny’s legs. The amalgamate gives a small grunt of displeasure before rolling over for belly rubs. “Come on, friend! Let us succeed where other great monsters have failed and find the doctor! We shall return triumphant!”

“Okay. We’ll be back as fast as we can, guys!”

You exchange ‘good lucks’ and ‘farewells’ with Sans and Undyne, and take off down the east hall with Papyrus. It’s not long until the dormitory fades out of sight. Ahead of you, the hallway brightens a little, filling your heart with hope, but when you round the corner, you’re met with just another hallway. On the left side, the wall is lined with mirrors that trick your eyes into believe the corridor is actually bigger than it is. On the right side, a row of tables covered with flower pots growing under artificial lights borders the wall. Ah, so that’s why it seemed brighter.

Your heart skips a beat when you recognize the plants grown. They’re golden flowers. Why are there golden flowers way down here? Wait… If… if Alphys had created these amalgamations, then… was it possible she had created other things as well?

“Hey, do you hear that?” Papyrus whispers to you. You listen close and pick up the faintest sound of… a crinkling wrapper?

Stealthily inching forward, you and Papyrus edge the wall. It’s yet another monster, this time with a body of blue and green, with arms of brown and a head of deep purple. It hunches over something in front of you, its head nothing more than a giant mouth and a pair of eyes. Its body is slug-like with two muscular arms and no legs.

“It’s another amalgamate,” Papyrus says.

“Is… is it eating something?” you ask when you hear its jaws crunch and snap. You swallow hard. What if it’s eating- no. No, it couldn’t have. The other amalgamates you’ve met so far have bend nice and friendly, so why would this one be different? Besides, dust doesn’t crunch. “Should we approach it?”

“I think not! It would be rude to strike up a conversation with someone while they have their mouth full!”

You strategize with Papyrus on what to do, when a new noise distracts you from behind. It’s a tapping noise that echoes above you, and you turn around to find a lanky figure emerging from the overhead vents like viscus fluid.

It’s ANOTHER amalgamate, twice the height of you and Papyrus combined. Its body is a mottled color of red and orange, with two skinny legs, a pencil thin neck, a massive, pointy bill and razor sharp wings. It has one eye that makes up all of its face, and when it blinks you can’t help but notice its eyelids are lined with teeth. As soon as the amalgamate sees you, it lets out a blood curdling screech and charges forward.

“Papyrus! Duck!”

The skeleton snatches you up and covers you like a blast shield. “I think it looks more like a stork or a crane, but still definitely avian!” he says in a panic, as the monster rushes past.

The amalgamate doesn’t pay you any mind as it dashes past you and Papyrus, instead going straight for the other amalgamate in the room. The first amalgamate hisses in defiance at the newcomer’s approach, turning its back on the bird as it tries to protect the thing it had been snacking on.

With angry screeching that sounds like twenty different bird calls at once, the bird monster attacks the other with rapid-fire pecks from its beak and raking stomps from its claws. The big lipped monster screams in protest, grabbing the bird’s neck with its muscly arm in an effort to keep it at bay, but it’s no use against the bird’s sheer amount of reach. Flapping its razor wings in retaliation, the bird pecks at the slug-monsters eyes. The assaulted amalgamate shrieks in pain, and releases the bird to cover its face. The attacker, now freed, swoops its head low and snatches at the prize the injured amalgamate had been guarding.

“No, Reaper Bird!” it cries out, it’s voice many-layered like a chorus. “These are Lemon Bread’s! Get your own!”

Reaper Bird raises their head triumphantly, the prize held high out of Lemon Bread’s reach, safely in its serrated jaws. It’s then you can see clearly what they are fighting over.

“It’s… a bag of chips!” you say in disappointed annoyance. With a cry of outrage, Lemon Bread swipes at Reaper Bird’s legs with their thick tail, knocking the thieving amalgamate to the ground. The chips scatter across the floor and the skirmish starts anew.

“They’re fighting over junk food! You tell papyrus. “We have to break it up!”

“Hey! Be careful!” Papyrus warns you as you wiggle free of his grasp.

“Stop! Stop it you two!” You demand, pushing the monsters apart and holding your hands up between them. Reaper Bird screams something that sounds like ten different insults at once at you as it stomps it feet angrily, scratching up the title.

“Listen to them!” papyrus demands, stepping close to your side. “Look at yourselves! You two are clearly adults, yet you can’t even share? Did you learn nothing in Kindergarten?”

Reaper Bird says something that you can’t make out and snaps its beak.

“I’m… I’m sorry, could you run that by me again?” Papyrus says.

Reaper Bird screams and doubles over, contorting its jaw before shouting;

“We are starving!” “Supper is late!” “He took the last bag!”

“The doctor never came,” Lemon bread grumbles in its many toned voice. “Said she would bring dinner, but nobody came. Forgotten about us again. Forgotten forever.”

“That can’t possibly true!” Papyrus scoffs. “If you are a patient of Dr. Alphys, then she would never abandon you!”

“That’s what they all say.” Lemon bread hisses, narrowing their eyes at you.

“H-hey, what’s going on here!” A familiar stuttering voice demands. A wave of relief washes over you when you turn to find Alphys carrying a box full of canned goods “I’m f-f-five minutes late to give you dinner and you start going at each other’s throats? H-have some manners!”

Reaper Bird and Lemon Bread hang their heads apologetically.

“H-here,” Alphys says, passing them each a can of ravioli. “T-take turns using the microwave, a-and cover your bowls with a paper towel so it doesn’t splatter everywhere!” Alphys tells them as the two amalgamates excitedly rush off down the corridor. “A-and Reaper Bird, will you quit turning off all the lights? It’s bad for your eyes to stay in the dark!”

“Florescent lights hurt my eye!” “I am just one big eye!” “I have night vision!” it says all at once.

After they’ve vanished from sight Alphys turns towards you, but doesn’t look you in the eye.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that. That you had to see any of this,” she says quietly. “I-I guess you know the truth now, don’t you? About all the horrible things I’ve done to these monsters. I-it’s okay if you’re angry at me for hiding such terrible lies. I understand…”

“Alphys!” you and Papyrus say in unison as you rush forward to embrace her in a hug.

“Are you okay?”

“Are you hurt?”

“We thought we’d never find you or see you again!”

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“You… you have?” Alphys blinks confused. “I thought… I thought you’d be angry with me.”

“We’ll admit we’re a little upset, but we were more scared and concerned about you above anything else!” Papyrus says. “We were so worried!”

“Y-you were?”

“Of course! You’re our friend, Alphys!” you tell her matter-of-factly. “We all came down to look for you!”

“You were looking for me?” Alphys parrots, disbelieving. “Why?”

“Is there an echo down here?” You giggle. “We all came looking because we were worried, Alphys. We all care about you and didn’t want to see you get hurt.”

“That’s… That’s so kind of you,” Alphys sniffs. “I- I don’t deserve any of this. Y-you should have just left me here. I d-don’t deserve to be forgiven for what I’ve done!”

“Yes you do, Alphys!” you huff. “So stop putting yourself down like that! Sure, it looks like you’ve done some… questionable things, down here, but whatever you need to confess, we’ll still support you, no matter what, okay?”

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right,” the royal scientist perks up just a little bit and stands a little straighter. “Let’s go back to the main room. I still have to give Endogeny and Mrs. Drake their dinners, a-and I’ve got a lot I need to come clean about to you guys and… and to everyone.”

Alphys follows Papyrus and her lab partner back into the dormitory, albeit reluctantly. Sans, Undyne, Endogeny and Mrs. Drake meet her there. She braces for a bunch of raised voices and accusations and angry questions but instead she is only met with more worry and concern. When the anger she had been preparing herself for ultimately never comes, she finally has a break down.

“This… is what happened to your soul research?”

“Y-yeah,” Alphys sobs. “E-everyone seemed fine at first. I.-I w-was going t-to send them all ho-ome but then when they melted together and st-started to lose their identities, I-I couldn’t do it. A-all their fa-amlies would hate me and blame me, and they’re not wrong! I did this to them! The longer I kept putting off sending them home, the harder it became. Every day I got more angry phone calls, a-and I just ignored it like a c-coward until they eventually gave up and stopped calling.”

In the comfort of Undyne’s arms, surrounded by her closest friends and a dog ready to offer sympathy at a moment’s notice, Alphys recounts her tale, how she extracted determination from the king’s collection of human souls, to injecting monsters with concentrated doses of determination, to hiding them in the basement when the experiment had failed.

Her audience listens patiently, and while not once they ever raise their voice or scold her, Alphys can see the horror and frustration in their eyes at her words.

“Th-that’s why when you thanked me, I p-panicked,” Alphys says to the human. “You… you were the first person to not know of anything I’d done prior, and working together with you was fun! Helping you was fun! You g-genuinely liked me, and for a few moments, I didn’t feel like a disappointment anymore! I remembered what it felt like to be depended on by s-someone, but I knew in my soul that image of me in your mind was smoke and mirrors, and I didn’t deserve that praise. I… I originally liked to you because I wanted to study you, b-but by the end of the day I really did want to be your friend, but if I c-can’t even tell the truth, then how can I ever make a friendship work?”

“So it’s true, then?” The human says, distracted. “You wanted to study me? Mettaton said as much when we had the dance-off, but I thought he was just trying to get in my head.”

“Uh, y-y-yeah,” Alphys sweats. Beneath her, Undyne tenses, and she can feel Sans and Papyrus watching her nervously. “B-b-b-because, I, uh, you, aah…”

“Because I’m a Boss Monster, right?” The human fills in the blank. “My soul is a little stronger than average monsters, right? And you wanted to learn more about it? You couldn’t really do that to Asgore, since you work for him. You wanted to study it to help the other monsters?”

In that moment Alphys realizes she has a choice; to stick to the truth and come clean about EVERYTHING or take part in a lie she hadn’t even started. She realizes then, if she told them the truth, it would hurt them, and that she’d be taking down everyone else with her. All this time she had been lying and keeping secrets to protect herself. Was a lie still just as bad if it was to protect someone else?

“S… something like that,” Alphys says, neither lying flat out, nor telling the truth either. If the kid would offer her a way out, then she would take it. No need to complicate things further. She’d already come clean about most of her lies. The lies of others are a different matter.

“Alphys, I know how you feel, and I know what you’re going through,” The kid tells her. “Because I’m the exact same way. You feel like you’ve screwed up so horribly that there’s nothing you can do about it, that it’s all your fault and there’s no way you can be forgiven no matter how hard you try, but those thoughts are wrong, Alphys.” They glance at Sans. “Someone once told me as long as you own up to your mistakes and do your best to mend them, no one can fault you for bad intentions.”

“Y-y-you really think that?”

“Of course, dummy!” Undyne says, hugging her tight. “We got your back no matter what! As long as you honestly try your hardest to help those around you, we’ll be there to support you!”

Alphys whimpers and sheds a few tears of relief. “Th-thank you guys so much. I-I-I want to be a better person, I really do, and knowing you’ll forgive me for the mess I didn’t mean to cause really helps.”

Gently, Alphys pries Undyne’s arms off of her and gets to her feet. She lets out a sigh, and then stands up tall. “Now that I know you guys don’t blame me, I’m ready to tell the rest of the Underground what happened as well.” She waves the amalgamates to come close. “Come on, everyone. It’s time for me to take you all home.”

[sexyglances]

So i know it's been 5ever since i've actually been active on tumblr and it might be kind of annoying to see so many of my posts be about kdramas. There's a couple of reasons for that. The first is pretty simple: the tumblr app used to be absolute trash and i would use the desktop site on my mobile browser but then that turned to trash too so i stopped trying. However the app actually works decently now so i don't mind using it. I apologize in advance for the length of my post; i've forgotten how to do cuts on tumblr.

The second reason is a bit more complicated. A couple of years ago i kept getting sick all the time and i was constantly tired. I would lose my breath easily and was coughing and hacking all the time. I basically lived so i could make it home and try and sleep just to start the process over again. I had initially been diagnosed with chronic pneumonia but it turns out i had cancer and had a huge mass sitting on my lungs. After so much time being literally sick and tired i thought i had known the true depths of pure illness and exhaustion. But then i started chemo and realized it could be so much worse. Chemo made me so sick and tired that sometimes i didn't even have enough strength to watch tv because it just took too much brain power to concentrate on anything. Anyway yadda yadda yadda i ended up in the hospital and had a super wonderful extended hospital staycation 🙃 for 3 months and had a trach put in and got nerve damage and lost my ability to walk. Everything is basically fine now, but i hadn't realized how much of a toll that whole mess took on my brain. It took about a year after my last treatment for my body to be able to last being awake for more than 10 hours. I had thought my sleepiness was all due to my new medications, but nope, it just took my body that long to sort its shit out after being decommissioned for so long.

Then it took me a few more months to find out that my emotions had been working at low capacity as well. It wasn't until one evening hanging out with friends where i started laughing uncontrollably over something really dumb that my brain remembered, "oh yeah, so THIS is what joy feels like, eh?" For almost 3 years i lost the part of my brain devoted to happiness and love and joy because everything else in me was devoted to keeping me alive and also tamping down the depths of my feelings lest i get too frustrated and discouraged by the slow pace recovery.

Anyway, i was putzing around on the internet, ended up watching a kdrama by chance and got hooked. Romcom kdramas are like hyperrealistc depictions of reality where falling down into a tunnel of FEELINGSSSSS is so easy. And now that i have all those emotions back, I've kinda gotten addicted to letting my heart flip flop and the butterflies in my stomach. Yeah, having to pay such close attention to subtitles is kind of a drag, but the emotional impact i get from them is worth it. I'm not sure how long this new obsession of mine will last, and maybe it's annoying seeing all these new posts about kdramas you don't have one iota of interest in, so i will endeavor to tag the posts with #kdrama so you can blacklist the posts. But i really do encourage you to fall down the kdrama rabbit hole with me. Most series are 16ish hours long and then over. Just enough time for some major feelings and character development to occur. And then, onto the next one...

tl;dr you can blacklist #kdrama if you're annoyed by my new kdrama obsession/spree on this blog

[aimeetiggzx-blog]

I Used to Think My Abusive Relationship Was My Fault. Now I Know I’m worth more.

I have spent most of my teenage years in emotionally and physically abusive relationships. Until a almost a year ago, I thought I was the worst kind of damaged goods, a girl who could only love men who hurt her I means that’s been my past since I was 15. 5 years now! I didn't want to talk about my experiences at first because I thought that my kind of pain was self-inflicted. If I was stupid enough to stay, I deserved it,

I know there are three sides to every story. In this article, you're going to hear one and that’s mine - Aimee Carver. I don't write this with venom. The men I've been involved with were handsome, smart, charming and talented. There were good times. The bad times outweighed them.

Most people don't know I've been in (to clarify again) emotionally abusive relationships. From the outside, I'd bet my life looks pretty great. Some parts of it always were. I guess I am proof that there is no likely candidate for abuse.

For a long time, I found my romantic past, when the hits started happening I started dreaming of all my ex-boyfriends again.

Trauma is a funny thing. It hides in the shadowy corners of your mind, resurfacing when all you want is for it to be erased from your memory forever.

I'm writing this for a lot of reasons. Some of them are:

I think abusive relationships are an epidemic in our society. It could help someone understand their friend, their sister, their daughter who keeps going back. It could help someone who keeps going back. Because articles like this helped me. Because what trauma really wants is a voice. To anyone who needs help, You think you are crazy. You're anxious all the time. Your heart beats quickly. You have a lot of questions for your boyfriend at the time that you don't feel like you can ask. You wonder if you're always being lied to. You spend a lot time in the past, likely when you first fell in love him. You apologize constantly two your new lover, When you explain your fights to anyone who will listen, no one understands why you're apologizing. You are always confused. You're high as a fucking kite when he's nice to you. He says "one small thing," and with an embarrassing clarity, you are reminded of all the parts of yourself you hate. How can he see those parts so clearly? You cry a lot, you hide a lot. Sometimes you know why. Sometimes you don't.

You are not crazy even if you think your going insane your not.

When you're with your boyfriend in my case my ex you're usually with just him alone. You feel weird around your friends and family, the people you used to feel the most yourself and safest around. You can't remember how to feel like yourself anymore. Now, being in your own skin is like a long dull headache that won't lift and then that slowly feels like normal. Pretty much all your thoughts about yourself are negative.

"I used to be funny, why aren't I funny anymore?"

You think you are crazy.

“Why ain’t I perfect”

“Why ain’t I skinny”

“Jumping over a hug”

There will be good days with your boyfriend. There will be miraculous days of exquisite and suffering beauty between you two.

The sad truth - On these days, you will feel better than the best and like everything's okay. You will believe that the chaos has made you stronger; that he loves you more than anything. These days are bright spots in the darkness that has descended upon you. They are the moments of hope that you'll cling to, your proof that everything is okay, until one wrong word is said and your in hospital due to his harsh actions.But at that time moments aren't a life. Moments aren't enough. You deserve weeks, months and years of feeling like everything is okay. You deserve a lifetime of that.When your relationship ends like mine did, you will drown in the confusing, competing narratives in your head, just like you did while in the relationship. Memory is going to be a weird thing for you for a while. Grief is a delusional state.

We really loved each other (so you thought) I could've helped him if I'd tried harder (but you tried and failed) I'm not perfect. And sometimes, I don't think love should feel like this.

The latter will be quieter, the former will roar inside you. Some days, you will think you left the most beautiful relationship and the truest love in the whole world. Some days you will think you are just hysterical and crazy and that you weren't being abused at all. Until very recently, I still had days like that. After you break up with him, you might not feel an immediate sense of relief, empowerment or really anything that resembles "I know this is the right thing." You will likely feel very alone. Unfortunately, coming out of the fog with your eyes open is more painful than slipping into one without noticing.

But just always remember: feelings aren't the truth. You aren't the worst off you've ever been. Expect the sadness. It sounds crazy but welcome it. That sadness is going to live in you for a long time and it will teach you a lot. I know you don't believe me, but that sadness is your friend. That sadness is your becoming.

Not everyone you lose is a loss.

Tell your story no matter how murky the details seem at first. Keep talking. Read every article you can find on abuse until you feel an intellectual understanding of what happened tunnel into you emotionally. The head will come first, your heart will follow; it will all become clearer.

If you're lucky like I was, you'll find a therapist that can help you. And now I’m in a healthy, beautiful, loving relationship with my boyfriend Louis. It’s early stages but it’s the best kind of love feeling ever. He taught me what love is like, he taught me care but most of all he taught me to be myself again and for that im greatful every single day to you!

Don’t get me wrong you will have to reflect on your past relationship. Don't blame yourself for not leaving sooner, and don't let anyone else blame you, either. In moments of trauma and shock the brain has a funny way of protecting itself. It's called disassociating. You have done a lot of this. You will remember about three months in your ex-boyfriend did something and it was like a mask was lifted. He showed you a person you had never met before. I mention this because statistically an abusive person will do something that throws you completely off balance within the first three months. Then, they will be really sorry.

You will come to learn that real love is not a cycle of cruelty, effusive apologies, a honey-moon period, then a dreaded waiting for the other shoe to drop followed by more cruelty. Abusive relationships are defined by this pattern. When you do leave, you will realize that the space that your relationship took up was enormous. It was, whether you knew it or not, the monkey on the back of every thought you had. When it's gone, the emptiness left in its wake will feel like an ocean around you

It will take way longer than you want to "get over it," and you will think you will never reach the shore.

You will. When I was newly single and going on dates, this is how it went. First, I dated blindly and way more than I should have. I was attracted to guys who were like all my ex-boyfriends, physically and emotionally. Then, I started dating people who were completely different but whom I was not ready to love. Like a teacher, I observed how they treated me with a confusing detachment and thought, "Oh, so this is what it should be like."

"So, this is what kindness is like."

Dating made me feel like the loneliest person in the world for a long time. I wish now I hadn't done it at all, but withdrawal is painful and uncomfortable. I was willing to try anything to feel just a little better. But trust me just like me your king will find his way to you and it will be a little weird at first but that weirdness goes and it will become the most perfect thing in your life.

But in every process till you are full over it You will miss your ex boyfriend in a way you didn't know was possible and you don't think should be allowed. You will want to get back together. Abusive relationships fuck your brain chemistry up. They're addictive, and the withdrawal is not fun.

Don't worry tho baby girl.. with time, your brain will even out. In awhile, you won't want to be with him anymore. Crying helps you detox, so do a lot of it( I still cry alone due to all the horrible flashbacks and memories) you just have to find someone who’s willing to understand and help you over come them not make them worse. So does sleeping, exercise, therapy, eating healthy, seeing your friends and laughing.

For me, alcohol didn't really help I broke down every time trying to kill myself due to the fact of feeling so dirty and broken Or I guess, it did, until it didn't.

When you're in the withdrawal phase, you'll begin to understand why you thought being in an abusive relationship was okay for you. You're going to have to look at a lot of your past and your inherited patterns it’s best to do that alone.. It can get heavy but knuckle through it. You can do it. I’m proof that it can be done.

You will tell people that know your ex-boyfriend about what happened and how he treated you. Likely, no one will be surprised by his behaviour. Likely, no one will confront him. This is one of the saddest parts of our world. You will feel like the last one in on a sick joke.

Your ex-boyfriend will probably never apologize to you. If you do hear from him or see him, he will make you feel crazy. He's really good at that (like sending pics of him and his new girlfriend kissing) He will likely minimize your history, dismiss your relationship and pull the rug out from under you again. The way he frames you and your relationship will be distorted.

I believe that amends can happen, but usually, not in a timely manner. Like you need time to really unpack and understand why it all happened, so will he. Now factor into this that you have the desire to understand yourself and your behaviour. The closure you desire is a myth and it's not reachable in one conversation. Closure happens slowly and keeps happening. You'll give it to yourself.

If you leave your boyfriend for someone else, beware. Until you truly understand why you were in the situation you were, emotionally and intellectually, your subconscious will have a sad way of attracting an identical relationship that looks completely different from the outside. This is not always true.

At first, when the fog is lifting, you will look at your past self with shock and disgust. Then, later, you will look at your past self with sadness. Then, with understanding. Finally, you feel the most visceral pride for the moment you left, even if you didn't want to because you did that on the blind faith that life might be better on the other side. You did that on hope alone. You didn't know what you do now. That's so brave.

“You are so brave”- the only words I need to hear yet waiting for it.

I know how scared you are. I still get scared. My years of all the recovery has been the most challenging and rewarding of my life. It's not perfect and I don't think it ever will be. I get lonely and restless. I live with those feelings. Actually, I try to understand them. One day, your life will look like a version of mine. Things will keep getting better and better, faster and faster. Good things will keep finding you. You will be really happy. That happiness will get so big that you won't notice how the sadness is lifting until it's almost gone.

My life is full of hard work, art, friends who love and support me, friends that I am lucky to know. I have more energy than I know what to do with. I am the most productive I have ever been. I sing, I dance, I have meaningful conversation, I rest, I laugh a lot, I stay out too late. I am closer to my family than ever before. I found my way back to my old friends.

Maybe I'm becoming myself again.

Finally, (I know you're worried about this) you will meet someone else. You will fall in love again and this time, it will be about more than your wounds matching up with someone else's. It will be different and it will be better(I’m proof of that too my new boyfriend is my world for all the good reasons) But something becomes more important to you than romantic love and it's called self-worth. It will feel like it happens almost over night, but you will grow to love the person you are.

You should.

You fought hard to become her.

So love her.

Love Tiggz

AimeeCarver

Xx

[soulstealer1987]

Arc 5, Chapter 11

Ziist Grozein

Everyone escapes from Cidhna Mine. Also, let's be honest, Gallus couldn't put off the Dragonborn thing forever.

Crossposted from AO3. Masterpost is here.

Arc 5: Shadows of the Past

Arc 5, Chapter 10 ~ Arc 5, Chapter 12

When Madanach sends someone to wake them, it’s nearly dusk. Or at least, Gallus is pretty sure of that—it’s impossible to tell for certain in the depths of Cidhna Mine, where the only light comes from lanterns or, occasionally, the faint glow of magic.

(Gallus would think that, considering that the Forsworn are primarily made up of Bretons and Bretons are generally very, very good at magic of all kinds, that the guards would have been a little smarter about preventing magic use. Perhaps they were, initially. But after decades without a breakout, perhaps security became more and more lax.)

Uraccen takes one look at the two of them, casually states that it’s getting late and anytime they’re not busy, they should head out to the main area, and leaves with the ghost of a knowing smile on his face. Evidently, he thinks he knows something about what’s going on here. To be fair, there’s one very obvious reason why a couple of people would fall asleep on each other, and if that’s what Uraccen’s thinking of, it’s not entirely wrong.

“I guess we’d better head out,” Karliah says eventually. “No point in keeping them waiting any longer.”

“Yeah,” Gallus agrees. Even so, neither of them move. In his case, it’s because even after everything, there’s still a tiny seed of doubt within him. He could have dreamed it. He probably dreamed it—after all, he can’t possibly live up to who he was. Not without his memories.

And he has no idea how he can even begin to get those back.

“You’re not getting up,” she notes. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine, I just…”

“Gallus. Look at me,” Karliah puts a hand on his shoulder. “What is it?”

He takes a deep breath and turns towards her. Their eyes meet, and he holds her gaze. There’s something in her eyes, some deep sadness that finally makes the words come spilling out.

“I’m not the same as I was. I should be, but I’m not. Maybe if I could actually remember something, but I can’t. I can’t—gods, everything’s so familiar, you’re so familiar… I’ve known the whole time that you mean so much to me, and I just can’t remember anything I know I should. But I’m… I’m not the same.”

Gallus is only dimly aware of it at this point, but he’s full on sobbing. He doesn’t know how Karliah’s reacted, and in all honesty, he’s not sure he wants to know.

“No, you’re not,” she says finally. Her arms wrap around him. “But neither am I. And that’s alright. It’s been so long, I’d be worried if either of uswere the same as we were back then. We’ve both changed a lot—shadows, I know I have. Everything’s gone to Oblivion and then some. But there’s one thing I know for sure, and it’s that you’re the same Gallus I fell in love with, memories or no memories.”

Gallus tries to wipe away his tears, but more come. He’s at a loss for words.

“Listen,” she continues, and her grip tightens some. “I love you, Gallus. I love you so, so much. Whatever’s going on, we’ll get through it together, like we always have. I’ve lost you once already—I’m not losing you again.”

His eyes water, although the tears aren’t so much from sadness this time.

“You mean it?” He manages.

“Everything.”

“...you still love me?”

She actually laughs. “Of course I do, you idiot. I know you can’t remember this, but… shadows, it took you a long time to finally tell me what was up the first time. I’m glad it didn’t take you any longer this time.”

It’s almost like a weight’s been lifted off his chest, like he can finally breathe again, except he hadn’t been quite aware that he couldn’t until now. Being close to Karliah has a rightness to it, the kind that makes him feel like things are normal, or at the very least not as screwed up as they were.

Gallus smiles, and says, “Me too.”

“Glad you could join us,” Madanach says as the pair walk out. Much to Gallus’ embarrassment, every denizen of the mine turns to see them: Uraccen, the orc, the lad with the skooma…

Actually, no. There’s someone missing, come to think of it, and that someone’s the someone he’d gotten the shiv from. Gallus suspects he doesn’t want to know what happened to him, so he doesn’t ask.

“Had to work out something,” Gallus offers in way of explanation, without any intention of explaining what that something is. “What did we miss?”

“Only the entire plan, lad. We’re about to head out. Just stay close and stay alive—and this goes for all of you lads. Remember, we’re not here to fight, we’re here to get out as fast as possible and regroup at Druadach.”

The group, sans Gallus, Karliah, and the orc, all nod.

“Borkul,” Madanach continues, addressing the orc, “stay with me or one of the others for now, the sentries won’t know you’re with us otherwise.”

The orc—Borkul, apparently—grumbles, but bobs his head in agreement.

“Gallus, Karliah. Stay with us until we’re out of the city, and from there? Old Gods be with you.”

“And with you,” Karliah says softly. Gallus isn’t entirely sure what or who the ‘Old Gods’ entail, but he nods regardless.

“Let’s go. Moonlight’s a-wasting.”

Getting out of Markarth, as it happens, is simple—almost deceptively so, looking back. The group meets no significant resistance once they’re out of the mine itself, and as for the escape tunnel… well… nobody died, everyone was still able to run, the Dwemer as usual had to make everyone’s lives more difficult millennia after their disappearance. Overall, it went fine, although there were a couple close calls.

From there, it’s on the road to Winterhold. There’s still some awkwardness between them, but much less silence. Karliah can’t seem to stop talking, and whether it’s about the past, the present, or the future, Gallus finds he much prefers anything to the hopeless silence.

Gallus shares some stories of his own, too. He doesn’t exactly have much, but he can guess at what Karliah was around for, what she wasn’t, and what she could only assume. He tells her of the kids at the College, Aranea and Erandur, the Companions…

Eventually, the subject turns to the Thieves Guild, which… is rather inevitable, actually.

“Do you think we’ll ever be able to go back?” Gallus finds himself asking.

“Once we get your journal translated. Or, once you remember enough that we can prove it’s you. Seeing as… you didn’t go by your name in Riften, did you?”

“No, I came up with something that… may not have worked as well as I’d have liked,” he winces. “I panicked. When we go back… I’m never living that one down, that’s for sure.”

“There’s no way it could possibly be that bad.”

Gallus laughs, “Trust me, it is.”

“What is it, then?”

“Bad,” he says. “Let’s save it for when we get back. What do you miss about the Guild?”

She shrugs. “A lot of things, but honestly… I miss being able to just walk into places and not have to worry about who’s there, who’s seeing me, who’s going to get word back to Mercer that I was there. It’ll be nice, to not have to constantly have my guard up. I guess… I miss a lot of things about Riften, too. Is Vekel still running the Flagon?”

“Yeah. He doesn’t look like he’s that old.”

“He had the best home-brewed mead. Stopped making it near the end, though—times were getting tough. Maybe we can get him to make it again once we’re back.”

Gallus cracks a grin, and says, “I do still owe you a drink from Helgen.”

He can almost ignore how, despite having just gotten quite a lot of sleep, his head hurts far too much, he can’t focus, he can’t concentrate. Even looking at something for too long makes things difficult, unless he’s distracted. It’s probably a good thing that Karliah’s very distracting.

Even so, he has a bad feeling that something wrong’s here, and it’s not a lack of sleep. There has to be some reason that sleep isn’t helping, because he’s been getting a lot lately. Or, at the very least, he’s been getting a lot more than usual. As the pair trudge on, the College barely visible in the distance, his unfocused stare finds the night sky.

Stars glimmer above them, and for whatever reason, a particular constellation catches his eye. He can’t think of the name. Briefly, he considers asking Karliah about it. He glances her way. She catches his gaze, and smiles.

Naturally, it’s then, and only then, that an earth-shaking roar splits the air, and something big and dark-colored flies overhead. It blots out the stars as it passes, and keeps on in the direction of Winterhold.

“Oh no,” Gallus says unnecessarily.

[drugsbestfriend-blog]

A depressed self loathing plea for help;;

Right so im suicidal as shit. I want to die so fucking bad but what will everyone think? If i didn't have this anxiety i would be dead. That and my daughter she's just turned two and she's incredibly clever and drop dead gorgeous she brand reps for a lot of companies im so proud of her. I love her so much but then at the same time i feel nothing at all..

I just feel so cold and so lonley inside me and my girlfriend are good i mean she wants to get married but i dont want to make a promise when i can't see myself being here by the time a wedding comes. Its not that i dont love her, i do. So much its just that i hate me. Its almost funny and ironic really how all of this feeling alienated and depressed is so incredibly narcissistic im doing this to myself. I know i am, i know its my head..

i know I'm fucked up.

I'm pushing everybody cloose to me away i always stay in and ponder my existence.

I do have passions though which i find so odd. I connect so much with music it's almost scary. I'm always constantly listening to music these artits speak to me. I feel their pain and i feel those songs are written about me which again is so narcissistic.. I've now started starving myself and turned back down the dark road. I started smoking weed consistently roughly 8 years ago because I've always struggled to concentrate on one thing at once and getting high helps slow my mind. Which leads to another abnormality of mine i have A.D.D (attention deficit disorder) and a overactive mind shadowing the depression and anxiety which is eating me alive.

I thengot pretty hooked on cocaine and M.D.M.A they helped make me feel better. I always called it my personal eurphoria. Damn i loved that shit.. I've always felt a connection with drugs. Never been much of a drinker though as my mother has a drinking problem which will inevitably be the slow painfully heartbreaking end of her. always said i dont want that for my kid and I've stuck to my word. My perfect beautiful little girl won't lose her father, her protector, her daddy, her hero to alcohol.. Great right?

No, She'll lose him to some stupid fucking issue's in his own fucking head or an OD on some shit.

See, the thing with the drugs is one of my closest friends who i met at work just happened to be the guy with the best sniff it the county. My dude got cash for days. He ain't short of shit i thought he had it real nice but with closer inspection.. he isn't happy. The guys like nearly thirty lost like 5 teeth has two kids and a mrs he's punching with. Still, every night he proceeds to go out and get wired.. it was great yeah.. but why didn't he want to be with his family? Somethint wasn't right.. still isn't i mean it's better but not good well obviously i got my sniff from him as he brought it into work so it was too easy, too tantalising i just had to find my self medicated remedy.

And i did. When i was wired i could relax. The other day the prefect metaphor for my thought process was revealed, so you know the london tubes at rush hour? So cramped you couldn't scratch your arse, so hot, sweaty and the stench is unbearable and then you finally get outside and there's nobody to be seen only visual perfection a slight fresh breeze, not too cold just enough to instantly relax as you take that fresh non polluted air. Thats what that first line is. That breath of fresh air i was hooked. At work every hour i was in the toilet racking up on my phone.

The journey of my pitiful ugly downward spiral was plunging dangerously out of control.

I then discovered mandy. That shit was insane. Pure crystals that good shit ya know..

I was in love with drugs, running parallel beside the unfathomable thought of how people become junkies..

The whole time i "knew what i was doing" i also "knew my limit" little did anybody know i was hoping to die.

I was having sex with every girl i could as often as i could.. the thought of blood going to my dick to stop me thinking so much didn't help in the slightest but it felt good. It may me feel good. Confident almost. I was impersonating personalities i had created in my head.. just to see if i could do it. That's not normal and i needed help. I was just too scared to talk about it. So i gave it some to the conclusion accurate or not I'd convinced myself it was right, if i take happy piils (anti depressants) and chill pills (anti anxiety shit) it would be adequately act as a alternative solution to these potential schizophrenic thoughts and/or actions.

I booked a doctors appointment and i told him just what he needed to hear to get what i needed but i was denied due to an attempt on my love prior to this. So they offered me the "wellbeing" which sucks dick its a load of patronizing questions to make these dark strong thought so much more prominent. So i jacked that in and carried on with my drugs.

Light at the end of the tunnel?

When my better half fell pregnant with my angel i dropped all the drugs. I said that's it now time for a change. My partner and i had only been together for a matter of weeks before i knocked her up so she knew about the drugs bur she didn't know how deep i was. So i got sober and my baby was born the whole time I'm still constantly experiencing this endless mental torture. A year down the line me and my partner agreed i would have 1 joint a night to help me get more than a couple hours of sleep a night which was great for a few months then we upped my dose to 2 to help my anxiety then 3 to have more control. It was bullshit i just loved being high. It took me somewhere. So i am now.. 5 a.m suicidal high as fuck and wired. Just venting.. to this safe place i can be someone and nobody

I need help i guess

[hazftcor]

Jealous Book 2 Part 1

Liam x Reader, Theo x Reader

Summary: In which Liam Dunbar loses Y/n McCall to Theo Raeken, thinking he stopped loving her.

Warning: Swearing, cheating

Notes: Previously, I had Jealous Book 1 for Liam x Reader, now it is Liam x Reader x Theo :) Enjoy!

series masterlist

“What are we doing down here, Li?” You ask your boyfriend as he brings you down the tunnels, where you best friend got sent to hell.

“Making the worst decision I ever made in my entire life.” He says, holding Kira’s sword that her mom gave Liam. He shoves it into the ground. The floor cracks and makes a hole in the ground. Smoke fills the area as someone steps out. They are quick to pin Liam against the wall.

“Where’s my sister?”

“She’s dead. You killed her, remember?”

“I’m gonna kill you, I’m gonna kill all of you.” Theo looks around the area, eyes landing on you. 

“Theo.”

“Y/n.”

“She’s mine now, back off. Do you know what this does?” Liam says gesturing to the sword. Theo steps back. 

“Hey don’t be mean!” You say, defending Theo. Liam growls, but you growl back.

“What do you want from me?” Liam starts to explain what he wanted to do with Theo. Liam and Mr. Douglas then experimented on him if he still had Josh’s powers but he didn’t.

“Send him back.” Mr. Douglas said, eyeing Theo down with suspicion

“No!” You yell. Liam growls at you, eyes flashing amber. You scoff at his childish reactions.

“Who’s making the decisions now? Where’s Scott? Where’s Stiles?”

“You remember Stiles?” Liam asks. 

“Why wouldn’t I remember Stiles?”

“He’s helpful! Let him stay babe.” You pout. Liam furrows his eyebrows and reluctantly nods.

Liam had just made the worst decisions of his life.

“You don’t have to stop.” Theo mumbles as Malia punches him repeatedly. 

“I wasn’t gonna.” Malia’s claws come out and Theo widens his eyes. Scott, Liam and you pull them apart. You tend Theo.

“Princess.”

“T. I missed you.”

“I missed you so much.” A growl is heard from behind you. You roll your eyes.

“If you continue to care about Theo, I would send him back!”

“You wouldn’t dare.” I say facing Liam with amber eyes. Scott steps in with his alpha eyes and the two of you stop staring intensely at each other.

“He’s going back to the ground!”

"He remembers Stiles!”

“Scott remembers Stiles, Lydia and I remember Stiles.”

“If you guys want Stiles back, you got to keep him for now.” You say. 

“He knows about the wild hunt. He can help us.”

“Liam I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I KNOW IT’S NOT A GOOD IDEA BUT I JUST WANT TO HELP.” Liam yells. 

“Liam I need to talk to you for a second alone.” Scott and Liam walk out. You decide to listen to their conversation.

“You really think keeping Theo is a good idea? I mean, he and Y/n had a good relationship before everything happened.”

“I don’t think so, But he can be helpful! I’m trying to help. I don’t want to be useless.” Scott pats Liam on the back and they walk back in together.

“Can’t we just kill him?”

“No. Mrs. Yukimura gave me the sword. He’s my responsibility now.”

“We can’t trust him. He tried to get you to kill me. He killed your girlfriend.”

“That’s not all true.” You mumble.

“Theo might be our only chance to get back Stiles. it might be a mistake using Theo, but everyone makes mistakes. You’ve made some mistakes when you were learning to become an alpha.”

Hesitantly Scott gives in.

Liam explains his plan to Theo. He wants to capture a ghost rider. 

“I’ll help if Malia promises not to kill me.” Malia growls

“She promises.” Malia disagrees. She says that she will not be part of the plan and leaves.

“Scott. can I stay over?”

“No.” Scott says

“Yes.” You say

“No.” Liam says.

“Scott? Please? Just one night.”

“Okay fine. But no funny business. You have a boyfriend.”

“I don’t allow.”

“Liam, please babe.” You pout.

“No.”

“Please”

“No.”

“One night and nothing else.” You give your boyfriend puppy eyes. 

“Fine. But if he’s staying over, I am too.”

“Yay thanks babe.” You kiss him on the cheek, before dragging Theo up to your room.

“I’ll keep the door open!” You yell as you hear Liam follow you up. Once you and Theo reach your room, he sits on your bed and you sit on your computer chair.

“You’re a werewolf now?”

“Yea. I’m my brother’s beta unfortunately. It happened the day you got sent to hell. I went unconscious from the cut the beast gave me and Scott had to bite me so I could survive.”

“I see. Must suck to be your brother’s beta.”

“It does suck, now he can tell me to do things using two different titles.”

“That was the same day you and Liam started dating?” You nod.

“I still love you Y/n.”

“I always have. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you 3 months ago.”

“It’s okay, you were already injured and you were human.”

“I still have the same picture of us on Instagram as my profile picture. Even with Liam’s protests, I didn’t take it down.”

“Everyone hates me, don’t they?”

“No, not me. Theo, you’re my best friend.”

“No you don’t.”

“Stop Theo. Please. I love you. They may hate you for lying and betraying them, but I will never hate you.” You get up and kneel down in front of Theo.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Damn right you don’t.” A mumble is heard from outside your door.

“Liam!” You yell before turning back to Theo.

“I don’t have a heart.”

“You do. You do. Is this about you being in hell with your sister?” Theo starts to cry. You hug him.

“Theo, babe. It’s okay.” You coo. You sit down on the bed beside him as he sobs. Slowly he falls asleep, leaving you in an awkward position.

You try to slowly get Theo to lie down without waking him up. Successfully doing so, you walk out your room, turning off the light and closing the door in the process. All of a sudden you are face to face with Liam.

“Where are you gonna sleep now?” 

“I’m staying with him.” You smell the anger from Liam.

“No. Keeping him was the worst idea ever.”

“He’s changed Liam. Give him a chance.”

“Why are you always on his side?”

“Because he’s my best friend!”

“I’m your boyfriend!”

“I do what I think is right.”

“You think bringing Theo back was right?”

“Li, you wanted to help! I believe it was a good choice.”

‘Was it a good choice because of that or because of something else?”

“Liam! I f*cking hate you. Get out of my house because it seems to me like my boyfriend doesn’t trust me anymore!” You raise your voice.

“Gladly.” Liam states before leaving. You re-enter your room, cuddling into Theo's warm arms and silently cry yourself to sleep.

“Sup Y/n.” Corey says as he walks towards you at the roof. You guys were planning on capturing a ghost rider and you two were in charge of watching out.

“Sup Corey.”

“Who knew this would be so stressing?”

“I know right.”

“What’s up with you and Liam?” you furrow your eyebrows.

“Nothing.” You sighed.

“Is it Theo?” You nod.

“I shouldn't be telling you this but Liam has been hanging out with Hayden a lot lately.” Something stings your heart.

“Why do you tell me all these upsetting things?”

“Sorry. I can't keep my mouth shut when it comes to my best friend.” You laugh and hug him. You see Parrish walking into the small cabin. 

“Parrish is here.”

“I should go around the boundary again.” Corey gets up and starts to leave.

“Stay safe.” You suddenly felt a tight knot in your stomach. Something was gonna happen tonight. 

As Corey left, you focused on his heartbeat, until you couldn’t hear it. Worried you got down from the roof to take a look. Mr. Douglas walks past you, holding a whip. Curious, you follow him. He stops and you quickly hide behind a tree.

“Mr. Douglas, what are you doing here?” You hear Corey ask. You turn to take a look.

“Something I've been wanting to do for a while.” The teacher says as he throws the whip around Corey’s neck until green smoke replaces his body. Tears sting out of your eyes as you run back to the cabin. When you enter, the ghost rider is dead.

“What did you do?”

“It was Mr. Douglas. He ate his brain”

“Scott was right. I was wrong. I’m sending you back.”

“Theo’s right, it’s Mr Douglas.”

“He ate his pineal gland. Those murders have been going on for weeks.” Mason adds.

“The whip’s gone.”

“He took it. And he took Corey.” You hug Mason tightly as he processes what you just said.

“Y/n are you okay?” Theo asks from behind the cell he was in. You leaned against the bars.

“No.” You say sadly. Hayden and Liam start discussing a plan to defeat the ghost riders, but is constantly getting interrupted by Theo.

“Guess who knows all about Mr. Douglas?” While the three make their deal, Mason stands beside you.

“It hurts Mason.”

“We’ll get him back, don’t worry.”

“Weirdly how am I more upset than you?”

“He’s been with you through a lot. When you got resurrected, he was the only one who talked to you. It’s okay if you’re sad.” You take out the cell phone you found while trying to find Corey.

“I found his cell. It’s a relic.” Mason takes the phone and opens the camera. He goes through pictures of them together, along with some pictures of you being silly.

“It’s just us, mostly. Is that weird?”

“No, it means he loves you.”

“You want me to tell you about Douglas. Break the sword.” Theo says.

“What’s going on?” Both Liam and Theo ignore you.

“You break, I talk. Come on guys. Look, I don't want in anyone's pack. I don't want anyone's power. I just wanna stay alive.”

“How do we know you’re not gonna run when we let you out?”

“Because I’m not letting him out. He’s staying right in the cell, away from Y/n.” You growl. Liam breaks the sword. Theo starts to tell the story.

After Theo finishes the story. Liam walks up to you.

“Come on Y/n, We got to tell Scott about this.” 

“I want to stay here. Please?” You pout. He shakes his head a few times.

“Fine.-”

“Mason!” You scream as he turns into green smoke. The ghost riders have arrived.

“Hayden!” Liam runs to save her. You watch as Liam pulls Hayden back. Two ghost riders had got their whip on Hayden’s arms. 

“Liam, You have to find Scott.”

“I’m not leaving you.” Your heart breaks. Theo grabs your hand from his cell and gives you a gentle squeeze. Liam pulls even harder.

“You have to. You can save me from the other side. I believe in you.” Liam finally gives in. 

“I love you.” Ouch.

“Then go.” Liam lets go and watches Hayden disappear into green smoke. Liam then leaves. 

“Babygirl, it’s okay to cry. It will make you feel better.” You start to cry.

“I hate him. I hate him so so much.”

Scott has been calling your mom’s phone.

“Scott...”

“Scott, Y/n, your mom’s gone. But she’s still alive.” We discuss a bit more about the wild hunt before the sheriff comes in. 

“I have a son. His name is Mieczyslaw Stilinski, but we call him Stiles.” The sheriff explains that he remembers his son.

“We're here tonight because my goofball son decided to drag Scott, his greatest friend in the world, into the woods to see a dead body.” He continued to explain how he remembered Stiles.

“And then the strangest thing happened.” He then explained that he saw some type of rift. A bright light and a male figure appeared. Lydia figured something out.

“You remembered Stiles and then a new rift was created. If the Sheriff can do it... maybe we can.”

“How?”

“By remembering Stiles. We have to remember everything.”

The group part ways. But Liam stays.

“Y/n, I need to talk to you.” Scott looks between the two of you.

“Alone.”

“No. Scott Stay.” Scott stays.

“It doesn’t matter where I go, because this is my house too, so I can always eavesdrop.”

“I think-“

“You don’t love me anymore, do you? You fell in love with Hayden. You cheated on me. I should've believed Corey. I hate you so f*cking much right now.”

“Y/n... I can explain.”

“Explain to me how you told Hayden you loved her right in front of me and then left without saying anything to me. I stayed at the station and fell asleep against the bars of Theo’s cell until he woke me up to tell me that Scott arrived to pick me up.” You raise your voice. Liam flinches.

“Y/n..”

“No don’t Y/n me. You’re tired of me. You think I still like Theo, after three months? Yes, Theo likes me. I’m with you. Why can’t you trust me? Why did you have to hurt me like that?”

“Then you tell me, if me and Theo were drowning, who would you save?”

“I think we’re done here. I guess now we’re back to being enemies.”

“Fine. I already have my own answer.” Liam storms off.

“This sucks. My otp just broke up in front of me.” Scott gets up from his chair and hugs me. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. everything will be okay. I promise.” You sob into his chest.

“I f*cking hate him.” You mumble.

You lost him. You lost the love of your life.

HAH Ya’ll might’ve thought Liam and Y/n will live on, but I didn’t let it happen! HAH! Don’t worry, there will still be parts with them in it :)

[chroniclesofawkwardness]

The Awful Truth

During my first three years as an undergrad at Ohio State, I stayed in the dorm closest to Ohio Stadium, the same one Jeffrey Dahmer lived in when he was a student there. Dorm-room technology had probably changed in as many ways as it stayed the same between Jeffrey’s era and mine. In the micro-fridge that had probably been in the room since Jeff roamed the halls of this building named after one of Mr. Lincoln’s acts that freed land instead of people, I don’t remember finding a singular earlobe encased in ice, or a perfectly preserved pubis devoid of flesh that may have once been a good luck charm to suggest that I’d be having friends for dinner in the same room where Mr. Dahmer may have studied the intricacies of human anatomy in preparation for his career of choice. 

The first of the two rooms of my suite had corkboard filled with holes that were probably as much natural as manmade above two desks that sat catty-cornered from one another. As I began to unpack my computer and set it on the desk closest to the disappointingly barren micro-fridge, my brother told me that the Internet connection I was about to plug into was the equivalent of a firehose at a time the standard was a dialup garden hose with kinks in it every six inches.

The bedroom had two beds, catty-cornered from one another like the desks in the front room, and shelving between them that was probably installed around the same time somebody thought a micro-fridge was a good idea. I wasn’t much interested in the shelves, or rock-paper-scissoring it for who got which one. I didn’t want to piss in the corner like a dog marking its territory either, despite the fact that listening to my dad tapping the steering wheel while butchering Incense and Peppermints by Strawberry Alarm Clock on the drive up made doing stop drop and roll in traffic, or deliberately wetting myself just for the attention seem like great ideas. 

All I was focused on when it came to the bedroom was putting my Rita Hayworth poster on the wall above the head of my bed using some bluish silly putty the manufacturer said wouldn’t damage the walls. Once I stuck the poster to the wall, I only pretended to ignore it, secretly hoping that someone would oblige my reference to The Shawshank Redemption by calling me Andy, telling me to guard my pickax carefully because folks around the dorm loved surprise inspections, or wondering aloud how long it would take me to tunnel through the wall with it. 

The eight of us sharing the 1150s suite that year had been scattered throughout Ohio before uniting on Ohio State’s Columbus campus that fall. The only exceptions were one guy from Illinois, and one from Pennsylvania. As college freshmen, we were terrified, yet hungry for new experiences at the same time. Who felt what, when, and why probably varied from man to man. I was more terrified than hungry, yet still eager to prove to myself that I could transverse the sprawling campus without the assistance of the same transportation from the Office of Disability Services that had spectacularly backfired during orientation by either showing up late or not at all to shuttle me back and forth between placement tests.

When I wasn’t out trying to make it from point A to point B, my roommates and I were spending too much of our free time playing video games. At one point, the eight of us were playing old-school Punch-Out on our computers at the same time using emulators like NESticle to reach into the past and bring bits (bytes) our childhoods to the present. That said, most of our screen time was spent playing Madden. I don’t know how he did it, but Illinois would play as the Falcons every time, and constantly call audibles that made Chris Chandler, Jamal Anderson, and Terance Mathis look like first-ballot Hall of Famers. We were powerless to stop him, but that didn’t stop us from trying. 

When it became clear that the eight of us wouldn��t try to kill each other except in Madden, we began decorating the walls of our suite’s common area with posters. Rita stayed in my bedroom not only because she gave off more of the prison cell vibe I was going for, but also because my Rita Hayworth story was both too obvious and too personal for anyone who happened by to see. I was content with the ah-ha moments and laughter that came when a near stranger comprehended the thinly-veiled reference to one of my favorite movies, but I also that hoped the same near-strangers wouldn’t be able to tell just by looking at me that I balled my eyes out every time I watched the ending.

One day, someone hung a poster displaying an awful truth in our common area. It was black and white with The Awful Truth written in all caps across the top. Below that, there were symbols you'd see on the respective signs for men’s and women’s restrooms. The female’s heart was drawn where it anatomically should have been, the male’s heart was in his dick. I got a good laugh each time I saw it, but it was also a stark reminder of how inexperienced I was with the opposite sex at age 19.

Back then, I controlled my libido the only way I knew how: constant unfettered release. My consumption of adult content wasn’t as bad as it would become as Internet connection speeds got even faster, but I won’t lie and say that I didn’t take advantage of the high-speed connection of the time for some high-speed gratification. When 19-year-old me met a real woman, I had no clue what to do, what to say, or how to act. I didn’t know who I was at that time, probably because I was setting millions of little pieces of myself free far too often. It was easier to lose myself in the pornscape than hold on to what naturally made me a man. There, I didn’t have to think of women as real people who could challenge me. There, I never had to be afraid that a woman would call me a creep if I expressed sexual interest. Women across the pornscape never said no, not even to a 19-year-old like me, and they always seemed to enjoy whatever their fellow performers did to them. 

Years later, when I met the woman who would become my fiancée, she was also 19. I’d been leading the English conversation club at the American Corner in Novi Sad, where Zs. was a student at the university. I assume that’s how she found me, but I can’t be sure. I got a friend request on Facebook stating she’d added me. She had no profile picture, and of course, I didn’t recognize her name. Despite these obvious red flags, I acted per the awful truth of males thinking with the little head instead of the big one and accepted her request sight unseen. And to think, when I was 19, I thought my dad was an asshole for doing essentially the same thing at a time before social media exploded.

At first, I thought she was just picking my brain for its knowledge of English. As a student of the language, I assumed she was happy to learn whatever I had to offer as a native speaker in a place where native English speakers were as rare as walls untouched by nationalistic or phallic graffiti. The red flags became even brighter when she’d just so happen to be at the end of my street before I could cross into the city center where one of the schools at which I taught was located. Glad for the attention, neither of my heads was thinking straight. The big one began to fill with love dreams brought to music by the Hungarian composer Franz Liszt - Zs. was, after all, from a predominantly Hungarian-speaking part of Serbia - the little one and its attachment began to fill with blood. Honestly, I didn’t feel as intensely attracted to her as I had to other women. I won’t say she made it too easy, only that the ego wants to want more than it wants to have. 

The interior of her apartment was as cold as her hand the first time I held it. Still, I loved waking up beside her in the morning and watching a VH1 station that played music videos as we lay beneath the covers. Daniel repeatedly tried to convince me that Zs. was working for the Security Information Agency of Serbia (BIA), which meant she was using her sex to pump me for information. He offered to put her under surveillance as often as he congratulated me on being with a nineteen-year-old. Paranoia would slowly seep into my big head as I replayed his words of utter conviction that I was sleeping with a real-life spy whenever Zs. and I were together. Predictably, my little head could not resist the temptation that I’d so often prayed God would not lead me into while growing up Catholic. 

When I saw how ridiculously high her heating bill was, I began to entertain the idea of asking her to move in with me. Our relationship was as new and exciting as it was unknown; I thought I loved her. Plus, I needed someone with whom I could split the bills after escaping the Crazy House and renting an apartment that a fellow teacher had occupied before returning to Seattle. I thought it was a win-win situation for both of my heads.

But, red flags kept waving even before we decided to live under the same roof. Sex with Zs. had been nowhere near as fulfilling for me as it had been with S. Zs. and I never bonded in the same way, however briefly, that S. and I had. This wasn’t entirely Zs.’s fault. Since being kicked out of the house in Sombor and letting my thoughts run wild about my uncertain future, I hadn’t practiced yoga. To this day, I’m convinced that the practice allowed me to enjoy sex with S. so much because not only had the technical difficulties of Sombor kept me from any contact with porn, but, I’d learned to discipline my body in ways I never had before. This combination allowed me to consistently last as long as I wanted, and feel the unchartered contentment of holding S. in my arms after making love without the emptiness of a genital sneeze at the end. The contentment of the feel of her long black hair across my bare stomach as she’d rise slightly to settle herself on top of me, and kiss me upon coming back down. The ecstasy of sinking more deeply into one another’s being, the heat of the summer sun trying to burn its way through the curtains that kept us from prying eyes all the while. The rapture of neither wanting the moment to end.

Zs. did not enjoy cunnilingus nearly as much as S., another red flag. To make matters worse, as the mental and physical discipline instilled in me by yoga faded away, I lost control over my body and mind that I once had. if I could tell Zs. wasn’t into it, or I just wanted sex to be over, I’d ejaculate too early, or almost immediately after penetration out of spite. Eventually, I couldn’t withhold my seed for more than ten minutes if I tried. Since I’d gone back to regularly consuming porn, I found myself envious of how the male performers seemed to be able to both last forever, and ejaculate on cue. Since Zs. didn’t fancy cunnilingus, but could easily lose herself in British literature (she would repeatedly tell me that I just wouldn’t understand Flaubert’s Parrot by Julian Barnes), I privately wondered if I could spice up our relationship by having us pretend to be in a 1960s-themed black-and-white British porn mystery called Alfred Hitch’s Cock Presents, which would later be reimagined as a series of erotic nursery rhymes adapted for after-dark television, featuring the largest of black male talent: Hickory Dickory Cock.

The degree and forethought of my fantasies were at least partially the results of the feast-or-famine lifestyle of substitute teacher taking its toll on me. Some days I’d have three classes at multiple schools. Others, my phone wouldn’t ring at all. I’d be stuck in our apartment watching the slow, flickering death or my laptop screen, and wanting to save it more than save myself. On rare occasions when my laptop was closed, I’d be locked in a staring contest with the vacuum cleaner Zs. insisted we buy. One part of me wanted to run it, another didn’t see the point. If I didn’t do it, she’d yell at me for not helping out around the house. If I did, no matter how hard I tried, she’d be unsatisfied with the results. She’d tell me I couldn’t do anything right, and slap me across the face so hard that imprints of her fingers would be left across whichever of my cheeks got in the way of her palm. Finally, and frequently after long days at the university, she’d do it herself, and make sure I could see the contortions or her angry, embittered, I’m-going-to-kill-you face all the while.

I could have been a better lover and partner to Zs., there’s no doubt, but as both our familiarity and dissatisfaction with one another grew, her attacks became more frequent, and the polarity drained from the relationship. 

The awful truth.

I couldn’t go the cops even though the police station was right around the corner. No one would have believed that my fiancée beat me up, not in a Serbian society still paying the price for repeatedly looking backward while others around it had been opening up to the world, drinking beer from tallboys, and eating lunch at noon for years. Besides, I wasn’t sure what, if any, rights I had on their turf. I like to think that that I was somewhere between the Hungarians and the fifteen layers of downward-rolling shit that separated them from the Roma in Serbian societal hierarchy, but maybe even that’s being generous.

Even as it became clear the relationship wouldn’t work, I couldn’t just hop on a plane and go home. I didn’t want to think of myself as a coward. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t entertain the thought of just turning my back on it all, and watching it burn like one of the precious books Zs. said I’d never understand. Tuesdays would have been my best chance. She had French class at 7:30 A.M. and was at the university all day. I was too scared (scarred) to run the vacuum, so instead of porn fantasies starring Zs. and me, I’d dream of packing everything in the same suitcases I’d drug behind me when I was practically homeless after getting kicked out of the house in Sombor, and never looking back.

One particular Tuesday, amidst my thoughts of flying home and seeing her jaw hit the floor upon walking into an empty apartment, Zs. came home unexpectedly. She had terrible menstrual cramps, and was practically convulsing in pain the moment she walked in the door; I’d never seen anything like it. Through clenched teeth, she managed to tell me how to ask for maxi pads in Serbian, and I went to the corner store to buy some. 

The things you do for dissolution.

Even after she stopped slapping me around (her friends told her she was mean to me), I couldn’t bring myself to love her again. My sometimes-intentional-sometimes-not premature ejaculation paled in comparison to her capacity for cruelty.  I questioned myself as a man for allowing such domestic violence to occur on my watch. I felt as if it was my fault for allowing her verbal and physical abuse to go on for so long. Maybe I did this because I was taught that girls don’t hit boys, and boys don’t hit girls, however untrue that turned out to be. 

Zs. may have been a minority, but she was still a Serbian citizen. If I fought back, and she went to the police with even the tiniest bruise claiming to be a victim, I reasoned that they’d be all too happy to throw me in prison. If the media got wind of it, I could have easily become the new symbol of American aggression against peaceful Serbia. Even a country whose conservative political currents had had no problem looking back over 600 years to their ancestors’ glorious defeat battle of Kosovo wouldn’t have to go back that far - the 1999 NATO bombing of Yugoslavia - to find an example of bloodshed in which Americans like me could easily be blamed. I could see the title card of the Netflix miniseries chronicling my relationship with Zs. in my mind’s eye:

Američki nasiljnik for Serbian-speaking audiences, Bruise is the New Bomb for English-speaking ones.

So I waited. There were many nights when Zs. and I wouldn’t even look at each other after pulling out the sofa bed to go to sleep. I’d stare into the darkness of the ceiling above, dream of coming home in a coffin, and wonder what the hell I’d gotten myself into by agreeing to share a studio apartment of 28 square meters with a woman eight years younger who made me watch Ally McBeal reruns and romcoms until I wanted to throw up. In 2011, when she got a scholarship to study at Montclair State University in New Jersey, I knew I’d have to leave Serbia too, as she had become my basis for staying in the country. 

I came home that summer. When Zs. tried to convince me to come to New Jersey and spend Thanksgiving with her that fall, I told her I wouldn’t. Not long after, we broke up over Skype, the same means I’d used talk to my family while missing out on the previous four Thanksgivings. 

I laugh when people ask me if I still talk to her. I don’t think I spoke to her even once after the Skype breakup. I stopped returning her calls because I wanted her to suffer, like I did when I was alone in my room in Sombor, or solitary in the darkness of my first night in the Crazy House.

I intentionally keep my emotional distance from most people these days. Yet there are times when I’m as sick of the sound of my voice as I am the company of others. Hoping Zs. would suffer was as ill-advised as trying to recapture the contentment of intercourse with S. as we shielded ourselves from the piercing summer sun. My attachment to feelings of that kind is the root of my suffering, not the feelings themselves. My cup may never runneth over, but I’ll find ways of filling it, ways to embrace experiences instead of attaching myself to outcomes. I might even read Flaubert’s Parrot, not out of spite, but curiosity. 

That’s a truth I can live with. Not because it’s awful, but because it’s mine.

[ludens-vitae]

I hate the fact that so many people play and post about Dark Souls 2 when DS1 and DS3 are infinitely better.

Like... It's bad. It's so bad. Stop making excuses for it. If it's the only one you've played and you formed your opinion on DS based on it, please for the love of Gwyn, play and enjoy DeS DS1 DS3 or bloodborne, they're masterpieces and you'll love them. (I have some feelings about DeS but it's still great) DS2 is junk made by a b-team who clearly didn't get it until miyazaki came back to handle the DLCs. Disclaimer: DS2 was my first souls game. After a few hours with it I had no idea why people thought so highly of it. I thought dark souls was just a pretentious BS-fest of bad design that people only liked because it was "hard". Then I went back and played DS1 and boy was I wrong. The other souls games are beacons of modern game design. They're brilliant. DS2 hates you. The other Souls games are built for a certain kind of frustration, but it's there to get you to overcome it, and feel amazing after doing so; that Soul satisfaction. It's a unique feeling that other games try hard to replicate. DS2 is much less interested in your success and satisfaction; it wants you to fail. Again and again. It wants you to die 20 times just trying to get to the boss from the last bonfire. It wants you to treacherously roll into a window from another window so you can get a chance at a boss shortcut instead of just putting a ladder there so you can swiftly try the boss again for a shot at that satisfaction. It wants you to despair as the enemies you were grinding suddenly stop appearing, taking away your ability to level up in that area and affect your own file's difficulty. It wants you to die to a mid-game boss randomly appearing -only once and if you die it goes away- in the first area of the game proper. It wants you to miss the Emerald Herald so that you won't get the estus flask and you'll have a horrible time with crappy lifegems. Speaking of lifegems, they break the estus system, turning the strategic decision of when to use your heals into a waiting game of standing back and wasting minutes of your playtime waiting for your crappy lifegems to heal you. And you can carry 99 so healing out of combat is a compete non-issue. And did I mention how much I hate soul memory? That's just fucking absurd and incredibly bad design that's just there to hurt the player, nothing more. Forcing lower-skill players to deal with high level invaders just because they died more is totally insane from a design perspective. I haven't even considered the lore and plot yet. Well... there's barely a plot. You're an undead, and you wake up, then you go to find the king for no explained reason, end up finding and killing the queen, then you sit on a throne. That's the plot of DS2. Not saying games, even souls games, need great epic plots, but I mean... look at DS1 or DeS. You have clear goals in both of them; you want to link the fire so the world doesn't end, and you want to put the old one to sleep so the world doesn't end. A hero's journey. Simple, concise, tight, satisfying plots. DS2 literally opens with a bunch of old ladies laughing at you. About how many souls you're going to lose and how mad you'll get. Then you get to Majula and the (missable) herald says you should seek the king... for some reason. You're no hero in DS2. You're some shmuck who stays a shmuck. You don't learn, don't grow as a player, dont feel anything. Just attrition. I won't talk about the lore because I couldn't care enough about Drangleic to learn it beyond what's elucidated in DS3. In the end, DS2's lore is obtuse and mostly pointless in the context of the series. Here's some things about DS2 that just scream incompetent design: Atrocious enemy placement that had be "fixed" in a rerelease. Why would you put aggroed enemies in range of a bonfire, come on now. The game has a focus on player death instead of a focus on skill-based player progression. That's a huge difference that I still can't believe the b-team didn't learn before making DS2. Deaths via groups of enemies in gank formations aren't fun. Deaths while trying to do something awesome are interesting and keep you going. The combat is purposefully clunky. The other souls games, while you feel the weight of the combat because of the sfx and animations, aren't clunky enough to hinder the player compared to the enemy. DS2's -mechanics- are clunky. Purposefully. Enemies are faster and more versatile than you even if you're using a dagger. The hero's attacks are awkward and slow, even in the end game. They want you to have a bad time and die a lot, not to succeed and have that souls game satisfaction. Awful boss battles. Remember Ornstein and Smough and how epic that battle in the huge cathedral was? Well, here's Ornstein! ...By himself! ...In a small arena. You liked the belfry gargoyles? Good because now they're an unfair gank boss! What's that? You want a fair fight against the royal rat authority like you fought Sif? Lmao, better get lucky against those toxic rats we put in the boss fight just to piss you off and cause BS deaths! Enjoy the long run back! What's that? You want another shot at the executioner's chariot? Well I hope you like fighting a combat tunnel of tough, unskippable enemies every time, wasting estus and spells that you could be using to have a fair fight against the boss! Oh, and the bonfire is going to be nearby the boss but we're not going to open a shortcut because we want our players to hate their life running through the trash mobs again! Linear progression. The other souls games, even the similarly linear DS3, are much more open-ended. There's just no choice in what you do in DS2, and that's a huge pet peeve of mine. Linear stories are fine... but this is Dark souls. It's supposed to be the quest of the player through their undead avatar, and taking away the optional bits hurts the experience. Repairs and weapon scarcity. Having to spend souls to repair weapons constantly sucks. And that's provided you can find a decent weapon to upgrade. I hope you like going through high level areas to grab a sword that you can actually use! Oh, and the weapon upgrade ember is hidden in a midgame area. Hopefully you didn't want to, like, upgrade those weapons to adjust the difficulty of the game like in every other soulslike. That would just be silly! I could keep going, man. It's just a bad game from a base design perspective. Just awful decisions piled on awful decisions. And yet people love it as much as the other games. I wish they'd open their eyes. They could have it so much better. (Just for comparisons sake, here are the things I like about DS2: Pate and Creighton, the Majula pigs, the atmosphere of dread, Lucatiel, the design of things betwixt and the shrine of Amana even though they kinda botched it, the hollowing system and theme of forgetting, and the faraam set)

[garden-ghoul]

more children of hurin (4 of them?)

“I can’t remember how long I’ve been doing this”

CHAPTER 8: THE LAND OF BOW AND HELM

I’m sorry I haven’t even started reading this and I’m already thinking about silmarillion SBURB au. one of those jarjam-like games that is fundamentally broken and more and more people keep joining and horrible things happen to everyone. “au”

also holy fuck I just discovered readmores I’m so sorry everyone

this chapter starts out strong with mȋm "look[ing] with a jealous eye on the love that Turin bore to Beleg.” why is everyone gay for turin? he’s OKAY but he’s a truly inadvisable teen human. he’s not THAT great. anyway mȋm hates beleg So Much and presumably beleg is like, friendly and mild to him at all times because I think it’s funny. mȋm’s curse on androg, that he’ll die if he ever shoots a bow and arrow again, ALMOST kills him, but beleg heals him because he’s a valuable member of the team! mȋm is fucking pissed.

turin gets so famous for harrying orcs from mȋm’s hill that people come and start building camps and forts around amon rudh. all the nargothronders are like “orodreth what if an actual army went to help? those guys are doing really good” and orodreth presumably said “don’t be an idiot my armies aren’t trained in guerilla warfare, which is what makes that guy so successful. all elves know how to do is march gloriously onto battlefields.” turin is so successful, meanwhile, in the cookie clicker that is war, that he can afford ANOTHER NAME: gorthol, or “dread helm.” that brings our total up to “turin neithan gorthol ben hurin.”

beleg thinks this is premature, because turin knows absolutely nothing about governing a large number of people, or like taking care of them in winter. turin is like, “whatever I guess. if morgoth kills me at least I will have died in a totally sicknasty manner.”

there’s also a fun bit where tolkien offers two conflicting histories: one where mȋm is so sick of beleg being great and handsome that he goes to the orcs to tattle, and one where he gets captured and his remaining son is held hostage for the information. I LOVE this “yeah actual history is super murky” thing and I wish he did it more often! he comes up with enough alternate versions of stuff anyway, he could totally just legitimize them in this way. also just, I generally want more trappings of a history where he cites what documents he gets info from (”so was it written in the book of xyz” or “in the recovered correspondence of orodreth and thingol” or “maeglin’s angsty diary” or whatever). I love. I just really love anything that presents itself as an archive rather than as a straight-up story.

orcs attack amon rudh and turin & co are boxed in at the top of the hill. wait--”Then Turin and Beleg with the ten men left to them drew back to the centre of the summit...” is he doing this on purpose?? the thing where every party has 12 people in it? or is it just a coincidence caused by rounding and the two-interesting-character maximum? oh yeah also turin gets carried off by orcs

CHAPTER 9: THE DEATH OF BELEG

beleg goes to track the orcs who took turin, and comes across gwindor in the woods! I skipped over gwindor’s awful fate, but it was basically watching his brother be horribly dismembered as a taunt and then being sent to a mining camp for 2 years and losing a hand while escaping. I really like this unnecessary detail about his normal-ass lamp:

These Noldor possessed many of the Feanorian lamps, which were crystals hung in a fine chain net, the crystals being ever-shining with an inner blue radiance marvellous for finding the way in the darkness of night or in tunnels; of these lamps they themselves did not know the secret.

gwindor and beleg rescue turin from the orcs, but as beleg is cutting turin free his hand slips and he pokes turin in the foot with his sword. turin, naturally, LEAPS up out of a dead faint and kills him. then lightning flashes, illuminating beleg’s face (bringing with it a musical sting) and he realizes what he has done. then he just sits there, dissociating, while gwindor cowers nearby thinking I escaped from the mines for this? what the fuck is *wrong* with humans?

EOL’S CURSED SWORD CLAIMS ITS FIRST VICTIM. I hope once turin adopts it, it will whisper to him about beleg’s totally avoidable death while he’s trying to sleep. also it says here in the text “now turin has ptsd.” tolkien literally wrote that. weird right

luckily I guess gwindor is more than willing to be beleg’s replacement. turin never lacks for people eager to follow him around and help him despite how many bad decisions he is constantly making that get other people killed. gwindor takes turin to the magical lake maintained by ulmo in purity even though it’s really far inland. here it says “turin just stopped having ptsd. he was cured. cool right.” fuck this

I leave you with this great dialogue:

'Then have you seen Hurin son of Galdor, the warrior of Dor-lomin?' said Turin. 

'I have not seen him,' said Gwindor. 'But the rumour runs through Angband that he still defies Morgoth; and Morgoth has laid a curse upon him and all his kin.' 

'That I do believe,' said Turin. 

[ryhannotes-blog]

The Memory

I walk into our house on Hanglider Drive in Telluride, CO, it smells faintly of wood because of the cabin style feel. The soft white carpet is between my toes. The house feels warm, this house feels comfortable. This house was my first childhood home until I was six years old. This was the house I lived in when my family was still the four of us. It was a place where my mother and father got to see us grow up, it was the place where we resided as a family. It is also the place where I heard a large thump that awoke me from a nap and would change my life forever.

It was my friend’s Keenans birthday and I remember being so excited for her party. It was at the park and it was May 12th, so it was just starting to feel warm again. When the party finally concluded my mom came to pick me up. I used to do this thing as a kid when we would drive the 20-30 minutes from town to home, I would fake fall asleep in the car so my mom would have to carry me up to my bed. On this specific day however, I actually fell asleep. I am so mad I actually fell asleep. I woke up to a loud thump coming from my parents room. I was a bit confused because I was in my bed instead of the car. But I curiously ran into their room to see what caused this massive noise. That’s when I saw my father laying on the bathroom floor, with my mother hovering over him on the phone screaming. He was naked because he had fallen out of the shower and I noticed blood on the bath mat. My mom told me to go downstairs and she continued to speak to the person on the phone screaming, “HE’S UNCONSCIOUS BUT HE’S STILL BREATHING.” Moments later I see flashing lights coming towards my house, first a cop car, then an ambulance, then a big red fire truck. My mom again orders me to go downstairs.      

Next thing I know as my brother and I are downstairs watching the show, Cat Dog, I see my father’s unconscious body being wheeled out on a gurney by people I recognize, some being his best friends that worked as paramedics. They were moving so fast and my father had an oxygen mask on, my mom standing as close as she could to the gurney. Then everything was silent. It was just my four year old brother, Wilder and I sitting on the couch, watching Cat-Dog. I remember us just looking at each other, not knowing what to do or say. We were so confused, scared, where did our mommy and daddy just go? A little while later, my mom’s friend came to take care of us. We were then transferred to my dad’s sister and cousin’s house. I remember as a lie awake that night about to go to sleep, I was thinking that my father would return with an eye patch and in a wheelchair. That was my thought process as a five year old after what I just saw and the worst outcome that I thought would happen.

My brother and I weren’t told anything but we were taken back to our house. My aunt and uncle had gone to the hospital so I was being watched by my older cousins. I don’t think I asked any questions, only when my mommy and daddy would be home. My brother and I were playing and all of a sudden my grandparents (my mom’s parents) came through the door. I was a bit surprised but so excited because they lived in North Carolina and I never got to see them. I had no idea, the reason they were there was not at all a happy thing. I waited as they walked through the door one by one, my grandmother, my grandfather, my mother, but where was my dad? Why weren’t they pushing him in a wheelchair with his eye patch on? Where was my daddy? That’s when I saw my mom. She looked exhausted, and her eyes were swollen and red and tears were bursting from her eyes. She looked to her parents for support but they had no answer for her. No words were spoken, then she quietly took my brother Wilder and I’s hand up to her room. She sat us down and as tears filled her eyes, she grabbed our hands and looked us both in the eye, “your daddy has gone to heaven.”

On May 13th, 2001, I lost my father a week before my sixth birthday. He passed away of an aortic dissection because he was born with only two valves in his heart rather than three. Of course he had no idea this was how he was born and it was too late to fix this when doctors finally learned about this unfortunate fate. I still can’t believe how clearly I remember that day, I was still so young but every emotion, every sound, everything I saw that day will forever be ingrained in my head.  My dad is and was my hero.

Not only did he have such a large impact on me but it reached everyone he ever encountered. He was the mayor of the town I grew up in. After he passed they named a ski run and the ice rink after him. The amount of stories I hear about the shining light he was is uncountable. He was more than a father, he was a wonderful husband, brother,  best friend, business partner, son, skier. He knew how to make anyone laugh and feel comfortable.He genuinely lit up a room and from what I have heard from everyone I have talked to, people were immediately drawn to him. He created this warmth and was able to make everyone feel special. He was considered a best friend to a ridiculous amount of people, they relied on him.  Social media has been a big part to recovering memories of my father and learning more about him whether that's through Facebook or Instagram or my dad’s friends or relatives sending me emails with pictures or funny stories about him. Since I was so young when he passed, it can be difficult for me to grasp specific recollections about him that are imperative to know about his spirit, so these little reminders of him are so special to me. I am also very lucky to grow up in the small town of Telluride, Colorado with a population of under 2,000 people. Within this small setting, mostly everyone knew him so whenever I am home and when I was growing up, people constantly come up to me bringing up stories and telling a good laugh about my father.

What I hadn’t realized until I was much older is how hard this entire experience was for my mother. His death was a complete shock to everyone and that immediate tragedy was a major hit  that would affect everything. My mother had two little kids, my brother being four years old and me just about to turn six. We were just about to move into a new house and the love of her life had just been ripped away from her. Since the town was so small in size and such a tight community, simple things like going to the grocery or checking the mail defeated her. Everyone would stare or come up and say sorry or try their best to show their condolence. But how my mom puts it at that time is she was just seeing how everyone’s life just goes on and they continue to do the things they do everyday, they laugh, they have dinner with their families, their life continues on. Whereas her life had just crumbled to a million pieces. She had no direction, even though she had all the support in the world from her amazing family and friends, the pain was so large and so heavy that it took many years to regain herself. But she had her kids and that helped her along the way. We ended up having to move away from Colorado for a few years to start fresh and find herself again, the memories my father and her had made in Telluride were just too strong for her to coincide with during her period of grieving.

My grieving was extremely difficult for me. I refused to speak about my father to anyone, I refused to grieve. I closed up completely and it took me almost till I was a junior in high school to finally accept it and to finally open up about it. No matter what stage you are in your development, getting stripped from that person that gave you life is a tragedy.  I would have these dreams all the time about him where we would be hanging out and everything would be wonderful then all of sudden he would tell me he had to leave. I would ask him why and beg him not to go but he would never tell me and he would just leave. It hurt, it still hurts but once I allowed myself to grieve and accept it, I was able to show homage to my father.

Although this experience is one of the worst events to ever happen to me and my family, what it did is taught me alot of things. Most importantly to understand life just a little bit better. I crave to honor my dad’s legacy of his easy going spirit and his assertion of humor in every circumstance, no matter how serious the occasion. This is what I try to emulate in my day to day life, I see that when I get older, this is much harder but to always remember to not take life so seriously. It is such a delicate entity and to take even the smallest things for granted spoils the bliss of existence. What I also learned deeply from his passing, is that grieving is so important. It is absolutely necessary to grieve, although I know everyone grieves in their different ways, it is a vital step in healing. It is also okay to ask for help and to carral in your support team to rebuild you. I also learned the importance of knowing death is apart of life and it will happen to us all and those we love very much. In the recent years, there has been a spike of many of my friend’s losing loved ones, whether that’s grandparents, parents, or in a rare circumstances, a sibling. I have found it interesting being on the other side of this grief-stricken hardship because now I can see how many people don’t what to do, say, or act when this happens to one of their friends. But now it makes me feel good I am able to share guidance through experience and trial and error to these friends of mine and for them to rebuild themselves. The biggest lesson I learned from my father’s death is that life is very hard. There are curveballs in life that will hit you at 98 mph. It will crush everything in you and your whole world can be shattered. But there is always room to grow. There is always areas to better yourself and to heal. There is and truly there is, always a light at the end of the tunnel. Human relationships are so important and having the luxury  of what they ecompass is remarkable. Friends,family, and nature are paramount figures in this thing we call life. Tragedy, heartache, and sadness is a battle we can all overcome. It is imperative to remember the restorative qualities we have access to and that their is always room to rise above. I miss my dad everyday. He is my hero and I am lucky enough to be able to have someone to look up to and to encourage me to remember how precious and short life is and to grasp all the goodness it has to offer and to love as much as you can.

[samuelfields]

A Divorce Ruined My Life, But I Clawed My Way Back

Divorce is one of the worst destroyers of wealth. May you never have to go through one. Love birds beware. The following is a guest post from FS reader and medical doctor, Xrayvsn.

Divorce.

Few words in the English language can elicit as negative a visceral response as that of divorce.

Despite its increasing prevalence in society, stories of divorce and the subsequent impact on one’s finances are rarely discussed in the personal finance community.

Like the subject of money, there seems to be an unspoken rule that divorce is a taboo subject and should not be discussed by members of polite society.

I think that by keeping stories of divorce, along with the financial and emotional tolls that accompany it, private, we are losing a wonderful opportunity to benefit the greater good.

Divorce ranks near the top of potential obstacles that can derail one off the path to financial success.

Years and years of savings and investing can disappear in a blink of an eye, leaving a divorcee reeling and in a financial tailspin.

Because it is often not talked about publicly, many individuals feel isolated and have the daunting task of rebuilding their lives without guidance.

In the Holmes-Rahe Life Stress Inventory scale, divorce is only second to death of a spouse in terms of the negative impact it has on an individual.

In a hope to break this cycle of silence and isolation, I share the story of my divorce and the emotional and financial roller coaster I was put on so that someone in a similar predicament can gain solace that there is indeed light at the end of a seemingly endless dark tunnel.

The Most Contested Divorce Ever

“This was the most contested divorce I have ever presided over.”

That is certainly not a line you ever wish to hear from a very senior chancery judge as he is announcing the divorce decree.

Unfortunately that was exactly what I heard that day, and I have no doubt that it was the truth, for every person I have since shared this story with has agreed that mine was indeed a divorce for the ages.

My cultural background is Indian and although I am about as “Americanized” as you can get, having come to the US during my first year of life, the traditions from that culture were pervasive throughout my childhood, courtesy of my parents.

My father was a physician (Internal Medicine) who married my mother almost sight unseen as part of an arranged marriage.

Arranged marriages are steeped with Indian tradition dating back hundreds of years.

Marriage in the old country was often looked at as a business arrangement as families sought to combine with other families to maintain or improve their stature in society.

Arranged marriage worked out for my parents as they had a long and happy marriage of 19 years until my dad passed away from pancreatic cancer at the age of 50.

Fast-forward now a little over a quarter of a century after my first steps on American soil and you now find me entering my final year of radiology residency.

Although there have always been casual talks from my mother about me “finding some nice Indian girl to marry” for several years prior, it was the fact that I was about to become a “real doctor” that seemed to serve as a wakeup call for her.

I truly believe that my mother felt once some real doctor money started rolling in I would be lost to the lifestyle associated with it and the likelihood that she would have an Indian daughter-in-law would be severely reduced.

My mother then enlisted the help of “her global network” to actively try and find me a suitable girl to marry before the opportunity slipped away.

This global search finally produced what they deemed a “suitable match” for me.

This girl was two years younger than me, who was brought up in England and, like me, was a physician (somehow I think this was the only criteria it took for the matchmakers to give their endorsement even though they said they matched our birth horoscope charts as well).

Trying to appease my mother, I reluctantly agreed to see where this could possible take me.

We communicated for approximately three months through emails and phone calls and then it was decided that we should meet in person.

Originally we had both agreed that this would be a no-pressure introduction.

I had expressed concern previously over the phone with her that I would likely be subject to intense pressure from both our families to go ahead and proceed with the marriage from the very first moment we met.

She assured me that this would not be the case.

Tying The Arranged Knot

It was the one-year anniversary of 9/11 when she arrived on American soil.

Members from both families descended to my home and promptly placed me in a pressure cooker type situation, imploring me to go ahead and proceed with the first step of an Indian marriage by undergoing a formal registration with her.

I reluctantly caved in to this pressure and not only were we officially registered later that week, but soon after we officially entered the bond of marriage on November 1st, less than two months from our initial meeting.

I was 31 years old and she was 29 at the time.

Unlike fairytales where the protagonist gets rewarded for taking a leap of faith, my leap caused me to jump off a cliff without a parachute.

Trouble In Paradise

Early in the marriage there were troubling signs that cropped up that made me doubt the veracity of this person being a “perfect match.”

I had arranged for her to start in my radiology residency program by agreeing to stay on as faculty during the course of her training (four years).

Things that I will not elaborate on happened however and, within two months of starting this coveted radiology residency spot, she was dismissed from the program.

This created much strife between us as I had vouched for her in the first place and the unceremonious way she was ejected from the program left her with much disdain, primarily directed at me as I continued to have success in my career.

Throughout the remainder of the marriage she would try numerous times to get back into any residency program, regardless of specialty, but was always denied due to the black marks that were now plastered all over her medical records.

Family members, and myself, thought that perhaps starting a family could take her mind off her career troubles and she could instead move on by concentrating on being a mother.

Therefore in 2005 we welcomed our only child, a daughter, into the world.

I thought surely being a mother would give her a sense of renewed purpose in life and reduce the angst she felt of a medical career cut short.

I was mistaken. In fact things worsened as I saw more behavioral issues start to crop up in day-to-day life.

In Indian custom divorce is shunned upon and, as such, quite a rare occurrence. Because of this cultural pressure, I endured my marriage as long as I could.

Another reason why I tolerated such an awful marriage for as long as I did was because of my daughter.

I did not want her to be a product of divorce if I could help it.

It seemed however that even I could not withstand the depths that my marriage sank to, as the behavioral changes of my wife got increasingly problematic.

The Beginning Of The End

After eight years, which felt like pure hell, I decided that I could no longer remain married and I filed for divorce.

Part of the reason I decided to file was a close friend I confided in about the situation told me that I was actually causing more harm to my daughter by staying in an unloving and quite tumultuous marriage and having her witness it firsthand.

In February 2010 I officially signed the paperwork needed for divorce proceedings.

This act apparently woke up the sleeping giant that was my wife and a truly vindictive person emerged.

As was previously referenced, the divorce proceedings were lengthy and highly contentious.

My wife found an unscrupulous lawyer who saw me as having “deep pockets” being a successful physician in the community and between the two of them they fabricated so many allegations that I had to defend.

In this watered down version of what truly happened, all I can say is I had to defend myself across multiple court jurisdictions during these proceedings, including juvenile court and federal court, constantly being bombarded with the frivolous allegations this nightmare pairing of two people kept conjuring up.

Nothing stuck or held true with their accusations but since they never received any reprimand or financial disincentive, they continued to carry on unfazed.

The divorce was finalized 13 months from the date of filing and required numerous lengthy hearings throughout.

Because of the lengthy and contentious nature of the divorce, just the legal fees I accumulated alone were staggering.

I was hemorrhaging money each month as all money coming in would be earmarked for my legal defense.

When all was said and done, the damage to my net worth breached $850k:

$300k+ for my own attorney fees.

The entire value of our 401k ($140k). The judge awarded her the entire amount to balance the $125k worth of shares I had in my office practice that I kept.

The entire value of my Health Savings Account ($25k).

Alimony for 3 years: $75,600.

Child Support for 6 years before I gained custody of my daughter back: $151,200.

Equity in two condominiums ($60k).

$100k cash due 30 days after divorce decree to offset her legal costs.

By this time I had completely depleted my savings and had to pay using credit card access checks.

“Do you know why divorces are so expensive? Because they are worth it.” – Willie Nelson

I was left with the marital home which was underwater with respect to the mortgage balance due to the housing crisis that had just occurred as well as my student loan debt.

I wish I could say that I completely washed my hands off of my vindictive ex when I finally divorced her, but unfortunately her lawyer and her had one last parting shot at me that caused me to incur another $225k of expenses when all was said and done.

This brought the financial damages from this ill-fated arranged marriage over the 7-figure mark.

Climbing Back Up The Cliff With Broken Legs

I was truly financially devastated and, at the end of a very painful and emotionally intense chapter of my life, I was running on fumes.

I could have called it quits and fully complete the death spiral I was currently on (believe me I came close on more than one occasion).

But something kept a small spark going in me and that, coupled with the fact that I did not want to give my ex-wife any more satisfaction from seeing me fail, motivated me to pick myself up from the rubble and build anew.

I was about to turn 40 a month after my divorce was finalized.

I knew that I had to do something drastic that would allow me to retire at all, let alone early, as I was essentially starting from square one again.

It was at this financial low point that I saw the financial light.

I developed a keen interest in personal finance, frequenting sites such the Bogleheads, and later Financial Samurai.

I would voraciously read through personal finance books that helped shed light on the financial mistakes I have made in the past so I would not repeat them in the future.

As I employed the tried and true methods championed by these personal finance giants, I not only saw my net worth grow to its pre-divorce levels, but I quickly saw it surpass it by leaps and bounds.

The best revenge on someone who has caused you harm is to show that person that, despite his or her best shot at you, you not only survived but are now flourishing.

I decided to throw all extra cash coming into my household to pay down what remaining debt I had, and became completely debt free April 2015.

I was especially proud of this achievement, as it was just a mere 4 years after I had just experienced my financial lowest point.

By following the principles of saving, living below your means, and avoiding lifestyle creep, I positioned myself to my current financial standing where many would say I have already achieved financial independence status at the age of 47.

I have shared a version of this story on my blog as part of my multipart series, “I Made Every Mistake In The Book” and have received so much love and support from that particular post that I thought others may receive similar benefit.

I therefore opened my platform for readers to share their divorce stories (anonymous or not) in the Divorce and Fire series I created.

Every participant has written back to me expressing the gratitude of being able to release something that he or she had been bottling up inside as well as from receiving encouraging words of support from other commentators.

Advice Before Getting Married

1) Be on the same financial page. It is of utmost importance to find a life long partner that has your same financial beliefs. If one is a saver and the other is a spender you will never make any financial headway, much like a colander will never fill with water despite how much you pour into it.

2) No shame in a prenuptial agreement. A prenuptial agreement should be strongly considered, especially if one partner is bringing in a disproportionate amount of assets into the marriage of if there are prior children involved (“blended marriage”).

3) Seek premarital financial counseling. Premarital financial counseling may help bring to light concerns from both parties that can be addressed prior to combining finances.

4) Do not cave into familial/cultural pressures. You are the one that will be living day to day with this person, not them. By trying to appease others like I did, you are putting your own emotional health at risk if you were forced into something you felt inside was wrong.

Thanks for reading. -Xrayvsn

Related posts:

Wedding Rules To Follow If You Don’t Want To End Up Broke And Alone

Financial Dependence Is The Worst: Why Each Spouse Should Have Their Own Funds

Readers, anybody go through a contentious divorce? What are some lessons you’ve learned? What would you do over again besides never marrying that person? Is marriage overrated?

The post A Divorce Ruined My Life, But I Clawed My Way Back appeared first on Financial Samurai.

from Finance https://www.financialsamurai.com/divorce-ruined-my-life/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[mcjoelcain]

A Divorce Ruined My Life, But I Clawed My Way Back

Divorce is one of the worst destroyers of wealth. May you never have to go through one. Love birds beware. The following is a guest post from FS reader and medical doctor, Xrayvsn.

Divorce.

Few words in the English language can elicit as negative a visceral response as that of divorce.

Despite its increasing prevalence in society, stories of divorce and the subsequent impact on one’s finances are rarely discussed in the personal finance community.

Like the subject of money, there seems to be an unspoken rule that divorce is a taboo subject and should not be discussed by members of polite society.

I think that by keeping stories of divorce, along with the financial and emotional tolls that accompany it, private, we are losing a wonderful opportunity to benefit the greater good.

Divorce ranks near the top of potential obstacles that can derail one off the path to financial success.

Years and years of savings and investing can disappear in a blink of an eye, leaving a divorcee reeling and in a financial tailspin.

Because it is often not talked about publicly, many individuals feel isolated and have the daunting task of rebuilding their lives without guidance.

In the Holmes-Rahe Life Stress Inventory scale, divorce is only second to death of a spouse in terms of the negative impact it has on an individual.

In a hope to break this cycle of silence and isolation, I share the story of my divorce and the emotional and financial roller coaster I was put on so that someone in a similar predicament can gain solace that there is indeed light at the end of a seemingly endless dark tunnel.

The Most Contested Divorce Ever

“This was the most contested divorce I have ever presided over.”

That is certainly not a line you ever wish to hear from a very senior chancery judge as he is announcing the divorce decree.

Unfortunately that was exactly what I heard that day, and I have no doubt that it was the truth, for every person I have since shared this story with has agreed that mine was indeed a divorce for the ages.

My cultural background is Indian and although I am about as “Americanized” as you can get, having come to the US during my first year of life, the traditions from that culture were pervasive throughout my childhood, courtesy of my parents.

My father was a physician (Internal Medicine) who married my mother almost sight unseen as part of an arranged marriage.

Arranged marriages are steeped with Indian tradition dating back hundreds of years.

Marriage in the old country was often looked at as a business arrangement as families sought to combine with other families to maintain or improve their stature in society.

Arranged marriage worked out for my parents as they had a long and happy marriage of 19 years until my dad passed away from pancreatic cancer at the age of 50.

Fast-forward now a little over a quarter of a century after my first steps on American soil and you now find me entering my final year of radiology residency.

Although there have always been casual talks from my mother about me “finding some nice Indian girl to marry” for several years prior, it was the fact that I was about to become a “real doctor” that seemed to serve as a wakeup call for her.

I truly believe that my mother felt once some real doctor money started rolling in I would be lost to the lifestyle associated with it and the likelihood that she would have an Indian daughter-in-law would be severely reduced.

My mother then enlisted the help of “her global network” to actively try and find me a suitable girl to marry before the opportunity slipped away.

This global search finally produced what they deemed a “suitable match” for me.

This girl was two years younger than me, who was brought up in England and, like me, was a physician (somehow I think this was the only criteria it took for the matchmakers to give their endorsement even though they said they matched our birth horoscope charts as well).

Trying to appease my mother, I reluctantly agreed to see where this could possible take me.

We communicated for approximately three months through emails and phone calls and then it was decided that we should meet in person.

Originally we had both agreed that this would be a no-pressure introduction.

I had expressed concern previously over the phone with her that I would likely be subject to intense pressure from both our families to go ahead and proceed with the marriage from the very first moment we met.

She assured me that this would not be the case.

Tying The Arranged Knot

It was the one-year anniversary of 9/11 when she arrived on American soil.

Members from both families descended to my home and promptly placed me in a pressure cooker type situation, imploring me to go ahead and proceed with the first step of an Indian marriage by undergoing a formal registration with her.

I reluctantly caved in to this pressure and not only were we officially registered later that week, but soon after we officially entered the bond of marriage on November 1st, less than two months from our initial meeting.

I was 31 years old and she was 29 at the time.

Unlike fairytales where the protagonist gets rewarded for taking a leap of faith, my leap caused me to jump off a cliff without a parachute.

Trouble In Paradise

Early in the marriage there were troubling signs that cropped up that made me doubt the veracity of this person being a “perfect match.”

I had arranged for her to start in my radiology residency program by agreeing to stay on as faculty during the course of her training (four years).

Things that I will not elaborate on happened however and, within two months of starting this coveted radiology residency spot, she was dismissed from the program.

This created much strife between us as I had vouched for her in the first place and the unceremonious way she was ejected from the program left her with much disdain, primarily directed at me as I continued to have success in my career.

Throughout the remainder of the marriage she would try numerous times to get back into any residency program, regardless of specialty, but was always denied due to the black marks that were now plastered all over her medical records.

Family members, and myself, thought that perhaps starting a family could take her mind off her career troubles and she could instead move on by concentrating on being a mother.

Therefore in 2005 we welcomed our only child, a daughter, into the world.

I thought surely being a mother would give her a sense of renewed purpose in life and reduce the angst she felt of a medical career cut short.

I was mistaken. In fact things worsened as I saw more behavioral issues start to crop up in day-to-day life.

In Indian custom divorce is shunned upon and, as such, quite a rare occurrence. Because of this cultural pressure, I endured my marriage as long as I could.

Another reason why I tolerated such an awful marriage for as long as I did was because of my daughter.

I did not want her to be a product of divorce if I could help it.

It seemed however that even I could not withstand the depths that my marriage sank to, as the behavioral changes of my wife got increasingly problematic.

The Beginning Of The End

After eight years, which felt like pure hell, I decided that I could no longer remain married and I filed for divorce.

Part of the reason I decided to file was a close friend I confided in about the situation told me that I was actually causing more harm to my daughter by staying in an unloving and quite tumultuous marriage and having her witness it firsthand.

In February 2010 I officially signed the paperwork needed for divorce proceedings.

This act apparently woke up the sleeping giant that was my wife and a truly vindictive person emerged.

As was previously referenced, the divorce proceedings were lengthy and highly contentious.

My wife found an unscrupulous lawyer who saw me as having “deep pockets” being a successful physician in the community and between the two of them they fabricated so many allegations that I had to defend.

In this watered down version of what truly happened, all I can say is I had to defend myself across multiple court jurisdictions during these proceedings, including juvenile court and federal court, constantly being bombarded with the frivolous allegations this nightmare pairing of two people kept conjuring up.

Nothing stuck or held true with their accusations but since they never received any reprimand or financial disincentive, they continued to carry on unfazed.

The divorce was finalized 13 months from the date of filing and required numerous lengthy hearings throughout.

Because of the lengthy and contentious nature of the divorce, just the legal fees I accumulated alone were staggering.

I was hemorrhaging money each month as all money coming in would be earmarked for my legal defense.

When all was said and done, the damage to my net worth breached $850k:

$300k+ for my own attorney fees.

The entire value of our 401k ($140k). The judge awarded her the entire amount to balance the $125k worth of shares I had in my office practice that I kept.

The entire value of my Health Savings Account ($25k).

Alimony for 3 years: $75,600.

Child Support for 6 years before I gained custody of my daughter back: $151,200.

Equity in two condominiums ($60k).

$100k cash due 30 days after divorce decree to offset her legal costs.

By this time I had completely depleted my savings and had to pay using credit card access checks.

“Do you know why divorces are so expensive? Because they are worth it.” – Willie Nelson

I was left with the marital home which was underwater with respect to the mortgage balance due to the housing crisis that had just occurred as well as my student loan debt.

I wish I could say that I completely washed my hands off of my vindictive ex when I finally divorced her, but unfortunately her lawyer and her had one last parting shot at me that caused me to incur another $225k of expenses when all was said and done.

This brought the financial damages from this ill-fated arranged marriage over the 7-figure mark.

Climbing Back Up The Cliff With Broken Legs

I was truly financially devastated and, at the end of a very painful and emotionally intense chapter of my life, I was running on fumes.

I could have called it quits and fully complete the death spiral I was currently on (believe me I came close on more than one occasion).

But something kept a small spark going in me and that, coupled with the fact that I did not want to give my ex-wife any more satisfaction from seeing me fail, motivated me to pick myself up from the rubble and build anew.

I was about to turn 40 a month after my divorce was finalized.

I knew that I had to do something drastic that would allow me to retire at all, let alone early, as I was essentially starting from square one again.

It was at this financial low point that I saw the financial light.

I developed a keen interest in personal finance, frequenting sites such the Bogleheads, and later Financial Samurai.

I would voraciously read through personal finance books that helped shed light on the financial mistakes I have made in the past so I would not repeat them in the future.

As I employed the tried and true methods championed by these personal finance giants, I not only saw my net worth grow to its pre-divorce levels, but I quickly saw it surpass it by leaps and bounds.

The best revenge on someone who has caused you harm is to show that person that, despite his or her best shot at you, you not only survived but are now flourishing.

I decided to throw all extra cash coming into my household to pay down what remaining debt I had, and became completely debt free April 2015.

I was especially proud of this achievement, as it was just a mere 4 years after I had just experienced my financial lowest point.

By following the principles of saving, living below your means, and avoiding lifestyle creep, I positioned myself to my current financial standing where many would say I have already achieved financial independence status at the age of 47.

I have shared a version of this story on my blog as part of my multipart series, “I Made Every Mistake In The Book” and have received so much love and support from that particular post that I thought others may receive similar benefit.

I therefore opened my platform for readers to share their divorce stories (anonymous or not) in the Divorce and Fire series I created.

Every participant has written back to me expressing the gratitude of being able to release something that he or she had been bottling up inside as well as from receiving encouraging words of support from other commentators.

Advice Before Getting Married

1) Be on the same financial page. It is of utmost importance to find a life long partner that has your same financial beliefs. If one is a saver and the other is a spender you will never make any financial headway, much like a colander will never fill with water despite how much you pour into it.

2) No shame in a prenuptial agreement. A prenuptial agreement should be strongly considered, especially if one partner is bringing in a disproportionate amount of assets into the marriage of if there are prior children involved (“blended marriage”).

3) Seek premarital financial counseling. Premarital financial counseling may help bring to light concerns from both parties that can be addressed prior to combining finances.

4) Do not cave into familial/cultural pressures. You are the one that will be living day to day with this person, not them. By trying to appease others like I did, you are putting your own emotional health at risk if you were forced into something you felt inside was wrong.

Thanks for reading. -Xrayvsn

Related posts:

Wedding Rules To Follow If You Don’t Want To End Up Broke And Alone

Financial Dependence Is The Worst: Why Each Spouse Should Have Their Own Funds

Readers, anybody go through a contentious divorce? What are some lessons you’ve learned? What would you do over again besides never marrying that person? Is marriage overrated?

The post A Divorce Ruined My Life, But I Clawed My Way Back appeared first on Financial Samurai.

from Money https://www.financialsamurai.com/divorce-ruined-my-life/ via http://www.rssmix.com/