#ignore me just losing my fucking mind having my worst breakdown yet

[du-garm]

.

[carry-on-my-wayward-butt]

So far what has been the worst thing about being pregnant?

oh so much, so equally.

sciatica, making it so i physically cannot walk without excruciating pain, but only at night when i need to get out of bed to piss. (thankfully i am not a type who needs to piss all the time. yet.)

acid reflux, a constant cold burn in my throat unfazed by tums but is ignorable if im constantly drinking something. so my stomach is always full of liquid, which makes the acid worse, so i have to keep drinking so i dont feel it.

i am So Fucking Hungry. “have less food more often! smaller, more frequent meals!” they say. “because your stomach will get smaller as baby grows!” i dont fucking think so babe. yes i can handle it. yes i know baby is growing rapidly and needs the nutrients and thats why my stomach is constantly growling. baby wants the entire meal, and baby wants another in two hours. pay up or perish. (by perish i mean my stomach will growl so loud you go deaf)

speaking of deaf, the sinus pressure has closed up one of my ears. it’ll go away after birth but the other ear has pulsatile tinnitus that i need surgery for because the sinus pressure and increased blood supply pushed my eardrum back, and i need a replacement prosthetic of some bone in my ear that isnt doing its job.

speaking of sinuses, there’s so much fucking blood in my body that sinus pressure causes nosebleeds, a common pregnancy issue. however, because of allergies i already had prior, my sinuses keep all the blood clotting up inside my sinuses. and because of acid reflux, i’m constantly spitting, so it never has time to settle and properly bleed. instead i cough, snort, and spit up 5-8 BLOOD CLOTS. FROM MY SINUSES. per day. some darker and heavier, most smaller and less dense. i am constantly creating suction pressure in my throat to dislodge blood clots from my nasopharynx. i am always snorting.

my tits are disgusting. i have lymphedema in the breasts, rather uncommon, and it has been completely mimicing the symptoms of breast cancer without having any lumps or actual tumors to show for it. anywhere. they’re simply an angry warm red, feel like an orange peel, hard as dried playdough, and the consistency of a memory foam mattress.

��yr areolas will darken uwu!”

and thats just what i hate the MOST.

things that just annoy me include:

always feeling both exhausted and like i NEED to clean everything. everything. all the time. im noticing dirt and mess that i’ve never seen before in my life. im rewashing perfectly clean items because im not the one who washed them initially.

nesting feels itchy. im exhausted midway through organizing the entire bathroom but i Have To keep going. its compulsive. it feels like an actual rat in my brain trying to claw its way out. and i struggle so badly to ignore it because half the shit i want to do cant be done until mid april. and it’s been scratching at me since like january. it kind of hurts.

also i love kicks but the rolls and swishes feel fucking gross, it feels like there’s a goldfish in my stomach just flopping around nastily. it tickles in a gross way.

i have to sleep on a wedge pillow in addition to my C pillow. both help immensely, but im so blocked off from davyn and it makes me sad. i have to tear my little nest apart if i want to cuddle, and then i can’t for very long because he lays down flat, and the aggravates my acid really badly.

horribly vivid dreams. ive never felt more disturbed by my dreams than i have the past few weeks. it feels so real, nothing like a normal weird dream. the concepts are strange but the environment is so convincing. and it’s usually nightmares.

im really forgetful now and its kind of scary. like genuinely scary because it feels like im losing my mind and its bringing up a lot of... gaslighty trauma from when i was a teenager. sometimes my memory is as perfect as usual, sometimes i forget what just came out of my mouth two seconds ago. davyn is really patient when i get scared.

and i have it relatively easy.

i dont have gestational diabetes, which would necessitate an entirely new diet that i KNOW i wouldnt be able to sustain.

i don’t have blood clots, so i dont have to take those awful shots that bruise the injection site so terribly(i took them after my knee surgery, i switched to warfarin because i couldnt stand the shots anymore after only a week).

i dont have cervical insufficiency, which runs in my family and would necessitate a much higher level of care.

i dont have an Rh incompatibility with my baby, which would necessitate a higher level of care but also one of the most painful shots you can get in pregnancy. in the ass cheek.

i didnt have morning sickness AT ALL, just occasional nausea and not even consistently. some people puke multiple times a day and struggle eating anything. for the entire duration.

i don’t have tons of emotional outbursts, i had one breakdown about davyn eating my banana, one about davyn saying “the pillow is my girlfriend now” because i fixated on the word girlfriend, one because i left soda in the freezer and it exploded, and i cry easily over touching youtube videos a little more easily. thats it. 3 breakdowns and a tender heart. over the past 7 months.

i have it quite easy, and most of all im doing this on purpose.

i’ll say it again every time: reproductive choice is a hill i will happily die on. absolutely fucking nobody deserves any of this, least of all people who don’t know its coming and didnt want it anyway.

i wanted this, and im doing it eagerly. i just also hate it and it sucks and im glad it’ll be over soon and i can have my screamy poopy wrinkly baby on the outside where i can actually LOOK at them and HOLD them and know the tangible fruits of my labor. feels like im wading through a sewer to reach some unknown treasure that im praying will still be there when i get to the end.

make sure your birth control timer is set properly. wrap yr meat. stay aware. etc.

[tinyboxxtink]

“Sharky” *Part 7*

I have a question y’all, do you think that I make my fics too short? I always tend to keep them at 10 chapters because I feel like my attention span goes, but I see other fics are sometimes substantially longer. I really have some good plot plans for this one, so we’ll see how long it goes. 

Also OMG the gif works so well with the scene please send help.

Tag List

@wanniiieeee

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@word-scribbless

@dumauier

@gibbs274

@aprildecker-blog

@objection-argumentative

Chapter List Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8

“Rafael...Rafael come on don’t make me run in these shoes,” You called after him, scampering in your stilettos. Rafael finally stopped and turned to face you.

“What, Y/N? What could you possibly say to me?” He said exasperatedly. 

“Well this is familiar…” You half smiled. It was a call back to your first “date”.

“You really want to make jokes right now? He asked angrily.

“Sorry...I’m sorry,” You awkwardly looked at the ground. “For everything,”

“For everything,” He scoffed with a roll of his eyes. 

“Yes! For everything,” You tried to step towards him, but he stepped back. 

“For what, exactly? For stealing my stuff? For going through my apartment? For DRUGGING me?” 

“I did NOT--”

“Oh don’t even. I had such weird dreams that I haven’t had except for when I was taking hydrocodone for a back surgery,” He crossed his arms.

“Oh come on it wasn’t even half a pill there’s no way you could have--”

“SEE, I knew it! What the fuck is WRONG with you?!” He stared at you with disbelief.

“I...I don’t know…” You bit your lip.

“Right,” He shook his head with a sarcastic smile and turned to walk away, but you grabbed his hand.

“But look I’m sorry, okay and, and I didn’t give these to Buchanan yet so I’m going to delete them, right now and--” You started to show him the CONFIDENTIAL photos you took last night, but for the first time you were looking at them properly.

“I thought you were deleting them,” He said almost on top of you when he realized what you had taken photos of.

“What is this?” You zoomed in on the files, your face growing pale. “Rafael, what is this?” 

“Look we’re talking about what YOU did, Y/N--” He started to deflect but you weren’t hearing any more.

“My NAME is all over this, Rafael,” You could feel your panic attack coming back. The files were basically a full blown background check on you. Your family, your career, everything.

“It’s...not what you think,” Now it was his voice that went soft.

“It’s not what I--I can’t fucking believe this,” You laughed sarcastically, tears stinging your eyes. “You’re not upset I ‘played’ you, you’re upset you got outplayed!”

“What? What does that even mean?” He scoffed.

“YOU ASKED ME OUT,” You almost screamed. “You asked me out to get more dirt on me!”

“No,  I didn’t I--” He tried to deny it.

“Bullshit! Then what the fuck is this?!”  You shook the phone at him. “God I can’t believe I felt bad for-- GOD you’re such a--”

“Oh no no no, don’t even. I didn’t sleep with you and steal your property,” He acted like he was the victim once again.

“Yeah, because I didn’t give you the chance!” You were fuming.

“Look I didn’t even get that information, okay? Liv did. She did a whole background check on you when she thought I was interested in you...MONTHS ago. And I never even looked at it!” He tried explaining everything away. Nothing was ever his fault. 

“But you kept it. Just in case,” You narrowed your eyes.

“Well obviously I’m glad I did,” He bit back.

“God...Olivia,” You scoffed. “You know she’s the only reason we’re in this,” You rolled your eyes at that stupid woman. 

“Excuse me?”

“I wanted to go out with you for REAL, Rafael. Which clearly was never on your agenda,” You stomped your heel. 

“Oh come on that’s--” He shook his head.

“Yeah, and then not only did you embarrass the fuck out of me, then your little bitch called Buchanan and TOLD ON US,” You spat. The whole thing was enough to set you on fire, if she hadn’t butt in at all you would be in Rafael’s arms right now and not having it out in the middle of the street.

“...She what?” His voice went soft again; he didn’t even correct you on calling her a bitch.

“Yeah, turns out she thought I was trying to “coerce” you to my side, or that’s what she told Buchanan,” You spat. “And THEN, and ONLY then, did Buchanan come to me and threaten my god damn JOB and CAREER unless I got those receipts!”

“He...he threatened you…?” Rafael’s head was spinning. Had you really cared about him this whole time?

“YES, and-- and you know what is the WORST part of all of this?” You shook your head and laughed bitterly.

“What--? He looked afraid of the answer.

“I KEPT THE RECEIPTS,” You yelled, feeling yourself about to breakdown.

“What do you mean, you kept the receipts?�� He asked with concern.

“I took this last night,” You pulled the USB you swiped from your blazer pocket. “And--And after I sat there, I let you-- I--- and then you called me ‘mi amor’, and I--” Your mind was running a mile a minute, you couldn’t finish a thought.

“I did what?” He stared at you in shock. 

“You don’t even remember that,” You scoffed angrily “Of course you don’t. You didn’t fucking mean it, I knew that,” 

“I….I…” Rafael’s eyes went back and forth as his mind was racing, trying to figure out exactly what he had said out loud last night and what he had dreamed of.

“And I felt SO BAD, so bad, and I thought that I--that we---” You were still reeling, you couldn’t believe this was happening. 

“Y/N…” Rafael’s face was apologetic now but you were done. 

“I made copies of the receipts and I put them on this USB and I was going to give it back to you, and then you could just tell Buchanan that you had made copies and saved them beforehand, and I didn’t get my hands on it. Because I didn’t give it to him, Rafael. I saved it and I was going to save YOU,” You were full on having a breakdown, tears were falling down your face. Rafael’s face fell completely and he reached for you.

“Y/N I am so--”

“NO!!!!” You jerked away from him. “You played me! I can’t believe all the bullshit you gave me, all the guilt I felt, the feelings I thought--”

“I didn’t play you Y/N I swear to you, I asked you out because I--” He grabbed your hands this time. “I really did like you, I DO like you,” 

“No, I’m not listening to any of your bullshit of what I ‘felt’ or some sappy bullshit, not for one more second,” You ripped away from him and started to storm off; But you were going to show him once and for all who was the heartless one. 

“And you know what, counselor? Congratulations, you outplayed the best of the best. Well done. Here’s your prize,” You threw the USB at him and stormed off, leaving him speechless.

---- 

You stomped back inside and went straight to the family bathroom nearby, locking it behind you just before you broke down crying. Your phone began buzzing wildly, “RAFAEL” flashed on your screen. IGNORE.

It rang again, and again and again. You finally picked it up and screamed “LEAVE ME ALONE,” and hung up. 

Why did you give him that USB? Now you were going to lose your job on top of everything else.

You finally composed yourself long enough to make it back to your desk, where Buchanan was waiting. 

“Ah, Y/L/N, So I just got a very...interesting call from Barba,” He gave you a look.

“I’m sure you did,” you thought to yourself. “Oh?” You asked out loud.

“Yes it turns out, that he had those receipts on a backup USB he had at his office,” He said in an accusatory tone.

“Oh. That’s unfortunate,” You did your best to keep cool.

“It is, and also very peculiar. Seeing as he was so upset when he came over here, acting like he didn’t have a chance,” He kept his suspicious tone.

“He probably just forgot he had it at the office, you know on the account of being drugged last night and all,” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m  sorry, what?” John’s eyes perked up.

“A quarter of a hydrocodone, he’s fine,” You waved it off. “Probably made him foggy though,”

“Uh huh...I’m sure,” He nodded. “And about those photos…”

“Oh, don’t count on it,” You shook your head as you handed him your phone.

“Oh, damn Y/L/N,” He chuckled. “Seems that ADA really took you for a ride, didn’t he? Maybe I overestimated you,” That hit so much harder right now, and he knew it. 

“Just...I’m sorry, okay?” You looked at the floor in shame.

“Well, you did your best there, my little shark,” He nodded to the plushie as he walked away. You picked it up and tossed it into the trash as you did your best not to burst into tears again.

------

Meanwhile across town, Barba was storming into Olivia Benson’s office at the NYPD.

“What is your problem, Olivia?” He barked.

“Excuse me?” Olivia was floored that Rafael would yell at her like this.

“Liv look, I know that we’re best friends, and we’ve known each other a long time but--- I’m not yours,” He sighed.

“I’m sorry?” She acted oblivious.

“You know what I’m talking about,”

“I really don’t--”

“Y/N, Olivia,” Barba cut her off.

“What about her?”

“The background check? The little phone call to Buchanan?” He asked angrily.

“Wha-- how are you going to be mad at me for being right about her?” She scoffed.

“YOU WEREN’T RIGHT,” He yelled while throwing his hands up in the air.

“Were you or were you not just in here ranting about how she just slept with you to get that evidence?” Olivia crossed her arms. 

“And she gave it back,” He held out the USB. 

“...Why would she do that?” Olivia was still lost.

“Because she cares about me, Olivia! But because of you, I’m pretty sure I’ll never get her trust back,” He yelled in frustration.

“No, no that can’t be right. She must have an angle,” Olivia persisted.

“Why, because the only one allowed to care about me is you?” Rafael asked coldly. 

“That is--” Olivia shook her head, not believing he had just gone there.

“Look, Liv I haven’t wanted to have this conversation because your friendship is so important to me,” He softened his voice. “But...that’s it. Our friendship,”

“Wow, Rafa. Wow I cannot believe you just come in here and start yelling at me, and start lecturing me on what our relationship is. Are you really that full of yourself?!” She was pissed now.

“Liv, we both know that’s why--”

“I was looking after you as a FRIEND, jackass,” She scoffed. “And anyway, why do you care so much all of a sudden? A week ago she was the devil to you! Now you’re in love with her?”

“I’m not---I don’t---” Rafael tried to find the words. “I could have, Liv. I really could have,”

“....I really am sorry, Rafael,” Olivia went and put her hand over his, and he let her. He looked up at her with soft eyes, finally letting a small smile form.

“I know you are,” He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. 

Maybe it wasn’t meant to be, maybe he should just quit fighting it. Maybe he could be happy with Olivia, he was never going to get you back now anyway.

Was he?

------

*A Month Later*

You were working late again, it seemed like lately all you did was work. You practically slept in your office these days. A few of your co-workers passed by laughing and chatting.

“Hey, Y/L/N, what are you doing? It’s a holiday!”

“Halloween hardly qualifies as a holiday Spencer,” You rolled your eyes. “It’s just an excuse for kids to load up on candy and adults to load up on booze,” 

“Exactly!” Kyra, the young intern, chimed in. Of course the guys were trying to get her to go ‘party’ with them. 

“Aw come on, we’re gonna go crash the NYPD’s Halloween Bash,” Your third co-worker Greg added.

“.....Really?” You asked with a sly smile, the wheels in your head were turning. 

“Oh yeah, their chief always gets the good booze,” Spencer laughed. “You’re gonna need a costume though,” 

“Oh I’ve got just the costume…” You smirked while logged off your laptop and grabbed your briefcase,

You’d show the whole NYPD just who was the fairest of them all….

[heartofdaydreams]

I've seen a few things about people spreading misinformation about Maladaptive Daydreaming again. I've also seen some people say "you're exaggerating, it can't be that bad."

It can. So I'm gonna share a small story of just how bad MaDD can get.

TW: suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, self harm, depression

I was 10 years old when my immerssive daydreaming turned maladaptive. Gradually, all I could focus on were my daydreams, real people and things stopped mattering and I actually got physically violent (as much as a 10 year old can) if someone insulted the source materials my paracosms were from. I didn't understand what was happening. All I knew is my family were in my head and the real world was becoming a lie and emotionally distant.

I was 11 when MaDD caused me to have depression. And I know some people are going to say "you were 11 it couldn't have been that bad, you probably just wanted attention." Yea. I did want attention. You know why? Because I was fucking depressed, dealing with something I thought no one else in the world went through, and wanted help. I thought a lot of the time I was faking it and I was just being "special" but I look back on it now and I realise how bad it was.

By that point I had become so obsessed with my daydreams that I started to look for conspiracy theories about the world not being real online. I thought that was the only way I could find comfort that one day I could be with my paras. I'd have breakdowns almost every night because I needed to be with them but they weren't there. I needed to talk to them about how real life didn't mean shit to me anymore but they weren't there because they weren't real life. I lost so many friends because I "didn't care enough" which just made everything worse because without friends in real life, my only company was in my daydreams. I started to hate myself because I wasn't my parame no matter how hard I tried. When I tell you I went through every day of school thinking that people were staring at me subtly because of how bad I looked, I'm not exaggerating. I actually thought I was the worst person I knew, all because I couldn't get out of my own head. I started writing vent letters to myself about how I didn't want to be me but I wanted to be me, in my paracosm, with my family, loved. I started writing about how I wanted to die if it meant I didn't have to be me in this world anymore.

That was also when I started cutting. I was so desperate to feel something in the real world. All I wanted was confirmation that I was real and valid. I was so desperate to have the support my parame had. I was making a sign for help but then hid that sign where no one could see it. Eventually it stopped becoming about feeling something real that other people felt but about making what my parame felt in my daydreams real. She was constantly in pain due to fights she'd get in or universes she had to defend and I wanted anything she had. So if that meant giving myself pain to even feel a fraction like her then that what it meant. Take it from me, it doesn't help. It just made everything feel a whole lot worse because even though I had that, it wasn't the same and I needed it to be the same.

I never got the help I needed. When I tried to reach out I was ignored so I retreated once again into my mind and let my paras help me through it.

I was 12 years old when I first attempted suicide. I was a child. I wasn't even allowed on social media yet, I shouldn't have known what the word "suicide" meant. It was my last resort. I had the stupid idea in my head that maybe if I died, I'd be reincarnated as my parame and I could be happy. And if I didn't, losing my life in this world meant nothing to me anyway. Luckily, I was too young to actually know how to do it properly. I also, deep down where I couldn't really tell I was telling myself it, was too scared to finish it. I remember several attempts after where I got pretty damn close though. Again, when I tried to reach out I was ignored. I spoke about it too casually because to me it was normal and because of that I got told I was faking it. That if I really was suicidal I wouldn't talk about it like that. I was a child and suicide was normal to me because I couldn't feel things the same way everyone else could.

So by the age of 12, I despised myself, I had depression, I self harmed, I had attempted suicide several times, all because I daydreamed too much.

I'm 15 now and just barely recovering from all that.

So you think MaDD is an exaggeration? You think it's "not that bad?" Try telling that to the fucking children who want to die, who are trying to die, because they can't handle it. Try telling that to the people who suffer that every day. Try telling that to the people who don't eat, drink or sleep because they forget to because daydreams are more important than health to them. Try telling that to the people who can't have a conversation it anyone because even the word "hi" can trigger an 8 hour daydreaming session that they can't stop.

MaDD is a disorder, no matter how unofficial. It sucks. It isn't quirky. It isn't just daydreaming a lot. Please be respectful that people suffer and only self diagnose with proper resarch. Is my case particularly bad? Yes. Others may suffer more minor inconveniences but it isn't a competition. They're still valid and still struggle. The point is, this is what it can do to people and it should not be taken lightly.

[kayteewritessteve]

Beautifully Unfinished - 1/8

Description: One foolish outburst, one moment of weakness at the worst possible time, and everything goes up in smoke. Who knew finally voicing your true, deep-rooted feelings, would lead to the complete destruction of your most cherished friendship?

Masterlist HERE.

Word Count: 1,130 ish.

Pairing: Modern!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Swear words. Lots of angst. But if you’ve read my stories before, then you know how this will end.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And I have no beta reader either, so I do proudly own all the errors and this story, so there’s that.

A/N2: This mini series has been sitting in my drafts for months, and I think I’m finally ready to share it. It’s pretty much entirely written at this point, just have to finish up a few things, and it will be very angsty as it’s based off the Ella Henderson song Beautifully Unfinished. So anywho, I truly hope you enjoy this mini series! ❤️❤️❤️

The Present.

The Sunday summer shower pelts down against the living room window in front of you. The weather matching your eyes, your emotions and your life in this moment. The only sounds around you in the deafening silence of the room, is the tick tock of your wall clock and the rain tinging on the window.

Your heart is still pounding in your chest. Your lips still tingle from where his touched, the remnants of his kiss feeling like a bruise upon them now. You still feel like you can’t breath, but every time you are with him somehow you forget to breath, so that’s not a new feeling. Though this time, that feeling goes along with his touch, like his finger tips are tattooed upon your skin. The memory and feeling of his hands on you, replaying over and over in your mind. It had felt so natural, so normal, so right.

But it wasn’t. It was all in your head. Because this was it. This is what you asked for. This is how it would all end. Your life long friendship, your life long crush. Though it was always more than just a crush. He was your world, in every way imaginable. And that fact alone smothered you, nearly killed you.

How you could love someone this deeply, this intensely, and someone who never actually belonged to you, was crazy.

You felt like a rag doll, like a puppet, like you were always dancing on his strings. The stings that he controlled fully and entirely. Not in the sense that he did it on purpose, more in the sense of your own feelings. You’d do anything for him. When he called, you would go running. If he ever needed anything, you were there in a heartbeat, and with a smile on your face.

I mean, it wasn’t one sided, he did the same for you. Every time you ever needed him, he was there in minutes. He is—was your best friend. Your childhood crush. Your adulthood love. Though he never knew any of this. Not till tonight at least.

You had finally put it all out there. Yes, the timing was horrendous, but that seemed to be a character trait of yours. Poor as fuck timing. You always left everything to the last minute, and this wasn’t any different. Though maybe worse.

He’s getting married, and to the love of his life, in a week. Just 7 days until you lose any chance you’ve ever had at your one true love. At your happily ever after. At the life you’ve always dreamed about, the relationship you’ve always craved, and the man you’ve always wanted. The one all others are put up against, instantly, but never even come close.

But maybe you never actually had a chance to begin with.

You feel a tear slip from your lid and slide unchallenged down your cheek. Surprised you still have any tears left in you at all. You’d never cried this hard, or this much, in your life. You’d managed to hold it together until the door slammed shut behind him, and then you’d lost it. Truly and fully let it all out.

Your face is now slightly dry, as it had been a few hours since he left. A few hours since you placed a bomb in the middle of your friendship and then promptly hit the ignition switch.

You glance over your shoulder at your phone, still laying discarded on your couch. Where it had been forgotten in your efforts to destroy the one friendship that meant the very most to you, and then had been ignored during your breakdown, had been pointedly left there in your efforts to calm your quickly shattering heart.

But now you can’t pretend it isn’t there anymore. It’s jet black screen taunting you, mocking you. There is no change, no notifications, no incoming anything. But you knew he wasn’t going to love you back. He wasn’t going to change his mind. He wasn’t going to just magically start feeling the same way about you.

Just because you’d put it all out there, just because this is how you’d always felt about him, that didn’t change a damn thing. That didn’t instantly make you the one he’d want, the one he’d choose. He loved her. He always had and he always would. She was it for him. Entirely.

You numbly move towards the couch, picking up your phone and checking for anything. But there is nothing. No missed calls, no new texts. No nothing.

You stare down at it in your hands for a moment, your vision still slightly blurry from the tears. You stare at it until the screen goes back to black, just to click the unlock button so it lights it up once again, and instantly hate yourself for checking a second time for notifications. As if the first time you just hadn’t seen them. As if they had just been hiding originally, and now would be sitting there, waiting for your attention.

You come to the crippling realization that you’d had it right the first time. There was nothing, no missed calls, no texts. A loud sob escapes your lips as you chuck your phone across the room in a fit of anger, but probably more so in an outburst of immense heartache. Of paralyzing sorrow. Of embarrassment on a monstrous level. And of the body numbing emptiness you now feel consuming you.

In this moment, you hate him. But yet, you love him. Desperately. And even though you had wished he’d have gone away before you’d put it all out there. Before you’d opened up your soul to him. Once you had done that, and he’d then just left, all you’d wished for was that he’d have stayed. That he’d have picked you. Had chosen you in this, and in his life.

But he hadn’t. He’d picked her. Which you knew was going to happen. Deep, deep down you truly knew opening your mouth wasn’t going to end well. It wouldn’t accomplish anything aside from causing issues, aside from putting a riff between you and your best friend. The one and only person you truly can’t lose, because you will be entirely lost without him. The one person you can never win, no matter how much you try. How much you fight. How much you open up and put yourself out there. Put your heart on the line.

He will never be yours, and you will never be his. Because you can’t force someone to love you. You can’t push someone into being with another, especially one they don’t want to be with. But especially one they don’t love. He might be your first and only true love, but you aren’t his. And you never will be.

Because maybe all you’re meant to be is Beautifully Unfinished...

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Whelp, there’s part 1. I’ll be posting a new part every day till this story is finished, so if you don’t want to be tagged on this series, just tell me. And if you want to be tagged, then I can do that as well!

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[calypsoff]

Twenty One. Part 3

Dragging the chair from the vanity table, Robyn hasn’t moved or said anything yet and the aura in the room is pretty thick. The only thick aura I am used too is when it’s sexual tension but this aura, it’s heavy. This whole room is seeping hurt and pain, it’s like Robyn has been living in this room without even allowing air to enter it. Like she has been holding onto something, I didn’t place the chair too close, I want to give her space. Sitting down on the chair, placing the bear on my lap facing Robyn “we are listening” she smiled, she actually smiled, and it was most pleasing to see, it was a slight smirk but something “can I ask? Like before you say anything?” maybe I should let her speak but I need to ask her this “sure” I hope this doesn’t stop her from wanting to tell me “why did you let me go and why with all the sudden lies, why did you do that to me and made me look stupid?” that really just pissed me off that she even did that to me, I didn’t deserve that from her at all “if I speak will you listen to me, I mean listen to me and don’t speak over me? You will let me finish off without getting annoyed with what I say, without you getting up in a huff. I will tell you everything, but I need you to promise me this because this is hard on me not you. You don’t know how hard this is for me Chris and when I am finished speaking you can then either walk away or I don’t know do what you need to do. And no I haven’t cheated, I never cheated. This has nothing to do with cheating, I want to mention that before you jump because I know your mind. You are thinking I cheated, I never but it’s my journey so please let me talk, if you love me” now I am thinking what the fuck could it be, this is hard because I am thinking all sorts, but I do love Robyn so much “I promise” she breathed out, like that was hard for her to even do.

I didn’t, well don’t want to tell him, but I don’t feel free and he can be so nasty so I am expecting the worst for him, to even say it’s my fault because he never wanted that, but I need to free myself, but I will never be free. I have been so empty inside since, I am so lost within myself. I am walking with no soul, I have frantically been searching for something to tell me that I will be ok but there is nothing, I haven’t mourned, I am still just reliving my moment, reliving the fact I really just killed my own baby, and nobody can tell me otherwise “I am listening?” Chris said breaking my train of thought “I came back to California and threw myself into work, preparations for this worst mistake of my life, preparations took over, from day to night. Everything was so rushed because I wanted to be with you in Mexico. I wanted to spend time with you for your birthday so my schedule was compact, and when I could, I slept but that was short lived because I had not much time to prepare, this is a big deal. First time any record label is doing such a thing and I felt half prepared for that moment, so I just rehearsed as much as I could, helped prepare. Then yes, I neglected you because you were the easiest too, I neglected my own family but maybe I should have thought. I could have told Tina to text you but it’s not her job too, you say I could have text you but what would one text do for you? I knew deep down that you would be annoyed, I had so much going on. Last minute album things, I was late on my period, but I put it behind me because my work, it comes first and I needed to excel, I needed to perform and make people happy.”

“I arrived on the plane, greeted the fans and paparazzi, journalist that came to hound me. I got on the plane and you weren’t there, but you were on the plane. Take off, before I could react Jay Brown told me to sit, I have to sit because it’s take off. We took off, I went into first class to speak to some journalists, I have to do it. I have no choice in that, but you weren’t there and then I get asked, I get asked why my boyfriend is in the back and why he attacked another journalist. Jay took me out of the situation, and I was angry at you, Mel said she would go and get you and then you know the rest because you came. But my mood died when I got back to California, I was being erratic, I was being mean, hurtful. My body was being pushed so much that I ended up being robotic, I was pushing myself so much because I needed to impress, I had too, this is what I get paid for. Record label spending millions for this but I ignored myself, my body. And we had that disagreement, it was on me. You have never been or done something like this before, so this was me, my fault. We were angry at each other through the whole thing, while I was angry I had to perform, I was going through changes I could feel, I was dropping dead sleeping. I don’t even remember how I got on the plane, I didn’t until you said I carried you. Carried me? I was confused, I couldn’t eat because I felt sick. But I had to party, I had to show that I was having fun, I looked to you, but you weren’t having fun. You were just there to catch me; you saw the bad side of it and I get why you hated it. Oh my god” I breathed, I swallowed hard, this is so hard “then it’s getting to the end, and I feel even worse. My feet are sore, my whole body is. I am drinking, smoking. Taking painkillers” I dragged out, my baby had no chance of living when I was acting like that and I am a shit person. I knew, I should have known, my body was screaming help and I pushed myself.

I can feel the tears forming, I can feel the build-up. My stomach is in knots, speaking it out loud is so hard “I was not doing well” I swallowed hard “I really wasn’t” my voice broke “I wasn’t, and it’s the last date. My album is out but I have no strength in me to even care, the last date. I got backstage for the last date and fell to my knees as I got there, it was empty the room. The pain was horrible, so horrible I fell to my knees and then Mel came behind me and asked me am I ok, lifting me up. She locked the door; I don’t know where you were or the entourage, but Mel held them off. I am in a daze and I just feel wet, I feel so wet. And I tell Mel, and she drags me up and pulls me to the bathroom and I am bleeding” a stray tear fell “my period started, but this isn’t right. This is painful, but the knocks at the door. Mel helped me, she helped me clean myself up. I was in pain, I had the shakes, the pain was immense, but I prayed to god that he would get me through it, and he did, it got lighter, but I knew it. I did, but I went on stage and performed. And even though I was lost in my own thoughts, I performed. Then we came back to the hotel, you got me the pads I needed, I wasn’t lying about that Chris. I was so scared, Mel told me that I should keep you entertained while we find out what is happening. The blood wasn’t right and I saw something I wish I never saw” my voice strained “I went to the toilet, and that wasn’t no regular period” this is getting so hard, Chris hasn’t moved at all but he did and he moved to sit forward, I can’t believe he remained so silent “I went to the hospital Chris, I was in the hospital that whole night” wiping the tears that fell, my voice strained “I was in the hospital, and the doctor told me I was dehydrated that I need to be put onto a IV line which happened. He then needed to do another blood test” taking in a deep breath, I am trying so hard not to breakdown and cry because I want to get it out “he gave me my results and I knew from when he walked in he was sad for me, I just knew it. When I was on stage, I was singing Stay knowing I was going through a miscarriage, I was losing the baby because of me” my hands are shaking, wiping the tears that fell.

So much is being said that I am lacking on what is happening, maybe I do know but I am playing dumb to it. I am stunned, rubbing my hands together. Looking up at Robyn that is trying to keep herself together, but slowly she is breaking. Her mask is breaking, and the tears are flowing but I am stunned, I can’t even say it. She was pregnant is what I am gathering, the word why nearly slipped from my mouth, but I held it off. I need to just have some air, getting up from the chair. I need some air; she was pregnant, and I just need to gather my thoughts. I wasn’t expecting this, I was expecting her to say this. I walked off without a word, I don’t know what to say. I feel like I have been set up, I have been set up by Mel and her, I am too stunned because I thought she was going to say she cheated on me or some shit but that, a whole baby. I stumbled over my own feet, what felt like a long time I reached the door. Holding onto the handle, the sound hit me. The sound I was blocking from my head space, my heart just dropped hearing Robyn cry. Looking behind me and her crying just involuntary bought tearss to my eyes, the grip on the door handle tightened “Robyn” turning on myself, walking back to Robyn. She is making me cry with the way she is crying “it’s going to be ok” wrapping my arms around her “I am did it to me, I lost our baby because I was being selfish. It didn’t have no chance, I never gave it a chance” rubbing Robyn’ back, she is a wreck, but I am letting her just speak because she needs too.

Placing my hand over hers as I sat down next to Robyn on the bed, using my free hand to rub any excess tears that fell, something so unexpected to me. I have a whole headache now; this was not what I was expecting “so you were pregnant?” I had to ask again; I don’t know why because she doesn’t deserve to relive it, but I just need to hear those words from her “I was pregnant” taking in a sharp breath, not something I wanted in life right now but something I didn’t want Robyn to go through either “so when you were crying on stage, it wasn’t because you were overwhelmed. You knew something was wrong” I just need to hear these words again, it’s hard to digest this because I was stood right there and I was like she is really into this “yes” she mumbled, that is crazy. Moving my hand away from hers, placing my hands over my face. I am just trying to digest this, she was really pregnant, and she lost it, but she performed on that stage when she was going wrong and I left her, but how was I supposed to know. Moving my head back away from my hands “you’re so fucking strong” wrapping my arms around her again “I am really not” this is crazy to me, I can’t believe it and I can’t believe that she was pregnant.

I feel awful “why didn’t you tell me this Robyn, why didn’t you just tell me. I left you at that moment Robyn. I walked away because I was fed up but I feel bad, you dealt with this alone. You was losing a whole baby while singing, I’ve been bad to you” I feel bad “you didn’t want kids and you made that clear, I couldn’t process that and then tell you that I am going through a miscarriage when you are already angry so I just kept it to me. I let you go because I couldn’t, I feel so hallow inside, my stupidity” nodding my head ���I know I said that, but I wouldn’t want you to go through pain all on your own, that is not me Robyn. Really isn’t me, why are you sleeping in bloody sheets?” I got up form the bed, I remembered “I uhm, I saw this” Robyn paused shallowing back “I uhm, when I was bleeding excessively, I saw like a bean sized thing. It was tiny and oh my god” Robyn sobbed out resting her head on my chest, wrapping my arms around Robyn slowly. She is hurting so much, like this is some painful cry “stop it” she is making me cry again, I feel bad that I got her pregnant in the first place and then I just left her “you know you wasn’t alone in this, you never were” rocking with Robyn in my arms slowly, cradling Robyn as she cried out.

Closing the bedroom door slowly, Robyn fell asleep. She is cried out and I for one need the air, I waited a little, but she is asleep. Am I a bad guy, this is what keeps going through my mind. Why didn’t I just care, I do care but I just didn’t want a baby just yet, was that so bad of me. Walking down the steps ever so slowly, I am drained and hurt. I slumped down and sat on the step, placing my hands over my face. My reaction to Robyn being pregnant would have been annoyance but I would have got over it, I didn’t want this for her at all and I feel so bad. I am guilty of disappearing when she was going through that “I guess you know” moving my hands back “I wasn’t expecting that” clenching my jaw, I am angry at me “she was so scared to tell you, the reason being is because she told me you didn’t want kids and she didn’t want you to be mean to her about the whole thing, she didn’t want to hear it when she is going through a miscarriage. Is she asleep?” nodding my head “she is right, but I didn’t want her in pain, that is not my intention. I just requested that we wait it out until I am stable, but it’s happened now, and I feel like shit” what a mess “only you could have done this Chris. I tried so hard, she wasn’t responding to me like she has you, I will leave you alone to think. I am around if you need to talk” I think I have spoken so much, my mind is just so full of information, this is crazy.

[hydradrive]

Go Hellnalysis (aka : hydradrive gets mad at the fanbase for ignoring go’s ongoing 2 season long breakdown for like, 5+ paragraphs)

We are talking S1 foreshadowing as it relates to the facts of S2. As already mentioned, I think it sucks of the writers to do it to him like how it sucks how they treated Emma and Aoi throughout the entire series and reeks of colorism like. having your two darkest skinned characters be actively antagonistic as s2 goes on is a bad fucking look. 

But it’s there, and I am not happy that people defend Lightning weirdly when he treats people he knew for years badly, and then turn around and say wildly fucked up shit about Go.

I guess today is the day i Get Into It Again. I’ll be rehashing some of my points from my old thread on nac, so strap in i guess.

This is said to Playmaker in season two. 

‘After i lost to you’. 

So, by episode 4. And the text backs this up. The text in season one aligns.

In Go Onizuka VS Genome :

[ transcript for subbed text: 

Dr. Genome : Did your defeat at Playmaker’s hands force you to evolver? 

Go Onizuka : As much as I hate to admit it, yes. That was when everything changed. 

/end text screenshot id ]

That was when everything changed.

Let’s look at the rest of it, then. How it affected him, in the long-term. The Go Analysis... Is here.

MASSIVE CWs for discussion of canonical weight loss, brief discussion of disordered eating in the context of that, and a whole bunch of other stuff re: the brain hack that I don’t even know how to tag, really. medical? Basically, if you have any triggers relating to that, please exercise due diligence because I will not pull any punches about the implications.

tldr version :

This is real dialogue from Go Onizuka’s first (and only) duel against Revolver. 

No matter what he says trying to spin it a different way after this segment of text, that it’s about fighting for yourself, these statements exist, and they exist with the context given by his own words; that he was struggling, mental health-wise, when he said these words.

[ transcript for subbed text: 

Go Onizuka : Until now, I’ve battled in front of huge crowds. (There is a single beat frame, to indicate silence.) But I realized I’m all alone. There are no fans rooting for me here. I realized... We always duel alone. We fight for ourselves, not for anyone else. 

/end text screenshot id ]

But perhaps this isn’t compelling enough for people. Fine. Let’s go even further back.

[ transcript for subbed text for screen readers : Go Onizuka : It’s my fault that Makoto is in this condition. /end text screenshot id ]

Go has an easily seen habit of assuming the worst, and with regards to stuff like Makoto, blaming himself, to the point that if his manager hadn't said more on Makoto, he would've been going into VS Genome blaming himself for Makoto getting into duel monsters in the first place.

In episode 5 it was shown that with one loss he was entirely certain that nobody would care about him in any capacity:

But why?

... It’s brought up in one of the first episodes of the entire series.

[ transcript for subbed text for screen readers : 

Go Onizuka’s Manager : That’s exactly it. It’s a winner-take-all world, after all. 

/end text id. ]

And given an even more... depressing? Spin later, when Go thinks about it throughout S1 and S2 during his duel with Takeru:

[ transcript for screen readers : 

Before I was placed in the orphanage, I only relied on myself. The world I lived in was all about survival of the fittest. “You must protect yourself” was my credo. 

/ end text screenshot id ]

It’s genuinely that simple. He slipped back into his old way of surviving because the way he did in season one didn't. save him. it didn't save him from a duel he needed to win, not just for himself necessarily. he would have died if playmaker had lost. a lot of people would have. He was already starting to have these doubts about his entire reason d’etre for dueling, and his loss only further spurred it on.

It’s repeated, again and again:

[ transcript for screen readers :

Go Onizuka : For everyone to appreciate me, I must win! 

/end text screenshot id ]

That sentiment. “People won’t like me if I lose.” “People will abandon me, if I lose.” In his own words, his losses, losses in duels that were important, rotted him. And it /is/ true. His manager said he’d leave if he went to try and stop the Tower Of Hanoi and lost. And he followed through with it, by all implications. He didn’t come back until season 3. Keeping in mind that Go’s self-hatred spiral regarding guilt over in his mind dragging Makoto into the mess that was season one-era Hanoi shenanigans was only cut off because his manager and other people talked him out of it... Yeah.

This is before we bring in the other complicating factor : a certain little company, who never did anything good for anyone. A man, who despite supposedly being well-intentioned, did very little to help, until it reached the darkest point.

[ transcript for subbed text for screen readers, since that’s the primary important stuff : 

Akira Zaizen : But we don’t intend to acknowledge that the network was on the brink of destruction. So I ask you don’t cause the press to delve into this. 

/end text screencap id]

People focus so much on him yelling at the press because they keep asking about Playmaker but with this context?

[ transcript text for screen readers: 

Akira Zaizen: You’ll continue to be the focus of the press. /end text screenshot id ]

He’s not allowed to talk about how you nearly died.

He’s not allowed to talk about what really was at stake.

In fact, he’s not allowed to even act in a way that makes people even a little suspicious about what happened.

And yet.

‘But he could just ignore this advice’ . Not really. Go Onizuka’s platform was built in Link Vrains. Being the whistleblower about the actual danger of Link Vrains would not endear him to Sol, and potential backlash from Sol, from everything we know about the company? Hmm, gosh, wonder why that might be bad. Almost as if Go is basically a livestreamer who is at risk of having the video platform he exists on die.

It would be incredibly difficult to continue working under the public eye like that. The stress from that alone would start tearing someone to pieces.

Ergo, his decision to work for Sol Technologies as a bounty hunter. Both jobs now hinge on him currying favor with a horrible megacorporation, one just has less baggage from his past way of surviving and gives him the ability to talk a tiny bit more freely about things.

This is all the leadup, of course, to the ultimate lowest point. The duel chip. Brain hack.

[ transcript text for screen readers: ‘By implanting this duel chip, the brain’s thought capabilities expand.’ /end text screenshot id ]

[ transcript text for screen readers: 

Akira Zaizen: You can always refuse.

Go Onizuka : Your methods are dirty. You guide me to the gates of hell, but you don’t care what happens afterwards.  /end text screenshot id ] 

Let’s talk about the physical side-effects of the brain chip on Go Onizuka.

Me, personally? I genuinely wonder what came first; the most severe physical side-effects or a worsening of Go’s mental health that made him stop eating. 

It’s never stated what came first. We only see the mental health side effects of the chip in flashbacks initially.

I looked at one of the instances where Akira pulled go out of the sim wrt: the listed sys/dia ratios on-screen. They have those in certain shots, btw! They’re consistently really fucked up!

Here’s what those were, in one very notable instance:

... So, right off the bat, a heartrate of 195, huh.

And a sys/dia of 187/112 with a mean of 136. Wow! I wonder what that means for him!

I can tell you. 

He statistically would be in the range of having a hypertensive emergency. Having rates like this can damage your heart muscle when you don’t literally have a heart attack, hypertensive encephalopathy, ( which can cause dizziness and altered levels of consciousness, if we are getting into it.), kidney failure, coughing up blood...

I don’t want to speculate too much about why the Duel Chip caused this, but I will note that blood pressures like this sometimes come about as result of issues with the neuroendocrine system. This would tie in with a loss of appetite and some of the other things Go seems to canonically have had from the getgo of having the chip installed, and probably added on to his already pre-existing mental health stuff which I personally parsed as depression.

... I think this mostly covers the main points of what gets missed. Aka, literally all of his arc. Just, literally every piece of his arc. People miss all of it.

Also, to reiterate : it is NOT GOOD the way this is framed by the writers. it is loaded to, in a series heavily informed by the main character’s trauma, have a teenaged darker skin character ( Go is 19!! ) be portrayed as more erratic, etc etc. I do Not care about Lightning. He is a little robot, and while there is probably some ableism in the way trauma is represented therein as a corrupting force, it is far more worrying how Go is treated in terms of representation, and I am not going to bat for the guy who treated Haru like dogshit lmao. 

The fact that one of the two darker skinned MOC is given more obvious mental/physical illness signifiers in terms of symptoms to mark them as antagonists (when, again, Yusaku literally CANONICALLY HAS PTSD) fucking blows, and I’m going to personally fight the writers. 

But. I am also laying the blame at the fanbase’s feet for this shit, too. They literally ignored this to coo over Lightning. I’m going to bite them.

[msbluebell]

Golden Deer Route AU where, at the Gronder Field battle, instead of letting Dimitri run off to get himself killed they knock him out and drag him back to the monastery.

The thing to keep in mind for this AU would be that the Blue Lions are utterly, completely, totally, broken.

Both Black Eagles and Golden Deer have students that have severe psychological issues in them. But, for the most part, they have more students that have normal lives, or managed to get themselves back up before Byleth even entered their lives. 

This is not the case for the Blue Lion students. They’re all broken well before Byelth every stepped into the classroom and MAYBE one or two of them managed to put themselves back together before Byleth. Every single one of them faces a different type of trauma, aspect of grief, anxiety, or bad coping skill. Dimitri, while the most extreme example of the negative effects of untreated trauma, repression, bad coping, and mental instability, is far from the ONLY one. Annette and Ashe both have to receive a type of medication from the Church (I speculate that Annette has anxiety based on the mission description for her medication, and Ashe’s medication description and the fact the mission is just after Lenato’s death makes me think depression). With the destruction of the Church I believe that they also no longer have access to even that bit of medication.

Why do I keep focusing so much on medication? Because, for a lot of people, medication is essential to function properly. It’s not for EVERYONE, but there are a lot of people who genuinely need it. We never get a mention of medications again outside a Church setting, which given how secretive the Church is with technology and such, makes me believe that medications were a something the church exclusively dealt with. It is possible, granted, that academics have replicated the Church’s medications, but I doubt they freely distribute them like the Church seems too, which means many common people no longer have access to such resources. (But BBell, you guys say, this is a fantasy game and you’re reading too much into the medication thing. It’s probably just basic herbalist or aromatherapy.  To which I argue that this game had Fantasy Dragon God Nukes and RHEA, who knows how to replicate such technology and actively tried to stop it’s spread, would probably have an idea about medications so don’t @ me.)

The ultimate point is that the Blue Lions are broken people with bad coping habits, and probably aren’t even aware that they need help in the first place. They’re not exactly open about their issues with each other either. Dimitri puts on a mask for his deep-seated trauma and tries to hide his auditory and visual hallucinations the whole first half of the game, and with Felix’s (understandable) reaction to Dimitri’s breakdowns, I don’t even blame him.

I think the Blue Lions lose something essential if you don’t pick their house.

Now, theoretically, the Blue Lions should be a bit better off in Golden Deer Route than Black Eagles because they have Manuela, the school Nurse, as their teacher, but they somehow seem worse off than if they have Hanneman, the more impersonal professor. Manuela should be able to identify the deep seated issues they express and address them as needed. She’s a nurse, and observant, and a very personable teacher.

Then I realized SHE���S A NURSE.

She probably had them all on medications that they no longer have.

Byleth is far more interpersonal than the other teachers. They tackle the issues each student has by getting personally involved and trying to help them through what basically amounts to therapy. Manuela, a nurse, wouldn’t get as personally involved and would instead provide them with necessary medications and have them come to her if they so choose. While Hanneman, for all he seems hands off, does tackle issues bluntly and personally. He’s not as interpersonal as Byleth, but he doesn’t ignore it if it’s a problem and tries to give advice where it’s due. It’s not therapy, but he IS trying to help them figure out how to handle themselves better. 

So if Byleth chooses the Golden Deer House they Blue Lions are in the worst possible position they could be in. It’s not JUST Dimitri who is worse off, it’s ALL of them.

Now, with that speculated, let’s get to Gronder Field.

We all know what happens to Dimitri in Gronder Field if you play the Golden Deer Route (or at least you better if you’re reading my posts or else you’re going to be spoiled). He’s clearly a madman, no one can deny it, and it’s pretty tragic to witness because he seems so genuine and nice before the war. The Golden Deer students don’t actually have much of an idea HOW or WHY this happened. Yes, they would be aware that he was accused of killing his uncle, and was exiled, but they wouldn’t have an idea about the dept of the various betrayals thrown at him, or the delusions, and it’s really sad.

It would be hard to say what makes them knock him out and drag him back with them before he gets himself killed. Maybe Byleth does it because they recognize he’s mentally ill, maybe Claude doesn’t it because Dimitri is a good guy deep down and he knows he can help (that and keeping Dimitri alive serves him better than letting him die at the moment, idk), or, and this is my favorite, maybe Marianne asked them if there was anything they could do to help Dimitri, because he was a friend hers and she can’t stand the idea of watching him die (their support chain is so fucking precious and cute and just mutual Trauma support buddies and omg, I’m in hell thinking about them and their beautiful friendship. I ship them as platonic, but if I wasn’t so far in Dimileth hell I would totally have them in the running for possible romantic supports.). 

Either way, it ends up with them taking a lucky moment to knock Dimitri out and get him off the battlefield before he dies.

Getting him off the field is a bit harder than it should be. He’s a big guy, and made of solid muscle and heavy armor, and Gustav and the army is hardly going to sit by quietly while you basically kidnap the crown prince.

(But the thing that gets Dimitri off the field is the fact that Gustav LOVES Dimitri. He loves that boy like a son, like he’s his own. And he would NEVER admit it, but it’s true. And it’s true for Rodrigue too. And Dimitri is unconscious, and his face isn’t a scold for one, it’s the most peaceful he’s looked since they find him in the woods, and the sight of him like that nearly brings tears to both their eyes. They’re both failed fathers. Gustav failed Annette, and he failed Dimitri. And Rodrigue failed Glenn, and then Felix, and now Dimitri too. And they’re both realizing that Dimitri is so terribly broken and they don’t know how to fix him and it may be half their fault, and so when Byleth convinces them that this is what’s best for him, that they can HELP, that he can get better if they just let Claude give him the resources he needs to recover…well, they can’t say no. It’s the strongest Rodrigue has been in a long time, he thinks, finding the courage to agree despite knowing that Dimitri won’t be happy. And it’s also the closest he’s been to keeping his promise to Lambert).

So the Golden Deer get the unconscious Dimitri back to Garreg Mach, the army of Faerghus on their heels.

There’s a lot of debate about what to do from there, but since Claude is the highest authority there  (with Dimitri unconscious and not yet fit to rule) it all defers to him and his council. In the end it’s decided Dimitri is a danger to himself and others for now and has to be kept somewhere out of the way, but where he can be observed to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself. (And, oh, isn’t that a gut punch to Gustav and Rodrigue).

So they set him up on the Arch-Bishop’s floor since no one is using it for now. That way he has plenty of space, a room, and can go onto the balcony if needed. It’s just until he recovers a bit, CLaude and Byleth promise, and we’ll let him down as soon as we’re sure he won’t hurt himself or others. Besides, they need to figure out what caused the madness in the first place.

It’s actually Manuela, Byleth, and Marianne that end up being the most valuable resources to Dimitri’s recover. Manuela and Byelth are both good at identifying the issue. Dimitri sees and hears the dead. This isn’t just a metaphor, he’s having active hallucinations brought upon by survivor’s guilt and isolation. The five years on the run would have only worsened this.

But it’s Marianne who understands the core issues outside that. She, like Dimitri, has severe survivor’s guilt, and wishes to die. She won’t kill herself, just like Dimitri won’t, but she prays for death. In a way, she speculates, Dimitri is also praying for death. For him, vengeance is either his reason to live, the reason for why HE had to live while everyone else died, or the road to take to reach the death he feels he deserves. He feels he’s undeserving of life, or kindness, but he’s still alive, so he has to do something to make up for that fact. She explains that to the others, and she understand because she feels that way too sometimes, and it’s critical in their approach to Dimitri. It’s something that will definitely take a lot of time, but I think that, with more than just Byleth trying to do something about it, then there can be progress that doesn’t necessarily NEED something as dramatic as an assassination attempt to snap him out of it (why we needed that assassination attempt in the game is worthy of it’s own meta, but the long and short of it is that the timing drastically needed it before they marched to Enbarr and Dimitri needed to realize FAST that his 1) his actions are awful 2) people DO still love and care about him even despite his actions 2) HE IS WORTHY OF LIFE)

The other Blue Lions are there too, most of them anyway. Ashe is a traitor, Felix claims, because he sided with the Empire after Lenato’s Death. But most of them are there, and far more broken than they were, and none of them are even surprised Dimitri has fallen so far because most of them aren’t much better. Sylvain always had an inner darkness in him, and while he’s not outright insane like Dimitri, he’s gets intense on the battlefield. Ingrid is barely holding herself together, dealing with the loss of everything and the war trauma, and Felix is left to realize that the only thing worse than being right about Dimitri was watching it happen to everyone around him too. Mercedes and Annette are there, too, and they’re better than everyone else, but still, it’s not GREAT.

But, I think, they CAN get better. Not fixed, but in a better place. After all, Dimitri even states in the Blue Lion Route that he’ll always live with his hallucinations. The thing, though, is that getting better requires active care, time, and effort (both from the patients and the people that need to help them) and Dimitri and the Blue Lions get all three at the end of this scenario.

[themisterdarcy]

dear darcy,

what’s up? it’s currently thursday, april 30, 2020. we are in the middle of the covid-19 pandemic, and north carolina is on lockdown. well, technically. we are actually the worst state in the entire country in pandemic support. there are 1.06 million confirmed cases in the entire country, with 9,948 in north carolina, and 1,567 in mecklenburg county alone. the stay-at-home order is still supposed to be lifted on may 8th, though. that’s next friday. i don’t know how on earth anybody thinks that is a good idea, but the governor has the power in this situation.

school is canceled for the rest of the year, meaning that i have to finish my junior year online. i’m disappointed that i have to miss prom and seeing my friends (especially kai), but i think it’s for the best. nobody expected covid-19 to be this big of a deal, or for the quarantine to last this long. the day before schools closed, my apush teacher, mr. church, told us that he thought the situation was “blown out of proportion” and i quote: “there’s no way that school is going to be canceled.” even when schools closed, we were originally supposed to be back in school by march 30! here we are, a month later, and there’s no end in sight for this crisis.

trump is being absolutely useless, and even detrimental to the effort to contain the virus. he his early information about the virus, and didn’t bother to take precautions, leaving the country unprepared. by the time of the first case, it was hopeless. this week (or last week... time is all running together right now), he actually suggested in a press conference that a way to prevent/cure coronavirus would be to inject bleach/disinfectant into the body, or to illuminate the body from the inside with a uv light to kill the virus. both of these options as said by trump (uv light actually does have some merit to it, but it is in an entirely different context than trump suggested, and still in developmental phases) would be fatal, and aren’t even a solution to the main issue at hand: containing and controlling the spread of the virus.

in my opinion, new zealand has it down. i only know about it because amanda palmer is quarantined there, but they’re getting close to the end of 5 weeks of near complete lockdown. people are not allowed to leave their houses or visit non-immediate family members at all, and parks and public spaces are closed. while it does seem a little like an overextension of governmental power, it’s working. new zealand only has 1,476 total cases. thanks to prime minister jacinda ardern, the entire country has fewer cases than mecklenburg county. yes, new zealand only has a population of about 5 million, while mecklenburg county has 1.1 million, it’s still impressive that a population five times the size has 100 fewer cases. i honestly wouldn’t mind temporarily giving up some of my civil liberties and democratic principles if it meant that covid-19 was knocked out and controlled.

the people who are protesting the lockdowns are quite frankly narcissistic idiots who cannot see past their own ego. yes, staying at home is difficult and boring, but it’s the only way that life has any sort of chance of returning to a form of normalcy. i don’t think things will be exactly the same, nor do i think they should, but i do want to be able to hang out with friends again. i do want to go to school and have my senior year. i do want to be able to move out and go to college when the time comes. the more people disregard reality and ignore social distancing, the longer life will be like this. the protesters are only making things worse for themselves, and the saddest part is that i don’t think they realize this.

i’m writing these letters to future me (that’s you, darcy!) so that i can have a document of my life from the pandemic. also, i want to be able to remember what being 17 was like when i’m older. i do keep a journal, but that’s more for songs, poetry, and breakdowns. screaming into the void of the internet just feels more Official to me. also, i can’t lose a blog. that’s the thing about the internet: it’s forever, for better or for worse.

i think that i will open each letter with a discussion of any updates about the pandemic, focusing mainly on concrete facts and statistics. these are important to document, and i wish i had been recording this from the beginning. maybe i will go back and create a timeline, but i’m not sure yet. that might just be a task for another sleepless night. after the corona rundown, though, i’ll go into my own experiences and thoughts about the events of my life. these will probably be in bullet-point form, since my mind has the tendency to jump around as if topics were trampolines. i don’t know how often i’ll write, but i will try to everyday. every letter won’t be as long as this one, that’s for sure, but i do tend to ramble on. i hope you’re not overwhelmed, darcy.

taking a much needed break from 2020, how’s your life at the moment? i don’t know how old you are, but i’m assuming that you’re in college at the very least. are you and kai still together? i hope so. i really do love them. have you come out to the family yet? have you changed your name legally yet? i need to do that before my college graduation, because i want my degrees to be in My Name. the thing is, i’ll need to come out to change my name, and that is an issue i don’t really care to think about at the moment. how did that go? was it as bad as i expect it will be? have you started t? besides transitioning, how is your academic and career life? i hope to go to the university of texas at austin and double major in physics and music theory and composition. did that happen? if it didn’t, where did you go to school, and did you stick with the course of study i mentioned? i can’t really imagine studying anything else, to be honest. physics and music theory are two of the most intimidating and difficult subjects there are, and they also happen to be my favorite subjects. i love being challenged mentally, and i also like being seen as intimidating. imagine: a punk, non-binary, queer physicist who also writes and performs music. is there anything more intimidating than that? i aspire to be the “scary kid in your physics class.” i want to be an exception.

i’ve written so much already, but i do have quite a bit to get off my chest. yesterday was a weird day, and i couldn’t sleep at all last night, so here we are. this is what being 17 is like:

it is 6:15 am, and i have stayed up all night.

i was planning on getting a lot of work done, but instead i wasted time listening to amanda palmer and browsing the internet.

my dad thinks i took my sleeping pill, so i need to stay quiet in my room until at least 10:00 tomorrow morning so he doesn’t get suspicious.

kai called me today, but only for 15 minutes. they are a month behind in school, and will only get their phone back once they are caught up. i don’t know when that will be, but i am preparing for the worst.

i identify as androgyne, meaning in between man and woman. recently, i stopped feeling like i was faking, though. instead of worrying that i was making it all up in my head, i’ve become confident that i am Androgyne. it makes sense. it always has made sense. when i was little, i asked my father if it was possible to be “half-girl, half-boy,” and i would tell people that about myself. just because i like glitter and riot grrrl doesn’t make me a girl. i am an enby.

this is the song of the night:

i realized today that i have not left the house (excepting switching between mother’s/father’s) in an entire month. at the beginning of this lockdown, i was struggling, but i feel like i’ve adjusted more or less. this feels normal, now. i don’t feel like i’m missing something from my daily life.

10 days clean :)

my sleep schedule is fucked up. dr. kissam has put me on a mood stabilizer, an antidepressant, and a sleep medicine as well as my anxiety meds because she’s concerned by my bipolar tendencies. my manic phases have gotten more intense and happen more often now, and my down phases have gotten worse than they have in a long time. i started hurting again, but i’m trying to stop. i think i have a handle on it now. i did give myself two stick and pokes on monday night, though... does that count? i don’t think so.

i have the deathly hallows on my ankle, and the androgyne symbol on my left middle finger. it looks more like an anchor or a dandelion though. :/ i like them anyways, because they are Mine. My body. My decisions. I Am My Own Person.

during the call today, i felt like kai was distancing themself from me. i don’t know if i’m overthinking a 15 minute chat, but they didn’t seem like their usual clingy, lovey self. i’m worried that they’re going to decide they don’t want to be with me anymore during this time that they are off their phone, but i know that it’s just anxiety. overthinking is my enemy. kai loves me. i love them. we are in a healthy, stable relationship (for the first time in my life!!). they aren’t going to decide to leave me out of the blue.

the song for the kai situation:

sometimes i wonder what life would be like if i could just focus on school like a normal person. i have good grades, but i am a Very Chaotic student. if i could just sit down and complete assignments at a normal pace and with consistent motivation, what would i be able to achieve? would i be in a bunch of service organizations? would i be on student council? who knows?! i am darcy, and i am tied for valedictorian while never doing my homework. i don’t know how i do it either.

i’ve decided that i don’t like my confirmation name (octavian) as my middle name. i want to take my dad’s middle name, lamont. darcy lamont wheeler. it’s a super cool name, and it has Significance. our family is directly descended from the lamont clan in scotland. it’s also my grandmother’s maiden name, which i feel like makes sense because my dead middle name was her middle name. poetic justice. symmetry. i have come full circle.

hi! my name is darcy lamont wheeler.

darcy means “dark one.” i really, really like that. i like thinking that i am connected to the somewhat dark and eccentric. like the dresden dolls, or disturbing short stories. darkness adds complexity. nuance. background.

my favorite short story is “i have no mouth & i must scream” by harlan ellison. it is so completely terrifying, so beautifully disgusting, so brilliantly bizarre, so disturbingly ominous, and i have never read anything else that has come close to comparing. i love science fiction, especially dystopian ideas about technology advancing past the point of no return. it’s crazy to me that what could be considered mankind’s greatest achievement is so close to being our downfall.

everybody is awake now, and i hear them in the kitchen. i wonder when i stopped wanting to be awake. matthew and brianna seem to wake up as early as they can and fight bedtime until the absolute limit, as if they want to maximize the hours that they have each day. each morning is a new chance for fun. they don’t seem to resent life yet. i would rather be asleep instead of conscious most of the time. days are uniformly boring and miserable, with the rare diversion. why would i want them to be longer than they have to be? is this depression or is this just growing up? i can’t even tell anymore.

i missed amanda palmer’s birthday livestream yesterday, so i’m going to watch it today. two hours of her and her quarantine buddies sounds like heaven. this woman’s music quite honestly saved my life, and she is the epitome of badass!! i love amanda palmer. i wish i could write songs like she can.

on the topic of the dresden dolls, i asked brian viglione, the drummer, to “prom” as a pretense to ask him about his experiences as a musician, and for advice about how to develop my music. against all the odds, he accepted, so now, on may 9th at 8:00 pm, i am going to facetime with Brian Viglione, drummer for the dresden dolls and the violent femmes, among many others. life? made. i still can barely believe that this is actually happening!!

i came out to my english class, including ms. blaylock on tuesday. everybody reacted really well, and in that class at least, i get to go by my name and use my pronouns. i honestly couldn’t believe that i had the balls to tell anybody besides kai’s family, but i did, and it actually went well! the fact that there are people calling me darcy makes me so happy that i can’t even put it into words. it’s validating. i am darcy. not just when i’m by myself, but in real life. i am darcy.

is it weird that i’m not crippled by kai’s absence? i used to be an unproductive tangle of anxiety whenever mary was out of touch, even for a few hours. i was constantly worried that she was going to hurt herself, or that she was going to leave me. the thing is, even though i am in love with kai and i only thought that i loved mary because she was the first girl i was with, i don’t miss them to the point that i can’t function. i don’t think about them 24/7. i do miss them at times, and i cannot wait until we can talk again, but it’s not an all-consuming thing. i can go through my entire day without talking to them, no problem. night time is a little harder, but that’s because night is always when i go down spirals and rabbitholes. maybe this means that our relationship is healthy? co-dependency is a bad thing, i know, but i don’t know what a healthy relationship feels like since the only other experiences i’ve had (jack, mary, saanchi, rachel) have all been toxic in their own way.

one thing i have learned with kai is the importance of boundaries in a relationship. just because i love everything about them doesn’t mean that it’s healthy for us to share everything. there was a time where we were both in dark places and hurting, and when they shared what they did, it would set me off. the same went for them, i was using them as a journal too often, and the emotional burden had started to affect them. we had a conversation about this though, and established clear lines that we will not cross. it felt good to figure that out. i felt mature, looking out for my own needs and respecting kai’s. isn’t that how a relationship should work?

i love kai.

i’ve written a SHIT-TON. i think this is enough for now, but i might write another letter today. this was cathartic, and i feel like i’ve processed some shit as well as made a record for the future. i hope you weren’t bored or overwhelmed by my novel, darcy. i’m just writing what i feel is important, and i hope it’s still important to you.

signing off,

darcy lamont wheeler

[piipedreams]

47 + Sharon plus anyone! Your choice!

(it’s shillam again bc i’m weak n i love them. pls send all ur love to @artificialmeggie for checking through this for me too pls. also i’m on mobile bc i’m on holiday so sorry if this is horribly formatted)

for the prompt: “no one needs to know”

“FUCK!” Sharon exclaims, lashing blindly at her altar before storming to the other side of the room, her enraged stomps drowning out the sound of things tumbling over. She thinks about giving up entirely and throwing herself into the hammock Aquaria had insisted on erecting only to never use, but the combination of her current lack of luck and her lack of faith in her daughter’s carpentry skills convince her otherwise. Thus, she resigns herself to lying face-down on the wooden floor, booting the ground with the toe of her scuffed Dr Martens just for good measure.

“And you wonder where I get my dramatic streak from…” drawls an all-too-familiar and all-too-frustrating voice. Sharon’s daughter Aquaria is perched like a princess upon Sharon’s king-size bed, lounging back against a plethora of throw pillows and lazily waving a hand in the air supposedly to dry her nails. Sharon loves the little nightmare, she really does, but she’s not in the mood, knows that she’ll snap if she opens her mouth to respond and doesn’t want to put that on her. Luckily, Aquaria knows her all too well, not even giving her a chance to retaliate.

“Oh, and be careful with the altar. If you kick a candle over and set the place on fire I’m not taking the blame like I did when you burnt dinner last year. We’re both too old for that now, it’d be embarrassing.”

Aquaria is ten.

Sharon still doesn’t dignify her words with a coherent response, letting out a long, low groan just to remind her daughter of her current suffering and torment. She hears the sound almost immediately echoed from the bed, is unsure whether she’s being mocked or watching her daughter become herself and is unable to discern which option she’d hate more.

Lifting her head, she watches Aquaria flounce off the bed and flick her long, blonde hair over her shoulder with purpose, tiny heels clacking as she makes her way across the room, pausing to reassemble Sharon’s altar with what Sharon just knows is a hidden eye-roll. The little brat.

“Fine,” she announces in a sharp, impatient tone, as though Sharon had just made a decision or request she wasn’t aware of. As well as her flair for the dramatics, it seemed the kid had also inherited Sharon’s general distaste and impatience regarding other people. She was so proud. “If you’re not gonna talk to me, I’ll go and fetch somebody else for you to rant to.” And with those words she struts out of the room, her little wedge heels clicking against the wooden floors and her hair bouncing behind her, completely ignorant as Sharon calls out half-arsed protestations in an attempt to change her mind, get her to stay instead.

“Well don’t you look fucking pathetic?”

“No. Not you.” The smugness of the voice she hears, clearly revelling in the sight of Sharon, collapsed and defeated at her feet, kills any trust she had in her daughter. Because she could not have made a worse call than fucking Willam if she was really trying to provide her with any modicum of emotional support. When people told her having a kid would be the catalyst of her long impending breakdown, she’d never imagined this would be how. The little traitor.

The sound of stilettos, almost definitely red bottoms, grows louder and a pang of dread blossoms in her heart as she hears the woman approach, flippant and sarcastic in all the worst ways as she exclaims “Wow, okay. I thought we were friends!”

Sharon doesn’t have fucking time for her and her dumb games. “You thought wrong.”

Apparently Willam doesn’t have time for her either though, because her snickering suddenly stops, toes digging under Sharon’s side and then lifting as though trying to push her up, obviously to no avail.

“Get up.”

Sharon tries to ignore the way such a demand makes her jaw clench and muscles tighten somewhat.

“No,” she groans in response, long and whiny, determined to be as difficult for Willam as possible, to wield all her brattish and stubborn parts like a weapon and prolong the experience as much as she possibly can. It’s probably petty, definitely antagonistic, but she’s still frustrated and maybe Aquaria is smarter than she’d thought because she’d provided her mother with the greatest outlet - someone to wind up.

She relishes in the aggravated sigh she gets in return. “Get off the fucking floor and into that fucking hammock.”

The bite of the demand, the scratchy growl underlying in Willam’s voice as she speaks so plainly and apathetically, as though Sharon is nothing more than a mild inconvenience that won’t behave does something to Sharon. It’s the indifference of her voice, the way it essentially yells that she knows exactly what to do with Sharon, how to deal with her and why and that she has no doubt she’ll execute this control flawlessly causes a stir inside the woman, her teeth grinding ever so slightly and an involuntary shiver wracking her which seems to be the final straw.

Willam stamps her glitter Louboutins against the ground with enough force to snap the flimsy kitten heels in half, centimetres from Sharon’s head, her ankle brushing the outermost wisps of her hair in the movement and Sharon tries to ignore her body once again, biting back a whimper she knows would be pathetically high and embarrassingly needy as heat pools in her stomach. She mutters a resolute “fuck!” all hard vowels and spiked fricatives, finding comfort in the knowledge that Willam is just enough of a dumb blonde not to understand the true target of her exclamation.

Body protesting, she hauls herself to her feet and plods obediently over to the mesh hammock that hangs low in the corner of the room. Despite her best efforts, she has to admit that perhaps Willam did have a somewhat decent idea, collapsing into the fabric after feeling the pull of temptation deep in her stomach and letting out a small, audible groan at the way her body is so graciously welcomed. Her muscles relax, the brain fog and electric anger causing her current storm-like state beginning to ebb away as she closes her eyes, lies back and just breathes, deep, heavy, slow, and full, like she has all the time and all the oxygen in the world to enjoy. For just a moment, she forgets her not-quite-friend is even there, losing herself in the onslaught of sensations and sinking into her own, private, relaxed little haven of a world. Hell, for a moment she almost considers thanking Willam, a notion that leaves her head almost as immediately as it crosses it, the thought broken apart entirely by the interruption of none other than the woman of the hour herself.

“Cute.” In spite of their differences, Sharon has always found great pride in being the only one smart enough to be able to decipher Willam’s different tones and meanings, always picking up on a fake comment, sarcasm and every tiny emotion bitten back behind polite, uncharacteristic words. But when she says that one, tiny little word, Sharon is lost completely, unable to recognise whether it’s her own intrusive and self-absorbed thoughts causing her to detect a chink in Willam’s armour of sarcasm, some modicum of genuine emotion and belief behind the comment. Once again, however, she reminds herself that this is not the time nor place and pushes every thought stemming from it to be suffocated in a dark, faraway corner in her mind. She traps every branch within the area and blocks it up, pressing a label onto the jar of thoughts declaring it for a rainy day. She starts to miss her pre-Willam irritation as the woman clears her throat and continues. “...Anyway. Budge over.”

Still on autopilot, her body made of clay that moulds itself to Willam’s words, she finds herself obliging before she’s even really processed the words or what they imply, body shuffling closer to the window. With just a half-second of hesitation, Willam gracelessly kicks off her heels and plops herself right next to Sharon, a little off-centre so the hammock swings slightly as her shoulder collides with Sharon’s chest, grappling helplessly for an anchor to the rocking fabric and finding it, unfortunately, in Sharon’s t-shirt, her fingers clinging so tightly to the neckline that the tips dig into the soft flesh of her tits. A small part of Sharon - a wayward thought that had just about escaped the rainy day trap - secretly hopes that Willam has pressed hard enough to leave little marks in her skin, a visual reminder of her touch, the collision of her body with Sharon’s.

As the choppy movements of the hammock slow and eventually still, Willam begins to maneuver herself into a more comfortable position, rolling onto her front and overlapping the leg closest to her with her own. Her grip on Sharon’s top remains tight, her body seemingly trying to accommodate that one point of contact in the most convenient and comfortable way, resting her head atop and then above Sharon’s shoulder when the former doesn’t work out, face tilted towards her so that her breath bats softly against Sharon’s cheek and the slight bulge of her small chest pressed against Sharon’s left arm, rendering it dead and absolutely useless. Not that Sharon minds. Not that Sharon’s not going to pretend she does mind.

“Uh…. Will?” she asks cautiously, humiliated by the way her voice cracks ever so slightly, how overall delicate and gentle it sounds. Willam bumps against her in acknowledgement. Every part of her body that has the luxury of feeling Willam’s burns, the originally warm feeling growing more scalding and deadly the more she thinks about and accepts it. So she tries to amp it up a bit, this time almost obnoxiously loud and abrupt as she asks, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Cuddling you.” She halts for a moment as though that’s it, a horrendously obvious and yet cryptic answer, smirking at Sharon’s disapproving frown. Apparently, the expression was yet another step too far, and the stirring in her stomach starts up once again, this time the heat a result of a chemical reaction as lust and fear mingle together in the most addictive of ways as Willam’s face hardens, eyes stony and cold, her whole demeanour, despite being wrapped around Sharon, clearly indicating her aggravation. When she speaks, it’s snappy and abrupt again, the Willam that Sharon knows and therefore knows how to deal with - a no-nonsense bitch with a heart layered with stone and gold that knows exactly what she’s doing and why, and that it’s not really any of your business, thank you very much.

“Fine!” she snaps, eyes rolling so hard it’s a wonder she doesn’t do herself permanent damage. “I tried to be nice about it!” Sharon isn’t sure whether to believe that, the push and pull between them being so off and inconsistent all day that she’s actually never felt more on edge around Willam yet somehow never felt more comfortable around her either. She’s not so sure how nice that really is. “Like it or not, you’re a repressed little dyke who’s throwing her toys out her pram like a fucking toddler because she needs a hug and she’s touch starved by other woman. I’m trying to deliver.”

This time, the heat that had been pooling in her stomach doesn’t burn her or frighten her, instead spreading through her body as an almighty warmth, accomplices to the warm arms that wrap around her as Willam finishes speaking. It’s horrifyingly difficult not to react, as always with Willam, for an entirely different reason. Because Sharon has always prided herself on understanding Willam and the emotions and messages underlying in her words, and this one is clear as day - Willam cares. She notices, knows Sharon even if neither of them like the thought of that, and cares enough to want to help even when she knows she’s going to get nothing good out of it️. Sharon had wondered why of all people Aquaria had approached Willam, but the painstaking tenderness of her words and her touch leaves her wondering whether Aquaria even asked her at all, a thought far too exhilarating for her to continue thinking. Nevertheless, she makes a mental note to thank her daughter when she eventually returns, considering that maybe the new sewing machine she’d been begging for isn’t too expensive after all. Her head spins as she bites back a grin, trying to return to her permanently antagonistic state and diffuse the tension between them so thick, palpable and tangible it feels like a weapon.

“This is still too weird.” Her tone is so unconvincing, so wobbly and quiet and indirect she doesn’t even believe herself. Willam snickers.

“Well suck it up, bitch, I’m not here to ruin your image! No one needs to know Emo Goddess 666 needs a good hug sometimes.” She shuffles closer, every bitchy and humorous facade long gone from her expression. The thought of such vulnerability and trust between them threatens to swallow Sharon whole. Willam winks, nosing at Sharon’s chin as the arm clutching Sharon’s shirt finally releases the garment and rests lazily over the woman’s waist, a warm, protective anchor against all the shit she’s thought all day, week, year. “Or that she gets them.”

This time Sharon hums, too content and heavy-lidded to try and muster up a response. In another universe, she corrects Willam, reminds her that she’s goth, not emo, biting her lip and squeezing her thighs together as Willam tells her to shut the fuck up before she makes her. In this universe, however, Willam accepts the hum as a sign of Sharon’s begrudging complacency and trust, the sparks of hope that signify a new beginning almost visible were it not for how deeply she’d buried her face into the crook of Sharon’s neck at this point, the two of them entangled as though they belong this way. And maybe they do, so Willam pushes her luck, it seems.

“Hey, how about a kiss too?”

[relationshipsandpolitics]

How I Alienated My Potential Readers Part #2

And we’re back.   Here’s how we are looking after Part 1:

Joe Biden, Elizabeth Warren, Corey Booker, Bernie Sanders, Julian Castro, Beto O’ Rourke, Kamala Harris, Amy Klobuchar, John Delaney, Pete Buttigieg

Well, some things have changed so we can just go ahead and remove Beto, which is a shame because I had a good rant about him sucking.  Alas, my genius will have to wait.

Joe Biden, Elizabeth Warren, Corey Booker, Bernie Sanders, Julian Castro, Kamala Harris, Amy Klobuchar, John Delaney, Pete Buttigieg

I debated where to put climate change in this breakdown.  For me, climate change is issue #1b for me.  If a candidate denied it, that would be an automatic disqualifier. It should be for every voter.  But I am surprised about how we all agree this is a dire issue that needs to be dealt with immediately, but the only candidate who made it their chief issue, Governor Jim Inslee, got virtually no support and was one of the first to drop out.  We really talk out of both sides of our mouth on climate change.  We all agree it is going to kill us, but we don’t seem to prioritize it, do we?   I have some thoughts about that, but I digress.  

The good news is all remaining candidates agree climate change is happening and that we need to act. The bad news is many of the candidates do not appear willing to take those drastic steps needed to stave off the worst outcomes. This is a problem.  Even the remaining candidates who are best on this issue leave a lot to be desire.  As it stands, I’m not removing anyone because no one is Republican levels of awful on the issue, but also no one meets the bar that needs to be set on genuine change. But seriously, we are all awful on this issue, me included.   We need to be taking steps in out personal lives to cut back on carbon emissions, and we need to be willing to pay more to save our planet.  The truth is if the leading scientific minds announced that to save our planet, we needed to raise taxes by 2% on everyone, we’d instead spend double that to buy front row seats to the end of the world.  We as a people truly suck.

Now let’s finally get into the issues that differentiate the candidates. This is really the whole game for me.  Because there are certain issues I care about tremendously, issues that I feel we need to address if this country is going to survive or if we will slip fully into the oligarchy we seem destined towards.  I’m talking about corporate power and workers’ rights.  Look, we all know the stats.  Income inequality is worse now than at any time since the Gilded Age.  That preceded the Great Depression.  Billionaires and corporations hold more power than the bottom 95% of the population combined. They can write a measly $5,000 check and get face time with the most powerful politicians in the country, and another $5,000 check gets them their full support.  I know this because part of my job is to write those checks.  I don’t try to get into too much about what I do, but suffice it say I work within politics very much behind the scenes. I don’t like what I do, even if I believe in the interests I advocate for.  People like me should not exist, but our corrupt political system not only enables me, but empowers me.

We all want a candidate we can trust to act in the average American’s best interest.  But we so willingly elect people who knowingly fuck us over in favor of the rich and corporate interests that it’s a wonder they even bother going through the motions trying to appease us.  And what have we got for it?  Unions have been decimated as lawmakers pass corporate-sponsored Right to Work laws.  Wages have stagnated while wealth for the top 1% has skyrocketed.  Americans are more productive than ever but seeing a smaller share of that productivity.   Compared to all other industrialized nations, we offer no guaranteed paid vacation, family leave, or health care. This is despite being the richest nation in the world.   College is a necessity to obtain a well-paying job, yet it costs hundreds of thousands of dollars to obtain, meaning anyone graduating with loans will be paying them off until they retire. Or die.

These developments are not a coincidence.  They are the results of deliberate efforts by monied interests.  Next, they will come after Social Security and Medicare, claiming we need to reign in the deficit.  And both Republicans and Democrats will heed their call, and we will buy their sudden concern about deficits.  They’ll vote to raise the retirement age and cut benefits, we’ll get mad, and then re-elect them anyway.

How does this rant relate to the upcoming 2020 elections?  It relates because the next decade will mark the point of no return, in my estimation.  Either this country will wake up to getting screwed and finally vote to do something about it, or it will cement its acceptance of the status quo.  Our descent into oligarchy has been relatively gradual because even the Democratic administrations have done little to stem the tide.  They’ve just slowed it down by promoting policies benefiting the rich while throwing tokens of support to the working class, which is everybody else.  They bump up the income tax rates slightly while ignoring the ways the rich really make their money.  They threaten anti-trust lawsuits but never follow through.   They bail out the banks and refuse to prosecute the heads of those banks.  Then they appoint them to run the Treasury Department. Republicans do these same things; they are just more brazen about it.  Whereas Democrats will announce tighter regulations on businesses but include weak enforcement and huge loopholes, Republicans simply get rid of the regulations. Republicans cut the taxes of the rich, Democrats keep them at the status quo.  

The next president has a unique opportunity to finally right the wrongs of decades of neo-liberal fiscal policy.  They can bring the country in line with the rest of the democratic world by pushing policies that help the poor, working and middle classes.   Young parents would be able to afford to have a child.  College graduates would be able to afford to buy home and have a crazy thing called disposable income because their college debt was wiped out and college itself became affordable.  People would stop fucking dying because they don’t have health care. Seriously, on this last point, what in the ever-loving fuck is wrong with people for not being willing to raise their taxes to fund universal health care?

We need to begin assessing potential candidates by what they want to accomplish to fix this issue.   And we can best determine if they will remain mired in the status quo of empty gestures and corporate checks, or if they will fight for us, by their words and actions.  With that in mind, I’m going to base my choice on whether the remaining candidates can be expected to support the fundamental restructuring of government and wealth equality.  I think you all know where I’m going with this one.

Corey Booker, Kamala Harris, Amy Klobuchar, John Delaney – The Technocratic Legislators

Here you have some good moderate Democratic legislators.  Booker, Harris and Klobuchar are sitting U.S. Senators while Delaney is a former Representative.  I don’t really have an issue with any of them, save maybe Delaney.  They all are effective legislators, even if they may be more moderate than I’d like.  I particularly like Booker and Harris as people if not politicians.  But at the end of the day, I can’t really rely on them to push the things that need to be front and center.  I don’t exactly know what their broad policy even is.  Sure, they will come out with a good sound bite or a good proposal on some smaller but still important issue.  Booker is doing great things on tackling issues facing inner city youths.  Harris is good on gun reform.  But Booker is way too closely tied with Big Pharma.  Harris has an awful record on criminal justice and did nothing to help homeowners defrauded during the housing crisis.

They both illustrate a major concern we should all share.  When you have a record of being too cozy with some terrible industries, it shows that the voters can’t truly trust you to have their back.  Campaign contributions are par for the course.  You need them to win elections.  But when you take a disproportionate amount of money from very specific industries, it means you are probably bought by them.  Don’t be surprised if Booker nominates a Pharmaceutical lobbyist to head up CMS.  And when private equity managers donate to Harris, as Blackstone’s Tia Breakley did in March, 2019, they are doing so because there is a reasonable belief that Harris and others won’t come after them.  

Again, I think Harris and Booker are good people and good legislators.  And the critique about money is not limited to them, as I plan on thoroughly ripping into Buttigieg and Biden on it.   But when you take these facts along with the truth that neither candidate is pushing the sort of structural reforms needed in this country, I think it’s fair to say their presidencies would be rather unremarkable.

Amy Klobuchar and Jon Delaney share the money problem, but they have so much more going for them!  Klobuchar treats her staff like absolute shit, which only matters when you remember that we are relying on her to protect all low-level workers.  She clearly has contempt for people beneath her on the career ladder, and a wise woman once said “when a person shows you who they are, believe them.”  

Klobuchar and Delaney have spent their entire campaign advocating not for what they believe, but for trashing other candidates who dare to dream. Klobuchar and Delaney come from the school of Democratic politicians who believe things are too hard to try, and we might lose Republican voters by trying to be Democrats.  The Klobuchar’s and Delaney’s of the world would be happy to adopt every major Republican fiscal position if it meant they got to be President.  Also, Delaney is the moron who thought it was a good idea to trash Medicare for All at the California Democratic convention.  

I would vote for Harris and Booker and not feel bad about it.  I’d feel weird about voting for Klobuchar, and Delaney has as much chance of the nomination as Scott Baio.   They are out.

Joe Biden, Elizabeth Warren, Bernie Sanders, Julian Castro, Pete Buttigieg

We’re going to go after the young guns now.  The candidates we all secretly wish were just a bit better so that we didn’t have to choose from three candidates in their 70’s.  But these candidates are ultimately empty shells of better candidates who seem too concerned with appearing like the rational voice in the room to have a vision for our country.

Let’s start with Mayor Pete Buttigieg.   I was talking with my mother about who she was going to support in the primary.  Let me be clear that I did not initiate this conversation.  I’d literally rather talk to my mother about our respective sex lives than politics.  But my mother has a bit of a control issue, and this blog was cheaper than therapy.

Anyway, my mother said she was supporting either Biden (shocking, I know) or Buttigieg.  She said she liked that he was young, and it was great he was gay. I asked my mom what positions of his did she support, and she couldn’t really name any except that he didn’t support Medicare for All.  This was a selling point for her.  See, my mother represents a huge segment of the Democratic base that is upper middle class, socially liberal (except Kaepernick should’ve stood) and fiscally moderate (aka conservative but they swear they have homeless friends).  What this really means is they are Democrats when it doesn’t hurt them to be.  They think what’s going on at the border is abhorrent, but they know someone who was mugged by an “illegal” and we need a wall.  And they support the idea of everyone having health insurance, but no way will that mean they have to pay more in taxes.   They agree housing is too expensive, but then they’ll oppose affordable housing development in their neighborhoods because they attract a “bad element.”  For these people, Buttigieg is the ideal candidate. They get to keep their money and nice gated communities, but because he is gay they can call themselves progressive.   Plus, we know Buttigieg won’t do anything monstrous like keeping refugees locked up or denying basic rights to LGTBQ people, so how could anyone not support him?

Well, let me be the first to say that Pete Buttigieg is awful.  First, keep in mind this guy is the Mayor of South Bend.  That’s less a city and more a place for Notre Dame fanboys to “romance” the gold helmets in a sleazy motel.  He won his last election with 8,500 votes.  And he still managed to piss off a sizable number of his constituents by botching police relations with the black community.  And now people think he can run a country.  But he’s taken seriously because he raised a boatload of money and the pundits (also rich white people generally) like him.  Never mind where that money is coming from and what favors he now owes to those people, right?

Mayor Pete came out for Medicare for All but decided when it was political opportune to trash it using Republican talking points.  His actual healthcare plan is truly awful.  Pete Buttigieg is the darling candidate for voters who don’t want anything to change, like my mother. They have good health insurance.  They own their house and see it as an asset, not a noose.  They don’t have any student debt, mainly because they attended college when it cost the equivalent of an iPhone.  Buttigieg is a technocrat with a nice haircut. He is a lot like Obama, minus the everything. But his message is one of comfort to the people who own vacation homes in upstate New York and tie rainbow bandannas around their dog’s neck for Pride Week. Under a Buttigieg administration, civility will return and nothing else will change.  If the biggest criticism of Sanders and Warren is they have pie-in-the-sky ideas, then Buttigieg’s biggest critique is he has no ideas.  It’s just sad how little that matters to the people who will decide this election.

Julian Castro: you’re next. Here’s someone I kind of like.  He is great on housing, one of the core issues keeping Americans from feeling secure.  I live in an area once considered cheap for housing.  But that’s changing.  They keep building and building but rents still shoot higher and higher.   Sometimes I feel the laws of supply and demand don’t work with housing.  I mean, it works when there is low supply and high demand like in Los Angeles and San Francisco.  But where I live, there is plenty of supply, yet rents are increasing as much as 10% year over year.  Likely this is because demand is still high to live near an urban center.  It doesn’t matter if there are tons of vacant units. Renters are willing to pay the cost and don’t do a good job shopping around.  Also, as rents continue to soar while jobs continue to navigate towards major cities and people continue to need to live near those jobs, our commutes will get longer and longer.  This means more cars on the road, more pollution in the air. Solving the housing crisis means putting a huge dent in climate change. No one seems to understand the impact of not having affordable housing, but Castro comes fairly close.  I think I would go for him if he wasn’t so milquetoast on every other issue.  He gets completely lost in the shuffle.  I think Castro supports Medicare for All? I mean, I do know where he stands because I follow this stuff closely, but it should be clear to the average voter.  Castro is young, attractive and is relatively progressive compared to the field.  But he isn’t charismatic.  He doesn’t articulate his message clearly enough, and my big concern is whether he can create a narrative that gives his administration a chance to pass meaningful legislation.  It’s not that I can’t get on board with Castro based on policy, but I just don’t think he has the chops to get it done.  Castro’s other problem is he doesn’t speak to workers’ rights issues enough. He pays them lip service, and I’m sure he believes in increasing union membership and raising the minimum wage. I just can’t envision him fighting hard for those issues once in office.  I, quite frankly, see him as another politician pushing incremental change on some areas and tackling the low hanging fruit issues of the Democratic base rather than swinging for the fences.

Joe Biden, Elizabeth Warren, Bernie Sanders

And then there were three. I think we all knew it was coming down to these three.  Let’s not kid ourselves here.  We know who is getting the next ax, but the bottom line is these are the three true contenders and until things change, they are the only horses in the race.  So we will tackle them together in Part 3, which is hopefully coming soon.

[mintchocolateleaves]

A/N: Am I coming back as meme trash with some crack based on this video? Yes. But I’m not alone! @detectivegeekshin created art for this too, so it’s alright! Does this mean we’re now the memers of this fandom?

It’s a zombie AU. Please enjoy it. xD

-

The streetlight is flickering.

Perhaps not the worst thing about this night, since they’ve already been chased halfway across Ekoda by half-alive humans. Shinichi hates the idea of calling them zombies, it seems too cliché. Why would he believe that the zombie apocalypse has finally occurred–

It’s probably best not to think about it. Shinichi just needs to keep moving, head towards the checkpoint that had been mentioned in the emergency broadcasts around the district.

“We’re almost there,” he says, finally, glancing between the three who’re part of their group. Hattori, having fought ‘zombies’ before when they’d been on a case together, seems slightly terrified, as if remembering how he’d ‘chopped’ someone’s head off.

Kuroba had started off worried, but somehow, along their travels towards the checkpoints, he’d gone from worried to exasperated. Then, to amused. Humour has started to tinge his eyes, almost as if he’s finding the entire thing amusing. On the other side of Shinichi, Hakuba looks like he’s one second away from a mental breakdown.

Shinichi lets out a small sigh as they turn to look at him. “We’re almost at that military checkpoint. Just a few more miles, a little further.”

The boys nod.

“Maybe we could hotwire a car or something,” Kuroba suggests, pointing towards one of the cars at the end of the street. The door has been left open, and so it doesn’t seem like getting nearer will set off any alarms. “You can drive, can’t you Kudo?”

Shinichi hums, acknowledging. He says, “I don’t have a license, but I know how.”

Hakuba flashes him a look that says this is outrageous. He must remember the fact that a withering, old age pensioner has recently tried to take a bite out of his arm though, since the look slowly fizzles away and is replaced with horror.

“We could perhaps overlook the lack of a license.” The blonde mutters, concluding that they have more important details to look into.

“Carjacking with a bunch of detectives during the apocalypse,” Kuroba mutters, shaking his head. “What kind of hell is this?”

Shinichi decides not to answer. Instead, he throws himself into a slow jog, making their way towards the car.

The… zombie… pulls itself up from the car bonnet when they’re a few yards away. Long, slick hair frames a face without any expression. The strands are silver, and Shinichi feels a bristle of terror run down his spine as he realises that the man is all too familiar.

“Not this fucking guy again,” Hattori growls, as they come to a stop. They’re a few feet away, and Shinichi takes the time to look at the man who ruined his life years before. He’d poisoned him once, and if Kuroba is right about the whole zombies thing, then the man can easily poison him again.

“We should kill it,” Kuroba suggests, shrugging his shoulders. “Do either of you guys have a weapon or something?”

“We can’t go round killing people Kuroba,” Shinichi protests, “that makes us no better than him.”

“I’m sorry,” the magician snarls, “but it’s a fucking zombie. Can’t we just stab him a little, so he’s doesn’t go around eating our eyeballs like it’s fucking takoyaki?”

“Shut up,” Hakuba hisses, “you’re not helping.”

The zombie lets out a snarl. Animalistic and feral, it makes each of them jump. Hattori squints, takes a second to break from the group, stepping towards the zombie.

Now that Shinichi looks closer, he can see that flakes of blood have dried beneath the zombie’s fingernails. The trench coat and the shirt the zombie wears beneath him is stained red. It’s all together, a chilling experience.

Hattori seems to ignore the fact that this is chilling, because he raises his arms up, and makes a noise that sounds like a mix between a strangled cat, and a lion’s roar.

At the confused squeak Hakuba makes, the Osakan turns back. He raises his shoulders into a shrug and turns back to the zombie. Then, he says, “Listen. It seems pretty animal like, ya know? So, how do ya deal with animals, ya prove to them you’re a bigger threat, right?”

“Hattori,” Hakuba breathes, and Shinichi turns just in time to watch his composure crack. Gone is the detective Shinichi met at a gathering on a private island, now, he’s face to face with the teenager Hakuba really is. “That’s what you do with things like bears. This is a fucking zombie, you imbecile.”

Hattori shrugs. Repeats what is meant to be a roar as he tries to intimidate the zombie. The zombie repeats the roar, tries to be act equally as intimidating.

Shinichi’s not going to lie, he’s quite intimidated.

“Hey,” Hattori turns back again, takes a step back almost intuitively as the zombie shuffles closer. “I think it’s mimicking me.”

“Hattori, quit messing around.”

The Osakan does not in fact, stop messing around. For a moment, he stills. Then – he starts to perk up as he glances at the shirt that is beneath the zombie’s trench coat.

Shinichi isn’t sure whether it is hysteria or disgust that rises up his throat. Either way, he is looking at an old t-shirt, frayed and covered in blood, with the face of Britney Spears on it.

“I have an idea,” Hattori says, and before Shinichi can ask what it is, he begins to croon Britney Spears, singing along to the tempo.

‘Oh baby, baby – how was I supposed to know?’

Hakuba’s lips purse. Kuroba squints, shaking his head as he looks at the scene. For a moment, there is no possible thought that Shinichi could think that would make sense of this.

‘That something wasn’t right here–’

“Hattori,” Shinichi breathes, “what are you doing?”

Beside him, Hakuba mumbles a quiet, ‘what?’ His eyebrows raised as he tries to fully understand what’s going on.

‘Oh baby, baby – I shouldn’t have let you go..’

Hattori lifts his hand up, as if to reassure them that everything is totally fine, and that he’s in control of the entire situation. Despite this, Shinichi doesn’t feel very reassured. The zombie, at least, hasn’t ripped them to pieces yet.

‘And now you’re out of sight, yeah.’

For a moment, it’s just Hattori singing. Then, the zombie starts to bounce its head, echoing the lyrics back in a croaky, almost demon-like voice. Perhaps the discovery of knowing that zombies can sing should have gone unknown. Shinichi doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to properly process the knowledge.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Kuroba shrug his shoulders, mutter ‘fuck it’ and take a step forward.

‘Show me,’ a chorus of two humans and a zombie echoes in the empty street, a croon of Britney Spears, ‘how you want it to be–’

Everyone has clearly gone insane. The apocalypse is here, and everyone is losing their mind, obviously. Because there’s no way that…

“What are you doing?” Shinichi hisses, only to receive a listless shrug from Kuroba. The thief even seems to be bouncing on his toes a bit, small dance moves as they continue to sing.

It’s completely outrageous.

‘Tell me baby, cause I need to know right now, because–’

The three seem to be so involved in the song that they don’t notice Shinichi as he turns to Hakuba, raising a hand and throwing it up, a silent question. Hakuba responds with a frown that seems to say that he doesn’t have a clue either.

‘My loneliness, is killing me.’

Kuroba breaks off, quite invested in the song and adds, “and I–”

‘I must confess, I still believe–”

“Okay,” Hakuba says, raising a hand up, as if trying to force the words out. He turns to Shinichi, makes eye contact for a few seconds before turning back to the two men and the zombie. “Did Kuroba drug my water again, or are they really singing Britney Spears with a zombie?”

Shinichi has no words. He simply shrugs his shoulders and tries to process what’s going on. He’s pretty sure, that he’s gaping – especially since both Hattori and Kuroba seem so intensely into their song, their arms jerking in some resemblance of a dance.

‘When I’m not with you, I lose my mind. Give me a sign–”

Hattori claps his hands along to the rhythm, tapping his foot. Since the zombie seems invested enough to sing the song, it almost seems like it would be unwise to interrupt.

So, Shinichi stays quiet.

‘Hit me–’

Even if his friends are fucking idiots.

‘Baby one more–’

The zombie crumples to the floor before they can finish the song. The air cracks with the loud burst of gunfire, a bullet penetrating through the skull. Blood does not spurt out, simply dribbles.

Not that they should have been expecting something different. It seems that the zombie doesn’t have a heartbeat, making bleeding unlikely. As long as it doesn’t fall face first, the blood will remain inside the body, keeping the virus contained.

Hattori and Kuroba both let out something not unlike screams. It catches in their throat, and maybe later, when they are telling the story to their respected girlfriends, they will leave this part out, but for now, the sound that emits from their mouths is nothing short of shrill.

Shinichi lets out a small sound too, an exhale of air that is mostly from adrenaline but also from shock. He zips around, just in time to hear Hakuba swear under his breath, staring across to where the sound has come from.

Sat on a motorbike, with a gun raised, a boy watches the four of them. He lowers the gun, clicks on the safety and then, very slowly, lifts up his visor.

Shinichi lets out a small breath. He knows those eyes, that androgynous figure. Not a boy then, but rather, a girl.

Masumi Sera.

[lnr1625]

Under Her Mask

Character: Peter Parker 

Prompt: “You're so Strong. I know you are”

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse, Panic Attacks, Swearing, Emotional Breakdown, Death, Neglect. 

Summary: Y/N and Peter have been friends for a few years now, and they would do anything for each other. So when Y’N starts showing up with signs of abuse Peter becomes determined to find out not only what is causing it but also how to help the girl he loves... But is Peter really ready to find out the truth about this girls life? 

Word Count: 8.7K

A/N: This is my first posted story and i’m proud to say its for @hollandroos Writing Challenge!!!!  I want to thank my wonderful cousin and best friend who helped me edit through this, so hopefully it doesn't completely suck. 

Distraction, in Peter’s mind, was one of the worst things in the world. He felt his entire purpose, while in the Spider-Suit, was to be able to help and save people. So, to have something on his mind big enough to overpower his senses, to keep him from his duty to the city, greatly bothered him. As Peter swung through the streets on Friday night, doing his nightly patrol he was trying to pay attention to his job, he truly was trying to look through the streets, trying to hear distress calls or alarms through the areas. But every time he tried to focus in on what was going on around him, he would think of something that caused his mind to tear away from the task at hand. Only one person could have that big of an influence on him and that person was Y/N.

Y/N had always been a secretive person. When they first met two years ago, she tried to keep a distance between herself and Peter--barely talking to him, declining every invitation he offered and Peter would have given up trying to be her friend at one point or another. That is,  if she hadn’t continued to stand with him and Ned in the hallways, sit with them at lunch, and trail behind them on the walk home. Eventually she started talking to them more, laughing out loud and all around became more comfortable with them.

When she was first confronted about why she tried so hard to isolate herself at first, by Peter--many months after their friendship blossomed--she had said the only reason she stayed by them was because she liked the company they gave. It made her feel less alone--like maybe if she could learn to open up to them she would be able to have friends, and she did. She said she liked how they didn't give up on her but let her ease up to them. However, to this day, she was still secretive--keeping answers about her family short and would change the subject when things started to get uncomfortable for her.

Peter knew she hid things from them and, as any human, Peter wanted to find out what it was that Y/N kept locked up so tight, and with his powers he knew he could probably figure it out and sometimes he was tempted, especially when Y/N would drop tidbits of information about her home life, but whenever the temptation arose, he refused. Everyone, including Peter himself, had secrets they didn't want out. So he made a promise to himself to keep hope that, one day, she would feel comfortable enough to open up and fill in the rest of the holes about her life . And keep that promise he did.

That was, until she started showing up to school with mysterious bruises.

This caused all promises to be thrown out the window and Peter became determined to find out what was causing the constant bruising, find out more about her life and he was willing to do anything even if it meant finding out the information from someone who wasn't Y/N herself.

This led him to Jack whom Peter had only meant a couple of times, but Peter had learned Jack was a long time family friend and so if anyone knew anything about Y/N it would be him.

It was the conversation that Peter and Jack had had a few hours prior that was taking up Peters thoughts as he swung around the streets the conversation that made him realize that the little bit Peter thought he knew about Y/N, was all a lie.

___________________________

“Peter, I’m sorry. You’re a good kid and it’s nothing personal, I’m sure, but she’s bullshitting you.” Jack deadpanned as he leaned on the door frame to his apartment, seemingly annoyed that Peter was there to begin with.

“Wh-what?” He stuttered, not understanding the meaning behind Jacks words.

“Everything she’s told you about herself is probably a lie,” The young adult confessed to him with a look of pity in his eyes.

“How do you know that?” Peter tried to defend himself as he wanted to hold onto the belief that he knew Y/N better than anyone else. The belief that she was honest with him, even if it was only little bits of information.

“Because you're here to ask me about her family, right? Which means you don't know anything about her family.” He stated, appearing annoyed with the conversation at hand.

“She’s told me some things. . . .” Peter said, trying hard to be confident, but struggled as he began to question everything she had told him over their time together.  

“Yeah, but it's all lies, because that's what she feels she has to do.” Jack tried to tell the young boy again. But Peter, suddenly feeling very offended, decided to ignore what Jack was trying to get him to understand. “Why are you acting like you know me?” Peter demanded--holding onto his last hope about Y/N.

“I don't know you, I know her. What do you know about her family, Peter? Do you know she had a brother?” He asked firmly. Peter could see a small smirk dance across his face for a fraction of a second--the kind that causes a person to hold their head up high, because they know something that someone else does not. Peter wasn't sure why, but it flared up anger inside of him.

“Yeah, and I know he died.” Peter stated rather proudly for a brief moment, before

realizing what words had just come from his mouth and his overconfident behavior was quickly turned off.

“Wow. . .I’m impressed she’s told you that. I can bet you don't know how, right?” Jack said with a nod and a tone in his voice that seemed to say that Jack already knew the answer.

“N-No. . . .” Peter stuttered out after a few seconds as the words Jack had been speaking seemed to sink in. He started to lose hope about knowing Y/N better than anyone else.

“And what about her parents? What has she told you about them?” He asked, this time with a grim expression.

“That they travel a lot.” Peter answered, realizing how vague that answer was, and suddenly became embarrassed that he came to Jack to ask more about her family. Especially when he didn't seem to know anything about them in the first place.  

“Yeah, travel a lot my ass. . . .” Jack scoffed with an eye roll as his anger seemed to increase but not necessarily at Peter.

“Tell me then. Tell me what this big secret is.” Peter bursted out--anger growing within him. Jack knew all the information that Peter had been trying to get out of Y/N for months, and he was dangling it in front of Peter like a bone. He realized that the angry feeling was jealousy. Why does Jack get to know all this about her, but not him? Why is Jack so special to Y/N?

“It's not my place to tell, Peter. She'd kill me if she found out. You have to understand that the hand life gave that girl was complete shit, and she knows it. She has her reasons for hiding just like everyone else. ” He sighed.

“ I need to know!” Peter demanded holding his chin up high.

“Why are you here, Peter? Why do you want to know so much about Y/N, huh? Is it because you're pining after her and just want to know more about the dark and mysterious girl in your life? Because it's pathetic that you can't wait for her trust”  Jack spat at the kid, clearly fed up with the conversation that had been going in circles.

Peter was taken aback by the older boy’s words--was Peter that easy to read? It was then Peter realized he wasn't there to find out more about her. Well, he was, but it was because she was getting hurt and seemingly the only person he knew who might help was Jack. He had gotten so caught up in his jealousy that he forgot the whole reason he was there in the first place. “No, Jack, just listen. I'm worried about her. She's been showing up to school with bruises and trying to cover them up. It’s been weeks and I know asking her will get me nowhere and I want to help her. I think she's getting abused and I need to know who’s doing it, and my first thought was her family because, as proven, I know nothing about them.” Peter explained his reasoning in a calmer, yet more desperate tone.

There was a silence that filled the air as Jack’s demeanor had quickly dropped. Anything he had been previously thinking had obviously changed, and his eyes were darting back and forth as he stared at the floor as if he was in deep thought about something. Peter ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh--waiting for some form of response from the man before him. He was desperate for any information that would help.

“No, no. . .it wouldn't be them.” He whispered, licking his lips--not meeting Peter’s eyes.  

“How do you know?” Peter asked, desperately looking for an answer of any kind.  

“Because. . .she doesn't have a family. She lost the meaning of family when she lost Harrison.” Jack started with a heavy voice, but refused to break eye contact with Peter.

Peter stayed silent fearing if he spoke, Jack would stop his explanation.

“She’s gonna kill me for this, but if it helps find out who the fuck is hurting her then I guess it's worth it.” Jack sighed before diving into thought and revealing everything he knew.

“Harrison was Y/N’s hero. He practically raised her, and so when he died, to her it was like losing everything. She had no one. Do you remember that huge building fire in Brooklyn a few years back? Building burnt down completely?”

“Yeah,. . .vaguely” Peter said with confusion, as he didn't understand what that had to do with Harrison's death--Y/N didn't live in Brooklyn.

“Harrison, Y/N, and I were walking home from school. Haz and I had just finished out last day of senior year, and we're gonna go spend the afternoon together with some friends. But, as usual, Haz had to make sure Y/N got home safe. We passed the building that was on fire, and what happened next I'm still not completely sure. He made me take Y/N across the street and keep her away from the commotion while he ran over and into the building to search for those who couldn't get out. because the fire department had not arrived... By the time it was all said and done, Harrison had pulled 6 people from the building, 5 of them kids who had just gotten home. He was rushed to the hospital shortly after the Fire department arrived, Y/N and I rode with him. He died later that day from smoke inhalation.”

He paused abruptly from his already brief explanation, stopping himself before he could get choked up.

“He didn't even make it to fucking graduation,. . . .” Jack whispered then, breaking eye contact with Peter as he looked down to the ground and Peter watched as they boy took his hand and rubbed them over his eyes to wipe away the tears that had formed rather than letting them fall.

“She lost everything that day. . .she has no family.” Jack stressed again making sure Peter really understood what he meant.  

“What about her mom-” Peter started, but was cut off before his thought was completed.

“Y/N never knew her mom Peter, she died right after Y/N was born.”  

“Why would she not tell me that?” Peter asked with hurt in his voice. She had told Peter that her mom is gone a lot for work.  Had he not been a good enough friend for her to tell him anything even remotely true? Had he not proven how much he cared for her? That he wouldn't judge her for anything?

“Because she's always blamed herself for it and thinks everyone else will too. She'd rather live a lie that people are unlikely to find out, rather than live her life thinking everyone blames her for her mothers death.” Jack explained the girls thinking, but in a way that made it seemed like Jack had tried to convince her otherwise and failed.

“Something like that isn't her fault. Why would she blame herself?”

“Because her piece of shit father did for her whole life.” Jack said through clenched teeth and followed it with a dry chuckle as Peter noticed his knuckles were white from his hands being balled up in fists.

Peter thought this was it--if her father blamed Y/N for her mothers death, then maybe he's the one that causing the bruises. But then he stopped himself, remembering that Jack seemed so sure that it wasn't anyone in her family.

Jack let out a sigh, seemingly hesitant to continue, but after a few seconds decided to continue anyway.  

“From what I understand, when their mother died, their father tried to take care of the kids to be a good father through it all. But the more the two of them grew, the more milestones they passed without the presence of their mother. . .the harder it became for him. So, he used work as an excuse to get away, he started traveling more. At first it wasn't much, just some weekends and a few days at a time, and they would come stay at my place with me and my parents. When Harrison got older though, and he could start taking care of himself and Y/N, their father started travelling more and more. To the point he was gone more than he was home. They resented him for it. So, when Harrison died, her father came home for 3 days for the funeral and was back out again. He barely spoke to Y/N. She lives by herself mostly now. When I'm home, I'll spend a couple days with her. Check on her, make sure she's okay, but there's only so much I can do. I consider myself lucky that she still lets me in to her life. Her father comes home once every couple months, if that. They honestly want nothing to do with each other.”

Peter stood baffled. How could someone do that to there kid? Leave them on their own like that? How could someone be so…so shitty?

“But what about her apartment and food and stuff. How does she afford that?” Peter questioned while still trying to process what Jack has just told him.

“Call it her father's guilty conscious or whatever, but every month he transfers a shit ton of money into her account every month to pay for food groceries, rent and whatever else she needs to pay. She's learned to do all her own expenses and taxes she's an kid living the life of an adult.”

“Thats…” Peter trailed. “Complete bullshit? Yeah... So, I'm sorry I couldn't help you more, Peter, but it’s not her family. It has to be from something else. Let me know if you find anything.” Jack nodded seemingly putting an end to their conversation.

“Yeah, thanks.” Peter said in a dry tone as he was more lost in his thought than he was there in that moment.

________________________________

Peter knew Y/N had secrets and he had respected that she didn't want to tell him about every aspect of her life. But to lie about it to him. . . ?

Peter couldn't help but feel like complete shit that his best friend had been living the crappy life she had been without help from anyone. He doubted she would have taken any help, but Peter knows better than anyone that the hardest feeling is feeling like no one is there. Peter figured something was happening at home with her, and so he tried his best for years now to be there for her--to be a best friend, to let her open up to him about anything she wanted. He thought he had been a good friend--someone she could trust. But obviously not, and this bothered Peter more than he was willing to admit.

He wanted to be mad at her--he did. Not because she didn't trust him enough to open up to him, but because she blatantly lied to him about more than one thing. He wanted so badly to be mad at her, but he couldn't.  

He thought back to when he lost uncle Ben. If he could have hidden behind a lie that no one would see through just to avoid the constant pity glances everywhere he went, he knew he probably would have done it. When his parents died, he would have loved to have just pretended everything was normal and that living with your aunt and uncle was something everyone did. So, why should Peter be mad at her because Y/N found an easy way out?

As Peter continued to web around the city, he realized it was a slow night and he was finding nothing. Mostly because he wasn't really looking. The hero realized it was pointless to continue his rounds, because he was nowhere near the right headspace he needed to be in to fight anyone. So, he figured it was best if he went home. To think of a way to help Y/N and earn her trust. That's all he wanted right now—for her to trust him. To find out who and or what was causing her physical harm.

And so he turned to swing home, mind still trying to web together the complicated story that Jack had confessed to him.

Suddenly, his spider-senses went off—alerting him of danger.

Out of instinct, his hand went to the back of his head—as if that would stop the pain. For a fraction of a second, the boy in the red and blue suit started to freefall before realizing what was going on and catching himself latching onto a building with another web.

As he climbed up, he landed on the roof and felt his senses go off for a second time causing Peter to wince, Someone was in trouble, but who? From what his instincts told him, it wasn't close. But Peter figured it must have been bad for it to break through his deep thoughts about Y/N. He spun in circles on the roof waiting for a sign—or something—to tell him which direction to start heading. After a few seconds, it went off again and Peter decided it was enough standing around. He leaped off the building letting his instinct take him where he needed to go and hopefully fast as the panicked feeling inside his chest started to grow.

Peter swung from building to building at a much faster pace than normal his senses felt like they were screaming at him that he needed to find whatever it was that was making them go off. Briefly all of his thoughts had been taken away from Y/N. His spidey senses worked like a GPS as he swung closer to Manhattan he could tell he was getting closer to this danger, when he could tell he was close he slowed down his swinging until he landed on a firescape that was on the side of the building next to an alleyway. This was were the danger was, he was sure, but it seemed like an empty alleway.

He scanned the area looking for something—listening for something. It was hard with the crowded street that was outside of the dark alley. That was, until his eyes caught a figure he hadn't seen upon his arrival. He didn't even have to see the girls face to know who it was.

Y/N.

No wonder his senses had been so strong. It's because his mind had only been on her, and therefore when she got in danger, they alerted him. But what kind of danger was she in? No one else was in the alley.

Peter wanted to jump down to talk to her, but figured it was best if he found out what was going on first. So, instead, he carefully watched her as she stood in the alley. Her back was to him—staring into the street of crowded people.

What in the world was she doing?

That's when he heard it: the sniffling coming from the girl. Immediately, he needed to see her face to find out what was wrong.  

He watched the back of her head as she stared for long seconds until she let out a noise—one that sounded like a sob? Y/N quickly covered her mouth—attempting to hold in any other noise. Peter decided the back of her head wasn't a good place to be looking, so he slowly crawled along the side of the building so he could see her face. But what he saw wasn't what he was used to seeing.

Instead of looking at the beautiful face that brightened his day, what he saw was a broken image. The first thing he noticed was the copious amounts of tears and makeup that trailed down her face, and the sobs she was trying hard to keep within herself.

Why was she in an alleyway crying? He needed to be closer to her, to help her, to console her, to be there with her through whatever was happening. He couldn't sit and watch her any longer.

“Excuse me? Do you need any help?” Peter called as he continued to crawl down the building.

He watched as she became startled by his voice—jumping about 5 feet back and frantically searching around to find the owner of the voice. Her body starts to involuntarily shake as she became more frightened. Peter cringed at the fact he seemed to have scared her more than calmed her down. He was used to people feeling relieved when they saw the red and blue suit not the other way around.

As Peters feet landed on the floor, he stood up to look at the girl who was now gripping her own hands so hard that her knuckles and fingers were white. The shaking had not stopped.

“N-no...I'm fine, th-thank you….”She stuttered in a quiet voice. Y/N was trying to hold back the tears, but was unsuccessful.

Peter cocked his head to the side at the differences between the Y/N he knew, and the one that was standing in front of him.

Normally, she was outspoken and confident with her words—she wasn't scared to look anybody in the eye and never showed emotion.

He took a step closer to help the girl but quickly came to a stop. When her eyes snapped up in fear, she took two large steps back and her breathing became more staggered.

“Please. Don't come any closer.” She called out, clearly panicked.

That's when Peter really caught her face for the first time. It took everything he had not to go over and demand what had happened—to demand answers. Above all, it took everything he had not to pull her into a hug and let her cry it out—to help her.

Her left cheek was bruised and the left part of her upper lip was split open. The top of her eye had a mixture of black and blue encircling it.

“Hey, hey, what happened?” He asked trying to hide the panic in his voice, looking around the alleyway to make sure there really was no one else he had missed.

“Please, leave me alone. Please, don't come any closer.” She begged again, holding out her hand top stop him. She looked away from the superhero and anyone could tell she was quickly losing any composure she had. The tears could no longer be held back and her breaths became quicker.

“Hey, don't you know who I am? I’m Spider-Man. I won’t hurt you. I’m here only to help.” Peter tried to stay in character, light hearted and joking. He held his hands up in self defense and tried to step closer, but couldn't as Y/N stumbled back about 5 steps and fell to the ground. She clutched her chest and her breathing became hyperventilated.

“I don-, I-I don't c-care. I don't k-know you, I don-, I-I-don't know who y-y-you are so please don't c-come any closer p-pl-please!” She begged him with more fear in her voice than anything Peter had heard. She was sobbing now and struggling to breath—it was obvious she could no longer talk.

Peter was, for the first occasion in a long time, truly terrified. He had never seen someone like this, and he didn't know what to do. He couldn't go near her, because she didn't know him, but he wasn't about to leave her here unsafe and unprotected. Especially not in the hysterical, terrified state she was in.

Peter realized that she was having a panic attack—something he knew very well about since the death of his uncle. He needed to help her, but he couldn't do it as Spider-Man.

“Get away. Get Away!” She cried as she clutched onto herself as best she could as she curled up into a ball. Peter took two steps back to see if that would calm her, but she was too far gone. It seemed like she couldn't figure out how to take breaths anymore, and she was holding her head in her hands.

Peter had to make a decision—fast. So, he followed his instinct. He needed to help her at any cost, he couldn't leave her like this. He reached to his head and whipped his mask off to reveal his face to Y/N. It was the only thing he could think of in the moment that might calm her down.

“Hey, Y/N, it’s me. Its’ Peter. It’s me.” He said as he tried to get the girl’s attention. He still didn't want to frighten her by coming any closer.

He watched as she picked up her head and caught the eyes of her best friend. Her breathing just stopped all together as she realized who the New York hero really was.

Suddenly, it became quiet as she studied his face. It was as if she couldn't process her best friend’s face coming out of the superhero suit. Peter carefully watched her face for any signs of distress, but it was hard from all the injuries she seemed to have sustained.

“Peter?” She whispered, eventually coming to her senses.

“Yeah, Y/N, it’s me. I need you to breath okay? In through your nose and out through your mouth.” He said as he kept his distance, making sure she calmed down before trying to get any closer. He breathed with her—making sure she knew the motion and she followed along. Her eyes never tore away from Peter’s. She looked just slightly more at ease now that she had someone next to her—someone she knew, rather than a stranger in a superhero costume.

It was minutes of silence, breathing, and starring as he knew Y/N was trying to piece together the main questions: What? Where? When? Why? And How?

Frankly, he didn't care, because revealing himself made her calm down. To Peter, that was more important than keeping his identity. He couldn't help but have a brief second of questioning if the great Tony Stark would do the same thing if he were put into a similar situation—assuming his identity was still a secret to the world.

“Y/N? Can I come closer?” He asked her and intently watched as she slowly nodded her head. So, sure enough, Peter took slow and small steps—not wanting to scare the girl any farther.

“Peter...wh-what?” She asked him but Peter was having none of it.

“Don't you dare worry about me, okay? I will answer all of your questions, I promise, but right now my main concern is getting you somewhere safe. That should be your priority, too.” He told her firmly as he looked around for a way to get her home. Peter figured she probably didn't want to walk in the state she was in and he wasn't sure he wanted her walking if whoever hurt her was still out there.

“I just want to get indoors….” She whispered as she hugged herself—purposely trying to avoid his gaze. Peter squatted down to get closer to her and to make himself be less intimidating.

“I know, Y/N. And I can get you there, but the easiest way is by using these.” He said as he help up his hand to show her his web shooters.

Y/N looked hesitant as Peter knew she realized that meant he would have carry her. If she fell, she would die. He watched as her face contorted from seemingly uncomfortable at the idea, to mildly alright with it. Peter stayed silent—waiting for the girls response. One way or another, he didn't care, but he was going to help get her safe.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think that'd be okay.” She said as she closed her eyes and bit her lip—nodding her head as if trying to convince herself more of the idea rather than telling Peter that she was okay with his plan.

“Y/N, I won't hurt you, okay? Ever. You can trust me.” He reassured her as he held out his hand to help her back up on her feet.

“I didn't think he would either, and here I am” She chuckled as she carefully put her hand in Peters to get up.

Peter wanted to know, wanted to know who would hurt someone so innocent—someone who was sometimes the only brightness in a world as dark as the one they live in. How could someone hurt the girl who always had a positive outlook and a smile on her face? How? But he decided getting her safe and comfortable first was more important than anything else he may want. So, he decided to explain what was going to happen in attempt to keep her calm.

“Okay, I'm going to grab you around you waist, and I need you told hold onto me. I'll swing us through the city and take you home, okay?”

She nodded along at his words, until he said the word “home”. Suddenly, her eyes became wide and the nodding stopped. The tears that seemed to have just stopped flowing had re-entered her eyes.

“Not home.” She choked out with fear.

Peter looked down at her with confusion. Why wouldn't she want to go home if that's where she felt more comfortable?

“Chris knows where I live and I’m scared he’s gonna try and come after me.” She whispered with shame—looking back to the ground.

Chris.

It took everything Peter had not to react. He had to repeat to himself that the one thing she needed right now was calmess and stability, and reacting in any manner to what she said would take him out of both those zones. Instead, he focused on trying to find another place for her to go.

“Okay...my place then.” He suggested. not really planning on giving her the option.  

“I don't want to bother Aunt May.” She said looking down with embarrassment on her face.

“Don't worry, she's working a night shift tonight. And even if she was home, I don't think she'd care.” Peter consoled her

“Okay….” She closed her eyes and nodded her head again.

“Okay. Now, I'm gonna need to put my mask back on, but you know it's me under here now, yeah? You're okay with that?” He asked. She nodded her head as as she did so he put back on his mask and the let Y/N wrap her arms around his neck, but not without Peter noticing how much she tensed up. He shot his web onto the building and pulled them up. He did so with a little more peace of mind knowing that Y/N did trust him enough to fly her across the city and go to his apartment.

Peter had never felt more stupid as he had realized he had forgotten that Chris was even around. Chris was Y/N’s boyfriend and had been for a few months. Peter had only met the guy twice. Other than Peter’s jealousy of him, Chris had seemed nothing but ordinary. He goes to a different school, and so he was never around and barley mentioned, as Y/N likes to keep her private life, well, private.

Of course it was him, he was the only other person in her life besides Peter's friends and Jack. Peter knew none of them had done it, but now the question is: why? What possessed someone to act out violently towards someone they are supposed to love unconditionally? Why would someone intentionally hurt anyone, especially someone as sweet and kind as Y/N?

Peter was deep in thought about Chris and more so how angry Peter was at him for hurting his best friend—his love. Only when he got to his apartment and let Y/N enter the room first he realized he was shaking in anger.

He watched her as she sat down on his bed, as she had done so many times before but this time everything was different, the air felt heavier and he had never seen the girl he loved so broken. She pulled her knees up to her chest and just started staring in front of her—sinking deep into thoughts that Peter knew were probably not good.

“Do you mind if I go change?” He asked realizing she would probably be more comfortable with him in normal clothes rather than his superhero costume.

He didn't hear a response, so he looked over to her and saw her very slowly shake her head one time. Quickly, Peter changed and grabbed a washrag and a glass of water for the girl that was sitting on his bed.

“I brought you water and thought maybe you'd want to clean off your face. Or I could...if you didn't feel up to it.” He offered in almost a whisper.

It took her a minute or so to even meet his eyes before she stood up. Slowly, Y/N shuffled herself over and grabbed the wash rag with a shaky hand. She met Peter’s eyes for only a second before facing her destination. But it was long enough for Peter to see the fear in her eyes before she walked over to the mirror in the hallway. The boy questioned whether or not the fear was for what had happened or for what she was about to look at in the mirror.

Peter let his eyes follow her figure as she made it to the mirror—watching as she took the washrag in both hands and held it rather delicately despite her shaking body. His eyes trailed up to hers, to see the girl looking intently at the washrag and breathing deeply.

Peter wanted to make sure that   Y/N knew he was there for her. So, he took a step closer—now standing in the doorframe—and was close enough to touch her, hold her if needed.

“Shit….” She breathed as she finally got the nerve to look up and see herself.

Peter watched intently as she wiped her face down, wincing everytime she hit an injury. He watched as the extent of what her pathetic excuses of a boyfriend had done to her was fully revealed.

Her eyes was purple and blue and starting to swell. Her cheek had a clear handprint on it and her lip was busted open, but had clotted up and was no longer bleeding. However, around her neck were bruises as well and on her wrists. Black and purple marks covered her—some more faded than others.

He could feel the tears in his eyes as he imagined the constant pain she must be in.

“I guess there's no hiding it from you, huh?” She whispered low enough he almost didn't hear her.

“Y/N….” Peter started trying to come up for words to console her—to give her words she needed to hear, but he fell short. He didn’t know if anything he could say would help her. The hero out of his costume continued to watch as she stared at herself in the mirror with a solemn expression—as if she was taking in the damage for the first time.

“My outside looks like how I constantly feel on the inside now…. A complete piece of shit.” She stated as he heard the heartbreaking sadness come back into her voice. Her eyes had not broken contact from her reflection in the mirror.

Peter could feel his heart hurting, and in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to make her stop looking at herself. But, he was still at a loss of words. Are there even any words he could say that would make her feel better? It seemed to him like words wouldn't be enough in this situation.

“Don't say that-” Peter started but was cut off.

“No, Peter, according to everyone left in my life who’s supposed to love me, I am. According to my own father I’m a piece of shit, because I killed my fucking mother. There's something you don't know, Peter. My mother’s dead and I fucking killed her and my father couldn't take it, and so here I am raising myself, but apparently I haven't done a good enough job. Now, according to Chris, I’m a piece of shit because I'm too embarrassed of him to bring home to meet my family, despite the fact that he's ‘the perfect boyfriend’ and has given me everything and put up with me for months.  But guess what! I don't have a fucking family to bring him home to, Peter, and that’s what I’m embarrassed about. It wasn't him...it’s myself that's embarrassing.” She ranted, letting her pent up feelings out. As the tears came back yet again, she did everything she could not to let them fall.

Peter knew Y/N wasn't yelling at him—she was yelling at life. He was still taken back by her sudden change in voice.

“You're not a piece of shit. You have done nothing wrong, Y/N. It's them. It’s them, not you!” Peter pleaded—trying to get her to understand his reasoning. She should push back their hateful words, because that's all they were. Peter wanted so badly for her to see herself as he saw her.

“Say that to my busted up face, Peter!” She cried raising a finger and pointing to her eye as he watched the tears she was holding back start to slide down her face.

“How long has he been like this?” Peter asked her in a whisper as he realized there was no consoling her with words right now.

“A little over a month.” She confessed—tearing her eyes away from his in embarrassment.

“You know you have to leave him, right?” Peter asked. He wanted to cringe as soon as it came out. He knew the question was a little far out there from their previous topic, but he had to make sure she knew that the first step to helping herself was leaving him. He wasn't asking for his own sake, no—he was asking for hers.

“What do you think all of this is from?” She dryly chuckled as she put her hand under her chin and attempted to give Peter as sarcastic smile but winced at the pain from her busted lip.

“I went to break up with him today, and had I not gotten the chance to run...I don't know if I’d still be here. I've never... I've never seen him so mad….” She confessed as Peter watched her recount the earlier hours, fear entered back into her eyes and even into her body as he saw her try and stop herself from shaking again.  

“Why didn't you come to anyone for help?” Peter asked her, practically pleading.

“If I had come for help, then you and everyone else would have thought I was weak...that I make bad decisions and I-I wanted so badly to prove to everyone…. To my brother…. T-To myself that I wasn't weak. But look at me, I’m a weak girl who’s been pretending to be strong and it's ripping me apart. It's so pathetic.” Y/N got out.

Immediately after her words were done, however, the girl’s emotions finally won the battle they've been having for hours. Suddenly, the tears became uncontrollable. As did her shaking and breathing. Y/N was sobbing, finally letting out everything she had been holding back and for who knows how long.

Peter couldn't help but be proud of her for admitting everything—for finally letting herself release some emotion. The boy was also rather grateful that he was there for her in this moment, because he’d rather make sure someone—like himself—would help her in any way he could through this rather than the girl have to deal with this all on her own. Peter decided to show that to her the best way he could, and so he walked up to her and pulled her into a hug. He let her crying into his shoulders, and after her initial flinch. she settled in and let Peter hold the broken girl. Slowly, he lowered her to the floor—running a hand through her hair—and rocking her back and forth like his uncle used to do with Peter when he was younger and would get upset about his parents.

“You are not weak, Y/N. You are so strong, I know you are, because you had the strength to get up and leave him tonight. You knew very well what he was doing was wrong. You are so strong and you don't need to prove that to me or anyone else because they already know it, okay? Anyone important in your life knows how strong you are, Y/N. And everything that happened to you? It only made you stronger, it made you who you are, made you into this incredible girl you are. The girl that Ned and Jack and Michelle and I already know you are.” He ranted, putting passion into every word just so she knew he meant everything. Peter continued to rock the girl and cradling her head into his shoulder, not caring about his shirt getting wet.  

She nodded her head into his shirt, but it did nothing to calm her as she continued to cry. This lasted about ten minutes before she finally calmed down enough to keep talking. Confessing something he assumed she had never told anyone else.

“I just wanted that feeling of being loved. That's why I started dating him...because he seemed to fill this hole that I have. This stupid need to have someone in my life who was willing to love me, to put up with me because everyone else I’ve loved has left me. I had no one, but with him. I finally felt like I had someone… But then he got so controlling and everything was suddenly my fault and the feeling of love turned into fear and when I realized that, I wanted him gone.” “You need to know that I will always love you, Y/N...no matter what, okay? Even if we fight, or we end up halfway around the world from each other, I will always be here for you and love you.” He said staring Y/N in the eyes, but the words brought a pain in his heart because he knew this wasn't the right kind of “I love you”’ he wanted to tell her. He wanted to confess everything he's been hiding from her but now was not the time. Now was not the time for surprises. In this moment, she needed the love of a friend, and that’s what he was ready to give her.

Y/N responded with another nod of her head and for a while the two sat in silence. Y/N had gotten off of Peter and while he wanted to keep holding her, he knew he should let her go. The two teenagers sat on opposite sides of the rather small hallway as she had her knees tucked into her chest and went back to her old trend of staring off into space while she waited for her crying to finish up. Peter had his knees bent and his arms resting on them as he tried so hard not to stare at Y/N. But as time went, on he realized he would catch himself staring more at her than away from her.

“‘Im sorry you're seeing my like this.” She spoke after a long while, for the first time all night. She sounded like she was almost back to her normal self.

“Don't apologize, Y/N. If anyone knows what you're going, through it’s me. If you ever need anything, Aunt May and I are here.” Peter told her truthfully. From now on, he would make sure Y/N was a priority to him.

“Thank you for everything tonight, Peter.” She nodded as she pushed herself up from the ground to stand up.

“Anything for you.” He spoke.

There was a small silence as he watched Y/N open and close her mouth a few times before finally deciding to speak.

“You know, you're the only other person since my brother died that makes me feel loved. Like...like I have some part of a family again. Like i'm not alone.” She quietly said and, for the first time that night, showed Peter a genuine smile.

Peter was in shock and didn't know what to say. His mind racing to come up with a response, but, sadly, he couldn't find one before the girl spoke up again.

“Is it okay if I sleep for a little bit? My head's killing me.” She laughed

“Yeah, take my bed.” He insisted trying hard not to focus on the confession that had just left her mouth.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely I'll be up for a little while anyway. Wait…here, take this.” He said, handing her a cold washcloth, “I'll wake you up in 20 to take it off, okay?”

“Okay.” She smiled again as she turned to enter Peter's room. Peter watched her figure until his door completely shut and then he let out a sigh—hoping it would make him more relaxed. Instead, it did nothing.

Peter sat all night long in the main room—eating leftovers and attempting to focus on something that wasn't the broken girl who was fast asleep on his bed, or the guy who caused her harm. Hence the reason some old movie rerun was playing while Peter slowly peaked into his room to make sure Y/N was still sleeping and safe.

Peter had lost any sense of time, until the front door unlocked and opened—revealing Aunt May. Fresh off her night shift, looking more tired than usual, and also rather irritated to see her nephew wide awake on the couch.

Peter shot up and held a finger to his mouth eyes glancing towards his door in fear that any loud noise would wake up Y/N in the next room.

Peter could see the confusion that crossed Aunt May's face, and he figured that was okay as long; as she would hear him out and stay quiet. In order to help his case, Peter decided to take a load off of her chest by walking over and taking the bags out of her hands and putting them on the kitchen table. He heard her shut the door and lock it before meeting him in the living room.

Peter looked to his Aunt with pleading eyes and started to talk to her with a hushed voice

“Let me explain,” He started as he licked his lips out of nerves. The boy was trying to form together an explanation so the angry woman in front of him would understand.

“Y/N is in my room asleep right now.” He continued, deciding the best way to go about it was to jump right in. Peter watched as May’s confused face turned to irritation. She went to open her mouth to reprimand him, but Peter stopped her before she got a chance.

“No, please! Listen, May. I was walking home tonight and found her in an alleyway. She was crying, beaten, bruised, and terrified.” Peter paused as the images of her from earlier flashed through his head. For the first time all night, he let himself show how upset the event had made him as he felt the tears building up.

“Her boyfriend did it….” He choked out, and watched as Mays expression went from anger to shock and utter worry. Her eyes glanced over to his closed bedroom door. Peter, on the other hand, had to closed his eyes and clench his fists from the built up anger he was starting to let slip.

“She didn't want to go home in fear he'd come after her, so I brought her here.” Peter finished, staring his aunt in the eyes to make sure he would be able to read any negative reaction and stop her from kicking the girl out.

There was a silence that lingered in the air as Peter patiently waited and wactehd May as she seemed to struggle for words.

“Have you told whoever she lives with that she's here?” May asked as she ran her hands over her face.

“Yeah….” Peter answered somewhat truthfully, and almost in shock. His mind had run through about a million scenarios that May could have said, but that was not one of them.

“Alright…well, you have to sleep on the couch, got it?” She asked with the intent to be firm, but with the worry that covered her face, it was more of a plead.

“She can stay?” Peter asked.

“Of course, that girl can stay as long as she needs.” May responded with a nod as Peter inwardly cheered at his success.

“Th-Thank you!” Peter stuttered out, noticing the tears still in his eyes as continued to remember everything Y/N had gone through tonight.

“You're a good friend, Peter…. Is she the one you…?”  May trailed off. Peter knew it was because she didn't want to overstep her boundaries, but he also knew what she was asking.

“Yeah….” He whispered, tearing away eye contact from her and looking to the ground when he felt a few tears slip.

Tears for her. That had he stepped in earlier, he could have filled the hole for love she was talking about earlier. He would have filled it properly and cared for her—treated her with all the respect and love a girl as perfect as he saw her should be treated with. Peter wanted to tear himself apart for letting it happen—he felt it was his fault. He should have been there for her more than he was. But he wasn't.  

So now here she was, bloodied and broken in the next room, and it pained him. It hurt more than anything he could remember.

“This doesn't deserve to happen to anyone, Peter. I'm so sorry it happened to her.” May said as Peter felt himself being pulled into a hug as he let more tears slip.

“I've never wanted to hurt anyone more than I do now.” Peter confessed to his Aunt as he pulled out of a hug. The boy figured if anyone would understand, she would.

“I know, Peter...but you have to focus on her right now, okay? Being there for Y/N.”

Peter closed his eyes to prevent anymore tears from falling and nodded his head in understandment. He stayed like that for a few minutes as he calmed himself down. When he opened his eyes to wipe away an excess tear, he saw May looking like she was having an internal debate with herself.

“Go to bed, May. I’ll be alright.” Peter reassured her as he nodded towards her bedroom.

“Are you sure?” She asked as a look of guilt crossed her face.

“Yeah, I promise.” He nodded with a smile for assurance. A small smile, because that's all he could muster, but it was better than nothing in his mind.

He watched as May made her way towards her room and almost entered entirely before stopping and turning around.

“Is she okay?”

Peter thought for a minute debating on how he should answer that question—or even if he should answer that question.

“No…but she’s the strongest person I know. So, with time, I really hope she will be.”

[pokemagines]

Ummm hi I really love your blog. ;w; This is my first time requesting so excuse me if it's odd but... Can i request: What do you think the Pokevillains biggest fears would be?

hey, emblemierviole! i, mod elesa, decided to just answer this ask in the same post. i took some liberties with some of the characters (namely maxie and archie) because there’s not enough detail to their character to give them an accurate fear. (edit: an anon let me know i forgot lysandre hahah Fuck Kalos Is so irrelevant....)

giovanni’s biggest fear would probably be losing his family  —namely silver. despite being feared as a gang boss and not hesitating to have people killed, he’d lose his mind if his son’s life was put on the line. although he acts distant from silver, he’s all he has, and would do anything to protect his son.

the fear of the unknown is what plagues archie daily. he’s not sure of his place in the universe after trying to control the legendary kyogre. is he even allowed to be a trainer? he has nothing besides team aqua. he’s nothing besides team aqua. when you see him at the battle resort, he’s trying so hard to be normal, but… can you really see him as anything other than the team aqua boss?

betrayal scares maxie to the highest degree. although it seems silly, he was more than relieved to see tabitha and courtney still by his side after his plans to raise groudon failed. if they had turned away from him, left him… he wouldn’t have been able to go on. this was his life’s work. tabitha helped him along the way, courtney was there for him when he was stressing… if a mistake cost him his friends, maxie would lose it.

cyrus doesn’t want to feel anything again. forming human connections… genuine ones, at that… scare him. he cast away those trivial human weaknesses so they wouldn’t get in the way of his ambitions. he had a team of grunts who would do anything for his cause, admins who supported him, yet he told himself he wouldn’t bat an eyelash if they died. he’d go crazy before letting himself be vulnerable again.

all ghetsis seeks is control. he controlled n, he controlled team plasma, he controlled the legendary kyurem. when his plans failed, when team plasma abandoned him, when his son left him, he lost that control. he’d never been more isolated and afraid in his life. when the world isn’t in his hands, ghetsis can’t take it. he ignores things he can’t control to avoid that potential breakdown.

if nihilego had cast her aside, ignored her, chose someone else… lusamine would be crushed. if her precious pokemon didn’t love her—didn’t let her control them – she’d be at a loss. for years, she controlled her children, forcing lillie to dress like the pokemon she lusted after. her anger painted itself on gladion’s body, purples and reds and yellows blending together. she thought losing mohn would be the worst thing to happen to her—when her own pokemon don’t want her, that’s when she knows she’s lost the game.

guzma’s biggest fear is being unable to redeem himself in the eyes of others. after team skull’s reign came to an end, no matter how hard he tried to ditch the thug affiliation, the public didn’t want him around. he couldn’t ever live normally again; everyone looked at him as if he was trash. the people who used to move out of his way now blocked him from entering, calling him names and pushing him out. you didn’t do that, though—you treated him as an equal. you battled him fairly, you gave him food to eat, you told him you were proud—and he couldn’t thank you enough for it.

lysandre? fear? not in his dictionary. the man is an innovator, a creator obsessed with domination — how could someone like him fear anything? he was willing to fire a cannon to destroy humanity for arceus’ sake. with power comes a price — lysandre’s worst fear? his influence. the only one whose ever treated him as an equal is augustine sycamore. the flare grunts worship him, bloat his ego. diantha falls at his feet. he just looks in a woman’s direction and she’s in his bed instantly. nobody has challenged him besides sycamore, and he seeks more of that.

[the-banished-mind]

08/20/22 - 4:01PM

i guess i may as well make a post christening this latest ill-fated project of mine. i feel like hey, journaling might help my mental health but my stupid hands are too weak to write long with a pen and i have a lot of shit i wanna say to get out of my brain. and then i get the bright idea of creating a journal online that i can type in instead, but using tumblr so i can post photos, instead of using a google doc. 

ill-fated because i’m 90% sure i’ve already tried this. i have a personal blog so why do i need another? just write on there, right? but what if someone i need to vent about finds it because they’re following me? oh the horror.

so i have this thing instead. spent over a day trying to customise it for literally no reason because again, i’m prolly gonna give up after like, a week. every time i create a blog i end up vanishing from it because SessionBox doesn’t work and i can’t have multiple accounts open at once, so you log into one and then the others are out of sight out of mind. 

but whatever. i might as well use it while i have it. um...

i dunno why but i’ve been even more in the dumps than usual lately. i think because the slew of distractions i’ve created for myself while i recover from top surgery are beginning to lose steam, as well as the fact i’m getting closer and closer to having to go back to work which i’m definitely not looking forward to, really.

so that results in my brain going on a downspiral. i miss ziggy. i miss zoya. i’m pissed off at the government, pissed off at corporations, pissed off at myself. i feel hopeless about the future and don’t see much of a point in it, and if i think too much about it, it starts to make me panicky...

[taking a step away to do other stuff, will finish this later.]

[back to work on it a bit longer before i go outside; currently it’s 1:09PM on 8/21/22]

but yeah. i hate thinking about the future because one, i don’t see much of one for me, and two, ‘the future’ means ‘losing more loved ones’ and ‘things changing’ and i hate all of that. i dont want to think of or prepare for loved ones passing away or leaving me, any more than i want to focus too long on losing zoya. i keep thinking that i’m dealing with her passing away super well, but then i realise no, i’m not, what i’m doing is frantically distracting myself in any way possible so that i don’t have to think about it.

because if you don’t think about something or ignore something’s existence, then it didn’t happen/isn’t happening, right? because that’s how the world works.

except it doesn’t, and i KNOW that i’m setting myself up for an even worse breakdown when inevitably, my brain can’t continue distracting itself properly, and everything i’ve been burying down in the “If I Ignore It It Doesn’t Exist” area caves in. it’ll be so much worse because i’m not actually confronting and learning to cope with or at least go through all the worst fallout with so many issues.

i think what pisses me off most is that i’m AWARE of this. i KNOW i’m setting myself up for a bigger mess than it needs to be, and yet i can’t seem to figure out how to allow myself to deal with it the way i should.

and all of that just culminates in me refusing to think about the future, for many of the same reasons, outside of a near-constant black cloud of dread that i’m wasting my life, and even if i have a chance of making something of myself, i’m not taking the steps to and as such am just fucking myself over.

i want to at least TRY to be an actor, try to get into film and television and maybe writing on the side. i want to move to vancouver, canada, both because it’s not the US and because if i move there i’ll be closer to both more film/television opportunities and the actors i hope to maybe someday be friends with. i want to find a job that i can at least stomach AND make enough money to survive on without wanting to kill myself or have a mental breakdown every other day over. i want to learn how to do so many things.

but when i even think about all the steps it’ll take to get to any of those conclusions, i start to balk.

[going outside, i’ll come back later]

[4:09PM, 8/21/22, back again]

like. let’s go into it here for starters, and acknowledge that this is probably only half of the list of things i’ll need to do.

so for me to get into acting, i have a list of shit i have to get done first. i need to either get to a point with my body where i am okay with it OR learn to kick my insecurities; i need to stop being afraid of getting stage fright; i need to stop letting myself hold myself back because of dumb shit like “I’m too old now” or “what if I’m not actually good at it”. after all the mental gymnastics is settled, I most likely have to go take theatre classes or acting classes, or at the very least find a good “beginners’ place” to start putting my feet back into the water. then if i’m specifically focusing on television/film, i’m gonna need some sort of an actor’s reel, so i’ll have to find things - probably voice acting work or student films - nearby i can do some work with. then i have to start an actor’s reel. then i have to figure out how to find auditions for things, and then make sure i’m at a point where i can afford/manage to get a hold of whatever i need to find auditions, and THEN i most likely will have an easier time getting auditions if i hire an agent - which means i have to figuer out that process, then find an agent i jive with, THEN set all that up.

writing is a less strenuous aspect in that i don’t have as many steps i need to take for that, but it’s still an ordeal simply because writing in my state is an ordeal. no matter how excited i get over an idea or how determined i am to sit down and write on a regular basis, i can’t seem to get anything to stick for long. so i need to figure out how to one, get a routine together that works for whatever place in life i’m at at the time, and two, get over the mental roadblock of feeling like i’m a shitty writer or stressing too much about whether it’s ‘good’, and then three, work on my mental health to at least a point where i can actually FOLLOW said routine without just giving up due to depression fog, fatigue, ADHD distraction, or whatever else. THEN i have to actually plot out, outline, write, edit, and rewrite an actual work. THEN i have the process, most likely, of sending out query letters, searching for a publisher, advertising it once it actually (if it actually) gets accepted, and then probably even more advertising and whatever else publishing requires. 

[sigh. i’m leaving AGAIN. i’ll be back.]

[back again probably for the last time. 7:25PM, 8/21/22]

now the moving thing. i don’t even know how to BEGIN going about that. so i guess to start with i need to find someone who can walk me through the steps, or find resources some place that are easy enough for me to understand, and then start whatever that undoubtedly lengthy process is. i’m almost certainly going to need to go back to school; either to start off by getting a student’s visa or whatever OR to try and get qualified for a job Canada will see as ‘useful’ because they only allow people to immigrate if they have some sort of job that would be beneficial to the country from what i hear. so on paper yeah, that looks like two steps, but they’re two broad steps with dozens of little ones and a whole lot of stress and commitment under the surface. and there’s no promise i even WOULD manage to get to live there. maybe they wouldn’t accept me. also, i’m not sure how i’ll handle being away from my mom that long. one reason i’m hoping for vancouver is because it’s still a decent distance away from Seattle, i could drive down for visits as often as i was able, but like... still.

also i’ll have to figure out a job that will let me earn enough to have my own place up there too. god only knows if the acting/television/film would work out - and befriending actors i’m hoping to get to know is even more of a slim chance. 

finding a job that both lets me earn enough money to survive AND is  tolerable almost seems impossible. i don’t even know how to go about doing that. i’ve been trying for years. i thought [redacted] would be a good option but management is unbearable there. i know management sucks everywhere but i swear to god it’s even more unbearable where i’m at. and i’m still not getting a living wage.

it seems like the only chance i have of getting a job i can both handle and survive on is most likely either a job that requires a bachelor’s degree - which is its own struggle - or like... somehow lucking out as an intern and then employee at some office building or big ole corporation. or i have to learn a new skill like IT. or i have to somehow get my body to a point where physical jobs are an option. all things that are again, seemingly one step but have a billion smaller steps underneath. and it’s part of why i’m so full of hopelessness for the future - if i can’t even find a job that i can work at without breaking down AND make enough money to live in even a place with roommates, then where the fuck will i end up eventually?

then all the learning stuff... i wanna learn how to play guitar, how to draw, how to skateboard, how to sing, how to (properly) act and do filmmaking, and learn to dance - how will i ever find time and energy enough for all of that when i can barely manage to scrape up enough energy and time to work a part time job that doesn’t pay enough?

and even beside all that, there’s so much i want to do in general; so many books i want to read, games i want to play, films and shows i want to watch, music i want to listen to - i want to go out to parties, and actually make friends, and i want to explore cities and the woods and go horseback riding and learn to ride/buy a motorbike and go bar-hopping and go to concerts and the theatre and to coffeeshops. there’s so much i want to do and so many places i want to go and how will i ever be able to afford any of it, much less find time and energy to do it? i want to so badly but i don’t know how.

i don’t know. you can see why i’m feelnig so hopeless, i’d imagine, my friend. and i hate it. i wanna be excited for my future but when it looks like my future holds nothing at all, it’s difficult to find the ability to be.

i’m done with this entry, it’s taken far too long and IS far too long. i’ll come back soon probably.

mikey out

[bluering8]

TNG S02

TNG S02 roundup let’s do this let’s make it happen!

Data - I still love Data!! That’s it that’s all you’re getting on the topic because I love Data so much that if you let me talk about him at all I’ll Talk Forever and there are non-Data things in this show which  need to talk about.

Geordi la Forge - I’m glad that Geordi’s the chief engineer now. Last season was kind of weird in that there wasn’t a dedicated engineer character so they were pulling out a new random yellowshirt every time they needed someone to explain a thing to the main cast. If I’m yelling something at the screen (use a shuttle! fly in a different direction! fate is bullshit shut up riker!) then usually Geordi will be the one to say it. This is like, one of the fastest ways you can possibly endear a character to me.

Anyway, I love Geordi and I love his friendship with Data and honestly, you could give me an entire show entirely about these two being bros and I would adore it. I forgot that Geordi likes to build model ships, but now I remember and it delights me that he’s just like, a huge fucking dork in his own right.

...it occurs to me that I’m better-disposed to characters when I know what their hobbies are. Part of the reason I love Data and Geordi so much both as individuals and as a brotp is that the show devotes a lot of time to showing them fucking around and getting into shenanigans outside of their duties. Contrast that with the characters I’m more ambivalent towards, such as Riker or Dr Crusher, and it becomes really obvious that part of the reason I’m ambivalent towards them is that I have no real idea what they do when they’re not doing their jobs.

Kate Pulaski - I hated Pulaski the first time I watched TNG and now, several years later, it turns out that I still hate Pulaski!! I talked about her before and tl;dr: my issue with her isn’t how she treats Data or that she’s decided he isn’t a person, but that she thinks treating someone that way is acceptable as long as she’s decided they’re not a person. Listen, mate, I’m not here to insist that everyone should be a perfect morally-pure cinnamon roll (all my faves are problematic as Hecke). I hate Pulaski because it would be so so easy for me to love her as a character, but she simply doesn’t fit the universe. In a grittier setting? Fantastic, splendid, superlative, I’ll take ten. In spacefuture utopia? I can believe in Pulaski as a person who might exist, sure, but I cannot believe that the rest of the Enterprise crew would stand there and watch her treat Data the way she treats Data, and not respond by hauling her off for sensitivity training. I hate Pulaski not because there’s anything wrong with Pulaski, but because the way the rest of the characters let her get away with it feels like a betrayal of everything I believed in about Star Trek.

Wesley Crusher - Alias FUCKING WESLEY THE WORST CHARACTER, because he is the absolute worst. Why is he wearing a uniform now? I am not usually a guy with strong opinions about wardrobe choices, but I actually really liked his collection of ugly-ass sweaters. If Wesley adds anything to the cast it’s his identity as someone who, despite all his smarts, is still just a teenaged civilian, and as a result lacks both the experience and the training of the other characters. Once you stick him in a uniform you start to lose the impact of that difference. I mean yes the difference will inevitably be lost as he embarks on his Starfleet career but at this point he’s still not even a real cadet yet, let me have the one thing I actually kind of like about the character.

Also why is he on the bridge. Seriously why. Why why why. Stop this!!

William Riker - Somehow it took me until halfway through this season to realise that Riker is mostly just a clone of Kirk? I think this contributes to how bland I find him, all Kirk’s philosophical inclinations got given to Picard instead so Riker ends up feeling super flat and underdeveloped. He’s, like, generally a decentish person (sometimes), and he’s good at his job (sometimes), and he flirts with pretty ladies (often), and his dad is a piece of shit? That’s all I’ve got on him. Dude could use another personality trait or three.

S02E02 Where Silence Has Lease - I have very mixed feelings about this episode. The first half was excellent horror, the kind of thing I love about the SCP Foundation or the Sick Land, that scenario where you’re trying to look at a thing from the perspective of a researcher but you’re in a situation where research simply doesn’t work because the thing is a fundamental violation of the way you interact with reality, and you’ve reached the point where all you can do is look at it and describe what you’re seeing and hope really, really hard that someone will figure something out eventually maybe. (The exploration of the Yamato reminded me a lot of House of Leaves, which also has that delicious sense of nightmarish slowburn reality-breakdown even if it lacks the desperate attempts to Do Science to something which completely resists the application of the scientific method.) Horror is an incredibly subjective genre, but for me a vital part of it is denying me any explanation while maintaining the illusion that if I go just a little further, learn just a little more, suddenly I’ll have my explanation and everything will make sense.

This episode not only gives an explanation, but salts the wound by giving an incredibly shitty explanation. See, something something rats in a maze and then there’s a face in the sky and I don’t give a shit. It was Whatsisface all along!! All it achieves is making me super super confused about what are Whatsisface’s capabilities even. He can make fake ships and fake people and instakill a dude, but he can’t deactivate the ship’s autodestruct or prevent Picard from activating the autodestruct in the first place?

S02E03 Elementary, Dear Data - What the fuck is up with the holodeck? My friend pointed out that “bear in mind they probably have a thousand problem free uses of the holodeck for every freak issue” but like, that’s not the fucking issue here, the issue is that regardless of how many problem-free uses they’ve had, they’ve also had an alarmingly high number of potentially-fatal malfunctions in a relatively short span of time. Why is overriding the mortality failsafe even a thing which is possible?? I can completely buy the holodeck being too useful as a training tool to get rid of it, but they should really have some kind of restrictions or guidelines on the thing for recreational use. You’ve had it demonstrated to you multiple times over that holodeck malfunctions can end in corpses, why are you not doing something about this! Why is there apparently no Health & Safety department on this ship!!

S02E07 Unnatural Selection - Philosophical argument time: do transporters kill people? Normally I’m happy to put this question in a box labelled “let’s not think about that too hard” but the ending of this episode makes more sense to me if the answer is yes. Instead of some bullshit technobabble de-aging nonsense, what they’re actually doing is replicating a new body using the hair as reference and jamming Pulaski’s memories into it then destroying the old body.

S02E09 The Measure of a Man - See, Bruce Maddox is Pulaski done right. I’m straight-up incandescently mad that this episode was Pulaski-free, because whenever she never misses the opportunity to remind Data that he’s not a person, and I super wanted Pulaski and Maddox to interact. Pulaski’s absence here makes the issue with how casually the show treats her attitude towards Data even worse. I feel like if you’re going to spend an episode debating whether Data counts as a person you should at least have the decency to acknowledge the cast member who comes down firmly on the “no” side. You can’t have Data’s personhood as a serious topic for serious debate while simultaneously shrugging your shoulders and going yeah well Pulaski’s just Like That I guess nbd. It doesn’t work that way!

S02E10 The Dauphin - “She’s perfect, absolutely perfect,” says FUCKING WESLEY THE WORST CHARACTER about a girl he’s only met once and barely exchanged a dozen words with, and then he gets super super mad when it turns out she’s a weird space alien shapeshifted into a human which just goes to prove that her personality mattered to him not one iota and he only liked her because she was hot and gave him a boner. And... that’s it, that’s the episode. There’s no subplot, nothing else happens, the entire episode is about FUCKING WESLEY THE WORST CHARACTER having a crush. In conclusion: FUCKING WESLEY THE WORST CHARACTER.

S02E15 Pen Pals - If anyone ever attempts to fight me on the topic of Does Data Is Emotions?, this is the episode I’m pointing them to. I’m pretty sure there’s not a single action Data takes in this entire episode which can be justified from a completely unemotionless point of view. He goes from “I’m too focused on my personal project to spend two seconds stacking this crap neatly so I’ll just leave it lying around as a trip hazard” to “hey Captain remember when you said I could break the Prime Directive a little bit, is it okay if I break it twice that much? actually I broke it ten times that much sorry not sorry” to “so I know this kid has no memory of me or our interactions now but I stole Pulaski’s weird space rock to give to her anyway because sentiment is important to me”.

S02E17 Samitarian Snare - The a-plot of this episode is that multiple people tell Riker that sending their chief engineer over to some random alien vessel is a bad idea while Riker tries to insist that it is a great idea and will be totally fine and then is completely fucking blindsided when it turns out to have been a terrible idea. I’m pretty sure this is the first time Troi’s said anything useful so of course Riker ignored her because she’s not allowed to be a worthwhile character.

The b-plot is that Picard and Wesley take a shuttle trip together and Wesley is so incapable of taking a fucking hint that even when Picard gets up and moves seats to be away from him Wesley doesn’t realise that his constant stream of personal questions might not be welcome. In conclusion: FUCKING WESLEY THE WORST CHARACTER.

S02E18 Up the Long Ladder - Oh my god it’s like they listened to my complaints about S01E17 and somehow managed to fuck it up even worse!! WHY ARE YOU ALL SO WEIRD ABOUT CLONING.

tl;dr: Direct from my liveblogging of S02E03: “DATA CHANGED HIS OUTFIT data my boy my son my precious cinnamon roll how many sherlock holmes cosplay outfits do you own”. I know the reasonable explanation would be that he replicates one fresh each time, but I choose to believe that Data owns an entire closetful of Sherlock Holmes cosplay outfits.