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agirlwholovesrockstars · 4 months

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𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖒𝖊 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖇𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖓𝖊𝖜

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓢𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷

"𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘢𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘦?"

彡 𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 彡

✦ 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 | 𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎 ✦

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞 : clear and blue skies, your family, your comrades, and you're with your lover, the horror from your kingdom has come to an end but will your mind be free from all the fury that's in your heart?

𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙 : it taken me a month to finish this 💀 my bad

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 : 18+ LostPrince!Knight!Eddie Munson x Princess!FEM!reader, cursing, reader and Eddie are both (21), trauma, reader having phobias, survivors guilt, slight allusions to su*cide, reader will be having a lot of struggles on this chapter, Henry & Jason will be mentioned! (I'm sorry), holding grudges, all of the characters will reoccur on this, not giving away any more spoilers but that's it!

𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝕰𝖝𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖙 : ANGST and FLUFF, dark fantasy, romance, set in 17th century, no more upside down

𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊 𝕿𝖔 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 : omg, this whole other world that I made is slowly closing to an end! I'm so happy for the people who are still here and waiting for the next chapter, I'm so thankful like literally! I'm so grateful! 🥺🫶🏻✨

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊 : I ain't gonna suffer you guys no more from the angst! don't worry! I just felt it will be too easy when reader is like "okay" with everything that just happened you know?

☆ EDDIE MUNSON'S MASTERLIST ☆

❣ AGATHA'S MAIN PAGE ❣

"No!"

"Shh, it's okay, Y/N, I'm here"

"Eddie?"

"Yes, it's me"

"O-Oh no- I did it again, didn't I?"

"No, it's not your fault, sweetheart"

You embrace him very hardly to make sure you're not trapped inside of your nightmare

Another nightmare again

The terror, lost lives, your parents, your friends, the destruction of your land that almost crumbled down to never been seen again it has made you feel doubtful to believe that it won't ever happen again

Eddie knows that Henry and Jason spoiled your mind with such things that he wishes there's another way to fix this

He forever cursed them because they're the ones brought you trauma

They're the reason why you don't have a family anymore

They killed your father

The most mind-shattering of it all, they're also the ones who killed your mother

"E-Eddie, I am s-so sorry"

"Please, don't be sorry"

"I really thought I'm going to lose you"

"That was just a bad dream, it's over"

"Don't ever let me go? Please?"

"I won't"

It has been like this and you're so sick and tired of it

It has been like this, for over a week and you might afraid if it goes on and on for days, months and years

You know better

You know better that you must escape this box that Henry and Jason made you tie down to their hellish world

The sun beams, the wind swirls through the white fabric curtains from your balcony

Eddie inhales the sweet morning air as he slowly opens his eyes and it lands on you

It's the same exact position when your natural melatonin visits you at night finally made you sleep

Eddie is concerned about it, ever since, you haven't gotten a lot of sleep when you find out about the truth about him

And with your parents

He knows that you're having a good rest at how your features seems relaxed and your breathing is even

A small smile tugs to his lips that urges him to bring you in closer to his body as you let out a little sigh as you flushed down on his side

You're now laying on his chest as he wraps his arms around you as he runs his hands up and down on your lower back, you snuggle up to him once more and he felt like he wants to shut his eyes once again because at how so comforted you feel

He felt it too, you feel so much better once you're with him, even the moment he rescued you when you accidentally hurt yourself for hitting your head on the reunion happened before

God, the white chiffon dress he once given to you always stays on his mind

Eddie believes in you, you know can get out of that hellhole that is trying to pull you down from that light that you supposed to reach

"Eddie? Are you in there?"

The voice of his uncle snaps out of his thoughts as you stir from your slumber

"Uh- one moment, uncle"

He carefully places your head back on the soft pillows as he covers you with blanket, you went onto the other side as you given into a deep sleep again

He places a kiss on your cheek as you sigh in contentment, he gave you a one last look before he headed outside along with his robe as he ties it

"Hey, son"

"Morning, uncle"

The maid is already in there with breakfast as he nods to bring it over inside

Wayne caught a glimpse of you on the bed and he sighs of relief

"Is she getting improvements?"

"She'll get there, just give her time"

He nods in understanding, "I know, it isn't my place to say words like this but, uh, I was there, before, Eddie- someone else has got to start leading the kingdom run again, her people needs her"

Eddie purses his lips as he clears his throat "I know, Wayne, I know"

Tears starts prickling into the old man's lashes as he gives his nephew a tight nod

"The village is going swell, I-I can't believe I am able to witness this again" Wayne chuckles in delightful way as he exhales through his nose

He knows what exactly what he means by that after Jason brainwashed the whole town by his wretched evil lies

It's been ages since the Munson's are free to walk around your kingdom

Even Wayne is in disbelief that it felt like nothing happened

It felt too real

It feels scary too, it terrifies him because it felt like a dream

"I trust you my boy, I know you're the only one who can help her"

"Yeah" he murmurs as he looks down, he began to fidget with his rings

Wayne saw it, "What's is it?"

That's where the water gushed down to his eyes as he cries in front of his old man

Wayne gave him a hug as he pats his back

"I'm just so nervous, I hate it that she has to feel this way, I wish I could just snatch that pain away from her"

"Don't ever let that nasty thought slide through you, don't ever let it get into you, you will be okay and she will be okay"

"The both of you will be okay like I always pictured"

The sunlight shoots through your eyes and it made you shut your eyes close

You groan and started to stretch your whole body on the bed, you reach your arm out to the other side to find an empty space

You opened up your eyes and sit up and you saw your silver breakfast tray, you heard small muttering outside of the room

You recognized the voices, it's Eddie and Uncle Wayne

You released a heavy sigh, you know what they're talking about and it overwhelms you

You know it's your responsibility

You know it's your obligation

You can't just skip this and neglect your kingdom fall behind

You stand up and you slipped on your robe and went your way onto the small coffee table

You stirred your coffee and ate a piece of bread, you exhale through your nose when it soothes out every ache inside of your body

You never felt in peace ever since you fought together

Thinking about eating normally, it makes you agitated

So, you've never had a proper meal until now

"Good morning, sweetheart" he says softly as he slowly closes the door

Your mouth is full, so, you just looked at him and nod

"How are you feeling?" He watches you intently

You swallowed and take a sip of your coffee and took a deep breath

"I know what you just talked about outside" you say without looking at him as you continue to eat

Eddie licks his lips together as he takes a seat beside you

"Y/N, you know we cared about you"

You just continued to chew absentmindedly

Eddie doesn't want it to take it too far but someone has to struck you with your duties

"People are asking about you, Y/N, they wanted you to serve them"

You stopped at mid-chew as you swallowed as wiped the residue at the table napkin and throw it on the tray

"Am I not allowed to take a moment to let it absorb everything that happened weeks ago?"

"It's almost a month, Y/N"

"I'm aware"

"I know you're getting upset but I'm your partner and as a partner I should be telling you that this isn't right"

Even Eddie knows you're mourning and it will be the hardest for you but you needed this confrontation

"I am grieving, Eddie"

"Aren't we all?"

You stood up to that and began to glare at him

"It's different for you-"

"Y/N, all of us had lost someone-"

"My mother just vanquished right before my eyes and years later without me knowing that she got murdered by the same man and I can't just process that!" You yell at him as your angry tears starts to stream down your cheeks

Eddie clenches his jaw as he seethes through his teeth but his eyes easily soften when he noticed that you're trying not to cry

You let out a exasperated sigh, you stuttered some incoherent words as you try to control your breath

"So, don't tell me that we both have the same losses" you sniffle as you turn your back away from him

He sighs as he stares at your back, "Y/N- I"

"It will never ever make me understand that why are you still here"

You could hear the heavy footsteps as he walks around to face you "What?"

You looked at him with a pained expression that he can't read "Why are you here? Eddie?"

He tilts his head as he chuckles dryly "I cannot grasp on the point of what you're talking about, honey"

"Aren't you not getting tired of me?"

He takes a step foot back at your words as he furrows his brows "What on earth are you talking about?"

You brushed past over him as you went outside in the balcony you rest your hands on the edge of the railings and he follows you

"Are you questioning my love and devotion for you?"

You turn your head at him as your hot-headed demeanor starts to falter

"Is it not enough? Are you falling out of love from me?"

You can see that he's worried, it flashes on his eyes

"N-No- it's not"

He nods carefully as he tries to look at you in the eyes

"Y/N, look at me" he holds both of your forearms

"I can't never spend another life with a wrong soul, it is you that I want forever in my life, the one that I wanted to see whenever I wake up day, noon, night, midnight for all eternity"

You sobbed at his words once again

Right there, you just realized at how lucky you are

Not only he is betrothed to you because of your royalties lie

But also because that he is truly the one for you

No matter how hard you tried to push him away from your darkest hours

He will always be there for you

"Eddie, I need you to leave"

"What?"

"I needed to be alone"

"Y/N- don't be like this, please"

"I just want a time for myself-"

"Y/N"

"Eddie! Please let me be!" You exclaimed as you murmur a small "sorry"

Eddie frowns but still manage to give you a small smile, he begrudgingly let his hold fall from your forearms as he takes his leave from your chambers

"....How is she?..." Jeff asks nicely, the concern is there, Eddie can notice it

"She's taking her time" Eddie rubs his hands across his face

"Do you think it will help?"

"Help what?"

"I don't know..." Gareth trails off as he continues walking outside of your castle, "I feel....guilty for uh- being rough at her at first, you know?" He briefly looks at his friend as he ducks his head down

Eddie chuckles as he nudges his shoulder "I'm sure, Y/N, doesn't mind it"

"Even if she doesn't mind- I mean, If only I knew about her....personal life, well then I guess shouldn't acted that way"

"You've always been like that to anyone, Gareth"

He rolls his eyes, "Is it a bad idea that I want to apologize to her?

"and besides, I'm not like that anymore"

Eddie and Jeff raises both of their brows as Gareth looks back at them and he scoffed as he shook his head sideways

"I'm only like that when it's necessary" He points it out and he shrugs

"I don't know if it's because of the demogorgons made you changed your behavior but I'm glad that you're taking a step to improve your character" Eddie rests his palm on his shoulder as Gareth grows a smile on his lips

"Don't let it get into his head, man, it feeds his ego" Jeff jokingly said as Gareth elbows him on the stomach

"See?!?" Jeff gestures his friend silly actions

Eddie and Gareth laughed but it dies down when a frantic maid is worried about your state

"Sir, uh- Eddie"

"Yes?"

"it seems to be that Princess Y/N is not to be found everywhere"

"What?"

"She's not in her chambers, sire"

"But where could she be?"

"We looked everywhere-"

"Not even in the sanctuary room?"

"No, she's not there"

Jeff and Gareth open the big doors to enter your castle as Eddie commands the maid to look for you and asked the guards to start the search

"Wh-What in the world is happening here?" Enzo gulps in his flask as he asks one of the boys

"Y/N is missing" Jeff answers as he looks at Eddie in concern

"Eddie, don't worry, we will find her like we always do" Gareth reassures him as he pats his back

"I'll get, Wayne" Enzo nods at the boys as they began to move

"Enzo- I" Eddie breathes heavily as Enzo jogged towards to him

"We had an argument earlier and I think- maybe she-" Eddie eyes became blurry to his own tears as he tries to catch up with his breath

"No-No, don't think like that, we are here to help, Eddie"

"Ri-Right" Eddie sniffles as he straightens himself up

A million thoughts began to drill into his mind

Is it because of his choice of words?

Did he hurt you because of it?

Did you hate him?

He will forever loathe himself, if he founds you in a way that will scar him

A scar that can never be healed

Where would you go?

Did you run away from him?

Or your responsibilities?

"Dear sweet flower, life of a royalty can never be easy, there will be a lot of pressures and expectations from you"

"You will face enemies and betrayal, so, you must choose your people wisely"

"You will experience a lot of emotions and If only I could get you take away from all of it, from all of the grotesque things in the world"

"But that's not right on how to teach your child, Is it not? to keep you on locked doors of what it's like out there in the beyond"

"You have to learn how to survive and deal with the ugly and the beauty of the real world"

"You will feel sad, hurt, angry, but you will also feel happy, love, care"

"But that's how life works, right?"

"Show em' what you can do, how brave, bright, and mighty you are, but you also need to learn how to control your power and not get ahead of yourself when you're in the zone"

You try to remember your mother's words and it makes your heartache

You didn't even know that you're crying because not only you can recall her words that she said to you as a kid

But also you can still hear what her voice sound like

Every word from memory, it echoes into your mind and your heart

You run your fingertips on the wooden floors that your mom painted with variety of flowers

"I miss you so much, Mom" you cried out as you let all of the tears fall

You needed this

You have to get this out

You'll pour out all of the saddest elements inside of your body, mind, and soul

"Mom, if you're out there or here with me, I just want to let you know that I love you and please, forgive me that I haven't spoken about you and I'm so sorry for what happened to you, I don't know why am I saying this...." You weep horribly on the ground as you keep looking with a sad smile on your face

There's a one painting of a rose that is a little bit smudged out

You chuckle lightly as the memory reels into your mind, "Remember this? Mom? I was so upset that I messed it up but you let me calm down because you said sometimes messy can be beautiful and it doesn't always have to be perfect"

You chuckle yet again as you nod along with the memory

"Your words didn't die, it lives within me"

"You remind me that being a royal is a duty and it's our purpose to run a kingdom that is safer and humane"

"It is not about the crowns and being wealthy"

"We are not different like them, we are the same as one and we always be equal to who we are"

You wiped your tears as you incredulously laugh for a bit "That's why Henry and Jason hated you, Mom"

"Dad, continued just like the way you wanted it"

"Any sign of her yet?" Eddie pants as he rests his palms over his knees as they both reunited in the middle on the hallway inside of your castle

"No" Gareth shakes his head as he leans against the wall

"Do you have any specific places that you both hang out that only the two of you know about it?"

"No, I already went there and she's not there in the pavilion" he replies as he wipes the perspiration on his forehead

"I heard about what happened" Wayne approaches him along with Enzo

"Oh, Uncle Wayne-" he cuts him off

"Don't apologize, I'm sure she didn't even mean the words that she thrown at you"

"Did you check every inch of the place?" Enzo asks the two boys who looked wasted as they catch their breath

"Yeah, man, we've been through everywhere and we even ask anyone" Jeff answers as he exhales

"Now, I'm getting rattled by this, no one has ever seen her since-" Enzo as he takes a swig from his flask

"After we argued" Eddie finishes off the sentence as he guilty nods and shrugs

"Don't fret, I think I know where could she might be" Wayne holds his nephew by his shoulders

Jeff, Gareth, Enzo looked over at Wayne

"Tell me!"

Eddie ran and ran as fast as his feet could do

He went around the corner and went running forward at the direction where it leads to you

He avoids his brain formulating of the picture of you that he is haunted by it

He doesn't want that, he doesn't want to see it, he wishes that it will never happen

His lungs might be begging for a rest but this isn't what he needs to do

Your life and your existence is his priority at the moment

He won't rest until he sees you okay and well

His eyes hurt by the tears that he continues to stop from falling

He grunts and almost trips and knocks over a couple of vases for trying to look for you

His voice cracked up as he calls for your name

"Y/N?!?"

You turn your head around at the face and you're sitting down on the ground at the center of your parents garden

You couldn't even processed that it's Eddie running over to you as he goes down onto his knees as he pulls you through him

He didn't even double think of holding you and embracing you into his arms

You're confused about why he is acting this way and you noticed that he just cried not too long ago

He pulls you back as he starts cradling both of your cheeks, he studies every single expression on your face, he inspects every part of your body

"E-Eddie- what?"

"Please! Don't ever do that again!" He grabs both of your forearms as you get startled by the raising tone of his voice as he muttered "sorry"

He inhales as he clears his throat and steadying his breath

"I-I thought you've done something to yourself" He weeps in front of you and now you finally understand why he is so perturbed

"Oh...Eddie" your eyes became glossy as you hug him again as you run your hand up and down on his back

"Is it something that I said?" He whispers as he sniffles

"No-no, it's not, Eddie- I just needed to clear up my mind" you said not letting go of him just yet

He caresses your hair as he breathes through the crook of your neck

"I-I'm relieved to see that you're fine"

"Eddie, you know I would never do a thing like that and I'm sorry for making you distressed"

"Just please, tell me where you we're going, if you want to be alone, okay? Sweetheart?"

"Okay"

"Eddie, it's time" Enzo opens the door as he awaits for him

"Yeah, I'll be there" He says as he fixes his linen shirt, he sees you in the reflection his eyes softens

You're taking a sip of your coffee as you read your favorite fantasy book in the balcony

"Y/N"

"Yeah?" You looked at him and you blushed "You look very dashing, Eddie" you smile sheepishly

He grins as he leans down on you wraps his arms around you behind your back as he rests his head over your shoulder

"You don't have to go if you really don't want to, no pressure" He whispers as he kisses your neck, you nod as you think about it

You're feeling a whole lot better after those dreadful weeks

You didn't get the same nightmares you had before

You're slept well, you've been eating gladly, yes, sometimes, you get so blue but it's also bittersweet that this is progress

You're finally moving forward and you will never looked back at the past ever again

You won't forget those people who chose their life in danger for your own sake

They chose you because your own people and your friends believe in you

You won't waste their sacrifices, you're going to make it last

You won't let them down, life has made you rough and mature but you didn't never lose yourself

"Eddie?"

"Yes?"

"You might be late"

"Right"

"You know Wayne didn't like tardiness" you chuckle as he snorted

"Yeah, I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Okay"

He places a quick kiss on your lips as he hold your cheek for a moment before he leaves

You placed down your book on the table as you deeply sighs as you stare at the sky and you let winds of change move you

You inhale the sweet morning smell of fresh air and flowers blooming through your corridor

And then.... that's where it got you

You know what exactly what your father told you on what you should do in the future

This is the future

You pull down the ring from your bedside

"Yes, your grace?" The maid walked in as she saw you standing in front of your vanity

"Can you help me with the gown that I'm going to wear this morning?"

The maid didn't even hide the knowing smile on her face as you gave her back the same gesture, she nods happily as she helps you get ready

"Is she not going to join us?" Enzo asks as he combs through his hair

"Events like this- it's nerve-wracking- I don't blame her for not going" Eddie says as he straightens himself up

"Boys, don't ruffle your linen shirts like that" Wayne spoke and walks over to them but stops abruptly as he tuts at their attire

Jeff and Gareth looked at their clothes as they dart their eyes on Eddie

"It should be something like my nephew over there" he points it out and gave a tight nod to him

Eddie smiled proudly at himself "Well done, son"

"Like a true prince" Enzo jokes, as Eddie chortled

"Yeah, yeah, alright- alright we're going to fix it" Gareth flips them both off as he brings the ruffles back inside of his vest

"Like how are we supposed to know the right way to wear this" Gareth adds as he struggles to make it right

"And he said that he wasn't like that anymore" Jeff mocks him some of his words before

Enzo and Eddie laughed as they left an overdramatic Gareth behind as he jogged to them

"Good day, everyone, Thank you for joining us in this coronation day" Wayne greeted the whole town

Eddie glanced at the crown that is meant for him but he stares longer at the one who is still in the case

He knows that one it's meant for you

"My dear boy, Edward Munson is going to be the town's king"

Eddie gulped, he wishes that you're here as his knee bopped up and down in an anxious way

"Miss Y/N, our princess won't-" Wayne cuts off at the townspeople clamoring about something else

"Look, it's the princess!" One of the kids points a finger at you

Enzo, Jeff and Gareth stood up and is very delighted to see you

Eddie slowly gets up and it's enamored by your presence

Both of your eyes meet and locked in as he saw something about you

You may be not the same girl as you was before but what can see is a true woman

A woman that is ready to fill in the shoes that it needs

Not a princess, not about being a royalty

It's the real you that he sees, he knows that you've never lost it

He nods as he began to start clapping, Enzo, Jeff and Gareth and even Wayne is an awe as they also clap their hands

The rest of the crowd begins to applause as well

You're touched at how they cheer for you

They open up the case, you curtsey as you lean down forward your head as you looked up to Wayne who is about to place the crown on you

He looked at your eyes directly, he smiles that he can also see it too at this gratifying moment

Eddie goes beside you didn't even need to look at your side because you already know who it is and both of you automatically laced your hands together

You wave at them happily

"Eddie?"

"Yeah, darling?"

"How will I ever repay for you having faith in me?" You say as you step closer to him

He blinks the tears away from his eyes as he tightens his hold on you

"You don't have to do anything because I will forever remain at your side" He says as he kisses your hand

You brightly smile at him as you looked behind your back

You see Jeff whoops both of your names in celebration, Gareth jumping up and down in excitement and Enzo wincing how loud the two are but a fond smile sitting on his face, you laughed at the sight of it

You watched Wayne placed the crown on Eddie as the crowd roars and screams in victory

"Hawkins, you have your King and Queen!" Wayne announces as you both gathered around him in a tight hug

"Y/N?"

"Yes, Dad?"

"What will you do if you found your other half in life and that person will be your partner?"

"Never leave them, always encourage them to be the best version of themselves, the unwavering trust and be on their side through ups and downs"

"That's my girl!"

"You know what you're going to do?"

"it's only getting started, Dad"

#Spotify #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem! reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson supremacy #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #agirlwholovesrockstarsfics

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thevoidscreamer · 9 months

Text

Hailing 2024... with a farewell to the years before.

2009 was the year when everything changed.

2010 was the year I met my best friend.

2011 was the year I lost to NJROTC.

2012 was the year of my first, true summer love. Intermittent homelessness.

2013 was the year I graduated high school. Intermittent homelessness.

2014 was the year I left my church. Intermittent homelessness.

2015 was the year I almost died of malnourishment. Intermittent homelessness.

2016 was the year I left my parents.

2017 was the year I came out. Also the year I met one of my very best friends.

2018 was the year I made the most money. Also the year I met another one of my very best friends.

2019 was the year I left my pimp. Also the year I met my cat, who I adore. Also the year my cousin died, and the year my parents drove a rift between themselves and the rest of my family.

2020 was the year I went no contact with my parents, joined an open triad relationship, and greeted my child. It was also the year I had my NDE in the hospital. It was also the year my business died (though I did try to revive it throughout 2021 and 2022). So I gained perspective and a shit ton of trauma. It was also the year I met someone everyone told me I would hate but we've been best friends ever since and still talk all the time on fb messenger.

2021 was the year when, binderless at last, I could breathe -- and everything I did that year was focused on achieving that goal. It was also the year I traveled twice all on my own for the first time since leaving my pimp -- once to do photography for a really skeevy aspiring model in Maryland, and once to stay at my friend's queer commune in Colorado. It was also the year I published She's Not Here, 400-Year Frost, and Despite the Cold (the Anthology). This was also the year that a few of my friends died, and many others just dropped off and never resurfaced.

2022 was the year I went through the non-legal equivalent of two divorces -- one with a nesting partner with whom I now co-parent, and one with a queer-platonic life partner of ten years. It was also the year I heard from and saw my brother for the first time in three years. It was also the year I started on the right medication for my severe chronic migraines. It was also the year I lost my taste and smell due to covid (and things still aren't entirely back to normal). It was also the year I published Arachnapocalypse! The Anthology! and It Feeds!

2023.

2023 was the year I...

read 55 books (14,341 pages)

reconnected with my parents after almost three years of no contact

reconnected with my best friend (see 2010 bullet point) after some drama and maturing that needed done on both our parts

published The Wheel

did a 24-credit semester

got married with my partner of (now) almost four years, with whom it turns out I am incurably, deeply in love with

got attacked in a parking lot with my partner for being visibly queer

returned to therapy

finally moved out of the city that gave me so much anxiety

drove cross-country four times

fell in love with New Mexico

got to spend two months during summer living in and renovating a formerly-abandoned house with my partner

single-parented for one month

figured out the correct mix of melatonin and tylenol that lets me sleep through the night and feel rested

was forced to come to terms with my two most severe phobias, which I will not list here

got into the best shape of my life doing something I was surprised to enjoy -- cardio

sprained my ankle at a themed waterpark

moved cross-country, twice

got to visit one of my best friends for the first time in two years

drove through the most beautiful state I've ever encountered -- Idaho. I know, it surprised me, too.

started a job in a brand new career field -- and excelled

made my works available for free on my website

learned to write without my ex being a part of the creative process

established a consistent writing routine

learned that there is absolutely no good mexican food in Eastern Washington and that's a problem

published Desert Castle, a concept that first came to me in 2016

saw Moose (plural) for the first time in person (that's a bucket list item! I love me some meese!)

made a local writing-friend

shoveled snow

officially quit drinking starbuck's

think I finally grasped the concept of healthy forgiveness

organized and ran/am running the third and final anthology in the "VeryGood Collab Books" series I started working on in 2020

used points to buy a plane flight back home to help out my chosen family

started writing fanfiction

got halfway through the rewrite of a 90,000 word novel

reviewed the thousands-years-long storyline and universe build for a much bigger series I conceptualized in 2007 and fleshed out intermittently from 2011-2020

may have lost the person who has been like a mother to me since 2011. We don't know how things will go yet. She's in a coma.

Despite its more difficult moments, 2023 was the most fun and the most engaging challenge I've had in a long time. Aside from that last bullet-point and spraining my ankle, everything about this year -- even the hardships -- has been actively good. It's been a tremendously refreshing and healing year, and I attribute much of that to all of the novel experiences I had.

After 2020-2022 being so unbearably rough, I needed something new. This year was exactly that, and it gave me the space and energy I needed to allow myself to soften, to gain a real understanding of forgiveness, and to feel genuine hope and healing (possibly for the first time since COVID hit). I know my mostly-positive experience of 2023 seems to be relatively unique. I really hope 2024 can be for the rest of the world what 2023 was for me personally.

#happy new year #reflections on 2023 #healing #whistling in the dark

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justasparkwritings · 4 years

Text

Illicit Affairs: Beautiful Rooms Pt. 1

Previous: You Made Me

Pairings: Namjoon & Reader (Barely)

Genre: Angst, Slice of Life

Ratings: PG15

Word Count: 2.7K

Warnings: Therapy and Swearing

Summary: Namjoon arrives in LA to begin the work he promised he would do.

Listen: illicit affairs by Taylor Swift

Namjoon lays in his plane-bed, headphones blasting D-2, Daechwita, on a blind loop. The sky is dark, 30,000+ feet in the air, he knows he should be sleeping, resting at the bare minimum. But he can’t, melatonin not kicking in just yet, and his mind is too wired, filled with concerns.

Over a two months ago, after the reckoning, Namjoon put his plans into action. You can’t take managements King, and Queen, and bishops and rooks, without having a plan for total annihilation. Namjoon decided, though without much discussion with Jungkook, what they both needed. What would be the best for both of them, and the rest of Bangtan, was guarantees in their contracts that Bang and Co wouldn’t manipulate them anymore. No more calorie counting, no more extra pay for working out more, no more using Namjoon as a weapon against Jungkook or the others. To do this, Namjoon brought in other lawyers who negotiated with Bang’s team, and in the end the seven men amended their contracts. Gone were the clauses about who they could date, gone was the clause that they couldn’t date, period, gone was Run BTS and the trickery management went through to get the men to perform. They would have ownership of their work going forward, and ownership of their work all the way back to the first Love Yourself album.

Taehyung, Jimin, Hoseok, Yoongi and Jin were shocked when their contracts were handed back, careful to read through the changes. They’d been floored, wondering how Namjoon and Jungkook’s brawl could’ve resulted in this swift change in their deals. Namjoon had put it simply: change or we sue. Big Hit knew that if BTS sued them, they’d take the house, the plastic plants in the lobby, the stock options and the futures of every person on the label. They had the option to lose everything, or to surrender, tails between their legs, to the gods that are BTS.

Namjoon knew that if this had happened three months prior, even two years, he wouldn’t have had the weight needed to push the deal through. But, in their decade plus at Big Hit, their level of power and influence, the fact that they had never signed NDA’s coupled with Namjoon’s intricate diaries, Namjoon recognized he had the power to take everything. Bang and Sejin were scared. They knew that they had a limited amount of time before BTS revolted, and if they were revolting with evidence, there was no possible solution that ended in Big Hit’s favor.

With their new contracts came one request from Bang, Sejin and the five other members of Bangtan, one request that was truly a demand: fix Jungkook and Namjoon.

Fixing Jungkook meant fixing Namjoon’s relationship to the maknae, which is how he finds himself flying across the globe to LA. Getting Jungkook help, away from prying eyes, was his idea. He and his love had brainstormed what would help Jungkook get through this, and this was the solution:

Jungkook would spend 3-6 months in LA undergoing rigorous outpatient therapy

Jungkook would be booked for exhaustion, body dysmorphia, alcoholism, and a host of other issues Namjoon could’ve spent his entire flight listing

Jungkook would rehearse in LA and fly back for specific stages but would otherwise record and work in LA while he went to therapy five days a week

Detox would come first, followed by a month of inpatient treatment

Then, Jungkook would be settled in his outpatient apartment, with a few Big Hit bodyguards around 24/7

Jungkook would have a sponsor in Korea and in the states, whom he reported to,

Jungkook is required to attend AA meetings twice a week for the first three months

Namjoon, would attend therapy twice a week in Korea,

Namjoon would fly to LA to spend a month going through treatment with Jungkook

To this, they signed their names, to the promise of something better, to the hope they would find common ground. Jungkook was packed and on a plane 48 hours later. The two men had some contact through music and through their group chat, but otherwise, Jungkook kept to himself. He loved LA, the sun, the ability to exercise outside every day of the week, the blue skies… There was a level of health that came with LA, and of course the seedy underbelly of diet culture, but for Jungkook, it was a welcome change. Everyone breathed in LA, they weren’t rushing to meet deadlines or get anywhere on time, they didn’t have the next five years planned on a detailed spreadsheet. LA was relaxed, it was breezy, and with its endless supply of green juice, it was the exact place Jungkook needed to be.

He diligently went to therapy, working exclusively with Dr. Aarons on the years of abuse he’d endured. Wrapping his mind around what had happened to him, not as love, not as building his character or strengthening his work ethic, but as a traumatic state of emotional abuse, was harder to swallow than two horse tranquilizers without water. Dr. Aarons gave him books and pamphlets on trauma and emotional abuse, which in his off hours, he read. His first month in treatment was spent in therapy sessions, a weekly Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) session, monitored exercise to help reteach him how to use his body, and reading to discuss. Some days felt like high school, or training days, when he was required to both train for debut and be a high school student. He hated it, hated studying, hated school, but to get better he had to do the work. All he could hope was at the end of this he’d feel better, maybe he'd be better too.

Dr. Aaron’s agreed, for the two men to make progress, to find common ground again, they needed to work through their Kilimanjaro sized problems.

A month into treatment, Jungkook was ready and willing to begin working on repairing his most treasured relationship.

“Namjoon, thank you for joining us here,” Dr. Aarons says, eyes darting between Jungkook, who was freshly showered and bouncing his leg up and down, and Namjoon, stoic, perched on the edge of his chair. Dr. Aarons can tell that Namjoon is less prepared than Jungkook, which is why she is in full control of this session.

“It’s, yeah, glad to be here,” Namjoon says, head bowing.

“I am first generation and am fluent in both English and Korean. My maiden name is Park,” Dr. Aarons smiles, letting Namjoon into her stratification of both cultures. “We can flow from English to Korean at any point.”

“Thank you,” Namjoon bows again.

“This first session is just to create a welcoming and safe space for Jungkook to see you again. Soon he will be off, and you and I will have a bit of time to talk. I have been in communication with your therapist back in Seoul, and he has given me his thoughts as well as points that we can continue to work on as a triad. Jungkook, is there something you wanted to say to Namjoon before you go?”

Jungkook looks at his brother, irises rising to meet his sun-twin. Namjoon’s eyes are tired, heavy, his lids weighty as he continues to battle some jetlag. Jungkook looks fucking fantastic, the sun and balanced eating working wonders on him.

“Thank you, hyung, for being here, and thank you for being willing to work on this with me. I still hold love for you in my heart, though I don’t have to. We’ve both fucked up. I am sorry for punching you, well, beating you up, and I hope you can forgive me, if not today, at some point. And again, thank you, hyung, for fighting for me,” Jungkook’s voice breaks as he utters his last words, eyes dropping to his hands.

“Jungkook, you did great,” Dr. Aarons reassures.

“Thank you, Jungkookie, for being, forgiving, for still wanting to speak to me, to work with me, it,” Namjoon clears his throat, that familiar lump forming. “I know I let you down. I will always be sorry,”

“I know, me too,”

“Jungkook, thank you for being here today. I will see you tomorrow for our first session as a group.” Dr. Aaron’s gave the go-ahead for Jungkook to leave, and he did swiftly, giving Namjoon the chance to confide in Dr. Aarons.

“Thank you, for doing this,” Namjoon spoke.

“This was your idea, correct? The therapy, detox, all of it?”

“Yes,” Namjoon feels the blood rush to his cheeks.

“From what I understand, you’re kind of a genius, right?”

“In music, I suppose,”

Reaching for her notepad, Dr. Aarons’ glances down. “Mm, I spoke with Dr. Cho,”

“Yes?”

“He was very insightful, gave me lots of great notes and things to discuss. I wanted to start by saying that I understand the levels of abuse you went through,” She raises her head to meet his unsteady gaze, clocking the flustered expression.

“Yes,”

“The manipulation, the invalidation, the pain. Namjoon, no one should have to experience all of that, and yet, here you are. You are strong, you are powerful, you are dedicated to your brothers. None of it excuses what you have done, but what I want to convey to you, is that a lot of your actions were not your fault.” Dr. Aarons’ runs through the list of compliments she had jotted down, notes of what to say to create a safe space for Namjoon.

“I, I know,”

“I know you do; I also know that isn’t how you see it.” Dr. Aarons’ sets her pen down and recrossed her legs, eyes never straying from him. She’s formidable, honored and esteemed throughout the community, domestically and abroad. Namjoon knew, he helped picked her, she was the reason Jungkook was here.

“I still did the actions,” Namjoon sighs, “I still followed through with the plan,”

“Yes, but the cost to you and your life was exquisite. You were a pawn,”

“Now I am the victor,” He mumbles.

“Tell me, Namjoon, how old did you feel when you and Jungkook fought?”

“What do you mean?”

“Jungkook’s recounted his memory of that night, but how did you feel? In that moment when he hit you, what age specifically did you feel?”

He takes a moment to think, but the answer is in front of him immediately. “Fifteen,”

“What happened at 15?”

He shifts nervously, the rapid speed of his speech slowing as he spoke. “I was still being scouted by Big Hit, no contracts, just negotiations. My parents were, unsupportive.”

“Within the Seoul rap community, you were making a name for yourself,” Dr. Aarons’ didn’t have to be living in Korea at the time to know who he was, everyone in the first gen community who still had any ties back home knew. You couldn’t listen to music without his mixes coming through. “Yeah, but that only gets you so far. I was talking to Bang about these big plans for a super group, a group that combined rapping and pop, some bridge between the two and other genres… the places were going to go seemed endless.”

“How did you feel in those negotiations?”

Joon smiles. “I felt, ten feet tall. I mattered in those meetings,”

“And to your parents?” Dr. Aaron’s questions.

“I was just their high schooler, hormonal, with dreams bigger than my mind could hold. They, they didn’t want me to do it,”

“But you went for it,” She smiles gently.

“I did, yeah,” Namjoon, hates flattery. Call it his sun sensibility, his rays unable to shine under the humility of the grey cloud he kept above himself.

“What else happened around that time?” She presses.

Namjoon nods again, knowing exactly where she’s leading him. “That’s when I started receiving a lot of hate,”

“Mm, tell me about that,”

“Do I have to?” He asks, voice no longer strong and steady.

“Not if you don’t want to,” She replies.

“It’s just,” Namjoon sighs. “It still hurts.”

“I expect it to. The comments were very personal,”

“About how I look, about the shape of my nose, the sound of my voice, that I’ll never amount to anything and BTS is just, complete trash passing off as music.” He rattles off the ones that plague him, when self-doubt creeps in, the comments that still rise to the top of the pack.

“They escalated, didn’t they?”

“Don’t they always?”

She smiles softly, a precursor to the next blow. “Did you internalize them?”

“Yes,”

“When Jungkook hit you,” She starts.

“It was like every internet troll finally getting their chance to swing,” Namjoon doesn’t hesitate to finish the thought.

“Ahh, there it is.” Dr. Aaron’s allows Namjoon a minute to sit in the realization. “What hurt the most? The physical pain, or the emotional weight you put behind it?”

“I haven’t thought about it like that,” He realizes.

“Well let’s think about it now,” Her voice is kind, leading him to the pasture but never feeding. No wonder everyone raved about her.

“It was the emotions,” He concedes.

“Can you describe what those emotions were?”

“Anger, frustration, inadequacy, disappointment, like I had just shattered the entire world I’d given every bit of myself to creating.”

“That wasn’t why Jungkook was hitting you, though,” Dr. Aarons’ informs him.

“It wasn’t?”

“You tell me, why would he be hitting you?”

“I,” Namjoon exhales, “I betrayed him.”

“Did you let him down?”

“Yes,”

“But did he view you as inadequate?” She pushes.

“No,” Namjoon whispers, voice caught between his vocal chords as the waves of tears start to gain on him.

Dr. Aarons’ smiles again, “No, has he ever?”

“No,” Namjoon shakes his head, hand wiping the tears that have fallen.

“It seems to me like it’s quite the opposite. Jungkook loves you, pure and simple.”

“I betrayed him,” Namjoon argues.

“Betrayal and inadequacy are often put together, at least in our minds. We betray someone, or a relationship, because it’s either not enough for us, or because it’s too much. The dissonance between you and Jungkook is that his anger is misplaced, he can claw at you because you are there, you are present, you are with him every day. He’s shooting the messenger, but you didn’t write the messages, Namjoon.”

“I don’t know if he understands that,”

“There’s only so much I can do to separate what he feels towards you, and what he realizes isn’t your fault. In our time together, as a trio, we will hopefully work towards understanding these complexities within your relationship. Sound good?”

“Yeah, sounds good,”

“Great! I don’t have any work for you, other than, well, a major piece of homework,”

“Bring it on,” Namjoon loves work. Pure and simple.

“You can’t have dinner with Jungkook tonight, or engage with him in a private setting,” Dr. Aarons’ instructs.

“Makes sense,” Namjoon agrees.

“We’ll begin work on it tomorrow, but until then, you have to stay apart,”

“I can do that, we’re staying in separate places,”

“Great, Namjoon, I am really looking forward to working with you,” Dr. Aarons stands. “I hope you enjoy your day in LA,”

“See you tomorrow,” Namjoon smiles gratefully before exiting her office, his phone at the ready, texts from Yoongi and Hoseok, Taehyung and the rest of Bangtan to check in on him. And then there’s the text from his love, who as he steps into the sun, is waiting for him.

“Joon of my eye, what a pleasure it is to see you,”

Though the smile is clearly plastered across his face, it’s the way his arms circle your waist, head nuzzling into your neck, lips pressing firmly to your skin.

“I fucking missed you,” He mutters.

“You’re being so affectionate, in public,”

“No one’s here,” Namjoon says, head still resting against your shoulder.

“That eye opening, huh?” Your hands move up and down his back, the comfort radiating from your familiar embrace.

“Mm, can we go?” He asks, standing to his full height.

“To your place?”

“Anywhere,” He slips his sunglasses over his eyes, the mist beginning to cloud his vision.

“Of course,” You respond, hand finding his, fingers intertwining. With his baseball cap pulled low on his head, Namjoon is barely recognizable. He doesn’t hesitate to move his free hand across your shoulders, holding onto you as you guide him to your rental car. He might’ve been the messenger of Bang’s threats and manipulations, but a pawn is still a pawn. Namjoon had taken the board in his game against Big Hit, but in Jungkook’s universe, under Jungkook’s rules, he’s still a piece in motion.

Next: Beautiful Rooms Pt. 2

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newbornwhumperfly · 4 years

Text

it started out as a feeling...

CW: stress position, wrist trauma, blood, cigarette burns, modern slavery, slave-soldiers, discussion of war, references to abuse

tagging: @haro-whumps, @whumping-every-day, @whumpthisway, @lave-e, @stoic-whumpee, @swordkallya, @whumpster-draganies @liliability

so. i Finally wrapped up my first installment of a whump series i’ve planned for ages after enormous support from fellow whomp-bloggers, many brainstorm sessions, amazing people drawing amazing art, & kind questions from people asking about original content <3<3<3

this wouldn’t happen w/to @haro-whumps cause they’ve been utterly invaluable <3<3<3 not only have i gained an enthusiastic cheerleader and beta but a good friend. thank you from the bottom of my heart :))))

title from “the call” by regina spektor

it’s Quite Long & exposition heavy but i promise - it gets angstier :)))

July. 13.

Author: Captain Abraxas Hutchins.

Confidential Situation Report: cc; TATT Commander’s Guild

In this ninth official year in the conflict between New Athens and Upper Tyrus, I agree with general assessments that the cold war has heated significantly. In the past three years in particular, we have seen a sharp increase in subterfuge and sabotage towards essential operations.

Though skirmishes at both borders have become more frequent, our greatest concern regarding national security appears to be increasing levels of assination and data theft from New Athenian agents against the state of Tyrus (in both Upper and Lower Regions).

I understand that several commanding officers at TATT (Tyrus Anti-Terrorism Taskforce) are concerned about several bombings in the past three years as they are believed to be the efforts of New Athenian covert agents (unverified but probable). Despite the violent nature of these bombings, it is my opinion that the theft of data (as well as targeted assassinations) be considered PRIORITY. I consider it New Athenian strategy to cripple our operations.

(NOTED OBJECTION: My team sniper and fellow threat-analyst Cdr. Jorah Cuthbert’s assessment considers these bombings PRIORITY due to initial attacks causing military casualties, and some civilian, casualties.)

Though we have strengthened forces along our borders, even maintaining several “watchtower” outposts in the “Wasteland” region between Tyrus and New Athens, such security measures have failed to prevent the aforementioned acts of aggression.

Despite intense vigilance and dogged pursuit, no New Athenian covert agents have ever been successfully interrogated for high-value information and those few we have managed to apprehend committed suicide (or were assassinated) in custody and, since, before capture.

OPINION: A renewed focus on the apprehension, detainment, and interrogation (NOT “ENHANCED INTERROGATION”) of a New Athenian covert agent would reap invaluable rewards in data-gathering, threat-analysis, and contributing to a stalemate in this crisis.

Though neither government has declared an official state of war, the political tensions of the past two decades have culminated in acts of aggression that might soon bring negotiation and diplomacy to their breaking points. The Tyrus Parliament’s recent statement is that they intend to “aggressively protect” mineral mining expansions into the borders of South “Wasteland” territory “with Legion support if necessary (Senator Gilroy, Parliamentary Address, June 22). Such mineral expansions will certainly extend to Raetean coastal territory, which would inevitably result in clashes with Athenian security forces protecting land development projects conducted by New Athenian government).

In my assessment, this will exacerbate tensions further between our nations. The Islands of Raetea off the coast of New Athens continue to suffer, with recent blockades and Tyrus sanctions increasing Raetea’s economic crisis, which has only worsened over the past four years. It is very likely that there will be a new wave of refugees into the state of New Athens as a result of tensions between Tyrus and Athenian operations, similar to what we observed at the unofficial start of this conflict over a decade ago. Consequent economic burdens and the optics of this influx of refugees will contribute to pro-war sentiment in New Athens.

It is my view that if the Legion must communicate with Parliament that if state negotiators do not increase their efforts--

Brax paused in their writing as another pang shot through their wrist.

Blinking against the blue dots which hovered in their periphery, they set down their stylus to stretch the kinks out of their aching fingers. They really needed to finish their sit-rep before noon tomorrow but there was no harm in pausing for some tea. Oh, and they still needed to get Jorah’s electronic signature before they sent off the document…

Allowing a groan to break through the stifling silence, Brax glared balefully at the slow-spinning ceiling fan.

It is an inanimate object.

It cannot feel your recrimination and will not go faster.

Rational, reasonable facts which didn’t stop them from glaring harder at the offending blades, languidly batting the warm air from corner to corner. Sweat began to dampen Brax’s robe a mere minute after they slipped it on, clinging to their back as they rose from the bed and strode to pour themself another cup of Darjeeling. It was a sign of how oppressive summer had become that the heat bothered them enough to glare at a goddamn ceiling fan.

Or maybe it was just this report.

Brax’s eyes throbbed to match their hands as their gaze tracked the bubbles rolling in the coffee-maker and thinking, suddenly, how they would rather do this than spend another minute on this report.

A report they had written before, in fewer, less urgent words. Perhaps they would come to write it so often that they could pen it with their eyes closed.

Brax was not born for...this.

Analyzing data for larger patterns, working with people to coalesce them into workable teams, untangling the knots of complex problems - it was all Brax’s bread and butter.

They just never thought they’d be doing it in service of a war.

Especially not such a war as this, which stretched on, cold and quiet as perpetual winter, for years upon years with no official frontline, no certain death toll, and no end in sight. It crept like frost through even the most iron structures of their society, the bite of corruption and desperation corroding from within, unrelenting attacks from without. A conflict that Brax had seen steal the best of their generation, silently and suddenly, into the night.

Alright, that decided it. Melatonin with their tea it was. Brax reminded themself not to make this a habit as they tapped two pills into their palm before they carried a steaming mug back to their bedside.

A fair and direct fight was more their speed.

Well, technically their speed was to avoid fights if at all possible but the past few years with the Legion had taught Brax that the thin line between caution and cowardice was easily crossed - regardless of intent.

They were not so foolish to hope to keep their innocence but they intended to keep their worldview intact, despite how determined the world seemed to shatter their views. They would not allow their intelligence to be broken into shards of cynicism and brutal practicality.

But in such a war as this, intelligence was never undervalued and Brax’s reputation for swift, sure judgement had left their opinion heavily in demand. They had heard the call and gone from analyzing political conflict behind a desk to the field with surprising ease, mirrored in their meteoric ascent through the ranks.

Though they often wished for their cramped desk and stale coffee, they knew they were needed here and could not now resent being so pressed for their help.

Which is why they didn’t have much of a right to be surprised when a knock, heavy and booming, rapped against the door of their quarters.

Brax allowed themself a regretful blink at their unswallowed pills and undrunk tea before setting them down delicately, not at all with a disgruntled thud, before striding to the door.

Cobi had the decency to look a little rueful when faced with his commanding officer, haggard and bleary, clad in only a robe.

“This had better be damn important, Lt. Pfeffer,” Brax attempts to be wry but the strain in their voice rather diminishes the humor. “My Darjeeling has melatonin in it.”

“Yeah, uh, yes, Captain. Ok, uh…”

Cobi hesitated, chewed his lip as his mighty hands flexed, clenched white-knuckled, and suddenly Brax knew that shit was about to go down.

“Captain, someone...an Athens agent crossed the border. Like, just fuckin’ walked right into an outpost and, uh, gave themself up. This morning. So, uh. Yeah. Guessing that’s important, Captain.”

Well.

It seemed that report was going to have to wait.

The government car felt too small and too hot as it rocketed through the thick, buggy dark and Brax once again resisted the urge to adjust their shirt collar.

Putting the heat, and the thought that they really should have changed their undershirt, to the side, they glanced at the car’s digital clock.

02:45

They didn’t think the driver would notice if they fixed their appearance but Brax preferred not to bring undue attention to the sloppy adjustment of their hastily donned uniform. Repressing a sigh, Brax scrolled through their data-pad, sweaty fingers slipping on the screen as they skimmed through the electronic sit-rep.

At approx. 22:10, a New Athens covert agent approached a Wasteland outpost.

The agent was bound and searched. The agent was unarmed and scans revealed no explosive devices or any other weapons. The uniform was confiscated to search for bugs. Upon interrogation, the agent would only state name, serial number, and desire to speak to someone in the command structure. The agent has been restrained securely to prevent possible suicide.

Stated name: Morja (Serial #:13308)

Approx. 5’, 5-6”

Approx. late 20’s to early 30’s

Brown skin (possible Raetean descent - known to be typical for covert agents)

Health Status: no diseases, no medical conditions known

No current, major injuries noted.

Once again, Brax’s eyes drifted inexorably towards the clock’s bright glare.

02:47

Shit.

Time crept like the dark fields beyond the tinted window, too slow and yet too quick, as Brax struggled to grasp their prided equilibrium. Yet they felt like it was slipping from their grip like the datapad through sweaty hands.

The security bureau likely felt they were already lagging too far behind this development. This interview ought to have happened hours ago. Brax needed more time, more information, to interrogate this agent. They needed to know if this agent had previous contact with Tyrus forces.

They need more time.

The truth was that, despite the considerable efforts of Tyrus' intelligence agents, they had very little notion of how covert assassins were trained on the other side. Even the recruitment process was shrouded in mystery and misinformation, but many analysts suspected that service was..less than voluntary. They knew that impressment targeted Raetean refugees, third-class citizens, and often poor prisoners, all conscripted with grand offers of security - or, as Brax recalled with a gag from a propaganda newsclip, “the service of the lesser so the great will prosper”.

These agents started young and desperate, understandably - easy to break into desirable moulds. New Athenian agents fought with fervent loyalty on par with religious devotion, with most Tyrus citizens considering these agents devout to their nation like cultists to their faith.

Brax did not entirely buy that.

Being trained (likely brutally) and indoctrinated with nationalist gratitude since youth, plucked from a miserable existence. Especially where the third-tier citizens and refugees often died of untreated illness, ration shortage, and climate poisoning.

Choice was all well and good to praise when one has never had...no choice.

There was also the fact that treason, dissension, any sort of breaking ranks - all punished with a proud severity typical to an authoritarian state. Add these all together and a nation gets a loyal stock of “servants”, bound for life to die for a state which did not seem to care how many they lost as long as they achieved their goals: the prosperity of the great.

They need to focus on the details at hand.

They need beads of sweat to stop rolling off the dome of their head, trickling to the wire-rimmed lens and clinging to the glasses, refusing to fall.

Ignore it.

One thing was quite certain - Brax had no idea what to expect.

The atmosphere in the outpost bunker buzzed with anticipation, goosebumps rising along Brax’s arms even in the sweltering air, as they stepped down into the building. Two fresh-faced lieutenants stood at restless attention and once Brax stepped into the room the fidgeting figures snapped out their salutes, hand to forehead, with a nervous, jerky speed.

A reedy blonde, the sergeant in charge, seemed to barely keep herself from crossing her arms across her body, hands making abortive gestures towards her torso as she briefed Brax on the situation. She was sweating dark stains through her uniform and her mouth ticked sporadically, twisting into a small, hard shape.

Brax knew all the information given but they allowed her the extra minute to grit the story through her teeth. She clearly needed this.

Nodding sharply at her conclusion, Brax inquired and was led to where the agent was being held, a small soundproof room with a heavy steel door.

“Under no circumstances am I to be interrupted - is that clear?”

Satisfied by the brisk nods of their wide-eyed subordinates, Brax gripped the cell’s door handle harder than necessary as they input the code with slow, steady presses of a slippery finger. Taking a moment to cycle through all known factors in their head, they allowed their shoulders to drop and slipped on the politely inquisitive neutrality of their game-face.

As they stepped, resolutely, over the threshold of the cell, their eyes adjusted to the dark room and they finally laid eyes on the agent in question.

A stocky figure, likely short in stature, thickly muscled limbs, dressed in a Tyrus Legion issue slacks and teeshirt. Even in the low light, Brax could see the agent was dark in complexion, with the brown skin and black hair typical of Raetean citizens.

“Likely” short, Brax noted, since no real gauge could be made of the figure’s height since said figure was on their knees, shackled.

Their ankles and shins had been tightly bound together, leaving the figure to balance in an uneven kneel, straining the broad shoulders where their arms had been drawn back and up to the wall, where their clenched hands were bound in thick, steel cuffs.

Shit. That was just wonderful, wasn’t it? They knew the agent would surely be cuffed - they had been handed keys after all - but nobody had mentioned...stress positions.

Just as well. Brax’s opinion on the outpost’s flirtation with torture was well-known amongst superiors and subordinates alike. They didn’t need their blood up. Ir would have been nice if these soldiers hadn’t played fast and loose with protocol. But the reprimand can wait, Brax sternly reminded themself. Focus on the task at hand.

As the door swung heavily shut behind Brax, the figure raised their head slowly.

A dim glow from the one dangling bulb threw shifting shadows onto a rugged face - thinly bearded, a wide brow, chin and nose, the broad bridge crooked from an old break. Their mouth was pressed into a thin, hard line. Their thick, jet-black hair gleamed with perspiration, the sweat-drenched locks watermarking the pale green of their shirt-shoulders.

The low light accented thick scars ridging the bronze flesh: a wide mark swooping over his nose, slashing through a thick right brow, curving below the left cheekbone, and a jagged mark splitting the tender skin below one of their dark, deep-set eyes.

Those eyes glinted for a moment, alighting on Brax’s face before flicking away, settling blankly somewhere around the fourth button of Brax’s uniform.

No further movement, not even a change in breathing, from the agent. No flicker of expression disturbed the blankness of their face. Only steady blinking and a cadenced swell of the broad chest indicated that they were even alive.

Well, they were a stoic one, that was certain.

If they were as smart as they must be, they were either suppressing terror at their predicament (likely) or smug certainty in some nefarious ploy (plausible but less certain).

Brax let the air simmer for a few more moments before striding with purpose towards the figure, ready to undo their bonds. At their first certain step, every line in the agent’s body tautened, rigid as a sail in the wind, as their rhythmic breaths quickened - shallowly, shortly out, deeply, swiftly in.

So - the former.

Reassured by a confirmation of their assessment, though less pleased to be a source of distress, Brax made quick work of the restraints.

They stepped back, giving the agent a moment to straighten up and rub their wrists. The figure’s gaze flicked to Brax’s face, brow nearly creasing into a furrow before smoothing once more. They allowed their arms to fall and settle stiffly on their lap, settling on their knees and settling their gaze once more upon Brax’s waist.

Alright then - no aggression, no combative expression, nothing but complete submission so far.

Good cop it is then - good.

Sinking to one knee, Brax tried to seek out the agent’s eyes but that dark gaze remained lowered, so Brax focused on keeping their voice low and soft.

“Hello, Morja, my name is Captain Abraxas Hutchins. I was told you wanted to talk to someone higher in the ranks, so, you got me. Can you tell me what it is you want?”

An intake of breath, sharp and sudden.

Brax would almost call it a gasp and their close observance caught the figure’s eyes flickering with something like shock. If the agent was bewildered or shocked, however, they recovered swiftly, their soft burr revealing no more emotion than their stony face.

“Anóteros, I came to...offer my service to Tyrus.”

....Well. Alright. Well.

Brax allowed themself a blink. Taking a moment to process this statement.

“Are you...are you telling me that you’re surrendering?”

“...Yes, anóteros.”

The agent opened their mouth, paused, spoke once their gaze flickered over Brax’s nod of encouragement.

“I am… deserting New Athens. I… offer my service to this nation. I will offer information. I will fight. I will….do whatever you want.”

The way that the agent spoke, measuring each word as some fragile and heavy thing, sat uneasily with Brax. So did being called “master” or “superior” or whatever that word meant.

As the agent’s palms stiffened, flexing upon their thighs, their close proximity allowing Brax to note the copious scars and burns (some little and disturbingly round) littered upon those wide hands. Brax kept noting that too, the broadness of the figure before them and how often they forgot the size in light of the demeanor. Their shoulders did not hunch, their head did not hang low, but they projected absolute submission.

I am not a threat. I am small and harmless. You do not need to hurt me.

Brax did not need psych-profile terminology at the moment. They could almost hear Sarai’s murmurous meandering on abuse survivors and body language, atypical trauma symptoms, and all the things Brax knew too much about for a lifetime. This agent’s possible history with abuse was an issue for the aforementioned team medic and therapist to ponder if she wished.

Brax was here to assess potential threats.

They were not at all influenced by how the shift of movement drew their eyes to the cruel grooves in the agent’s wrists, deep and ugly crimson, the clear marks of viciously fastened zip-ties.

Not in the least.

Skin on the left wrist had broken and blood sluggishly trickled from the cruel, red circle.

“Do your wrists hurt?”

The agent’s eyes snapped up, fixing Brax with another brief flicker of astonishment. It lasted a mere moment before the agent lowered their gaze. They shifted, their lips parted, shut, parted again.

“Don’t lie - are you in any pain?”

The agent visibly twitched this time, nodding quickly.

Brax would not be accused of being soft by most people. Secretive, observant, strict - usual adjectives whispered regarding the taciturn leader. But for all Brax had purposefully cultivated their reputation of principled sternness, they hoped to be accused of compassion just as often.

What was the use of incisive insight, being able to read people fairly, assess their intentions accurately, and deal with them rightfully if they could not extend it to someone right in front of them?

Well, they would rather be damned for humanity anyhow.

Rising from their haunches, Brax strode to the door and rapped sharply, demanding a first-aid kit from the blinking officer. After some fumbling in cabinets beneath the open stares from frozen compatriots, the officer handed over the item.

Brax traded their crouch for a kneel, mirroring the pose of the rigid agent while they fished some analgesic ointment out of the kit.

“Hold out your hands for me?”

The figure obeyed without a moment of hesitation, palms spread and forearms balanced in tandem.

Brax hummed in approval, cleaning their own hands with alcohol before hovering a fresh wipe over the maimed flesh.

“This is going to sting but the ointment will help with that in a minute.”

The agent did not so much as wince, palms perfectly still as Brax swiped at the gashes as swiftly as they could. Despite the lack of reaction, the agent’s wrists likely felt aflame at the disinfectant.

“So, stop me if I’m wrong. As I understand it, you’re…”

Brax balanced two words on their tongue. Defecting? The alcohol swab snagged a pucker of scar. Round. Diverted. Still pink, a few years old.

“...fleeing. And you want to cooperate, work with us willingly, yes?”

A nod.

“Have any of your anótero ordered you to surrender yourself?”

The agent twitched but their mouth pulled down in another flash of bewilderment.

“No, sir,...New Athens does not infiltrate. I am...committing treason by being here. Even...even by speaking to you, anoóteros, I would be...executed.”

Dry tracks of crimson had eked down the agent’s forearms from their downward angle.

“Then why are you here? What do you want?”

Peeling the wrapper off another wipe, Brax began cleaning those trails, smothering a frown as the stale air thickened with the sharp, metal scent of blood and alcohol.

“I...believe that there is a better way. For my people. A better way that those at the head will not see, will never see. It is not…their way. The only way to save...to have this better way is to end the conflict. To dismantle central operations in New Athens until there is no choice but to change things.”

“So you want to use y-their own tactics against them?”

“They are effective, anóteros.”

A fair point.

“And…”

Brax hummed in question and after a strained beat of silence, the agent continued.

“In e-exchange...for an active policy of recruitment of Athenian agents, taken in alive.”

Well.

“You, you think other agents will defect.”

“...I do.”

Well.

“I see.”

Brax focuses their attention on a crusted clump of blood at the agent’s pulse point, dabbing wetly and turning the information over, the blunt shock of the agent’s words tumbling through their mind. The heat pressed against Brax’s skin, thickened like a cap against their skull, they needed to think.

They need to let their instincts guide them.

“So those are your, uh, conditions for cooperating with us?”

“And I will not execute civilian targets - on either side.”

For the first time, steel edged the tone, the words all weight and no hesitation.

Brax had no counter to this so they merely hummed.

Crumpling bloodied wipes into the kit, Brax dolloped ointment onto their fingertips and began rubbing it into the cuts, grateful for the waft of peppermint which broke up the morbid odor and finally fully gazing up at their patient.

The agent regarded Brax openly, eyes glinting with a bright mixture of caution, bewilderment, and something very much like awe. That look pinned Brax. It seemed that those eyes were shocked into aching vulnerability from an act of simple kindness and it made Brax...unsettled.

“Better?”

“...Y-yes, anóteros.”

“Ah. You don’t need to call me that.”

That little furrow deepened between the agent’s brows.

“Anoóteros. If it makes you more comfortable, I don’t object to it. But I’m not requiring you to call me ‘superior’, ok?”

Now the corners of the agent’s mouth creased downwards as their lips parted, pressed together, and their sharp nod followed suit.

“Yes, sir.”

“Call me Captain. Sir’s a bit, ah, inaccurate anyway.”

Brax quirked their lips softly, trying to assuage any potential tension at the correction. They did this with any new subordinate, awkwardly hovering between honorifics in the face of Brax’s...ambiguity. It usually worked well - usually. The agent, however, had ceased to breathe and their fingers stiffened within Brax’s hold.

“I...apologize, s--, Captain.”

“No need.”

Brax dabbed ointment generously into a welt, a rare unbroken patch of wrist-skin rubbed to blister, as they elaborated in the same low, steady tone.

“I have to inform almost everyone that I am genderfluid, since I present as pretty masculine. I go by ‘they’. Being referred to as ‘he’ is fine, it only bothers me if those are the only pronouns someone calls me.”

Satisfied that infection had been successfully belayed, Brax wiped the ointment off their hands and began

tilting their head as they scrutinized the agent’s flat demeanor for cracks, shadows, flickers - searching for any hint of what was going on in their head.

“What about you?”

There was the bewilderment again, the agent pausing, likely weighing their response, stiffening as they finally spoke, somehow quieter and more measured than before.

“...I apologize, Captain. I...I...don’t understand.”

“I’m asking what pronouns you prefer for yourself.”

The agent’s chest rose, fell, rose and fell quicker as their proffered arms quivered, the creases flattened and deepening across their face in a waning struggle for neutrality. The body warred with itself before Brax’s eyes, some invisible cord of tension winding tighter as the agent seemed to scramble for an answer.

Brax quickly thought of the agent’s name as they tried to belay any possible swell of panic by offering up solid bases - affirmation, instruction, guidance.

“Hey, Morja? It’s alright. There is no wrong answer here - just tell me your gender identity, alright.”

“...Yes, Captain. I...am a man.”

“Alright. So you prefer ‘he/him’?”

A quick nod.

“Alright.”

Plucking a bundle of gauze from the kit, Brax ignored the weight of the agent’s gaze on them as they unwound strips of material.

They had watched Morja. Now it was his turn to watch them.

“I understand that agents on your side are trained to be perfect. Perfectly obedient. Perfect killers. I’m sure you understand why I can’t be certain of what you say.”

Only once they began binding Morja’s wrists did they glance up from the softly trembling hands and catch those dark eyes head-on. They were sharp, affixed to Brax’s throat like lodestones, as his brow crinkled in thought. As Brax began tucking the edges of the bandages into the bindings, Morja spoke.

“Tyrus has been searching for a hidden data farm in New Athenian territory. It shows grids of border weaknesses here and to the West and it’s a high-value storage. It is low-security to disguise its importance. I can offer its location and optimal invasion strategy, Captain. I can offer this as proof.”

As Brax stood, gazing down at the agent, their senses were attuned to the utter submission of Morja’s posture, how his eyes were bright with caution, and though his hands still bore the faintest tremor, there was not a hint of deception.

Either he was telling the truth or Brax had never met a better liar.

“Alright. You can lower your arms, Morja.”

The man obeyed and the faint light showed his flat mask slip a fraction.

Brax barely had time to blink before Morja folded at the waist. Spreading his open palms flat, shuffling forward to press his head upon the ground. With his broad back bowed, his dark head brushing Brax’s boots, gauze-swathed hands unfurled as though in prayer, Morja was the perfect picture of supplication.

“Thank you...for your mercy, a-- Captain. Thank you.”

Well...alright.

Brax can process this: rituals of deference, kneeling, no eye contact.

Superior.

Still, a groveling enemy was not their idea of a good Saturday morning.

A wounded, terrified person at Brax’s feet, throwing away all he’d ever known for a change in heart.

A man who Brax had bandaged, thanking them for the mercy.

“That’s, uh, alright. You’re alright. You can get up.”

Without looking to see how he responded, Brax strode to the door of the cell, rapping to be let out. When the blonde sergeant swung the door wide, her gaze slid balefully to the shadows behind Brax, eyes like icy chips in her clammy face. Her mouth was a small knot of fury.

And just like that, Brax made their decision.

“I need a pair of cuffs and the car. He’s coming back to Base Forthill with me.”

Brax swung back to Morja, catching his dark head snap up suddenly, the neon light glinting at the whites of his widened eyes and limning his parted lips in the most blatant show of emotion Brax had yet seen.

Shadows of shock, relief, fear all flitted, swift and pale as moths across Morja’s face before fading away, leaving only the level mask settled staunchly in place.

Brax really hoped they wouldn’t regret this.

And yet, somehow, they didn’t think they would.

i crave validation so tell me what you thought!!!

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teruthecreator · 4 years

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THS IS A ROBBERY 🔫YOUR ROLESWAP LORE!!! HAND IT OVER 🤲if u want 2 :)

just took my melatonin bc i have to wake up at 4:30 AM to drive 16 hours to my mother’s so i’m sorry if this becomes derailed but uh. here’s the roleswap lore! or, at least, everything i’ve decided (along with matthew and corinne bc the three of us tagteamed on it)

gonna chuck it all under a readmore bc this is going to get long

so first off, just gonna run out in front and say i have no idea how this fits into graduation plot. i haven’t gotten that in plot consideration, given their character differences in comparison to their canonical selves. so, for the most part, it’s a lot of background establishment and character traits. but i do have a few plot bits that i’ve figured out bc i thought it was cool. why such a long preamble? i don’t know. help me

fitzroy maplecourt:

first off, he’s not called sir!!! because he doesn’t go to knight school!

my idea for his backstory is that the way he decides to grapple with his identity crisis/imposter syndrome (which he definitely Still has) is that instead of becoming a grander, larger than life version of himself. he just. goes the opposite.

not necessarily becoming a degenerate (bc he just smokes pot and that’s not bad he’s just vibing)??? but more just like. leaning into the laid-back nature of life that one might pick up from a lifetime in rural country.

he goes to a liberal arts school a ways away and just decides to bum around and take life not seriously. he develops a pretty large group of acquaintances being a hippie stoner; he doesn’t really pursue a degree either. i think if he picked up any major it was probably like. an art major or an english but he basically fails most of his classes bc he doesn’t care!

unlike his canonical counterpart, fitzroy doesn’t mind being called nicknames!! ones i think he has the most are fitz or roy, but basically you could call him anything and he’ll respond. that is because, instead of clinging to the concept of his identity bc it’s the only thing he feels he has, his identity is nebulous!! he doesn’t understand it and it scares him too much to be concrete, so he just lets people decide shit about him for him.

his personal philosophy is more about floating through life and letting people assume shit about him than having a solid personality and backstory that people understand and recognize. it is a more dissociative way of having an identity crisis! how fun! he also barely talks about his past, and what he does talk about are cherrypicked points of his past that fit his narrative of being a casual down-to-earth hippie

the moment that this all changes is when order decides to pop in and grant him powers!!!! wahoo!!!! here’s how that happens:

he’s baked out of his fucking gourd in his dorm room, in the spring semester of his junior year. he’s alone (which is rare) and he’s maybe a little sad, but he decides to just ignore it. he looks at his table and laughs. “hehe, what if this table just. blew up?” he says to himself. it isn’t that funny, but he laughs. then he lays his hand on the table.

the table blows up.

after that, he has magic!!!

i’m going to go into detail a little bit later about how fitzroy’s magic manifests in the roleswap universe, but i wanna get through the backstory first. basically, he gets really freaked out after his magic comes to him because it is So New and Wow What and What The Fuck.

he realizes that this new addition to his character Completely changes how people who know him would perceive him (as a bum stoner chill guy), and he can no longer have control of his narrative with this magic business. so he drops out!

well, he actually just transfers. to a school far, far away where people will never know who he was and he can rebuild his narrative with this magic incorporated into it. he chooses wiggenstaff’s because he figures the school would have more of a knowledge of magic than his libarts school, which would mean he could understand why the fuck weed gave him magic (sidenote: it wasn’t weed, obvs, but he thinks this so for a while he doesn’t smoke!)

he is now the chill hippie of wiggenstaff’s!!! most people like him because his personality is fairly easy to digest; some people think he shouldn’t be there, but he is! he starts out as a sidekick and he would’ve honestly been fine with that forever, but then he’s suddenly thrust into the hero track!!! wow!!!! i will also explain this with the magic.

but yeah!! that’s fitzroy, for the most part. now we’ll move onto the other boy

argonaut keene:

he actually prefers if people call him argonaut, but he’s less likely to correct people than canon fitzroy Or canon argo. he’s a tad bit shyer in this universe!

argo’s backstory pretty much follows the same idea of his canonical background, but with some key differences that shape him into the character he is in the present!

basically he still grows up on shebrie’s ship, surrounded by crewmates and the salty sea air. but his fascination with the sea doesn’t manifest into this swashbuckling lifestyle that he has in canon.

what fascinates him more is the ship itself. how it functions, how water wears down wood, how directional currents can affect navigation. basically, he becomes invested in the sciences part of sealife more than the pirateering. he has special interests in marine biology, but his heart remains in nautical engineering. figuring out ways to make the ship run better, faster, and more efficiently consumes his childhood thoughts!

shebrie encourages her son’s craving for knowledge with tomes and books from all over the world about anything related to engineering and nautical things. he’s homeschooled, basically, but he becomes rather intelligent within a few short years!

and then, well....shebrie dies. yeah we aren’t escaping that finality, sorry folks. that part of canon Still Applies.

after shebrie’s death (coughMURDERcough), argo is. traumatized! and he makes the decision to almost entirely sever himself from his life on the sea. it’s all too painful to look back upon--the times he spent studying with his mother in the captain’s quarters, rattling off dolphin facts as they sailed onward, dreaming of turning gears as the ship gently rocked him to sleep--and so he just decides to throw the whole thing out!

he can’t ignore his lifetime of education, though, so he continues to pursue it. with the remainder of money his mother left behind, he enrolls himself in a boarding school of science and technology, with plans to continue study in Only engineering. no more nautical Anything on his roster.

eventually, when he is old enough and graduates high school, he roams around...trying to figure out what to do. he doesn’t have enough money for college, so he can’t continue his scholarly efforts yet. he works around, job-to-job, city-to-city, and just notices how...delayed everything feels. like society is suffering under this slow pace towards innovation.

and that’s when he decides his next course of action. if he were to discover the root of some problem and engineer a solution, he would be famous! he would gain notoriety and praise and--and all the things his mother had as a captain. but he would have it on his own, separate from his mother, and separate from his past.

he figures out his next course of action: attend a school that will give his prestigious enough marks to be accepted onto a research team, find a problem, solve it, help the world, maybe earn a little bit of that credit and respect that would make him feel like he was doing his mother proud.

the thing i want to emphasize here is that argo’s take on helping the world comes from that morality that canon fitzroy has. canon fitzroy wanted to be a knight because he wanted to fairly and justly instill ideas of “good” and “bad” onto the world. roleswap argo has a similar moral sense, but instead of establishing rules he wants to fix the “bad” and make it “good” in a technological/scientific sense.

the only school argo can think of that can get him that kind of notoriety is wiggenstaff’s. getting onto the HOG board would mean he’d have access to countless resources and be respected by a large audience, which would give him the opportunity to make change happen. even if he’s only a sidekick On Paper, what matters is that the diploma would give him the ability to Apply to the HOG. so he drafts a carefully worded letter for a scholarship and achieves a full-ride!!! epic

like fitzroy’s magic, i’m going to break down argo’s relation to the unbroken chain after i get through backstory stuff. but trust me, I’ve Thought Of It

argo sort of blends into the background at wiggenstaff’s. or, he would, if his roommates/friends weren’t so Fucking Out There. fitzroy is enough to make him always be visible, but even the firbolg’s massive frame means eyes are always on him. which makes him nervous!! he doesn’t like the attention (as opposed to his canonical self, who revels in it for the self-esteem fuel) his insecurities manifest more in what he’s Doing rather than what he Is, mostly because his identity is barricaded by a wall of trauma repression

he’s still plenty funny and witty, just quieter. also he’s a lot Meaner than canon argo, at least to me. because if you irritate him he Will just completely shut you down with words. motherfucker doesn’t bark but he will most DEFINITELY bite

that’s their backstories, for the most part! in terms of how they interact together:

as established, they meet prior to wiggenstaff’s on a tinder date (during the grace period of argo working odd jobs and fitzroy about to be granted immense fucking power) and end up casually dating during the course of their wiggenstaff education. argo is a nervous goober and fitzroy just likes making him blush. it’s very cute.

fitzroy is still less inclined for the romantic than argo, who remains a steadfast absolute romantic internally. fitzroy still holds a lot of the self-doubt and distrust that canon fitzroy has, only it manifests in him not taking anything seriously! which means when he catches Feelings feelings he basically freaks out

argo still falls in love really quickly, only now he’s more conflicted about it because being in love means trusting and trust means communication and communication means Oops Years Of Trauma Are Being Unloaded Uh Oh!

now i’m going to touch on the big points that i find really interesting: fitzroy’s magic and argo’s relation to the unbroken chain

fitzroy’s magic:

chaos is not the being that grants him magic. it’s order!

my take on what this means for what deity is on what plane of reality is that chaos is more Needed so they are the one that is physically On Nua, while Order remains in dreamscapes because they are already a constant amongst the tangible world. yes i know this directly contradicts the reasoning for why theyre Supposed to be where in canon, leave me alone i’m having fun.

my reasoning for this switch is because chaos stands to be a contradiction to everything canon fitzroy has going on. he has a very strict, nailed-down understanding of himself and the world. everything he thinks is in black and white, bold statements, no questions, he follows rules and obeys the law. untiiiiil chaos gives him magic and shocks him out of that complacency. they lean into his inner impulses and that rage he’s kept locked deep inside. they allow for magic to Explode out of him, rather in calculated bursts or with intent.

which is why order is more fitting for roleswap fitzroy!! because fitzroy, in this world, has less of a concrete grasp of himself and the world. he purposely lets himself be nebulous and goes with the flow. thinking of the future in real terms is not something fitzroy Does, he has no plans and that’s Fine. order seeks to give fitzroy a backbone, to put it simply.

his magic doesn’t go impulsively out of him. it is calculated--it comes with thoughts and intentions. the reason it surprises fitzroy when the table blows up is because he didn’t think his thoughts or wants would amount into that, but that’s what order is trying to show him. that his intentions matter. that he matters and he has to Think and Focus and Be Here.

i’m still not sure if his power would manifest as lightning??? because the imagery for the lightning works perfectly for canon fitzroy because of the random power of lightning strikes. but for roleswap fitzroy it’s more like...thunder. like Purpose. thunder happens because of a reaction--it comes with intent. if differing air temperatures collide, it creates thunder. that combination is purpose + intent equating in magic.

i think that part needs word bc like. how would one quantify thunder?? i think fire might also work really well because the idea of a controlled fire. like things have to Happen in order for fire to start, it can’t just appear like lightning can.

order’s manipulation relies more heavily on the concept of boosting him up as a savior/hero, rather than boosting his ego and desire for power. fitzroy Has no desires in roleswap world--he’s just there. but when he gets put on the hero track, now he’s suddenly been given purpose. and order uses that to be like “wow, look at all these people who rely on you! look how important you are! don’t you want to use this magic for good?? to do good?? start a war with a demon come on pussy :-)”

OH YEAH also he becomes a hero in this universe (like in terms of tracks) because of the fact that it directly contradicts how he views himself. for canon fitzroy, it was showing him how much more he is capable of without the restrictions of morals (i.e, king fitzroy). but roleswap fitzroy doesn’t Have an image he wants to bolster! he doesn’t think he needs it and, frankly, he doesn’t care for it. the hero tracks carries with it all these stereotypes and expectations that now directly contradict his personality--thus showing him he is capable of more.

okay now for argo’s business jesus christ this post is so long and im NOT EVEN DONE WITH ALL THE POINTS I WANTED TO MENTION

argo’s relation to the unbroken chain:

so since roleswap argo has less of an association with his past (and, by extension, the memory of his mother), he is less inclined to join the mysterious cult that his mother was a part of.

moreover, he doesn’t necessarily believe the shit he’s told??? he’s way more skeptical of jackal than canon argo is--immediately questioning why and how jackal knew his mother, and constantly trying to poke holes through his narrative.

generally speaking, if you try to talk to roleswap argo about his mother or his past, he Shuts Down. like completely. and that usually results in him snapping at you or just clamming up completely. mostly he just gets really snippy and angry because Hey Shut Up Dickhead I Don’t Want To Talk About It

a part of me still isn’t sure whether or not argo would take the unbroken chain up on their offer. but i also know that, plot wise and character arc wise, it is a necessary part of argo’s story. so i think, at most, he agrees but is extremely hesitant and might even let fitzroy on immediately once he’s given the task of digging into fitzroy’s life

also, they’re boyfriends in this universe, so how could he Really keep it a secret for that long. come on jackal, you idiot, you know they’re kissing.

i think he’d Eventually warm up to jackal as a sort of father figure, but only after many nights of conversation and dancing around the subject of shebrie.

OH YEAH. this argo doesn’t know the commodore murdered his mother! important to note! he just assumes what he was told was true, that she sailed into dangerous territory and was ambushed.

during the tribunal bit If That Even Happens In This World, i think fitzroy actually is the one who figures it out Before argo. and once argo does, well............fuck!

OKAY last little bit, just gonna talk about some random extra parts of the world that i’ve thought of already:

in this universe, grey takes on higglemas’s identity instead of hieronymous’s!!! this is for good reason actually

okay so basically my thought was that, instead of whatever happened in canon yadda yadda dog time, hieronymous and grey are fighting and it’s a pretty evenly matched battle. there’s a cooldown moment where hiero thinks he’s safe but grey uses sneaky backhanded tactics to try and get the drop on him.

only higgs sees it in time and saves his brother, taking the hit himself. he collapses, extremely wounded, and hiero rushes to his aid. he’s cradling his brother’s body, trying to keep him alive, when grey approaches to deliver the final blow.

hiero is completely crushed and defeated and basically will let grey do anything to him by this point. the only thing he begs of is to let him live long enough to save his brother.

now, grey isn’t nice. let me make that clear. grey fucking SUCKS and the reason he agrees is because he wants a Real War with hiero and he can’t get that if hiero is basically like “if you let higgs die then you might as well kill me”.

so, grey agrees, and hiero ends up saving higgs by turning him into a cat. was supposed to be a temporary solution until he could find a better spell, but he wasn’t the magic guy in the duo. eventually, grey gets tired of waiting and decides to do some other shit. like turning the school the brothers have been running into a backalley place for demons!!

he takes the form of higglemas and leaves hieronymous locked in his office as basically a mascot. he’s like the queen and grey is the parliament--grey makes all the rules, but everyone assumes it’s hiero. faux-higgs is more on the ground, changing things and making the school a place more fitting for an eventual war. he builds up the concept of heroes and villains being Real, in the hopes he can sway some mortals to his side when he’s able to open a portal to hell.

hiero still tries to stop this from happening, but his pride and his self-image is wounded by what happened. he feels guilty and puts the blame entirely on him, instead of doing the whole cowardice route like higgs did in canon. he gets people to help him eventually, via mind control and all tht jazz.

also in this universe, buckminster is the one who gets birdified instead of leon!! has to do with my leon/buckminster and higgs/hiero narrative parallels that i’ve thought of for far too long.

firbolg is exactly the same in this universe. it is hard to swap three people and i didn’t want to think about him.

fitzroy doesn’t pick a grab. i think he’d rather a lizard, like a bearded dragon. he names him something stupid. like scaly. or kyle.

uhhh yeah!!! i think that’s....everything i’ve thought of so far!! lemme know if you wanna hear my takes on any other elements in the roleswap world!!!!

#taz graduation #taz sir fitzroy maplecourt #taz argo keene #roleswap maplekeene #ignorance cloud on #thanks em!!!!#sorry this is a mile long i had a lot to say #and now...i sleep!#jesus christ i have to drive 16 hrs tomorrow #help me :-)#ember360

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saxxxology · 5 years

Text

A Different Kind of Therapy: 2

When the strains of life, broken relationships, an angry boss, and other stresses get a bit too much to bear, you seek a very particular kind of treatment.

PAIRING: Sexual Therapist!Sam x Reader WARNINGS: mentions of a breakup, stress/anxiety, sexual therapy, smut, slow burn

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Saturday morning drags by. You spend the day in the house, drinking cup after cup of mint tea to calm yourself down. Charlie thankfully has a gaming thing at a friend’s house and is still gone when you’re getting ready. You have no idea what to wear, and eventually settle for a long flowing skirt, flats, and a tight-fitting tee shirt.

The drive to Sam’s office is long; you leave in the middle of rush hour and constantly check the clock, terrified of being even one minute late. Thankfully, there’s a free parking lot in front of the office, and you pull into the space furthest from the street before getting out of the car and steadying yourself.

There’s only three chairs in the office. Behind the counter, a petite brunette woman is typing into her computer. The name RUBY glares up at you from a gold-plated nametag. She glances up when you enter.

“Y/N?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you clear your throat and watch anxiously as she slides a clipboard and a pen over the marble counter.

“You’re right on time,” she smiles warmly, “there’s a few forms for you to sign. You can have a seat, there’s water, tea, and coffee if you want to help yourself.”

You nod your thanks and retreat to the corner chair to fill out the forms. There’s multiple questions about your medical and psychological history which quickly extend to past relationships, levels of sexual activity, and more.

When the forms are filled out, you hand the clipboard back and return to your seat while she scans your information into the computer. As soon as she’s done, she presses a button on her intercom.

A few seconds later, you hear a door down the hall open, and then Sam’s standing in the doorway, dressed in a white button-down and black slacks. His sleeves are rolled up over his forearms, and you fight to keep your attention on his face instead of the powerful muscle.

“Y/N,” he beckons for you to follow him and lets you pass by him into the hallway, “how’s your day been?”

“Good,” you reply meekly, arms crossing over your stomach as he leads you down into his private office space. “Yours?”

“Long, but good.” He closes the door behind you and motions you to sit on a brown leather couch. The office is sparsely furnished, only a mahogany desk, couch, and armchair. You sit up straight as he lowers himself into the armchair. “So,” he begins, “I usually do a preliminary interview with new clients. Are you comfortable answering anything I ask you or do you prefer having limits? Everything here is confidential.”

“Um…” you pushed a lock of hair behind your ear, “yeah, I can answer anything.”

“Good.” He smiles warmly and settles back, fingers pressed together in his lap. “So, how did you find me?”

“My friend has a friend who recommended you,” you reply, “I looked you up, found your website, watched one of your TED talks.”

He chuckles lightly. “So you know what I do… that being said, are you looking for regular therapy, or the more focused therapy I provide?”

“Um…” a twinge of nervousness stops your voice in your throat, “I-I guess… focused.”

He frowns when he hears your voice growing tight and leans forward. “I’m not here to judge you,” he explains softly, “I’m here to listen and give you what you need in order to help you. If you want to just talk, we can make appointments to talk, but I want to hear what’s going on in your life and help you figure out if you need special care.”

“I know,” you say, “I just… I’ve never really been open about this sort of thing.”

“Completely understandable.” He offers a reassuring smile. “Are you handling any sort of trauma or fears?”

“Well, uh, my boyfriend broke up with me six months ago. We were together for three years… it was just really sudden and I wasn’t expecting it at all.” You swallow thickly. “It’s stopping me from… y’know, finding other men.”

“Ah.” Sam licks his lower lip. “Is there anything else?”

You shrug. “My job… I’m a secretary for the CEO of a bank and we’re going through a huge merger. He’s always been an asshole, but this whole month he’s just… he gets angry easily and I have issues with men being angry, so…”

“So you’ve been having anxiety?”

“Yeah. Pretty bad.” You swallow. “I’ve been having attacks, and I have to take a lot of melatonin to fall asleep.”

He nods understandingly. “Do you have nightmares?”

“Not really… I just get sad.” You shift on the couch and take a steady breath. “My roommate says I need a pick-me-up, but I just don’t have the time or energy to…”

“Masturbate?” he suggests. When you nod, he clasps his hands. “From what you’re telling me, I think it might be smart to continue with the sexually-focused therapy, if you’re comfortable with that.”

Your cheeks flush. “What exactly is it like? I know you have stuff on your website, but I really wanna talk in person about it.”

“It’s no problem. I like it when clients ask me questions.” He smiles and sits back in his chair. “I like to focus on all aspects of female pleasure, starting with pressure points and external stimulation before anything else. I do appointments both here or at my client’s houses for a small fee, if they wish.”

“Okay.” Your breath hitches in your throat at the soft husk of his voice. “Do I have to… is it mutual?”

“I don’t engage in full intercourse, and I don’t allow my clients to service me,” he replies, “all I require is a clean STD test from a doctor. If you’ve had one within the last six months I just need is a copy of the results and I’ll provide one to you in return.”

You nod. “I got one after my boyfriend left.”

“Good.” He leans back in his chair. “I only work with complete consent. I go as far as you allow me to and if you feel uncomfortable at any time, I’ll stop.”

“Okay.” You nod shortly. “Do we start n-now, or…?”

He shakes his head. “No. I want to have another session of regular therapy before we confirm an appointment to start using more sexual methods.”

You blush. "Okay… not sure I’m ready for that, anyway.”

He smiles. “Perfectly all right. Now,” he reaches for a pen and a pad of notepaper, “let’s talk about you.”

***

“Oh my God, you’re seeing him!?”

Charlie’s practically shaking with excitement. You’ve come home from your appointment to find her curled up on the couch with a bowl of ramen, and her constant pressing for where you’d been has resulted in you telling her about you therapy appointment with Sam.

“Yeah,” you shrug, “I have an appointment next week.”

“Ooh…!” Charlie claps her hands when you blush, “are you gettin’ right to it, or…?”

You shake your head. “No, not yet. He said that I need to have another session so we can really talk.”

Charlie grins. “Girl, you’re gonna have to tell me all about it.”

“I will.” You can’t stop the giggle that leaves your lips. “I’m gonna take a shower and call it early.”

“Sure.” Charlie eyes you suspiciously. “Was he that hot?”

“Shush,” you shake your finger at her as you turn away, “I’m not there yet, Charlie.”

She giggles. “From what I’ve heard, you will be soon.”

***

Your next appointment with Sam is scheduled for a week later. You feel more comfortable now, having opened up to him during your first appointment about your relationship with Caleb, how you’d come to work as a secretary, and how the aggression from your boss combined with the stress of being alone while all your friends are happily in committed relationships is dragging you down.

This next appointment is much easier, and Sam lets you talk more about your sexual experiences. You’d had a boyfriend in college, and then only Caleb, who loved you and was an amazing man, but in the bedroom he had little to offer other than standard sex. Oral, if he was feeling up to it, and then a half hour of passionate lovemaking three times a week. Nothing spectacular, but it kept you satisfied.

When he asks you what you want sexually, you’re lost. You’ve never taken into account what you most desire intimately.

“I just want to feel like I have someone who can give me what I ask for without asking questions,” you answer, lifting your shoulders in a soft shrug. “It’s just… it’s just hard to find a man who’s willing to do that.”

Sam nods, watching your eyes flicker to the ground. “There are more men out there who are willing to do that than you think. The trick is finding the one you’re most compatible with.” He checks the time and stands up, signaling the end of your session.

“Same time next week?” you ask, rising with him and slinging your purse over your shoulder.

“Of course,” he smiles and walks you to the door. “I’ll see you soon, Y/N.”

You blush heavily when he leans against the door, smiling down at you. “Okay.”

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#sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester reader insert

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ladyofpurple · 5 years

Text

here it is: the post Literally no one was waiting for. i'd put it under a read more thing but i'm on mobile and can't be assed to get out of bed so fuck it. we air our dirty laundry on main for the world to see like men.

so waaay back in february or something, i started seeing a psychologist again. i'd been seeing a psychologist for a while last year, but she had a private practice and got too expensive over time, so i had to stop. now, however, i finally got a referral to the public mental health offices in my county. which is nice, because norway has this neat thing that means when you go to the doctor, public health care facilities, refill prescriptions for medications you have to take daily, etc, the money you spend on those things gets recorded and after you've spent like $260, you get a free card that gets logged into your medical records and you don't have to pay for any of those things for the rest of the year.

anyway, i mentioned a couple of years back that i finally got put on antidepressants for the first time. they helped a lot, but then i just... stopped taking them. there wasn't a reason, really. i just forgot to take them one week when i was stuck in bed with a headcold, and then it was hard to get back in the habit again. i tried to get back on them off and on for a long time, but i'd inevitably just forget again. until, like, i wanna say november/early december last year? i started taking them again. there were still some slip-ups every now and then, but for the most part i took them almost every day. any gaps were no longer than two, maybe three days at the most, and those gaps were maybe once a month or so on average. averages aren't really useful in this context, but i hope you get the idea.

anyway, i finally convinced my doctor that, no, seriously, i really need to see a psychologist, i've always needed to see psychologists my whole life, seeing psychologists help me, i can't afford a private psychologist so i need a public one, and after a lot of begging and insisting on my end and a lot of hemming and hawing on her end she finally agreed to refer me. except she forgot to actually send the email she'd been typing in front of me, and then she quit, so there was a lot of confusion and time spent sorting things out until i got my first appointment.

i didn't like my psychologist at first. she was way older than i'm usually comfortable with (that's a personal me-problem that i know is irrational, and i'm not gonna go into the why but yes i'm working on it), and very blunt in an exasperated sort of way. she made me angry sometimes. she made me feel like i wasn't trying hard enough. but she helped me get shit done, so i guess she was doing something right.

in june she called in a psychiatrist to help adjust my medications, so i started taking zoloft in addition to the other medication (remeron, aka mirtazapine) that i was already taking. the mirtazapine was helping with my depression, but my anxiety was still pretty bad. the zoloft helped.

by my second appointment with my psychologist, she asked me whether i could have adhd, or if there was a history of it in my family. now, i have a lot of family with adhd (how closely related we are by blood is a bit of a mystery to me, my family tree is more like an overgrown hedge and who knows who fits where), and my grandma used to joke that the women in our family "all have a little bit of that adhd brain in us", but as far as i knew, nobody in my immediate, direct bloodline had such a diagnosis. i had my suspicions about myself, of course — i knew that not every focus or attention related problem necessarily has a specific attention disorder source, but i also knew that what i was experiencing couldn't be "normal," in the sense that if i walked into a room with 100 people in it, 86 of those people wouldn't necessarily look at a list of my symptoms and go "oh same hat." i've had add on my about me for a while now. maybe that was silly of me; i hadn't been diagnosed with it, and what i knew about the specifics of it were picked up piecemeal off the internet. you know, that super-reliable place where everyone is honest and factual all the time?

anyway, this began the process of investigating the merits of such a potential diagnosis. research was begun. questionnaires were taken. my mom was invited to one of my sessions, in which she revealed that, oh yeah, bee tee dubs, she's always suspected i have adhd. did she mention that she has also apparently always suspected ocd and that i'm autistic? no? whoops, well, she has now.

end of june i was referred to the neuropsychologist devision of the public health care place. over the course of a little over 6 weeks i went in for 2 interviews, in which i answered several questionnaires, talked about my life and childhood and traumas and what my mom had told me about her pregnancy and labor, every possible symptom i'd ever had, and was sent home with even *more* questionnaries. in addition to these, i went in for two rounds of "testing," in which i was tested on my memory, pattern recognition, reaction time, impulse control, and probably a dozen other things. i was nervous. it was exhausting. i wanted answers but was terrified of what those answers would be.

end of august, my mom came with me for the big reveal. and guess what? she was right. primary diagnosis: adhd, special emphasis on the attention deficit part. bonus diagnosis: asperger syndrome. surprise! i'm autistic, i guess.

it was hard to come to terms with. which sounds really silly, since i wouldn't have even been taking those tests if i didn't think the outcome was a possibility. and it's not like the diagnoses were surprising either. the adhd part was easier to accept, mostly because i already felt pretty confident i had it. but the asperger diagnosis was harder. having to unlearn all those ingrained ableist stereotypes and social stigmas is hard, especially when you had some you didn't even realize were there. it's very surreal to think a thought and be like "no, wait, i do that. that joke is about me." it's a very surreal and slightly upsetting experience to realize how biased you are as general rule, but especially about a facet of your own identity you weren't aware of. and the feeling of everything and nothing changing all at once. i've always been like this. a doctor telling me i have two cognitive/developmental disabilities isn't an event that magically gave me these disabilities. my brain has always worked like this. the only difference between me now and me a year ago is that i have an official, medical reason for Why now.

that's another thing: coming to terms with the idea of being "developmentally disabled." it's not like i'm suddenly a different person — i have to constantly remind myself that my brain has always been like this. but having a piece of paper confirming that i am legally entitled to special allowances in the workplace or at school because i have not one, but two "disabilities" is absolutely buckwild to me.

it makes me reevaluate my life and my past. how many situations did i make worse because i did not have the capacity or knowledge about how my own brain works to self-reflect? was i high-functioning in the past because life was simpler? was it because i subconsciously had a better handle on what works for me and what doesn't, and somewhere along the way i lost that? or was it simply because i didn't have the option to be anything other than high-functioning? it's confusing.

i also lost my spot at college. i can still reapply next year if i want, but at least now i know why i was failing out lmao

anyway, by my birthday in september we started the process of adjusting my medication again. upping my zoloft, getting me off remeron, and as of 6 weeks ago or so, beginning ritalin.

it was a rocky start, but i'm up to 60mg now. two pills in the morning, one in the afternoon. i have a goddamn alarm for 8am every day, even weekends. my sleeping is still wonky, but at least im genuinely tired by 8pm every night. the psychiatrist still wants me to try melatonin for a month (even though i told her multiple times it has never worked for me, and my problem has never been "i'm not sleepy enough"), so i'm on a whopping 2mg of melatonin for the next 30 days. norwegians are fucking WEIRD about melatonin, don't even get me started.

a slightly unexpected side-effect (on my end) of these medication changes: remeron made me gain weight. like, a lot of weight. and i was constantly hungry all the time, overeating to ridiculous amounts. why did nobody ever tell me that weight gain and metabolism changes are a side-effect of anti-depressants? i was more active this summer than i'd been in, like, three years and i just got fatter. which was incomvenient because i kept outgrowing my clothes. anyway, a side effect of ritalin is a loss of appetite and general weight loss. the combination of regularly taking ritalin and dropping remeron entirely? i eat a fraction of what i used to before, i've almost entirely stopped snacking, and i've lost 15 lbs in less than a month. i've already noticed my face is slightly slimmer now. maybe by christmas i'll be able to fit into my old tshirts again.

anyway, my psychologist quit, so i have a new one now. i've only seen her a few times, but she's veeeery different from my old one. i can't decide if i like her or not.

in the middle of all this, i've been going to the social security office as well to kind of get some of my own money, possibly help me get a job at some point in the future. my caseworker is super nice. if she's over 30 i'd be shocked. i relate to her really well, she's very helpful and understanding, and she's very patient with me and my bullshit. she's the kind of person where if we met at a party or something we could probably hang out.

anyway, she's helped me get out of the house sometimes. she introduced me to this youth club volunteer group thing called the fountain house, designed for young people who've dealt with or are currently dealing with mental illnesses and such. i hung out there yesterday and the day before and did some basic office work. it's nice. and then there's a work placement place that can either give you a job on site in one of their four departments, or help you get a job at an actual business elsewhere with more support and leniency than you might get if they just hired you off the street. i'd start in their second hand store. they clean and restore all donations they recieve, and they're super fucking cheap. i treated myself to my literal lifelong dream of owning a vintage typewriter (!!!!!) yesterday, because it's almost christmas and goddammit, i've been doing so much shit the past couple of months i deserve it. do i have space for it? not really. do i have a plan on what to use it for? no. was it heavy and miserable trekking through the snow and rain yesterday back and forth? was it worth the backache in the morning? fuck yeah it was.

a fucking lot of things are happening all at once. diagnoses, medications, lifestyle changes, work placement, social clubs, dealing with bureaucracies on all sides just so i can feel like a person again, not to mention juggling hobbies like writing and drawing and maintaining my irl friendships. i'm getting as many balls rolling as i can while i have the opportunity and mental/emotional capacity to, but i'm worried i'll burn out again. i'm stabilizing and slowly building my life back up, but jesus christ it would suck if this stupid house of cards collapsed again. but i'm tentatively optimistic. who knows, maybe it's not to late to course-correct my mistakes.

so long story short, that's why i've barely been active on tumblr for months. that's why i haven't been writing, drawing, or reading fic. it's coming along, but it's slow.

i guess the most important thing is that it's coming along at all.

#the tmi nobody asked for and will probably never read — you're welcome #Lady of Purple's slice of life #mental illness #medication #adhd #autism #personal

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enchantedamusedslightlyconfused · 4 years

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73 questions.

I was tagged by @wescoasts @machine-gun-casie (BABES)

Almost all my friends have been tagged and I don't wanna be that asshole so ill try not to be. I tag @awkwardrocker @backoftheroomandnotbelonging @trixiehoe @she-who-is-timey-wimey

On a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now?

Well it’s finals week so about -864. After that I have two weeks of legitimate nothing where I will bake my heart out so we’ll see

Describe yourself in a hashtag?

#yikes #ughshesinherfeelsagain

If you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be?

Milo Ventimiglia, Kells, Rook.....being a music video love interest is only my life’s pipe dream

If your life was a musical, what would the marquee say?

And that’s on daddy issues and no supervision...

What’s one thing people don’t know about you?

I used to model like went to modeling school and got paid for it type shit

What’s your wakeup ritual?

get woken up by my dog tired of hearing my alarm, walk said opinionated quadruped, feed quadruped, get dressed, COFFEE, then take life as it comes

What’s your go to bed ritual?

melatonin gummies (gotta make anxiety fun), skincare when executive dysfunction will allow, brush teeth, fight dog for my spot in bed (moving a 90lb animal is no joke), turn on my sleep playlist or use my ambient noise app, stare at ceiling

What’s your favorite time of day?

witching hour followed by golden hour

Your go to for having a good laugh?

lately tiktok and Kellyvisions, previously vine compilations or Netflix specials

Dream country to visit?

Ireland. I NEED to go to the motherland. My families castle is still standing and I get in for free. its on my bucket list FOR SURE.

What’s the biggest surprise you’ve had?

getting into nursing school and chiropractic school. I’m a loser and I’ve never had a surprise party. I’d melt in puddle of love tbh

Heels or flats/sneakers?

Flats 98% of the time. Heels are reserved for business casual necessity, Halloween, or if I’m feeling myself

Vintage or new?

both, depends on the item

Who do you want to write your obituary?

Amy-Sherman Palladino

Style icon?

lmao a what? on the real though catch me fucking with those eco-friendly kitchen witch vibes. All the dainty jewelry, linens and converse/docks fam

What are three things you can’t live without?

my dog, my family (found and blood), healing people however I can (medicine ruined me for any other career and its sucks you guys)

What’s one ingredient you put in everything?

tbh salt, I question a recipes validity if salt isn't involved

What 3 people living or dead would you like to make dinner for?

Kells and the band (I'd be too nervous for a one on one), a dinner party with my MGK fam, Elvis

What’s your biggest fear in life?

Failure, not accomplishing anything

Window or aisle seat?

window all day everyday, on the wing preferably cause I like to feel the landing gear #pilotsgranddaughter

What’s your current TV obsession?

Roadies forever, pry that series from my cold dead hands (also Gilmore Girls and Criminal Minds)

Favorite app?

tie between Tumblr and Pinterest (im an aesthetic slut)

Secret talent?

I am bomb at disney princess songs, the girls I babysit for treat me like a jukebox at bedtime, cutest thing ever

Most adventurous thing you’ve done in your life?

delivered a baby has hands down been the coolest thing I’ve ever done

How would you define yourself in three words?

I fucking hate this question. always have. empathetic, resilient, intuitive

Favourite piece of clothing you own?

overall: my senior prom dress. its emerald green, backless, with a slit to upper thigh chefs kiss

everyday wear: Colorado sweatshirt

Must have clothing item everyone should have?

I second Jude: over sized hoodies

Superpower you would want?

nonspecific healing powers so they aren't limited to physical ailments

What’s inspiring you in life right now?

Colson

Best piece of advice you’ve received?

HA. probably that the body remembers more about trauma than the mind and your seemingly irrational physical reactions to things are your brain’s attempt to protect you

Best advice you’d give your teenage self?

his mistake does not define your worth. I went for a variant of these boys aint shit don't judge me cause she needs to hear it

A book that everyone should read?

Harry Potter series (yes the whole thing), Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson, Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson, The Giver by Lois Lowry

What would you like to be remembered for?

empathy, the way I made people feel

How do you define beauty?

FOR THE LAST TIME ITS SUBJECTIVE, things that give you peace, it could be a song, a person, a sunset, a scone, a leaf. If it makes you stop a second and exhale then its beautiful to you

What do you love most about your body?

holy trigger question Batman...my eyes, my hair color, texture, and its ability to grow

Best way to take a rest/decompress?

drive with the windows down and blast music while singing at the top of my lungs

Favorite place to view art?

unexpected places, like street corners, carnivals, just somewhere it takes you off guard and makes you stop and pay attention

If your life were a song, what would the title be?

it’d be one of those crazy long 2000s fall out boy titles for sure, subject matter yet to be determined

If you could master one instrument, what would it be?

violin hands down, it hits me different

If you had a tattoo, where would it be?

I have a bunch planned, plane on my right shoulder, Kells related between 3rd and 4th ribs (maybe lower in case I ever need a chest tube), watercolor portrait of my dog at some point location TBD

Dolphins or koalas?

dolphins are stoners and they're super smart, but koalas cause they’re grumpy af and honestly same

What’s your spirit animal?

again Jude and I are vibin: I've been identifying with a phoenix as of late. according to pottermore im a greyhound though (yes a patrons is a wizarding spirit animal. fight me)

Best gift you’ve ever received?

seven year old me was stoked to get a functional microscope and metal detector, I was in my egyptology/archeology phase, I still have them lmao

Best gift you’ve ever given?

oh hell idk...I made my cousin cry once cause I made cupcakes for her birthday party, they were cherry limeade flavored and had little straws and everything. that was pretty cool, granted she was seven. I also made my teacher cry cause I made sea salt caramel chocolate cupcakes for her going away party. I guess my baking brings people to tears

What’s your favourite board game?

candy land, battleship, cards against humanity even though there isn't a board

What’s your favourite colour?

forest green atm

Least favourite colour?

bright yellow/orange, its offensive to my general The Dirt Mick Mars disposition

Diamonds or pearls?

pearls (actually opals though)

Drugstore makeup or designer?

not picky provided they are evironmentally friendly. I really like Besame Cosmetics though

Blow-dry or air-dry?

air-dry, I don't have the patience for blow drying

Pilates or yoga?

yoga

Coffee or tea?

COFFEE, im still learning to like tea

What’s the weirdest word in the English language?

holy shit how much time do we have, my favorite weird word to say is fistula or omphalocele (they're medical conditions, don't goole it unless you have a strong stomach)

Dark chocolate or milk chocolate?

dark chocolate

Stairs or elevator?

stairs

Summer or winter?

neither FALL BITCHES winter if I had to pick cause I love Christmas

You are stuck on an island, you can pick one food to eat forever without getting tired of it, what would you eat?

burgers

A desert you don’t like?

red velvet cake....just why is it a thing that exists

A skill you’re working on mastering?

baking scones or shit that’s flaky in general

Best thing to happen to you today?

being tagged to do this twice, I felt special for a hot second (thanks babes)

Best compliment you’ve ever received?

that I would make a good doctor (I handled a scary pt situation like a champ, they didn't know I threw up after I made sure my pt didn't die. puking in a foreign country on the download is a skill in and of itself)

Favorite smell?

bergamot, baking bread, baking spice cakes at Christmas

Hugs or kisses?

HUGS CAN SAVE THE WORLD

If you made a documentary, what would it be about?

gifted kid fall off

Last piece of content you consumed that made you cry?

In These Walls - Machine Gun Kelly

Casual Sabotage - Yungblud

genius assholes...

Lipstick or lip gloss?

lipstick for special occasions but actually tinted chapstick or lip stains

Sweet or savoury?

savory to eat sweet to make for someone else

Girl crush?

Brittney Furlan Lee, Alexis Bledel, Lauren Graham

How you know you’re in love?

you look at them and just say yep. them. usually while they're doing something stupid

Song you can listen to on repeat?

imma out myself but Swing Life Away - Machine Gun Kelly

If you could switch lives with someone for a day who would it be?

the grass is not greener ya’ll. id rather go back and relive days

What are you most excited about at this time in your life?

hopefully passing my first trimester of chiropractic school. fingers crossed pls

#quarantine games #don't come for me people #if you identify with this stuff hit me up #I can always use more quarantine buddies #love and good vibes to you all

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engagedtobefree · 2 years

Text

Charades

I wake up and my jaw aches. A pain that increases up to the hinge, a stiffness that invades my neck down to my shoulders. There’s little relief from wearing my nightguard, something that used to relieve my upper body incredibly well. Throughout the waking hours, my tenseness makes it worse. I consciously try to find ease: half the time it’s like my body has forgotten how to, and I part my lips awkwardly; the other half of the time I find some release only for it to be stolen away from me a few moments later.

The rest of my body is also tense these days, stiffening ever more increasingly, regardless of the fact that I’ve been incorporating more movement in. No matter what I do, my muscles ache. They scream, “Stretch me, make me move, wander about, get me going”, yet no matter how often I give in to these demands, they only seem to tighten more. Everything hurts.

I don’t sleep. It got to the point where I was only sleeping roughly 4-5 hours a night, oftentimes less, my clock by my bedside taunting me with every hour that passed by. I started taking melatonin, and it helps. Now I wake up, unsure of what time it is. Turns out it’s usually too early or too late, never on time. No matter how much sleep I get, I wake up still feeling restless, my eyes and body begging for more rest, in constant battle with the bodily craving to get moving. Most Saturdays I sleep the whole day away, into Sunday afternoons. I never feel better afterwards.

Sometimes I wake up, hazy and sad from a bad dream. I slowly taste the last remnants of the images from the night, and recognize that they’re just a direct reflection of my waking torments and traumas. I let them quietly slip away, knowing that whether I remember them or not doesn’t matter when I already know what the things are that are haunting me.

I look in the mirror and I don’t recognize the woman in the reflection. I look at my phone screen and it’s the same thing. Something is off, but I can’t pinpoint what it is. I scrutinize all of my features, and they’re the same, but still different somehow. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be a ghost. Then am I the haunted or the one doing the haunting? Can one be both?

All this is to say: secrets make you sick. I’ve kept mine buried in my bones for so long that now they’re coiling around me, from the inside out. I could have let them out awhile ago, but I chose not to. I chose not to for other peoples’ sake. I chose not to for fear of abandonment. I chose not to for fear of judgment. I chose not to for fear of the consequences. I chose not to because it seemed more appropriate, more proper, less difficult for others around me to bear. I’d like to say it was the easier decision, but I know that’s not true. Sometimes I picture the release, of finally getting the words out, of realizing it was never so big and so scary, and I feel these ties that bind me lift up and away, but it’s only a split second mirage, a phantom feeling. I snap back to reality a moment later, still stuck here, unsure of what to do to finally make that daydream of sweet relief come true.

I can still function when I need to, though that is also becoming increasingly harder to do. There are plenty of moments of true joy and happiness, but a lot of times, there’s more I want to say, but I don’t, and that’s when I put on my happy charade. In reality, my home is a mess, my schoolwork sits untouched, food goes uncooked, laundry goes undone, books sit unread. You get the picture. It’s always the behind-the-scenes that unravels first, isn’t it? I am months behind on my schoolwork, I haven’t studied, I don’t practice teaching, I don’t practice on my own. I have read 3 books this year, something I used to do in a month. I deleted all of my social media apps. All of them, both the big and the small. I deactivated one account, more might potentially follow. I don’t want things to get bad again, I don’t. I really don’t.

I need someone to help, but I don’t know how to reach out, I don’t know how to ask, I don’t know how to start the conversation. I don’t know what to do and it’s killing me. I don’t want things to be like this. I don’t.

#i am not doing okay #personal

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theoraclehealer · 4 years

Text

Jung, mysticism and psychopomp signature.

Sept 28, 2017

chiron and carl jung

and the zodiac signs

taurus has to ascend. what does that even mean, right?

as i sat with this, i imagined somehow seeing a taurus - bull - rise up into the air and go up the heavens. I’m clueless.

so i sat with this some more and thought about the introvert, as she seems to be in need of the most help here.

there always comes a time when i have these breathing episodes and everything runs amok.

for example:

ok, how bad is this?

how bad will this be?

and then i have to sit with it and see if i reach a point where it will just stop or carry on for a bit longer. this morning’s episode was awful (i still blame the seroquel). there are many tricks that i will try - reasoning my way through it, sounds, rescue remedy, coffee, water, contemplation, whatever … but then ill even try talking to myself but out loud, pretending someone is there with me.

focus has been a BIG theme here … but now I’m realizing that its actually human connection.

so ill talk out loud and see if that works.

but this morning was difficult - it changed a lot but was also more stubborn until i started to realize just how bad this sheer terror is that i have around death.

i contemplated a couple of times whether or not i wanted to call 9/11 but that proved to be problematic for a few reasons - one namely, i was home alone and was stuck upstairs so i couldn’t really go all the way down stairs and then upstairs and then change my clothes, find my shoes, make sure the dogs were okay, etc.

but in my mind, it was clear to me that i just wanted someone around and sadly, other than my mom, EMS workers are my only shot.

how difficult is it to heal from all of this … on my own?

narcissistic abuse … emotional deficits all over the place … sheer terror … profound rejection

and yet no one to look to in the eye.

no one to “pull you out of it” when you need it the most.

so it could be that the introvert would have gotten hurt at any time because in the end, she’s the traumatized one. and now in order to get taurus to ascend, i have to find her and tell her it’s okay … but ask me if i believe that it will be?

theres a chakra component here though and as i started to type this, i felt the shift in my lower chakras rise. i saw a red/pink light in the distance.

i have lost the passion for life and living. because my life was taken from me. all of it. blindsided and then burned. you wake up and its ALL gone because YOU understand the gravity of the disaster that you will now have to face, its a sense of knowing.

the people around me are tired to me.

i was in love with something before. it wasn’t a man but it was … the air. the moon. the sun. and the stars.

isn’t it great? she thought.

and now the world around HER this time, not God … has grown dark.

its take a great amount of effort to get out of the house.

because i generally don’t care.

whats in it for me?

so i drifted off to the left, to look around and think.

i realized the contemplative aspect of me has also severely suffered. another I in NFP.

but it was then that i realized who she was and we reconnected.

morissey’s - how soon is now? ran through my head.

then out of the corner of my eye, i could see my phone lighting up but it wasn’t a notification - it was red, orange and yellow - and i heard “its a bird” and by the flames that encompassed this image, i could tell it was the phoenix. i smiled.

my left arm said “i want my life back”

and was happy for about a few seconds but then stopped because … life.

the magic doesn’t uplift me anymore.

i want to be concrete for a time and see that life can be mine again. but i feel like i am owed something … from someone and yet all avenues are shut.

chiron told me i had a job to do.

isn’t that always the case?

even if i found $50,000 and i moved out … my health is still bad. the nebulizer is the bane of my existence.

i have gone through so many phases where i THINK I’m going to ween myself off of it and then there’s a kick back … of something i don’t understand … but last time, i blame the sleep study. and again, even as smart as i am and as intuitive as i am … with my history, someone should have stepped in and said “no way … lets talk this out instead because you matter”.

everything comes … after the fact.

even the help.

—————

things worth mentioning bc it gets so sticky throughout the day - i have been having upper back pain and have had to lay on the floor and hearing some pops around my neck but the pain is around c4. i suspect the seroquel relaxed things TOO much and through this nerve into a mess. laying down doesn’t help but sleeping in the chair is causing numbness and tingling in my hands again. I’m getting pain in my infraspinatus - both sides. this can be the only thing that i can think of that causes weird and sudden attacks, randomly.

the episodes take forever to resolve. and the pain at SI9 gets worse when i have these episodes ... very local and sharp pain.

something else to note, i don’t know the stages in which the healing happens ... with the vertebrae ... passions and love ... C4 ... insane heartbreak and emotional neglect and lack of emotional support.

and then things calm down, after i get so angry because of the physical damage/repair thats STILL happening ... and you realize just how many layers you have to build UP and not work through ... to get to the emotional body ... and where intuition comes from as you’re doing acupuncture on a client and you see a blue/purple small round light appear on your left pointer finger and you hear “john lennon” is your intuitive guider of principles long forgotten like “love is all you need” because love makes you feel like you can overcome ANY of your demons. Victor said that when we were talking last year, that he felt more stable.

——

hindsight is 20-20 right?

Elizabeth Thorson told me that unless i get grounded, I’m not going to know what work I’ve done will stick.

That was …. about 8 months ago and THIS is how long its taking me … after her esteemed shamans all failed.

“love is all you need”

———————-

so at the end of the day, this has not been an uplifting journey. and i have a new definition of “enlightenment”.

but I just did a search online for remedies for herniated discs and came across st johns wort oil and elderberry.

i had been told by “myself” that i didn’t need the elderberry anymore.

funny enough, muscle pain and tension has been an issue ever since … and thats exactly what one website said it helps with.

pisces sabotage.

and where has the help from the other dimensions been for this?

and whats a firefly? and why was it getting in my way today?

this is all going to end up wrapping up and i have no say in anything. it has to happen and i don’t want to stay like this but there is no book or teacher that i have here on earth to reassure me that things are indeed winding down.

my entire life has been trauma. and many things happen suddenly. my death happened suddenly and has been MORE trauma.

I’m running into problems talking to some clients about things like … their grief bc instinctually, i pull from experience and can only be as “fake” honest as i can be, knowing they’re not going through what I’m going through.

but when the extra energy and interference is gone, what work is left for me to do? how quiet will life be? will it be a rough transition? and how much longer will i be alone? my mouth keeps saying … as if being fed words from the left … but think of how fruitful your life is going to be! and i go … prove it.

——

and as i try to just sit with what i just wrote, i also sit with one of my other selves who seems to be championing me … trying to tell me that she’s going to help me take melatonin tomorrow … and if she’s not here, to take it at 9pm.

THIS alone triggers my biggest fear but i should be allowed to …. SIT.

my eyes go to the keyboard … “christine’s biggest fear is coming up! meows!”

and now i have that on my mind … unless i just keep typing.

but is the electricity too much for me today?

FUCK.

spiritual awakening or spirit murder? this journey has been horrible.

————

lets talk.

so you’re all full of shit.

I’ve been astral traveling day in and day out to heal … myself.

taoist astral gods of healing.

i can call on whomever i need in a pinch.

but i “step outside” of myself to try and gain a different perspective right?

but she sees things i cannot.

i just wish there was more information because then i would have been more willing … and just allowed it to happen with an understanding.

theres other things going on that i am “feeling” out … and i suspect MY spirits are the ones swirling around, swiping shit away.

i started to become more and more suspicious of “the spirits reside within” … until you derail in the most horrifying way possible and they have to step in and do the work.

“we want our girl back!!!” - said to Petra who didn’t spend any time in exploring this with me. i dissociated but i didn’t black out. i heard the whole thing. she just watched …. and probably thought “ohhhh a case study … how freudian”

so who’s in my eyes?

I’ve already suspected a few things here … but i get the shen, liver, gall bladder and the bladder and the eyes.

i get that the shen scatter with trauma but something is a-miss.

——

earlier today, twice at least, i thought of arielle and her death. she died in her sleep. and i had been talking to a client about this tonight and said that we all have these experiences, day in and day out and while its not easy (she was struggling with losing her friend recently), its better to allow yourself the time to process it. i had shared with her the complications of dealing with my own death and coma, along with dealing and processing arielle’s. she died in her sleep and i fear dying in my sleep … and its two-fold because i now have a coma to contend with. its hard to figure this one out as its a lot of imagery more so than words attached to a feeling … and this could be the curse of an empath.

she was so young. when she initially came through, whether it was her or not, i was feeling something different towards her than others … i was shut down a bit and well, on some level, feeling at one with her.

“hey - hows it going - this shit is nuts right?”

“I’m sorry you’re dead, arielle.”

you’re DEAD.

#carljung chinesemedicine coma death dyng freud infj infp introvert jung myersbriggs psychopompsignature shamanism sigmundfreud theshen zodia

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luliroying · 2 years

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