#my brain was going fucking wild and i truly do not think I conveyed that to my posts

[ghxstkn1fe]

it’s so late and i’m so sleepy but my brain will only let me think about pd and riptide

[makeste]

BnHA 323: “I Don’t Know How to Explain to You That You Should Care About Other People”

Previously on BnHA: Kacchan was all, “Izuku, I’m sorry.” Bakugou Stans were all, “[sobs for a week straight and tearfully awards him the Nobel Prize for character development].” Deku was all, “[faints in Kacchan’s arms].” Iida was all, “[trying to decide if Ochako genuinely tried to kill him a few minutes ago].” Horikoshi was all, “NO TIME FOR HUGS WE MUST GET BACK TO UA.” The civilians holed up at U.A. were all, “WE TOOK A VOTE AND DECIDED THAT WE’RE ALL GOING TO BE JERKS ABOUT THIS AND MAKE A BIG FUSS ABOUT YOU LETTING DEKU BACK INTO THE SCHOOL.” Deku was all “[stands there looking like he expected nothing less and breaking my heart more and more with each passing moment].” Ochako was all, “that does it, looks like I’m gonna have to do something about this... next chapter, that is.”

Today on BnHA: Flashback!Rat Principal is all “I just want you all to know that I spent nine million dollars turning U.A. into a giant Battleship-style grid that can burrow underground and zoom around in a giant subway maze because Horikoshi lacks a grounded understanding of both civil engineering and economics.” Back in the present day, Jeanist is all, “EVERYONE TAKE HEED, MY COMRADES AND I HAVE DEEMED IT EXPEDIENT TO CONVEY THIS AUSPICIOUS YOUTH BACK TO THIS STRONGHOLD. WE ANTICIPATE THAT WE MAY DEPEND UPON YOUR GOODWILL AND ACQUIESCENCE TO THESE TERMS.” The civilians were all, “NO.” Ochako was all, “EMPATHY, MOTHERFUCKERS, DO YOU SPEAK IT?!” The civilians were all, “oh shit.” Anyway so Ochako is a giant badass, but I’m a little worried that she’s going to get struck by lightning. Please come down from there.

so before we start this chapter, I would just like to apologize for having not posted the ch 321 recap yet, and would like to reassure everyone, and especially Iida who is staring at me with Sad Wobbly Guilt Trip Eyes, that I will get to that as soon as I can

OMG FLASHBACK??

yes please Horikoshi please show us more of class 1-A and their Deku intervention strategy jam sessions

oh dear

Iida you are too pure and good for this cruel world. [sprays the U.A. civilians with a water bottle] NO. BAD CIVILIANS! NO OSTRACIZING SCARED AND EXHAUSTED CHILDREN IN THE HOUSE

EXCUSE ME RAT PRINCIPAL WHAT’S WITH THESE MIXED MESSAGES

???

RAT PRINCIPAL: he’s free to return to us at any time!!

ALSO RAT PRINCIPAL: but it’s too risky for him to return to us

?? ??????? ?????????????????????

so now he’s going on about how strong the U.A. Barrier is, and how it’s comparable to the defensive capabilities of Tartarus. this would have sounded a lot more impressive before chapter 297 lol

OH!!!! HELLO, WHAT’S THIS!!!

A TIMELY CALLBACK TO A CERTAIN MYSTERIOUS EVENT WHICH HASN’T BEEN REFERENCED SINCE USJ? [U.A. TRAITOR MUSIC INTENSIFIES]

so now Rat Principal says he upgraded U.A.’s security systems with his own “modifications”, whatever the fuck that means. I mean look, I’ve been saying for a long time now that U.A. is the best place for everyone to hole up, don’t get me wrong. but that was mostly on account of there not being any other practical alternatives. but you’re making it sound like you figured out a way to actually make it Decay-proof or some wild shit like that

-- hold up, DID YOU ADD A FORCE FIELD. DID YOU TRICK THIS SCHOOL OUT WAKANDA-STYLE YOU CRAZY MARSUPIAL. HOLY SHIT. because that would actually be perfect

LMAO

WHAT KIND OF GALAXY BRAIN BULLSHIT. “NAH THERE’S NO NEED FOR A FORCE FIELD, LET’S JUST PUT WHEELS ON IT”

oh okay so the whole campus is basically capable of burrowing itself underground. that’s insane lol I wonder how they pulled that off. probably got poor Cementoss working overtime

blah blah blah so basically the entire campus is split into a grid and each section of the grid is capable of its own independent movement. lol this is just the Merone Base from KHR. you thought no one would notice this casual plagiarism ten years after the fact, but YOU UNDERESTIMATED YOUR AUDIENCE, HORIKOSHI

“joke’s on you imma just lampshade it” WELL ALL RIGHT THEN

“look at me I’m so fucking self-aware” fucking swear to god. I can’t believe this man is my favorite mangaka of all time smdh

“excuse me, I wasn’t finished describing all the rest of this bullshit yet,” Rat Principal breaks in impatiently. “we also added a steel wall all around the underground of the campus that’s 3000 steel plates thick. that’s fifteen fucking meters of solid fucking steel just fyi. and if anyone fucks around with any part of it the defense system will activate immediately! and also all of the plates are independently motorized, whatever the fuck that means!! in conclusion you’re gonna need a fucking tower crane to suspend all of your disbelief by the time I’m through with this paragraph”

“also Shiketsu is almost as reinforced as U.A. but not quite because we still had to make sure we were better.” but of course. and apparently the two schools are connected via a secret tunnel as Hagakure mentioned earlier

LSDKFJLSDKJFLK

“WAIT WHAT” LMAO YOU HEARD HIM, NOW INASA CAN VISIT YOU BOTH IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND TELL YOU ALL ABOUT THE WEIRD DREAM HE HAD. GOD BLESS YOU HORIKOSHI

(ETA: moment of appreciation for Shouto and Katsuki having the same thought at the same time and making Knowing Eye Contact and saying the exact same thing out loud in perfect unison like the best friends they are. what a blessed day.)

so Tokoyami is all “but wait if you engineered all this shit all the way back during the Band arc how did you even know that Tomura’s quirk awakening would become a thing, Horikoshi -- uh, I mean, Principal Nezu”

and Rat Principal is all “lol idk”

“basically I just woke up one morning and was all ‘say, you know what this school really needs? a fifteen-meter-thick underground steel wall, and the ability to break up into little pieces that individually zoom around wherever the fuck they want.’ jesus christ. lol if money and common sense were apparently no obstacle why didn’t you just teleport U.A. to the fucking moon or something. maybe I should shut up before I given him any ideas

dsfaelkjldkjgl

you heard it here first, folks, all of this cost a grand total of nine million U.S. dollars. well technically it cost “more than” nine million dollars. never has that distinction been more important lmao. are we sure this barrier was really made of steel and not cardboard? who the hell sold it to them, Ea-Nasir??

this is my favorite manga series of all time. yes I am ashamed

“in conclusion please do your best to reach Deku-kun” SO WHAT WAS ALL THAT NONSENSE ABOUT IT BEING TOO RISKY THEN. anyway thank you for this super informative and edifying flashback, Horikoshi. I will cherish it always. I don’t even want to read another translation of this absurdity lmao, there’s something special about it just the way it is. pretty sure Horikoshi just had a cracked out fever dream one night and transferred it to the pages of the manga verbatim

anyway so back to the unruly mob

not their finest moment. please excuse me while I cover poor Deku’s ears and give him a good shoosh pap

oh wow the parents are out here too

is Mitsuki trying to hold Inko back?? that’s the last thing this fandom needs right now is more Mitsuki discourse fffwlkjs. and even Jiroudad, scientifically proven to be the best dad in all of BnHA, is just standing there silently looking vaguely unhappy. way to rise to the moment you guys

MONOMA

so this settles it for me that Aizawa is not at UA. I know a lot of people have been wondering about his whereabouts, and if I had to wager a guess it would be that something happened with Shirakumo/Kurogiri. I can’t think of anything else -- even the loss of an eye and a limb -- that would keep him from his kids at a time like this

anyway but this is excellent Monoma content right here though. I love that he apparently adopted Eri after a single interaction with her. also WHERE IS SHINSOU DAMMIT. THE PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW

and Kouta’s there too looking like he wants to run over to Deku but Ragdoll won’t let him :/

it’s gotta be pretty upsetting for him to see his hero like this and not having anyone stand up for him. [taps megaphone] IS THIS THING ON. OKAY YEAH IT SEEMS TO BE WORKING. AHEM. PAGING URARAKA OCHAKO. GONNA NEED YOU TO GET OVER HERE ALREADY AND MAKE THAT BIG DRAMATIC SPEECH WHICH YOU ARE CLEARLY DYING TO MAKE. IF YOU DON’T DO IT SOON I’M GONNA HAVE TO STEP IN, AND YOU REALLY DON’T WANT ME TO DO THAT SINCE MY SPEECH WILL NOT BE VERY GOOD OR INSPIRING, AND WILL PROBABLY JUST CONSIST OF “HELLO, YOU ARE ALL STUPID, PLEASE SHUT UP AND GO AWAY”

so now Mic is telling them to calm down. at least someone’s speaking up here, geez

OH MY GOD

MY MAN JEANIST OUT HERE DOING WHAT HE DOES BEST: MAKING EVERYONE FEEL GUILTY AND JUDGED

OH MY GOD HE IS GIVING SUCH A LONG AND BORING SPEECH LMAO IS YOUR STRATEGY TO PUT THEM ALL TO SLEEP OR WHAT

truly in awe of this man’s ability to take messages which could easily be conveyed in ELI5-speak, and stubbornly convert them into incomprehensible language the likes of which you need a graduate degree in order to understand

“hey guys, so originally our plan was to use Deku as bait for the villains, but that didn’t really work and also we realized it was kinda dumb and was probably gonna get him killed, so we brought him back here instead.” was that really so hard, Jeanist. also are we all really just gonna sit back here and watch Jeanist take full credit for Bakugou’s plan just like that lmao

(ETA:

WHERE DID ENDEAVOR GO AND WHO IS THIS DIABOLICAL MASTER OF DISGUISE. lol I genuinely didn’t notice this because I was too busy digging through thesauruses trying to rewrite Jeanist’s speech; many thanks to @class1akids​ for pointing it out and making my day immeasurably better. take it easy there Dick Tracy.)

“anyway so please stop being dicks and let him fucking rest so he can save all your ungrateful asses” what an impassioned and inspiring plea. time to see if the masses will listen to reason

narrator: they did not listen to reason

oh my god finally Ochako is doing something. YEAH OCHAKO WOOOO SHOW THEM HOW IT’S DONE

hmm

this entire chapter is truly and utterly nonsensical to me lol

(ETA: on my second readthrough I’m fucking dying at how she stole the megaphone right out of Mic’s hand lmao. and how Kacchan is all “fuck yeah nothing I appreciate more than some quality fucking larceny.”)

oh I see she was jumping on top of the main building so as to scream down at them all more impressively

“ANYWAY DEKU IS PRETTY COOL ACTUALLY, YOU GUYS ARE JUST MEAN” couldn’t have said it better myself Ochako

lol uh

gotta say I did not have “Ochako reveals the secret of OFA to the entire U.A. Citizen Clown Parade” on my bingo card for this week. it’s a bold strategy cotton let’s see if it pays off

SDLFKJSL

“NO, SERIOUSLY, HAVE YOU LOOKED AT HIM YOU GUYS. YOU THINK HE LIKES RUNNING AROUND DRESSED LIKE A RUSTED OIL DRUM?? HE DID THAT FOR YOU YOU UNGRATEFUL SLOBS”

so she is basically explaining the entire Deku Angst arc to them and explaining what a good and selfless protagonist Deku is, YES, PREACH

OMG IT’S THE GIGANTIC FOX LADY

not to insinuate anything, but what exactly were you doing standing out here with the hysterical mob, Gigantic Fox Lady? you’re better than that

-- KACCHAN SIGHTING!!

sdlkfjl. thanks for weighing in with that helpful and important observation. where have you been for the last five minutes. were you asleep. was it Jeanist’s speech

never mind, now he’s yelling at the civilians so I instantly forgive him

THE FUTURE NUMBER ONE HERO, EVERYONE. THANK YOU, THANK YOU. HE’LL BE HERE ALL WEEK

“anyway so I’m just going to end the chapter here” lmao seventeen pages truly do go by so fast. at least he didn’t try to force in a cliffhanger at the end this time. dare I say, growth

so I guess the civilians are either gonna have a Kamino and/or Fukuoka-esque moment where they remember how to be decent people and apologize to this poor young man, or else they’ll remain unpersuaded, and so Kacchan will have to knock a few of their heads around until they become more inclined to be reasonable. either option is fine by me lol

[obaewankenope]

Okay so, I have ADHD. I'm 18 and was diagnosed 2 months ago? Maybe one? I don't remember. Anyways, I'm constantly thinking about and bouncing between the "hey it's okay you can't do this, it's not your fault, you just need some extra help and you can do it!!!" and "you're so stupid, just try harder, if you cared enough you'd be able to do it. why are you asking for special treatment and being a burden?" lines of thinking.

And that, especially lately, has led me to hyperfixating on the fear that, hey, maybe even when I do start medication and have finally figured out how to manage this with my therapist... what if I still can't do it?

This is especially difficult when it comes to art. I'm an aspiring artist & illustrator, and the struggle to do something that I love so much is so incredibly frustrating.

And it makes me worry that, even when I am finally medicated and have what I need, and even now when I'm REALLY struggling... maybe the problem is me and not the clearly albeist system I'm forced to work in.

Maybe I don't love it enough. Maybe I'm not as passionate and dedicated and driven to succeed with my art as I think I am. And it is so unbelievably soul crushing to think that because, that's it for me, that's all I can think to do with my life. I don't really have anything else, which I know sounds dramatic but, yeah. And the idea that I might not care for it enough, or that simply caring for it isn't enough, is really messing with me.

Uh so I'm not really sure what I'm asking aside from, WHAT DO I DO? How do I manage this? How do you deal with the imposter syndrome? Help????

Okay so, there's a LOT to unpack here, bean, and we're gonna do it now at 2:39am because why the fuck not, right?

You're 18 which means your brain is still developing. That means you have to deal with the chaotic brain chemistry that comes with growing on top of the chaos of adhd. That sucks.

The whole swings and roundabouts thinking on your ability is, sadly, very common. Too common to be as normalised as it is tbh. The first thought process is the Good One. That's the one that is Accurate To You And Your Needs. The second thought process is the Society Mindset Of Judgement.

I call thoughts like that "brain weasels" - a concept my friend Lily mentioned one day in chat and I just instantly accepted it as reality.

All those bad thoughts, all those moments of "you're a failure" are given a Name in my mind. That is Brian. Brain Weasel Brian. My mother calls them Brain Weasel Paddy.

I heartily advocate that sort of thing. Adopting this method of Attributing A Name to the thoughts that Don't Help You, is a good method of teaching your brain to separate the bad thoughts and the good ones that help.

Sometimes it doesn't work. In my depressive episodes, it doesn't work great if at all. But that happens. Sometimes nothing helps then. Sometimes existing is about as much as I can manage. It's Sucky but it's not permanent.

Rarely, is anything truly permanent. We just tend to think they are.

Next, hyper fixating on fear.

Again, pretty damned normal if also very sucky. Our brains, no matter whether we're neurodiverse or not, are Very Good at remembering the bad and giving up lots of Risk Lists to consider. This mechanism helps us as a species in the wild, of course, but in the world we live in now... well, it's not the best mechanism out there.

We can't stop it, though. It's part of our evolution as humans. We can figure out tricks to help manage it. See, the biggest problem we have with fear and anxiety is we try to push it down and away or we obsess over it. Those are the worst options.

Anxiety and fear have to be imagined to be like smoke. Its there in the air. Its part of it when a fire happens and we need fires for warmth. So anxiety and fear is natural. It's healthy to have both but not so much that we can't function. The mechanism is messing up if we can't function.

Anyway.

Have you ever tried to capture smoke in your hands? It's not possible. You can't cup your hands like you would with water, can't grip it like you would a solid. No. Because smoke is a gas and it moves and shifts and fills up any space it can.

Anxiety and fear are like smoke. They're part of everything and exists because of Reasons and they can be a good thing but can also be a bad thing too.

It can also become too familiar for us sometimes. Like a smoker who lights up and savours the smell of a burning cigarette.

We cling to what we know even if what we know is bad for us. It's human nature. But just because we cling to what we know doesn't mean we can't be brave and let it go. That's human nature too.

We're a species of messy contradictions, after all.

Medication helps the brain chemistry and assists that fear and anxiety mechanism. It's not a cure, contrary to belief, but it will help. Therapy helps you work through things and medication helps settle your brain which will help you further.

Does that mean it's going to fix you? No, because you're not broken. You're different but not broken.

With your art and illustration and your desire to become an illustrator, I can wholly understand the frustration you feel.

But I wonder, does that frustration stem from fear of failure or from feeling so many emotions and not being able to figure out their source?

If its the former, then that's understandable. We all fear failure. But sometimes, it's not failure we actually fear. What we really fear is success. Because we don't know what to do if we succeed. That's a long term thing.

Failure can be immediate and short term. It's something we can think about in the immediate future because our brains are able to follow the tangent of time enough for that.

But success. Success means long term considerations. It means thinking about what comes after. It means considering potential promotions, opportunities, work pieces, connections and so on. It means thinking of those things beyond the short term where our brain's are most comfortable.

ADHD brains are not really built for long term planning. We're good planners for short term things. Good problem solvers. But rarely is it a long term sort of solution we come up with.

Not because we can't, but because we get so mirred in the details, in the What Ifs and the Possibilities that we lose our focus on the Whole Picture. We lose the tangent.

I don't necessarily think you're not passionate enough. Hardly anyone who draws lacks passion. They may lack technique, but passion... That's something any artist needs in my opinion. Even just a spark.

But being able to use that passion, to convey it, now that's the challenge. That's Hard.

Sometimes it's next to impossible.

The thing is, ADHD and Autism make you feel things Deeply and Chaotically. This makes you struggle to process those feelings.

Being a young adult with Expectations and Responsibilities on top of sucky brain growth chemistry just makes that struggle worse.

You may not be able to channel your passion into your art currently, but that doesn't mean you don't have it.

Think of your passion like a tube that's got a blockage in it. The pressure inside is immense but you've got nothing on hand to remove the blockage. It'll take time to develop the tools, to find them, to help. Or. It might have to remove itself.

This doesn't make you lacking in passion. It just makes you temporarily injured in the passion department. We don't blame someone for a sprained ankle resting. Don't blame yourself for taking time off because of this.

Imposter syndrome is... Hard. So, so hard.

I don't have an answer for you about how to handle it. I do a pretty poor job of it myself. I fake confidence, am awful at accepting praise, and constantly feel inadequate. I just hide it really well.

But that's emotion. That's fear and doubt and anxiety. That's societal expectations stoking the emotional disturbance of imposter syndrome.

Logic tells me different.

But logic is hard to believe. Especially when the emotions are very Loud and Distracting.

Sometimes you have to call those doubts and fears for what they are: Brain Weasels.

Sometimes you have to think of it all like it's smoke.

Sometimes you have to sit down and meditate, crossing a mental bridge between reason and emotion to deliver a message to both sides.

We are individuals who pick out pebbles from the river and admire them. Sometimes we keep them. Sometimes we put them back. Most times, we move on. Those pebbles are difficulties, challenges, doubts.

ADHD tends to try and keep the pebbles. Imposter syndrome uses them as building blocks.

Sometimes you have to dig out the foundations and toss those pebbles back before you can start to work on fixing up the rest.

This has become very rambly now, I'm sorry. Its 3:24am and I need to sleep. I do hope this helps in some way, though. If not for you, then for others.

[littleladymab]

The Phoenix Suite (SW Rebels Pod+Fic)

Do you know what a phoenix is? It is said that the bird would go out in a burst of flames, and then rise from its ashes, born again. Even if we lose here, the Rebellion will never go out. Someone will always be the spark.

((Kallus tries to get a message to the Rebellion, but he fails -- tries to get a message to the Rebellion but he fails -- but he fails -- he fails))

Series: Star Wars Rebels Characters: Kallus, Thrawn, and the Ghost Crew Rating: Teen Tags: S3 Finale, time-loop, warnings for implied torture/character death/suicide (but again, it's a time loop, so it doesn't stick)

Read by Litra (link to stream)

----

Kallus hits the ground, hard.

He wheezes, more in shock than in pain, and inhales a lungful of dust and air tinged with the ozone of blaster fire. His shoulder takes the brunt of the blow, hands cuffed uselessly behind him.

Still, he’s able to roll into the fall and scrambles to his feet as the call goes up behind him.

“Grand Admiral!” a trooper shouts. “The prisoner is trying to escape!”

Kallus can’t hear Thrawn’s response, but the screams of the dying Rebel forces and the heavy tread of the walkers is enough of an answer: He’ll die with Atollon, and with the Rebellion.

For a wild, frantic second, Kallus considers charging one of the rear guards and taking their blaster, dragging down whoever else he can with his inevitable demise.

But then the part of his brain that clings to survival, to the barest glimmer of hope that this can still be salvaged, urges him onward.

So he runs — away from the sounds of the massacre, away from the orderly advance of the troopers and their walkers. Far enough that the only thing he can hear is the distant roar of chaos and ships crashing to the planet’s surface in his ears.

Breaking the cuffs is easy when he has a moment. He knows where to apply the right amount of pressure, even with his hands locked behind him.

There’s a faint and ominous skittering sound to his left, so he banks right. He has no knowledge of Atollon, and he certainly doesn’t want to learn about the local fauna.

Not when his brain is reeling and clawing desperately for a solution. Not when he’s staunchly ignoring the voice in the back of his head, the cold, calculated tone of the ISB Agent, as it scoffs and says you know a hopeless case when you see one.

Because he does. He knew from the moment he woke up in the cell after being knocked out by Thrawn on the communications tower.

Shit, probably earlier than that, if he’s being completely honest.

Playing at being a Rebel, thinking he could handle the mantle of Fulcrum.

The moment Thrawn walked into the picture, he was fucked.

His feet carry him without thought, winding away deeper and deeper into the wilds of this uninhabited planet. Further, he thinks, from the remains of his failure.

Until he crests a ridge and he’s standing on a cliff and he can see it all spread out before him. The base flattened, like a bug squashed beneath a boot. The white shapes of troopers picking their way through the remains, and the occasional flash of blaster fire when they find a survivor.

His stomach turns at the sight, the now familiar sickening sensation that this is the mighty hand of the Empire. This is not a war, and it never will be.

And it’s not that he wanted to go down in a blaze of glory or anything. He just wanted to make a difference for once. The tug in his chest, the last desperate pull of hope that led him this way, finally dies, leaving him standing on uneasy legs at the edge of the precipice.

“This is all my fault,” he says to the valley below, and wishes that it could be more of an apology and less of a goodbye.

“Which side do you mourn for?” a voice like thunder asks, and Kallus whirls around — reaching for a weapon that isn’t there.

But instead of a man, instead of Grand Admiral Thrawn with his glowing red eyes or the emotionless mask of a trooper, Kallus finds himself facing a creature that towers like a mountain above him. Its head is framed in a halo of dust as constellations of atmo burners light up behind it, and eyes like twin suns stare down at the human.

Kallus is speechless. Nothing in all of his training has prepared him for this. “What are you?” he asks instead.

“I,” the creature intones, shifting its head so that its silhouette is visible in the fading light, “am the Bendu.” It creaks with every movement, the coral that forms its antlers and outer shell grinding together as the beast lowers itself to Kallus’ level. “And what are you? You found me, yet… you are not a Jedi.”

Kallus wonders what makes being a Jedi a prerequisite for this. “I am…” Kallus starts, but in the end, he can’t figure out what the answer should be.

“Alexsandr Kallus, Imperial Security Bureau Agent 021,” the creature supplies, and Kallus feels hot and cold inside all at once.

He grinds his teeth and clenches his hands into fists and refuses to give into a physical display of his anger. “Not any longer.”

The Bendu studies him, those burning yellow eyes peeling him away layer by layer. “You wear the uniform. You keep that name close to your heart. Who are you, Alexsandr Kallus, if not an agent of the Empire?”

Enough is enough.

Every bruise and broken rib and laceration stings, the pain pulsing in time to his ragged breathing and his labored heartbeat. They are what reminds him of who he is, because everything he can see and hear tells him that the Bendu is right, he still is ISB-021.

He draws himself up to his full height, and throws his shoulders back in a way that he has seen Rebellion fighters do — one that conveys defiance instead of the perfectly postured lines of the Empire. “I am Fulcrum,” he says. “I am a Rebel spy, an Imperial defector. I am—” Here he falters, voice finally cracking. “I am well and truly fucked.”

The Bendu gives a low growl of something that might be understanding deep in its chest. “So then, Alexsandr Kallus: Which side do you mourn for?”

A laugh, strained and hysterical, boils up the back of his throat, but he swallows it down before it can get loose. “Why would I mourn the Imperials? They are the clear victors here.”

“Ah,” the Bendu says, as if it had caught Kallus in a particularly clever trap. “But in their victory, have they not also lost? Things they don’t even realize are missing.”

“Whose side are you on, anyway?” Kallus counters. “If you were here, why didn’t you help the Rebellion? Why didn’t you help the Jedi?”

There is another rumble, this time like a storm, and the blazing suns of the Bendu’s eyes flash in warning. “I am the one in the middle. As I told the Jedi Knight who came and asked for my assistance, I take no side.”

Kallus just barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. More Force and Jedi nonsense taken to the extreme. “This is a war. You side with the oppressors when you refuse to take action against them.”

“You picked a side, Agent. You carry pride for what you have done. Who are you, with your accolades and titles bestowed upon you by your Empire, to tell me that I do more harm than good? I am the Bendu. I am the one in the middle.”

Standing there on the cliff’s edge, still in his ISB uniform, Kallus wonders if he himself isn’t currently dangling precariously in the middle. Stranded between two worlds, no longer one but not truly another. He rejected the Empire, but was never fully accepted by the Rebellion.

Except that’s not true, is it? Not really. It wasn’t all that long ago that he was in the detention cell, undoing Ezra Bridger’s handcuffs, and the boy turned to look up at him with an expression of distrust but determination. The crew of the Ghost put everything on the line to try and save him, but he had said no. I can do more good here.

“I didn’t think that I had a choice,” Kallus finally says. “I didn’t know anything else.”

“Then what changed?”

How to answer? A part of him had died after that night on Bahryn. The person who crawled his way out of the ice and into the trader’s ship was someone else entirely.

Kallus had been given a choice; several, in fact.

He had spared Garazeb Orrelios’ life, twice. He had declined the invitation to be rescued by the Ghost crew.

That’s when he began to acknowledge the cracks — the chipping veneer on the Empire’s elaborate portrait of the future. When given the chance to do something more, he knew that there was another answer than the easy one offered by the Empire.

Eventually, he gives a helpless shrug. “Everything.”

The Bendu considers this, considers him. It’s similar to the feeling of being studied by Kanan Jarrus, or by the Inquisitor. That depth in their gaze that sees beyond this moment, like they know something is about to happen.

Someone who can see the full picture, where Kallus cannot.

Kallus knows, without a doubt, that he’s about to be given another choice. He is a man who takes disjointed pieces and knows how to put them together into a narrative. He is a man who has thrived on logic and reason for so long that they are second nature to him.

There is nothing left for him except execution at the hands of the Empire, or a slow death in the wilds of Atollon. There is no other way for this story to end, except for the choice that he will be offered.

“Would you change this, if you could?” The Bendu waves one massive hand, encompassing Kallus beaten and bloody, the smoldering valley below, the remains of destroyed ships like falling stars in the hazy sky.

“Yes,” Kallus says without hesitating.

“What would you change?”

Another shrug, not knowing where to begin. “Everything.”

The Bendu leans in closer still, until its eyes are the only thing that Kallus can see, and its hot breath washes over him. “If you could do this over again, would you?”

Now is not the time for logic and reason. Now is the time for gut instinct, in trusting something bigger than himself, bigger than the Empire.

Alexsandr Kallus, no longer an ISB Agent, no longer Fulcrum, dead man walking, looks the Bendu straight in the eyes and says, “Yes.”

It happens all at once. (It happens over the course of an eternity.) [It happens in juddering starts and stops and flashes of moments strung together.]

Kallus feels like he’s being plunged into a pool (into the dead cold of space) [like he’s being torn apart and reconfigured]. There is a weight on his chest that saps the air from his lungs and before he can get a chance to wonder if he’s made a mistake, everything goes black.

(( read the rest on ao3 ))

[franziska-writes]

blackberry (1/2, second part in reblog)

warning: if you're sensitive to mentions of or reading about deceit, acting, teeth, general themes of romance, arguing, death, harm, manipulation, swearing/cursing/bad words, dramatized themes of danger, stress, fear, crying, mentions of food, negative self talk, poor and unhealthy coping mechanisms, fire, emotional masking, trauma, god/religion mentions, self blaming, oversharing, grandfather mentions, caps, no caps, then reader discretion is advised.

as I laid myself down to sleep that night, images of her flashed across my eyelids, and questions floated about in my brain like the remnants of light I saw when I closed my eyes. who was she? how did she know how to charm me so well? so intuitively? what was it about me that gave her such intimate access to my wants and desires? but then, as that question toppled off the heap of other such queries, there was a stillness in which I made a revelation.

it wasn’t anything about me in particular that allowed her entry into my mind—it was the woman herself.

I’d had my eyes on her all night, keeping careful watch after I narrowly realized what she was doing. I’d seen her change her colors like a chameleon or an octopus or something entirely otherworldly. her body language would shift to match and compliment whomever she was speaking to—where the sparks of playful rivalry took hold in one conversation, a childlike innocence possessed her in the next. and I had no clue how she could possibly come to have all these different, impossibly perfect qualities possessing her at just the right moment—up until I realized that she was the one possessing them.

this woman was a marvellous actor, far greater than any seen in film.

where film actors worked with a script and set motions and cameras ready to re-record any scene, she worked with real people, with real situations, with moments she had no choice to re-do.

and it was in this moment that her danger fully struck me: this woman, whom I’d all but fallen head over heels for the moment I’d met her, was a shapeshifter.

no, maybe not in the fantastical sense—but it was there.

the gleam in her eye, childlike and bright and new. the glint of chandelier light off her teeth, summoning and bold and terrifying. the shimmer bouncing off her lipgloss, romaticible and flirtatious and seemingly unknowingly breathtaking. she shot to stun.

it was all instinctively woven, all created on the spot from a single introduction alone, all seamlessly stitched together so well that you’d see depth where there was only darkness.

but then again, perhaps she was a siren.

the tantalizing pull when her eyes met yours, like you’d known each other your whole lives and knew no world without the other. the sweet lull of her voice, melting over every syllable like molten metal. the poetry that she spoke, like fire trailing down my limbs as she spoke to me and said my every desire out loud for only us two to hear……. the performance never gave up. she struck to kill, and oh, I think I let her already……

this woman.

this peculiar, dangerously endearing, disarmingly charming woman—this woman, whose eyes were hazelnut whilst also being lizard-green, whose hair was a shifting multitude of different shades of blonde, whose lips were just pillowy enough and whose cheekbones could cut more than glass and whose brows perked just in that right way—oh, dear god, had she enchanted me.

only for me to be told it wasn’t real, only for her to be told to give up the illusion, only for something realer and angrier and bitterer to rear her sharp-defined face for me to see as she laughed at my inability to see through her.

and even then, there was nothing.

only the cold shell of what was born into this world as a human being, but was now something entirely different—simply put: gone.

when I looked into her eyes around the others, they were hollow, hateful, devoid of any and all goodness or emotion or anything even remotely close to that undeniable spark that all life supposedly held.

but when she was out there—out there, doing her job, the one we’d brought her on for…...she shapeshifted, truly, and fully.

her eyes gleamed gold and brown and green and even red under the different lights. her mouth twisted upwards and rested downwards and was open enough for me to see her bite her bottom lip and glance over just to see me cry on the inside. her shoulders were lax and back and shrunk inward depending on just how much she was leading the conversation—though, no matter what, she always had complete control.

and now, as I laid myself down to sleep, I couldn’t get her out of my mind.

how flamboyant and intoxicating she’d been to everyone at the dinner party, how she’d melted in through the cracks to form whoever she needed to be for them, how she’d caught the void in every person’s heart and filled it with illusions of her own making—god, I needed to know how it was so convincing.

and several weeks of using her talents to extract valuable information later, I’d know.

she’d had exactly the same baseline with me every time we met around the others: somewhat withdrawn, burnt-out almost, a faded capture of what she thought a real human being ought to be underneath all the sparkle and jazz-handing of showbiz. she was a performer, through and through, and even this was a performance—although, I got the sense that I was seeing something I wasn’t meant to: she was tired.

and finally, I’d have clarity on that, because I was left alone with her for the first time.

she’d just blown up on everybody, snapping off like she usually did until one of the group said something particularly choice that I didn’t catch. suddenly, the shell before me erupted into roaring flames—the way her voice deepened as she bellowed, the way her tongue slipped over every personally hurtful word she spat out at everyone, the way she rose up and was suddenly more physically imposing than I’d ever thought a person could be….! I was scared for my damn life—I thought for sure she would kill me if I looked at her for too long. and she did it all without breaking a sweat—her hands didn’t shake, and her voice never wavered or clipped, and her eyes were dry and her face was pale. she chewed every single person in the room out, assaulted them at their weak spots and threw the verbal equivalent of boiling hot acid their way—and she did this to everyone except for me. I thought I was lucky to be alive. I was glad for being ignored, and prayed to god that she’d forgotten all about me in the act of getting some apparently well-deserved insults out to settle in the dust of her past with everyone else.

but when she ordered everyone out of the room, I went to go with the rest of them—but she boldly said no, glared them all in the eyes and said that I could stay. when I looked back to my friends for some sort of excuse to go with them, to convey my complete and utter shock at her words, to beg them all through my eyes to get me away from this horrifying display of power so far beyond anything I’d ever seen in a person………….they just stared back. upset, and hurt, and also just as confused as I was.

they left me all alone with that snake—because by then, that’s what I’d been calling her: a snake. not based off any old garden snake or viper, but based off the serpent that convinced Eve to take a bite of the forbidden fruit.

based off temptation and willful deceit.

the moment the door shut and the group meandered away was the moment I felt the room change with her.

it was like the power being cut in the middle of a wild storm, only for the storm to be cut with it; it was silent. still.

and then, she gave a great sigh, and slid back into her chair which was turned away from me for reasons I could only describe as god’s sweet mercy on me.

I, slowly, tiptoed as silent as I could back to where I’d been sitting, but still stood because I was afraid I’d have to make a run for it.

the energy in the room was terribly unsettling.

it was like I’d just watched two strangers end a decades-long relationship in a quiet, deserted waiting room, and half of the pair had walked away and now I was left alone with the other half.

I kept my gaze fixed on her.

it was soon that I noticed just how run-down she looked—just how….different she was.

she was slouched over the desk with her head in one gloved hand, and her fingers were on the brink of carding through her hair. I could feel the stress radiating off her, and for the first time, it was something real, something substantial—I could feel it. it was so, so different to how she’d acted with me when we’d first met. she’d been charming and witty and smooth, and had fit herself into me like a puzzle piece. but now…..there was a noticeable difference. no longer did she seem to exude good and exciting vibes, the kind you’d find within the thrumming thrall of a party, but instead, she was just……….there.

she looked tired, worn out. looked like she hadn’t slept in days and it’d only just caught up to her.

eventually, this nightmare would soon change into a different nightmare—a minute or so after the door shut, she spoke to me, keeping her back turned to me and her face pointedly hidden from view.

“do you know why you’re still here?”

her voice was…..oh, dear god, it was strained, like she was fighting back tears with the small amount of strength she had left. but I was sure I knew not to comfort her—the others had told me just how professional of a deceiver this woman was, and I’d observed it to be true.

I fumbled so hard for an answer that I simply didn’t give one in my panic—but that was alright, because like the perfect actress she was, she seemed prepared to monologue.

“it’s because you’re the only one here who’s acted even remotely like a human fucking being.”

oh?

….oh…..

…………….oh.

oh, god.

“honestly, I—” she began again, cut off by some unheard thing I assumed was a suppressed cry. she took in a deep, faintly shuddering, breath, and continued. “—don’t know why I let them near me. all they do is make me feel like a villain. and I—know that I am one, but…..” and here was when she tried to mask herself with social relatability— “...just because I am one doesn’t mean I have to feel like one, ahah……..”

she fell flat.

she fell flat, and I knew that was wrong, wrong because I’d seen her in action: becoming part of other people in beautiful, polychromatic splendor, matching energies and mirroring body language and altering pronunciations and changing names and smiles and shapes.

but now…..now, she was monochromatic: captured in gray light, a beautiful intellectual—broken but full. full, now, for the first time before my eyes, because everything else I’d seen as hollow and empty. after all—lies were only lies, weren’t they? there was no truth in them, no genuine emotion, no…...anything, really, in my experience.

I felt spurred to comfort her—not because of the daydream she’d probably have rathered to pretend to be, but instead because I saw a glimpse of the human being inside of her.

“y-you’re…...not a villain.”

a sad huff of amusement through her nose as her whole upper half jolted just slightly, “sweetheart, you don’t even know me. everything you’ve seen has been a lie. you know that.”

…..I didn’t know where to go from there.

she was right. she was absolutely right. I had no idea who this frustrated, sad being before me was—but now, I…..I wanted to know. wanted to know her interests, her hobbies, her favorite book, her favorite television show, what joke made her laugh the most, or if she even genuinely laughed at all.

“...........how do you do it?”

my voice was feeble, small, like that of a rabbit cowering behind a great lion.

“how do I do what?” she responded after a short pause, voice clicking even with the smooth ups and downs of her vocal pattern. she really was tired…..if only she’d look at me so I could be sure—

“d-deceive.. like you do. how do—how can you create something so lifelike out of-of thin air? y-you’re lying every minute I see you, and-and yet, I—I-I’m tricked every time. ho-how do you do it?”

it was poorly worded, poorly phrased—but she picked up on what I really meant by it.

I had no clue how she could always know so much.

she laughed, darkly and quietly, with such bitterness that I could taste it like an unripe blackberry in my mouth—and then she turned her face so I could see it, and that was the moment something real began.

her eyes were misty, and her cheeks were flushed, and there was a smile stuck on her face by sheer inevitability.

when she spoke, her words—it’s so difficult to describe, but they evaporated like honey in the dim lamplight.

“there’s a drop of truth in every lie.”

it was simple, yet packed full of meaning, and my mind reeled as I had another revelation.

she wasn’t just playing a part, was she….?

“when I’m with people, I see these voids in them—what they want out of people, what their perfect compliment would be, what they want out of me. I see a void, and I fill it—it’s an instinct that I’ve sharpened to be useful over time.”

oh……

“but of course, no performance is perfect. my execution is only flawless because, to me, it’s a game of survival, and the slightest hair out of place means game over.” her eyes were cast down then, apparently unable to hold my gaze. was she that exhausted? “it drains me. I can’t be around people for very long as I am, but having to act every moment of it just takes more away from me. I’m tired. but I’m a good masker—it’s what growing up in my particular circumstances caused me to have ingrained in me. seared into my flesh and bone and brain….. I must perform perfectly because this to me is the art of survival—yet even so, no performance is perfect. I am more than a good liar. a good liar will feel his performance and give it everything he’s got—but I can do so much more.”

oh.

“with just a brush of my fingertips, I can get a man to weep at my feet. with just the quirk of a brow, I can drive a woman mad. with just the right word, I can draw out a person’s deepest secrets and intrigues. I can control any variable you want me to. I can dominate a conversation, I can be invisible in a crowd, I can make someone resent me. the only thing I’ve grown too much to do is be immune. I can control any situation without saying a word. I can control myself and my body and my responses at the drop of a hat. the only thing I cannot control……...are my emotions.”

oh.

“the moment I leave the conversation, more of me dies and fizzles out into smoke. I...know I could have everything. I could rule the damn world if I wanted to, I’m sure of it. I could have people and friends and enemies and rivals……...but I don’t.”

…….there was a lull there, as she traced the edge of the desk with a finger and cast her forlorn gaze over the carpet.

I’d been so enraptured by the mental pictures she painted for me that I’d completely forgotten I was here with her.

like the stammering idiot I was, I made myself speak up.

“wh-why…..why don’t you? is-is it because you don’t…..uh…..w-want people i-in your life?”

I could’ve cursed at the way her next expression made me feel—a look of anguish flashed across her face, and god, it was more beautiful than any of the lies she’d been before.

“yes, but also no. I…..believe me, I want people—I think that much is obvious, in how entangled my emotions become with my victims, but…...but I—”

a sad smile.

I could feel reminiscence in her eyes.

“I’m not cut out for people.”

...huh?

“wh-what d’you mean?”

she looked up at me, and—and for the first time, I saw a spark of life in her eyes. it made me want to do foolish things, made me want to jump and scream and laugh and cry and—

“I ruin them. I’m the perfect weapon, sweetheart: I’m built to ruin and destroy and conquer. I can override my own body’s signals and ignore my emotions and run for hours on empty. but people….” her brows rose and she looked off to the side, as though impressed and annoyed at the same time. “......people can’t do that. people fall to their emotions and make irrational and poor decisions and struggle to keep it together no matter how rehearsed they are. they drop when they’re tired and their functioning derails. they are not like me. they are soft, and I am sharp and callous. they are warm, and I am cold and mean. they are sensitive and careful with themselves, whereas I fling myself into traumatic situations on the daily even when I am hurt.”

I couldn’t think.

all I could do was process—twenty minutes ago, I’d barely been certain of her status as a human being, and now, she was spilling over in front of me.

and then I realized that she was cracking. breaking. faltering.

no longer was she a carefully maintained shell—now, now she was……..on the verge of tears…..

“there is a shred of truth in every lie that I embody. and my truth is my insatiable desire to be not alone as I have been all my life.”

I stood there in shocked silence for a solid ten seconds.

insatiable……….?

“wh-why...insatiable?”

she looked me dead in the eye and suddenly I understood how the ocean’s tides felt about the moon.

“because I won’t let myself be satiated. nor will I ever let myself be soothed, nor will I ever let myself be comforted.”

my eyebrows pinched above the bridge of my nose.

“why?”

“because that is the most dangerous act of all.”

I was confused. how could it be dangerous to—?

“if my emotions make me want people so desperately to love me when I am simply performing for them…..then I shudder to think what would happen to me if I allowed myself to relax into someone. it’s the same reason no one’s allowed to touch me.”

………….ah. I’d…..I’d noticed that.

no matter how physical my friends were with each other and with me, none of them ever came too close to her, and she actively kept herself at a safe physical distance from most people we encountered. I only steered clear of her because, if I was to be honest, I’d been scared of her up until this point.

even now, she intimidated me—but I was slowly coming to grasp a portion of who she really was.

“but…...but, surely, that- can’t be healthy.” I attempted to argue, feeling a dark weight settle over me. I never liked it when people hurt themselves like that on purpose.

a small, resigned smile found its way onto her face. she hadn’t looked at me for some time now. it was odd to see someone with such a big presence refuse to make eye contact…

“it isn’t.”

my brain paused to compute that.

“then—why do you do it?”

“survival. people get close to me, I hurt them, and they hurt me back, and then they leave. it’s a cycle. I’m simply protecting myself, because I know that the moment I am shown true kindness, I will be floored and malleable in ways you cannot imagine. another reason I wear so many masks—even if I am touched or on the receiving end of kindness, it is still never really me. simply a vision of what they think I ought to be.”

“.......o-oh……..” softer than a whisper.

“I don’t need kindness. I don’t need comforted, and I don’t need people. and so long as I am acting, I am safe from whatever could be.”

now, in this moment, I was feeling stupid. but not stupid as in the unintelligent kind—stupid as in the daring kind.

I’d just made up my mind on a lot of things. I knew what I wanted to do, and I knew there was no stopping my own nurturing instincts, and I knew I was one of those people she’d described earlier that fell constantly to their emotions.

“well, you’re...you’re not acting right now, are you?”

I phrased it simply, casually—like it was any old question without intent hidden under it like the mud under the plank of oak wood outside my grandfather’s home.

she squinted her eyes at me, like she was meant to be wearing glasses but had forsaken them.

“I………..n-no. no, I’m—not.”

she sounded more shocked than I’d been during this entire conversation.

“then come here.” I instructed her gently, taking a few steps towards her as if to show her it would be a joint effort.

she was reluctant and slow in her movements, but smooth nonetheless. (CONT'D)

[thinkyoureholy]

Guess Who [2nd Alt Ending]

[A/n: this is it, the second and last alternate ending. Once again I'd like to thank all of those who supported and loved this series💞💞💞]

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Pairing : Byun Baekhyun / Reader

Genre : Angst, Violence, Language, Fluff, Smut, Character Death, Mafia! AU

Words : 3k

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt 4. Pt 5. Pt 6. Pt 7. Pt 8. Pt 9. Pt 10. Pt 11.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

-Set back in the time of Sweet Lies, between ch. 7 & 8 before things went downhill, the happy ending that would’ve happened if I allowed it😂-

-Baekhyun’s P.O.V-

“Why’d you call me over here?” Jongdae asked, walking into the living room. 

I said nothing as I leaned back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, deep in thought. I had called him over because there have been a lot of troubling thoughts floating around inside my head for the past few days and though I hate to admit it, he might be the only one that can help me.  I furrowed my brow when he leaned over, staring down at my face.

“Did you forget you even called me over here?” He asked, assuming I did by my lack of an answer.

I glared up at him, “No, I’m just thinking.”

“Wow...you? Thinking? I see Y/N has been a good influence on you. Look at you using your brain for something that’s not illegal.” He said with a grin but it fell as quickly as it came, “Wait it’s not illegal right? Because if it is I’ve gotta rewire my brain and get back into ‘gang member Jongdae’ mode again.”

I deadpanned, watching the grin return to his face. I sighed heavily, sitting up right, “You really are a carbon copy of your brother you know that? Always cracking jokes...”

He tensed up at the mention of his brother but relaxed within seconds, plopping down into the spot next to me, “He was better than I am. Always was always will be. Anyway, I’m sure you didn’t call me here to talk about my dear older brother. What’s on your mind?”

I smiled softly at his words before frowning, “Y/N…”

“What about her?”

I kept silent for a moment, staring at the wall across from me, “Recently...I’ve been having doubts about everything. I don’t know what to do anymore, it’s frustrating,” I paused, combing my fingers through my hair, “I know she’s the one that killed Jieun yet I can’t--I can’t help but still feel something for her. I mean she killed my fiancee for fucks sake yet here I am, my heart skipping a beat at just the thought of her.”

“How do you know she’s the one that killed her?” 

“You saw the same footage I did, it had to be her.”

“I don’t necessarily think that’s true. She doesn’t look like the type of person that’s capable of taking a life. She became a nurse, someone that helps others, taking a life seems like it’d go against everything she believes in. At least the Y/N I know is too gentle to even harm another person much less kill them.” Jongdae said, his voice low.

I sat there silently, his words sinking in but I couldn’t help but still doubt her. Jongdae must’ve sensed my doubt as he continued to talk.

“Look, I’m not trying to tell you how to go about this whole situation but remember, Y/N wasn’t the only one that walked out of Jieun’s office. I don’t believe she should be the only one you target, sure you already went after Jongin and his group and they’re as good as dead but Y/N...she seems as innocent as the next person.”

“What is it you want me to do then?”

“Talk to her. Be honest about who you are, ask her about that day, tell her about everything. She deserves to know the truth, Baek, if you love her--and don’t even try and deny it I know you do, tell her, don’t keep her in the dark for much longer. If you stay close minded and stubborn like you have been you’re going to do something you’ll regret for the rest of your life.” Jongdae said, rising from his seat, “She loves you, I can see it, the guys can see it, hell I’m sure even you see it. Don’t lose her over something she didn’t do, don’t make that mistake Baekhyun because if you do I might just betray you in the end. Make the right choice here, for once.”

I leaned back into the couch further, letting out a deep sigh, thinking over everything Jongdae just said. He had a point. Sehun was with her and it’s likely that he’s the one who pulled the trigger. Y/N ran out of Jieun’s office with tears streaming down her face, that look in her eyes was enough to tell me she didn’t do it. But...I just couldn’t believe that’s what actually happened. It can’t be that simple.

-

It had been days since my little chat with Jongdae and my mind was just as fucked up as when I started thinking about all this. I had been noticing more and more of her little gestures of affection, my heart going wild, it made me hope that she really had nothing to do with it. I could forgive her being there, knowing there had to be some kind of explanation but if she actually did it then...I-I don’t think I’d ever be able to forgive that, no matter how much I loved her. I froze at the thought. My heart dropping to the pit of my stomach. I exhaled deeply, burying my face in my hands.

“What’s got you sighing like that?”

I froze at the sound of her voice, my shoulders tense. I slowly let my hands fall to my lap, raising my head to look up at her, the corners of my lips twitching into a small smile. I felt my jaw go slack at seeing her, my expression softening as a light hearted sigh left my lips.

“I love you.”

Her brows shot up in surprise, a red tint on her cheeks before her lips settled into a smile, a look that caused my heart to skip a beat shining brightly in her eyes, “I love you too.”

Hearing those words had butterflies swarm my stomach, my heart felt as if someone reached into my chest to give it a squeeze. This was all new to me. I thought I had loved Jieun and I did, but with Y/N...it was so different. Y/N made me feel like I could take on the whole world if I had her by my side. I never felt this way with Jieun, not once in our entire relationship did I feel the way I do right in this moment.

“Are you alright?” Y/N asked, kneeling down in front of me, her brows furrowed in concern.

I said nothing, simply reaching out to cup her cheek with my palm. She looked at me curiously, reaching up to cup my hand with hers. There it was again, my heart tightened at the action. I let out yet another sigh, but this one was of defeat, she won. With a chuckle I leaned forward, capturing her lips with mine in a soft and passionate kiss, conveying my feelings to her through that kiss because I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance to kiss her like this again, not after I tell her the truth. I exhaled softly against her lips after breaking the kiss, resting my forehead against her own for a few seconds, keeping my eyes closed. 

“Baek?”

I let my hand fall into my lap once more, leaning back to create some space between the both of us, “I-I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I haven’t been completely honest with you…” I trailed off, unable to make eye contact.

I bit my bottom lip, having second thoughts about this. I didn’t want to lose her, she was the one person I couldn’t bare to lose but I couldn’t keep hiding this from her, who knows, she might just stay. I let out a huff, scoffing to myself at that thought. There’s no way she’d actually stay no matter how much I wished for it, no matter how hard I begged I knew there was a slim chance of her staying with me. 

So with a deep breath in I told her everything. I told her about what I did, what my group of guys and I were. I told her what we had done over the years as a gang and how we were rivals with Jongin and his people. I told her how I had a fiance named Jieun and how she was killed in her office. I could tell she was putting all the puzzle pieces together, her eyes telling me, no there were begging me not to say what I was about to say. I could tell she so desperately wanted everything to be a lie but I had already come this far she needed to know the whole truth. When I told her what I was known as on the streets her eyes immediately brimmed with tears, those tears falling seconds later. 

She pushed herself up, standing before me before taking a step back. I refused to look up into her eyes, knowing the look she now wore would crush my heart into millions of pieces. I kept my head down, hearing her back up some more until the back of her knees hit the coffee table behind her. 

“B-BouXian? You’re BouXian? Sehun...he--he was telling the truth?” She asked, all these questions seeming rhetorical so I didn’t answer.

I clenched my hands into fists when I heard a sob fall from her lips but I didn’t dare look up.

“So I-I kicked him out and you-” She cut herself off, sitting back onto the coffee table, her legs too weak to keep her standing, “Did you get with me to get your revenge?”

I didn’t answer, afraid to break her heart even more but she wasn’t having anymore of my silence.

“Answer me!”

I flinched at her shout, closing my eyes tightly before nodding reluctantly.

“S-So everything was a lie? Our whole relationship was built on lies. You--you never loved me and I-I pushed Sehun away for you. If I had known you never meant anything you said to me I-I would have-” She cut herself off once more, her emotions getting the best of her.

“You’re wrong. Yes everything started off with lies but Y/N, please, believe me when I tell you I truly do love you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life.” I said, quickly looking up at her.

I couldn’t have her thinking that I don’t love her because I do, so much it physically hurts. I scooted forward in my seat, reaching out to her but retracting my hand when she flinched back, my body trembling. I frowned, a lump forming in my throat.

“Liar.”

“Y/N. I may have lied to you about many things and I’m not proud of it...but I do love you…” 

She said nothing, hanging her head as her shoulders shook with each sob she let out. Within seconds she had buried her face in her hands, muffling her cries but her words were as clear as day.

“Get out.”

Those two words hurt more than any injury I ever received over the years. I couldn’t find it in myself to move, my body stuck to the couch.

“Get out!” She yelled, pulled me off the couch and pushed me towards the door roughly.

I stumbled over my own feet but I regained my balance quickly. I felt like I couldn’t breath, the lump in my throat getting harder and harder to swallow. I knew she would react like this, I mean what kind of sane person would still be with me after everything I’ve done. All I’ve done is lie to her from the start, I was a fool to think she’d stay by my side after hearing about everything. It really wasn’t everything though, I stopped myself from telling her what I did to her friends, knowing that if I told her it would completely break her. I inhaled slowly, my hands trembling the slightest bit as I forced the tears to stay where they were.

“I’m sorry.” I let out in a voice barely above a whisper, not trusting my voice.

I didn’t even bother looking back at her, knowing that if I took one look at her I’d beg her to let me stay with her. I didn’t deserve her from the start, I don’t want her to be with someone like me.

-5 Years Later-

I shoved my hands into my pockets, keeping my head down as the rain got heavier. I cursed lowly to myself, running over to a nearby building for cover. I grumbled to myself, reaching up to ruffle my own hair, trying to shake the water out of it but it was no use, it was completely soaked. With a heavy sigh I gave up, leaning back against the wall of the building behind me, glaring at the rain as if doing that would magically make it stop. Just as I pulled out my phone to ring up one of the guys to come pick me up I saw a woman run passed me, taking cover under the same building. I would have paid her no mind if she didn’t look so damn familiar when she ran by. When I took a glance at her my jaw drop, my hand falling to my side limply, my phone hitting the floor.

“Y/N…” I let out softly, seeing her turn in my direction at hearing her name fall from my lips.

As soon as our eyes met they widened in surprise, Y/N taking an involuntary step back. But that’s not what hurt to see, the look in her eyes hurt the most. I didn’t see any hate or resentment, no there was none of that. That look she wore was a cold one, one that showed very little emotions. I scanned her face, seeing that she kept her face expressionless. No, I couldn’t have done this to her. I inhaled sharply as I realized that there was no one else that could’ve done this to her. I made her into this, a shell of what she once was. That light that once shone brightly was all but gone, replaced by this darkness that sent chills down my spine.

“I didn’t think I’d ever run into you again…” She said, her voice colder than I remembered it, “I mean I’ve managed to avoid you for the past five years. I guess luck is never on my side huh?”

I frowned, wanting nothing more than to reach out and bring her into a tight embrace. Over these past five years I’ve thought of nothing but her. All the memories we shared together haunted my every waking moment, it was maddening at times. I guess the pain I felt was the price I had to pay for the sinner that I was. But still, I wanted to try and mend the wounds I left behind, I didn’t want to let her slip through my fingers again.

“S-So how are Sehun and the others?” I asked, that being the first thing to come to mind.

“I wouldn’t know. They’ve all vanished into thin air. I went to their house a few days after our talk but I found it completely empty.” She said, looking out into the street, a dry chuckle falling from her lips, “I guess it’s better this way. I never belonged around them anyway.”

So she still doesn’t know. I don’t know if I should be relieved or worried about her staying in the dark over what I did. I knew they were alive, Minseok had been tracking their bank accounts, seeing that they all bought a ticket out of the country, all of them going to different places. I was scared that one day they’d come back and reveal everything to her but it’s been five years and they still haven’t come back. Maybe they don’t ever plan on coming back.

“I thought you’d be happy over the news, being their rivals and all. It wouldn’t surprise me if you’re the reason they left...what with being the monster that you are.”

Ouch. Now that stung, my heart plummeting to the pit of my stomach. I bowed my head, avoiding eye contact, I didn’t want her seeing how hurt I was by her words. We said nothing for awhile, that is until I broke the silence.

“If--If I wasn’t what I was would there have been a chance for the two of us?” I asked, my voice almost being drowned out by the rain.

“Yes,” She said without missing a beat, the certainty in her voice made my heart skip a beat, “I was so ready to marry you...I hate that those feelings haven’t entirely left.”

My head shot up at the last words she uttered, my eyes going wide. She turned her head away from me, avoiding my eyes. I took a step towards her  but before I could take another she turned her back on me, walking out into the rain. I ran after her, grabbing onto her arm to stop her. She refused to turn around but she didn’t move to get my hand off of her. I wasn’t going to let her slip through my fingers this time, I’ve already lost her once...I won’t let it happen a second time.

“Y-Y/N...can--can we start over?” I asked, hopeful that her answer would be yes.

But she stayed silent, hanging her head for a moment. I saw how she clenched her hand into a fist, her arm shaking for no more than a second before she relaxed.

“Is your phone number still the same?”

“Yes.” I answered quickly, my eagerness getting the better of me.

She kept her back to me, placing her other hand on mine, taking it off of her arm. Without turning to face me she spoke, “I’ll call you.” And with that she left.

I stared after her, stupid smile on my face as I watched her leave. This was my second chance and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let it go to waste. Even after everything she was still willing to give me a chance, I just needed to use it properly this time. I was going to treat her the way she deserved, love her the way she should be loved without holding myself back this time. Maybe just maybe I can give her the happy ending she deserves and I can finally get the happy ending I’ve been searching for all these years.

[blehbleehhhh]

Panic Attack ft. Eremika<3

A/N: I cried a little bit while writing this one! Hahha. I don’t know, I imagine Mikasa having horrific anxiety. They're just so easy to write for <3 Anyway, the original is on my Wattpad: loldonutsss . I have an Eremika series going right now (: LEMON!

When Eren and Mikasa were little, she always struggled with nightmares. His parents had agreed to allow them to share a bed so he could comfort her if need be. When she turned 10 though, they seemed to get worse, and even he couldn't soothe her, at least just by holding her. Carla used to draw her a bath when they got really bad and it worked like a charm; the warm water would soothe her tiny, achy frame enough that she would finally fall asleep when she'd returned to bed. When his mother passed away and his father left, because he was unable to cope with the traumatic loss of his wife, Eren took over the task of drawing Mikasa a bath for her nightmare induced panic attacks. When they finally started dating, he took to holding her in the shower in a desperate attempt to calm her. This is what he's currently doing, because it felt like someone was puncturing her brain with an ice pick.

Mikasa had woken him up in the night, around 3:30 am to be exact, sobbing in her sleep and crunched up in a fetal position. He’d wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair as he held her tighter. He tried whispering sweet nothings in her ear, stroking her hair, everything that she usually finds to be comforting; but none of it seemed to be working. That's how they ended up in the shower at 4:00 am. That's how he ended up holding her as she sobbed into his neck, lathering her body with her lavender body wash, and even used it on himself so she could breathe in the soothing scent whenever she has her face buried in his neck. Eren gently rubbed his hands on her warm, soft skin to rinse off the suds, gently combing his fingers through her long, black hair. Mikasa took a deep breath in attempt to fight off the hyperventilating as quietly as she could into his chest, occasionally pressing her lips to his skin to muffle her cries. After a while of winning and losing the fight against her own mind, she rests her forehead on his shoulder, using her coping skills to slowly settle her hysterics. She was finally relaxing, soothed from the hot water running down her back, the scent of her favorite body wash, and, of course, his touch. Eren just stood there quietly, slowly rubbing his thumbs across her hips. She sighed deeply in attempt to stop even out her heartbeat and eventually succeeded, letting out another shaky sigh before she finally looked up into his eyes. He offered a slight smile and reached up to gently wipe the tears from her cheeks. "Even your tear stricken face is absolutely breathtaking." Her eyes flickered between his eyes and his lips as she slowly closed the gap between them. Mikasa slid her hands up his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck to deepen their kiss, pleased to feel his hands press into her low back. She often finds herself feeling horny after crying her eyes out, which almost always resulted in a very much welcomed situation such as this. Eren tasted the saltiness of her tears on his tongue as he returned her frantic kisses and quickly concluded that she must have had that nightmare again. They only pulled away when the need to breathe was too overwhelming to ignore; creating a sweet, sticky, passionate smack. "How do you feel?" he whispered to her as she leaned her forehead against his.

“I-I..." Her voice was soft, yet it conveyed that she'd been crying.

And it broke his heart.

"Mikasa..." Eren whispered as he slid a hand up her back and sunk his fingers in her hair. "I love you so so much." She pursed her lips as a tear rolled down her cheek and crashed her lips against his, sighing softly into his mouth as she melted in his arms. Mikasa quickly found herself to be completely lost in him as she always is, tears still invading their kiss. He slowly pulled away and buried his face in her chest, nibbling, licking, and kissing her skin as he did everything he could think of to drive her wild. Eren's teeth grazed her skin as he took her nipple in his mouth to tease it with his tongue. Mikasa moaned and gently gripped his hair between her fingers as she held his head against her, sighing happily when he began to suck. He groaned when she involuntarily ground her hips into his and slowly brought his hands down her back to grab onto her ass.

"I need you..." Mikasa’s voice indicated urgency and desperation as she quickly turned in his arms to latch onto the shower bar. She eagerly spread her legs for him and moaned when he teased her with the head of his cock. Eren leaned down and kissed her back as he placed his hands on her hips, slowly burying himself deep inside her heat. "Erennn.." She moaned softly in response when his hips began to move in a steady rhythm and pulled hers into him. Mikasa almost collapsed from the pleasure; the confirmation her psyche needed that he’s still alive and the overwhelming endorphins coursing through her body immediately sent her over the edge. He wrapped his arm around her lower abdomen and briefly slammed her hips up and down his throbbing cock, sending her into a fit of gasps and whimpers as she hung her head. "Faster!" Eren smiled against her skin and groaned in response, pulling her hips into his faster until she let out the most intoxicating sound; the sweet combination of a yelp and a moan. It wasn't long until he felt her walls quiver around him as she came with a soft cry. He groaned and slowed his pace in a desperate attempt not to cum before she had at least one more orgasm, because the sounds she's making are driving him wild and she just feels so fucking good.

"I love you, Miki..." Eren whispered to her as he dug his fingertips into her skin and just as abruptly started slamming into her, pushing and pulling her hips so they had a steady rhythm. She trembled as she slapped a hand on the wall to maintain her balance and moaned helplessly. But something in her broke in that same instant and Mikasa cried out with pleasure as she felt her body begin to release.

"Oh my god, Eren! Don't stop!" She sounded as if she were on cloud nine as he pumped into her with fervor. Mikasa arched her back as she let out a loud moan and came around him, hard. But he kept going, oh, he kept going, and her moans quickly turned into high pitched cries. Eren grunted all the while as he rode her through her climax and finally allowed himself to reach his own, slamming into her one last time as he emptied his load deep inside her womb. He kissed her back and snaked his arms around her waist as they both struggled to catch their breaths, turning his head to kiss the side of her neck. Mikasa's body relaxed in his arms as she leaned back into him and lay her head on his shoulder.

"Better?"

"So much," Mikasa sighed with contentment as he held her tighter. "Thank you..." He smiled against her skin and gently nibbled on her neck. Eren turned towards the shower head as he dropped one arm from her waist and reached down to turn the water off.

"Oh, believe me, Mika," Eren smiled as he tugged open the shower curtain and pulled two towels out from a clean pile of laundry. "That was entirely my pleasure." For the first time since she woke up crying, Mikasa gave him a chuckle as he leaned in to plant a kiss on her lips and handed her a towel. He tied one around his waist before he stepped out of the shower and reached for her favorite short, red robe, that truly has seen better days. She had hair wrapped in a towel when he turned around to look at her, relieved to see a smile on her face, the same smile that he's always loved. Eren held his hand out to assist her out of the shower and into her robe. "You look stunning in that shade of red..." She secured it on her waist and placed her hands on his chest.

"Remember when you told me that you wanted to take care of me, instead of the other way around?"

"Pshh, I'd never say anything like that to you." Eren scooped her up in his arms and paused at the bathroom door so she could switch off the light. He smiled when her sweet, soft lips kissed his cheek.

"You're full of it," Mikasa chuckled softly in his ear as she lay her head on his bicep and gazed up at him. "Eren, I know I say this..." she giggled as her back hit the sheets and he crawled up her body. "I know I say this all the-" Eren smiled as he interrupted her with his lips and kissed her passionately. Mikasa wrapped her arms around his neck and eagerly returned the favor as she slid her hands through his damp, brown locks. He slowly pulled away and smirked when she flashed her beautiful smile. "Youtakereallygoodcareofme!" she rushed to say before their lips collided once more and moaned softly into his mouth as he slid a hand along one of the legs she has wrapped around his waist. Eren abruptly pulled his lips away from hers and buried his face in her neck, focusing his tender kisses here instead. She let out a quiet gasp as he lightly nibbled on the spot. "Mm, that's nice..." her stomach fluttered when she felt his lips smirk on the middle of her neck.

"Your skin is so soft," He whispered as he suckled on her skin and smirked inwardly when her fingers gripped his hair. "I could do this all day."

"I mean, I'm certainly not going to prevent you from doing that.." Mikasa bit her lip as she watched him push her robe open to expose her chest and place his hands on her breasts, kneading them gently with his fingers. Eren took his time kissing down her chest and paused to look into her eyes for permission before untying her robe. She pressed her lips together as she nodded her head and smiled when he leaned in to kiss her softly, his hands working quickly to tug the knot apart, slowly trailing kisses down her body. He slipped his arms under her thighs to pull her closer to his eagerly waiting mouth and smirked when she shuddered from his touch.

"Mikasa," Eren whispered as he kissed her inner thighs and french kissing her slit. "I think I know which nightmare you had." He looked up at her and smiled when her eyes finally met his. "I'm not going anywhere, baby. You won't get rid of me that easy." Eren dove into the sweet spot between her legs, causing her hips to involuntarily jerk into his mouth as he licked her clit. He used his fingers to keep her slippery pussy lips apart and continued to rapidly flick his tongue across the swollen nub until her hips twitched in response; immediately ceasing his ministrations to allow her body to collapse on the bed from the pleasure. "Besides..." he slid his hands around to her inner thighs and smiled as he slipped two fingers inside her. "We have a family to raise someday and grandchildren and great grandchildren to look forward to." Eren wiggled his fingers as he licked and kissed all around her delicate folds, causing her to let out a wide array of pleasurable noises; melting into the sheets as he ate her out. Mikasa cried out his name when he made her cum and held her breath as he continued to work her clit with his tongue. She arched her back as his fingers moved faster; clenching the sides of his head with her thighs. Ohgodohgodohgodohgod.

"Oh, god, yes!" Mikasa clawed at the sheets as her body writhed from his incessant touches, and he slid his arms back under her thighs to hold her still against his mouth. He sealed his lips around her clit and gently bit down with his teeth as he suckled on her pussy. "Erenn!" she quickly came with a mix of a cry and whimper as he sunk his tongue inside of her, drinking in her fluids when she. Mikasa collapsed on the bed once more, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she recovers from her multiple orgasms. Eren kissed up her torso as he reached down to fix her robe and rolled off of her to lie on his back, stretching an arm out for her to curl up into him. She happily allowed her body to relax in his arms as she cuddled into his side and smiled when he tugged the blankets over their bodies. "You were right."

"Wow," Eren chuckled as he wrapped his arm around her and rested his hand on her shoulder. "I don't think you've ever said something so erotic." she giggled and flicked his chin with her finger.

"Be quiet."

"Fine, fine. Please, do continue to tell me about how right I am."

"It was the nightmare you were thinking of."

"The one where -" Eren didn't need to bother finishing that question, because the way her hand slid across his chest and the way she nuzzled the crook of his neck told him what he already knew. "Mikasa..." he paused as soon as he felt her tears on his shoulder. "Miki, look at me," his heart sank when the same sorrowful eyes from just hours before carefully studied his. "Nothing is going to happen to me. Not if I can help it." Mikasa bit her lip as a tear rolled down her cheek.

He doesn't understand.

He doesn’t understand.

"Eren," her voice cracked as she lay her head on his chest, because looking at him makes it more difficult and she needs to hear his heart beating like a normal heart, not like the one nightmare she had where it was so slow, that she could barely hear it. "It's not just that. The way you died was so incredibly brutal and I-" she took a shaky deep breath and sighed. "I couldn't do a n y t h i n g. It was like time froze when that...that thing tore you to pieces." Eren held her tighter and gently placed his hand on Mikasa's cheek, slowly running his fingers through her long, black hair. "I remember exactly what the dream version of me felt, Eren, and it seemed so fucking real. I remember holding my breath and taking off after it not even giving a shit about my own safety because the thought of you dying is simply too hard for me to grasp. I can’t live the way I’m supposed to; happy, satisfied, loved, supported, without you, Eren. I-I don’t know what I would do if I lost you, I-I’d never be the-” Her body shook as she remembered the nightmare and just how bloody, violent, and gory it was. His arms squeezed her tighter as he kissed her forehead.

"Hey, hey, hey," Eren whispered to her as he planted another kiss on her forehead. "You beautiful, incredible woman..." he smiled and leaned his cheek on her head. "We don't even need to start worrying about living without the other for a very, very long time, right?" Mikasa took in another shaky breath and sighed quietly into his chest. "Remember when I said we'll always be together?" she hummed softly in response and yawned. "Then you have nothing to worry about."

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Eren."

"You'd still suck."

"Eh, what can you do," Mikasa chuckled as she softly kissed his neck."I only suck because you like it." Eren let out a mix of a groan and a chuckle as he pictured her blowing him expertly. Holding her hair in his fist to prevent it from getting in her mouth..

"Eh, what can you do."

"Eren."

"Mika."

Her giggle. It's so refreshing.

"I hate you."

"Honestly, Miki, same." Eren chuckled as he looked down beside the bed when a very cold, wet nose bumped into his hand, and gently gave Mikasa's hip a pat or two in order to coax Isla up on the bed. "Isla, come here girl." she put her paws on the bed and quickly pulled herself up. The puppy crawled across his stomach and plopped down in the space between their feet at the end of the bed, taking a big sigh as she settled in. "So, you see, I have class in a couple hours, but the problem is..." he trailed off as she lifted her head enough to press her lips to his for a quick kiss. "I don't want to leave my beautiful minx of a fiancée."

"I'd be pissed if you stayed home," Mikasa propped herself up on her elbow and smiled. "But I'll be here eagerly waiting for your return..." she slid her hand up his chest and cupped his cheek as she slowly brought their lips together. He groaned into their kiss when her teeth grazed his lower lip and her fingers gently tugged on his hair. Fuck she's so hot! Fuck she's so hot! Eren blindly placed his hand on her breasts and squeezed until she broke her lips away to let out a moan.

"Mikasa," Eren chuckled as he nibbled on her neck. "You're making that decision a lot more difficult. I'd prefer to stay here and just..." he gently tweaked her nipple and smirked when moaned softly. "...play with you." she giggled as she playfully slapped his hands away and rolled over onto her stomach with an over dramatic yawn. Eren smiled as he reached over to dust the hair out of her face. "Well, you didn't have to stop."

"No, Eren," Mikasa’s voice conveyed an amused smile. "You don't want me to touch you so you can have an easier time choosing class and that's totally fine." she bit her lip to conceal her quiet laugh when she felt his arm slide across her back and curve around to pull her body into his. Eren chuckled as he buried his face in her hair.

"Can you really blame me? You're a million times more entertaining and pretty and funny and smart and-" Eren trailed off and smiled when she let a quiet giggle as she pulled the blankets up to her shoulder and scooted back into him. "I would appreciate it if you didn't interrupt me, Mikasa, it's kind of rude."

"Shut up, Eren." he could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke. "I love you." she whispered when she felt his lips curve into a slight smile on her neck as he slowly took a deep breath and sighed. Eren held her tighter in response as he lightly kissed her skin, knowing that his gestures alone are always enough for her to know how he feels without actually needing to hear those words from his mouth.

I love you too, Miki. More than words can say.

[skeletonpunching]

Vatican Miracle Examiner sidestory - The Wonderful Boss’s Celebration (parts 11 and 12 - END)

In the final instalments of this sidestory, we go out with a bang, in classic VME style. This made me yelp “what the FUCK” out loud in a library, and I mean that in the best way possible.

NOTE: This sidestory will be included in the next VME book, a short story collection that will be published on 22nd November, titled The Intersection of Angels and Fallen Angels. It’ll contain stories featuring Hiraga, Roberto, and Dr. Singh, in addition to this one. The publisher’s summary is: “A cursed gemstone is said to be the personal property of the tragic young girl Beatrice Cenci. Can Hiraga and Roberto unravel that curse?! What is the secret of the banquet that Julia holds for his boss?!”

So. Time to find out the secret!

[Parts 1 and 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, parts 7 and 8, part 9, part 10]

11

“Oh, this one’s simple, isn’t it? You can tell just from looking. They’re fritters of edible frog. Is there some special reason for choosing frog for the poisson, instead of fish?”

Ruggieri dipped the fritter - sculpted in the shape of a tulip - in the sauce, and conveyed it to his mouth.

“Hmm. A light, juicy meat, and I can taste an intense savour in its depths. There’s no odour at all, and the deboning is well-done too. I don’t know much about frogs, but they’re a French specialty, aren’t they? The sauce is extremely rich; along with the flavour of parsley and arugula, there’s a potent salty accent that shines through. This is… Is there salt-cured pig fatback in this?”

“Yes. It’s just as you said - frogs, which are undoubtedly amphibians, are classified as seafood in French cuisine. Among these, the variety regarded as being the most delicious is the fresh grenouille which can be caught in the Dombes wetlands of the Bourgogne region. Right now, they are exactly in season. You’re also correct that salt-cured fatback was used in the sauce,” Julia replied blandly, and took a drink of his wine.

“Which is to say I win this match? After that palate-cleanser, is it time for the main meat course at last? It was fun doing this quiz with you, but honestly, I’ve gotten tired of waiting,” Ruggieri said, cracking his knuckles.

In the small palate-cleanser dish was a granité, made of crystallised Taste of Diamonds.

Next, the main dish and salad were swiftly brought before them.

An abundance of black truffles, exuding a powerful aroma, was perched atop a magnificently browned steak. The accompanying sides were truffle-scented gnocchi and Cèpe mushrooms, potato galettes, and quiche with sausage filling.

First, Ruggieri carefully inspected the surface of the steak, and filled his lungs with a deep inhale of its scent.

He slowly cut into the meat with a finely-honed knife; its juices seeped out from within, and a cross-section of the beautiful red meat was exposed. Ruggieri took a large slice of meat, and let its sensual flavour spread fully through his mouth.

Silently, looking as though he was possessed, he worked his knife, and ate a second mouthful.

Watching this, Julia quietly opened his mouth.

“Long ago, the French royalty and aristocracy would first go hunting, then cook their spoils and host parties. Lifting the ban on hunting, and enjoying wild game in autumn and winter - isn’t this the zenith of French cuisine?”

“Ahh… I see, so that’s why you chose this scenario? You hunted wild animals that only live in this national park. Indeed, this meat has a flavour I’ve never tasted before. American bison? Those young ones, right?”

“No, no, Ruggieri. This place was chosen in order to stage a production. This meat is not something that can be classified as game. But the techniques of cooking game are applied to preparing the meat and the sauce. This rich sauce is a specially produced salmi sauce; it was made by adding cognac and red wine to coarsely chopped bones and sauteed potherbs, boiling them with fond de veau and spices, straining this, and mixing it with sauteed innards. After further heating, butter, salt and pepper, and fresh cream were added to enhance the flavour.”

Julia’s words were like a riddle; Ruggieri cocked his head, puzzled.

He had another bite of the meat. The dense flavour flooded his mouth; it was like paradise.

“The meat is tender, and the ratio of fat to lean meat is just right. The delicate flesh and the state of the fibres are like wagyu beef. The sweetness is pronounced, but there’s a variety of flavours apart from that. There’s no unpleasant off-taste… But the meat has a certain odour… Hrrmm…”

Ruggieri muttered to himself briefly, then set down his knife and fork, and looked squarely at Julia.

“It looks like I have to admit defeat. Julia, tell me. Just what is this delicious meat? I definitely want to add it to my list of favourite dishes from now on.”

“Yes, I will explain. But before that, Ruggieri - please be sure to try the accompanying galette and quiche, as well as the salad.”

Ruggieri bit into the galette, like Julia said.

“This is rich! The filling is roe, right? It’s a full-bodied, concentrated umami.”

“Yes. That contains innards and brain tissue.”

“Hmm, I see. It’s dense.”

Then he took a bite of the quiche.

“The scent of fresh blood is wafting through my nose… There’s a crunchy texture to the inside.”

“Indeed. That sausage was prepared this very morning.”

“Blood sausage, huh? Well, next was the salad. Is the dressing a sort of gelatin?”

Ruggieri ate a mouthful of salad.

“This scent and flavour… it’s jellied consommé. Oh, there’s something slippery and gelatinous inside. This texture… could it be an eyeball? It really goes down smoothly.”

“Yes, you’re spot-on. I’m glad you seem to like it. Now then, here is a question for you. Have you ever eaten artificial meat? Beyond Meat - said to be the most advanced artificial meat - is produced through MRI analysis of the protein and fat structure of real meat patties, and then recreating the same structure using plant-derived components. It sizzles on the grill like real meat; it captures the moisture of meat, the way it burns, and its texture in the mouth. It even gives off the aroma of meat.”

At this, Ruggieri stared suspiciously at Julia.

“Artificial meat? You mean what I ate was artificial meat?”

“Of course not. Do you think that I would prepare such a crude imitation for you?”

Ruggieri sank back against his chair, looking slightly relieved at Julia’s words.

“Then just what meat is it? Hurry up and tell me.”

“Yes. What we were just eating is human flesh,” Julia whispered softly into Ruggieri’s ear.

Ruggieri’s eyebrows twitched. He looked sharply at Julia.

“What the…”

“Please relax. We did not prepare and serve some unknown human. This is the true identity of the meat you ate.”

Next to Julia’s own plate stood a tray covered with a silver lid. He slid this in front of Ruggieri.

Then he silently removed the silver lid.

12

In the middle of the tray was a crystal glass filled with clear liquid. Within this floated a single emerald green eyeball, bobbing gently.

“Th-this is…!”

Ruggieri drew in a sharp breath at that familiar eye colour.

“Heh. That’s right. This is a duplicate of my eye. All the meat you have eaten tonight was my flesh. It was cultivated using cells taken from various parts of my body.”

Ruggieri stared at Julia, unable to conceal his astonishment.

“In other words, I’ve been eating you…?”

“Did this not suit your tastes? In ancient China, there was a custom of exchanging and eating their children, as a mark of affection. It is said that, on occasions of the finest hospitality, one would treat the guests to a dish of one’s own children. In the Bible too, Abraham was commanded by God to sacrifice his only son. God appreciated that deed, and named him God’s faithful servant. I decided that I would emulate them, but I think that, rather than children, offering myself to be eaten better demonstrates my loyalty to you.”

Hearing this, Ruggieri pounded heavily on the table, and burst into hearty laughter.

“Ahahahaha, is that it?! I’m very, very pleased with this. To think I’ve been eating you! This was truly fine entertainment!”

“Thank you very much.”

Julia bowed deeply.

Now in a thoroughly good humour, Ruggieri rose from his seat and, taking Julia’s hand, drew him to his feet.

“My wonderful cousin. You must let me have this dance.”

“Yes, gladly.”

The two of them began waltzing in time to the orchestral music.

“Anyway, I’m surprised. So Galdoune’s technology has progressed this far,” Ruggieri said excitedly.

“It was a great struggle. I shall simply say that every technique was employed - I could not have you eat unappetising meat. Cells were harvested from every body tissue and cultured through various methods, and the flavour was carefully evaluated. Looking at the separate parts, it was found that the area around the human eye seemed to be the most delicious. The optic nerve was especially delectable. The crunchy texture of the blood sausage is because it contains optic nerves.

“Organs like the liver, stomach, and brain were also found to have rich flavour and little odour. The elastic stomach flesh was served in the style of abalone, and fig extract was added to the culture fluid of the liver cells - precisely like the preparation of foie gras. The bones also yielded a stock full of flavour and nutrients.

“The so-called lean meat is muscle tissue modelled after the biceps and shoulder. Regular electrical stimulation was applied to simulate the flesh undergoing moderate exercise. If there was too little fat, it could not be chewed, and if there was too much, the smell would be cloying; it required difficult fine-tuning. By the way, all of the blood used in the meat and sausage was drawn from me.”

Ruggieri listened to Julia’s matter-of-fact explanation with an air of delight.

“Well, this is really fascinating. Anyway, just how did you come up with an idea like this?”

“Synthetic meat is interesting. The global market of meat foodstuffs is about 90 billion dollars, and currently, the top seven major food companies account for 80 percent of it. This could be a weapon to break through that. In fact, an artificial meat called ‘Quorn’ has been sold in Europe for around 30 years, but this is made from fermented mushroom protein, and cannot be considered delicious. Recently, artificial meat seems to be becoming a popular trend in America too - but from your sense of the situation, Ruggieri, do you think it will establish itself?”

“Hmm… Following on from Europe, vegetarianism and veganism are steadily growing in America as well. The propaganda we’ve circulated - that eating animal meat is against the spirit of animal welfare - seems to have had quite some success. Moreover, there are estimates that about 18 percent of greenhouse gases are produced by rearing livestock for food. This means that, on the environmental front, the potential demand for clean meat - ‘meat that doesn’t kill livestock’ - shows no signs of declining either. Confidence in the major food companies - which, until now, have been growing crops using large amounts of agrochemicals, and producing meat in their factory farms - is at an all-time low. Diets are shifting towards organic vegetables and artificial meat, and there’s a rapidly growing number of people who consider this a hallmark of the new age - especially among young people. To say nothing of the developing countries dealing with population explosions - for them, a supply of cheap protein is absolutely necessary. In 2050, the entire human population will require double its current protein supply; it’s said that it’s practically impossible for all of that to be covered by animal protein.

“On top of that… humans who don’t consume animal protein grow weaker in rebelliousness, fighting spirit, and psychological resistance. They become submissive and easier to control, don’t they? That’s also ideal from the perspective of ruling the masses; it’s truly a very interesting technology.

“Even so, at this point, the state of infiltration still falls short. There are many passionate vegetarians and vegans among America’s middle class and wealthy upper classes, but they’re no more than 5 percent of the population. In short, artificial meat is too expensive for the remaining commoners and poor people. Artificial meat made from plant-based materials - like Beyond Meat, which Bill Gates also invested in - costs about six dollars for two hamburger patties; a hamburger’s price is currently 19 dollars. Compared to that, mass-produced real meat hamburgers are one or two dollars. As long as real meat can be bought so cheaply, people won’t go out of their way to try artificial meat.

“Well, even if it’s only targeting the rich, it’s a solid investment. But to popularise it on the level of the common people, a system for low-cost mass production is necessary, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s right. But, Ruggieri, I thought this through while preparing for this entertainment. If explosive population growth occurs in the near future, that will cause worldwide protein shortage, severe environmental impact, and animal welfare issues. Don’t you think these problems would be solved by cultivating one’s own flesh and eating it? That would be the ultimate ecological movement. The experiment this time established the know-how for cultivating human flesh; I think it could be put on the commercial track before long.”

“Hmm… But will people be receptive? America is surprisingly conservative. And doesn’t almost every country in the world have a taboo against eating human flesh?”

Ruggieri frowned slightly.

“No, no - wasn’t it you who said that the values of things change with the times, Ruggieri? Whether or not a boom happens depends on whether we instigate it, doesn’t it?”

Julia gazed intently at Ruggieri, his eyes clear and unclouded.

“Got it. I’ll give it some thought.”

“I’m grateful. By the way, how about having some dessert after the meal?”

Ruggieri shook his head at Julia’s question.

“No, this is plenty already. It was a really stimulating full-course meal. I bow to your production.”

“Is that so? I’m relieved to hear that. In that case, what are your plans for tonight?”

“Of course I’ll stay over - I’m feeling great. Julia, I want to hunt tomorrow. Is that possible?”

“Yes. If you’d like to do that, the arrangements have been made.”

“Then send the women back, and let’s go hunting together tomorrow morning. Now, how about I get a massage too?”

“Please make yourself comfortable.”

Ruggieri left the ger with a spring in his step, beaming broadly.

He left the doors standing open; through them, the silently falling snow was visible in the darkness. It reflected the room’s lighting, and glittered in dazzling flashes of silver.

With a small smile, Julia returned to his seat to resume the interrupted meal.

Maxim promptly brought cheese and wine to the table.

“Master Julia. Was Master Ruggieri pleased by tonight’s entertainment?”

“Yes, he enjoyed himself like a child.”

“That is most important.”

“As I expected, he wants to go hunting tomorrow.”

“As you wish. I will finish the arrangements with the hunters.”

“Anyway, it’s foolish, isn’t it. Being so satisfied by my flesh. Even though the truly delicious part of humans isn’t the physical body… Ruggieri cannot become a genuine gourmet. Isn’t that right, Maxim?”

Maxim bowed his head deeply.

“Yes. It is as you say. In the world, there are no gourmets on par with you, Master Julia.”

At Maxim’s reply, a fiendish smile drifted across Julia’s face. Draining his red wine, he once again drew out the small rouge-coloured vial, and gazed into its dark depths.

“Now then… What sort of experiment shall I do next?”

[fin.]

[tsuki-sennin]

Re~vi~i~ve Go~retsu~! Goretsu!

I'm kidding, of course, but y'know what? I can relax sooner or later!

As much fun as I've rather obviously had with Revice over this past year, I do agree with the general consensus being that it's hit a lot of stumbles. Nothing truly show-breaking or making it unwatchable or anything like that, but definitely noticeable. Maybe I'll talk about them in depth after I see the final episode, or maybe I won't, but hey! Might as well try to end on a good note, eh?

Spoilers, I guess...

-Man.

-Nah, it's fine Vice, I kinda feel the same way.

-I wonder... how the hell does Ikki get removed from photos? I'd understand the symbolism behind it if the rest of the family forgot about him but... did he take the photos? Set the camera up?

-"THIS IS OUR FAULT YOU DENSE MOTHERFUCKER"

-He's working for free!

-"...yeah, sure, I know who you people are!"

-Oh hi George.

-Yeah, splash him.

-"Let's go see your dad... together, next time."

-Man...

-"Nah, you don't have to apologize. I was just doing it for myself."

-Bros 4 Lyfe.

-Delicious :)

-"So like... who is Ikki Igarashi, anyhow?"

-Epic Dad Joke.

-Did that beer even spill out?

-Awwww, Love-chan :(

-Ikkiiiiiii :(

-He moved out.

-Man, we kinda dropped that Ptera Genome hoverbike thing, huh?

-Guess it was just too much.

-Fenix Frat House.

-GEORGE DID YOU CREATE THE MEMORY DRAIN

-Oh, I... drastically misread that.

-That might be Vice's destruction.

-Dolphin!

-BEDS

-Vice, how much money do you think we have?

-Vice cookin'.

-Demon Spice!

-Bonk.

-Fellas, is it gay to live with the manifestation of your childish impulses and desires meant to protect your brain from trauma?

-Hot damn, Ikki got drip.

-See ya.

-Man... I can't imagine the amount of talent and effort it must take to convey so much emotion just through body language... mad props to Eitoku, that man's a living legend.

-My man wore a suit to a locally owned ramen joint.

-Oh hey, parfaits. I've had one of those in Oishi-na Town!

-...ohhhhh, shit.

-Cake...

-Your phone's goin' wild.

-My man, Tamaki!

-Holy shit, Genta went in there barehanded!

-What a Chad.

-DESTREAM LET'S GO

-Wish I got to see more of this suit, it's awesome.

-V

-Vice duck.

-Oh my god, Vice duck.

-I

-Genuinely don't know what to say to that, what the fuck

-Oh my God.

-I think we've had two fart jokes in the entirety of Revice. Admirable restraint, compared to the preview in Saber.

-Ohhhh shit, we fightin'.

-"I ate your Mom, shitlips!"

-Oh my god, Revi reflected in Vice's helmet's visor... ohhhh, that's such a cool shot...

-Ah, yep. This is all part of a zany scheme.

-...I really hope those people Vice was "attacking" were in on it.

-Oh my fucking god, Sakura sprayed ketchup all over Tamaki.

-...hey, lucky him, I guess!

-Ikki's having himself the most violent masturbation ever.

-We're deleting Vice.

-Man...

-I mean, Kagerou was supposed to be gone forever when the Holy Vistamp was brought into play, but...

-God, I can feel the pain...

-Oh boy, final episode.

-Man...

-Well, I hope you'll all join me Sunday morning, where we bid farewell to the Igarashi family. I'm almost certainly gonna cry, so that should be fun! And after that, I'm gonna post a big long review of Revice maybe probably who knows!

[scriddleraesth-blog]

made a folklore au that is prob gonna get very long and i havent thought of a title yet so uh yeah. ed’s a frickin leprechaun so theres that.

The room he’s found himself in is cold, no doubt the humans had neglected their exchange of printed goods for the promise of the luxuries that decent ones once provided for themselves with stove and hearth. He muses how much of the old arts are lost as he stumbles his way along, cursing his leg as it fails to assist him and his size as it fails to bring him a full visual of the surroundings. Annoyance rolling off of him in waves, he angrily tugs at the frayed and stained tablecloth hanging off the edge of the table, looking for clues, but it only serves to pelt him hard with the several items that were left.

While the extinguished candle stub and the assorted papers do nothing to his physicality, the loud crash of a bottle upon the wooden floor shattering and a heavy book thunking him directly across the left shoulder certainly caused damage. The smell of alcohol is almost too much, injury leading to pain, pain leading to anguish, and he finds himself lapping at what’s left of the dark fluid without much thought at all before he finally snaps back into awareness, only once his brain buzzes pleasantly with grain sugar and numbness. Curse his clurichaun heritage for all its worth any other time, its blasé and baser instincts often leave him a touch slighted from his typical genius, but for now it kept the pain just barely tolerable as he straightened himself, brushing errant liquid from his coat and a-righting his bowler hat.

Only then does he realize he’s not alone.

There’s a small, almost twiglike being sitting in the open book, pouring over the words of it with little attention paid to his most charming self. It appears to be all one color, a sort of sandy brownish tan, hair wild and long, all gaunt and edges and almost sallow cheeks. Its eyes are so small and beady that he’s amazed it can even see. His gaze is flat, almost judgemental as he sizes up the small creature in front of him, drinking in every detail with the intent of absorbing information and churning things to his favor. It appears to be nothing more than a lowly sprite, perhaps a brownie. Certainly nothing of interest to a leprechaun-turned-far darrig like himself. And yet, the gears turn in his head as always.

Food was food, contracts were contracts, tricks were tricks. Why only settle for humans, he always says, when others like himself, yet always lesser, were such easy prey?

“Well, welly well well, what do we have, how do ye do, where do you come from, hmm?” He puts on his usual airs, brushing fingers down the front of his coat almost disapprovingly, smile contrarily bright and cheerful.

The thing damn near ignores him. He’s outraged. Stifling a scream, he approaches, tapping a foot insistently and clearing his throat at the thing.

“…hrorhiaa.”

“…Excuse me?”

They look at his shoes, oddly, beady eyes having an uneven sort of gaze to them, hair dripping over their face. “…from hroorhyiaa.”

“…Oh, and pray tell, where is this mystical land of ‘hroo hraa’, my friend?”

It examines its nails almost haughtily, pointing at a worn yet glaringly gaudy flag, an x of stars that could only belong to the confederation next to a blue panel with a white seal that reads…

“…State of Georgia.” He glares at the being with fire in his eyes, hissing. “Do you think to make a fool of me, brown man? There’s no one to shame me in front of, o sprite, o twig, o speck of errant dust! Your lashing tongue be for naught!”

The creature doesn’t react, brushing their current page over to the next one with a foot, eyes blinking rapidly, before sitting themself down on the next page. “…not brown man. Not man.”

He grows inpatient, placing a foot over the words the other is trying to read. “…What could possibly be so damn interesting in that book to pique more interest than yours truly?! How dare you ignore my power, my authority!”

“…Alcoholic psychosees are psychosees cohsed by pohsining with alcohol. When a pre-hezisting pshychotic, psychohyeurotic or other disorder is aakhrivated by modest alcohol intake, the underlying condition, not the alcoholic psychosis, is diakhnaosed.”

“…HOW DARE YOU!” He screams before he manages to think of how it must sound. The creature doesnt even react to the outburst, only pats the page. Surely enough, they’re simply reading what’s on the page, not making a comment on his heritage.

“…Simple drunkenness, when not specified as psychotic, is clahiffied under-”

“…I CAN READ, YOU- YOU FUCK!” He spits, before straightening his hat for what must be the fourth time, then placing his hands upon his hips to shout more abuse. “No, no, I take that back. A FUCK is actually entertaining, but you, you are infuriatingly dull and grating, and I refuse to stay in your company a moment longer!”

“…fhuk.” It repeats, looking down at the book contemplatively, then back at his shoes. He instinctively takes a step back, crossing his arms in what he hopes looks authoritatively and not defensively.

“…Hyou miyht be helpful. Ih need to find the rest…”

“The rest of what, pray tell?” He inquires, head tilting curiously, eyes brightening and false grin returning. This might prove promising after all, he thinks, if he plays his cards right.

“…The batch.” They grasp gently at what’s rest of the alcohol bottle, holding up the mouth of the bottle and its proud wax seal. Their tone is flat as always, everything presented matter of factly and without intonation, as if it has no concept of how to use tone to convey the meaning of its words.

“…If you give me your name, I’ll help you.”

The creature blinks and shrugs.

“T’won’t be too bad! You’ll simply be in my debt! A single boon I might ask of you at any time. ‘Course, you’ll have te stay by my side ’til I need thae boon, but tisk for tat! Might be fun, might you say?”

Another shrug. “…Hyahn.”

“…What?”

“Mnames hyohn. hyonithin.”

“…OH! Eoin! A’course!”

“No. HYAHn. Nhot AOWan”

“…John. Sean. Jon. Jhon. Yohan. Yawn.”

“Third. Maybe h’bit more like sekinnd hwun.”

Blinking again, he sighs. “…Jon.” This time he pronounces it more breathily, still a J but pressing the J out more with his lungs as if it’s an s. As if he’s sighing the name. It feels concerningly intimate, especially when the ownership settles on his shoulders neatly, like a second skin.

“Yes. You?”

“…Ye may call me Éadbhárd. T’is my earthly name, not me birthly name. Tha’s a contract ye wont get from me so easy, mind ye. Now, you’re quite indebted to me, so let’s get going.”

“Ed.”

“Éadbhárd.”

“Eddyboy.”

“Éadbhárd!”

“Eddie.”

“Ugh, fine.”  Éad grimaces at the pronunciation, but shrugs it off. As long as Jon has no control over him and he’s gained a new face that he never intends on releasing, it’s fine. He’s fine.

He has an entire being ensnared in a contract. While it’s not much, he feels more powerful than he did.

[trans-gothic]

Day 204: Things Get Damaged, Things Get Broken (People Don’t)

Get it? Ha ha.

I have been struggling with my depression a lot lately. But it’s weird because, like, I will feel like I’m doing much better and like my life is picking up but then it jumps on me all at once (or allatonce, to channel e e cummings).

I’ve seen the new IT six times now. I think it might be kind of like how I will get depressed and just put on Silence Of The Lambs as I go to sleep every night for a month sometimes.

I’m not drunk. I wish I was but I am not. I couldn’t tell you for sure why I am sticking to that. It might be just to spite my mother for calling me an alcoholic.

Do you remember like a year ago when I wrote a post with a title that went something like “supplementing pills with booze”? I really think that the alcohol was actually helping with the shortcomings of my sadbrainmeds (cummings again) and sleeping pills. It made me numb from some of this when it didn’t give it a megaphone.

I decided not to structure this coherently. I want it to convey how my head is right now so it is stream of consciousness or whatevs.

Yesterday I went out to the movies with my friend Kathy. I know I’ve talked about her before, and I know that I’ve written about her before and I knowthat (not editing either) she reads this (hi Kathy). To catch up: She is a coworker, since my “promotion” (HATEHATEHATEHATE new job) I am technically her boss. We have an admitted mutual sexual interest in each other. She is married and older than my mother. She is very pretty. Last week I helped her order a vibrator off the internet and she tried it out right there in my car. She gave me the panties she was wearing that day. I don’t think I’m handling all this as a purely sexual thing? I dunno. Who knows. Not me. Fuck if I know.

I told her the other day that on the vibrator day I was strongly tempted to try to kiss her. She said to just tell her the next time I felt that way and see how she felt about it. Even before yesterday I knew that this was probably a bad idea and would not go anywhere useful good (imagine “useful” poorly erased and good scrawled messily over it). The basic gist was... “How does this end well for me?” She’s married and straight. So even if somehow we do end up together then it’s got a rapidly ticking timer as I move further from male (hahaha GOOD LUCK EVER GETTING THAT DONE YOU FUCK, YOU WILL NEVER GET WHERE YOU WANT). Even supposing THAT were to work out somehow... Fi, honey, she’s 25 years older than you. Remember her problems with her husband being 13 years older? Yeah. REMEMBER THAT.

So yesterday I gave her a box of candies (that melted because it is way too goddamn hot here right now) and we went to the movies and I was kind of ignoring that “there’s no way that this ends well for you” and was probably going to try to kiss her after the movie, but then she got a call from her husband and that just threw me back to where I’d been the night before. I talked to another friend about it, and today at lunch I talked with Kathy about it, and all three of us are in agreement;. THe fuck are you doing here, Fi? There is no happy ending here. There is no good ending. This does not end well for you.

I know I say this a lot but I’m worried about my body. I’m worried that I will always be as disgustingly masculine as I am right now.

I don’t know how often the average person fantasizes about dying, but it’s probably less often than I do by a large margin.

As previously stated I am struggling a lot with my depression right now. It’s like, it doesn’t even necessarily feel like things are so bad, but it feels like there is something within my head that is broken and rotting. It’s like I have these times when it feels like I am happy and everything has come through but then that just quickly fades out and the stars go out one by one and all is black. Melodramatic maybe, but phrasing it like that stops it from being “HATEHATEHATEDIEYOUHAVETODIESOONYOUFUCKINGBROKEBRAIN[word removed but it starts with T and ends with Y, 4 letters in between]WRETCHCREATURETHINGHAAAATE”.

So I was thinking today, like, when was the last time that I think I felt truly Happy. Like okay Fi, regroup, you’re not going anywhere good now what direction where were you when you were last generally in a good place. And, like, it was an easy answer. It was when I was hanging out with Piranha and getting wasted all the goddamn time. It was shitty and I had bad nights but I generally liked where I was or maybe I’m just telling myself that?

My head literally hurts from how bad I feel.

On the thirteenth, I was out presenting as female and a complete stranger came up and told me he was going to snap my neck, then laughed as he walked away. So hey, if I don’t just completely self-destruct at some point down the line then there’s a good chance that someone will do it for me. Ha ha. Get it?

I feel stuck in my horrible job because I need it so that I can maybe actually get to be a girl at some point.

I meant to talk about this earlier but (I feel much calmer now) I’ve been thinking a lot tonight about how old I am. I’m twenty goddamn eight years old. I’m still years from anything resembling being able to be myself or have the right body or how the FUCK can you ever even explain what it is? From being able to be a girl. Woman, I guess, really. I’ll never get to be a girl. I never got to be young, and I never will. I had some example for what I meant by this the other day and I have been wracking my brain to come up with what that was.

On my birthday, I went out presenting as female for the first time, with Piranha and Emily. It was an amazing night. I worry that I will never be that happy again (I worry that I will never be happy again; I worry that I will only ever feel like this for the rest of my life). When I got nervous as we were waiting for our table at the sushi bar, we went to the car and Piranha and I snuck some liquor and Em smoked some wax. It was great. It was at the Brea Mall, which was the first place I went on the day that I called out of work to (you only were able to make yourself do this because you got drunk and forced your sober self’s hand) force myself to actually make the call and schedule my first HRT appointment. So now it is a place where I can be male or female. It is a liminal space and I am trying to kind of slowly expand what places are such liminal spaces for me.

But of course the 13th was a good reminder that I am gambling with my life every time I do. I know some of you will think that is dramatic, but that’s okay. Maybe I am. But it certainly undermined the feeling that I am safe doing that.

I have pepper spray now.

“We’ve changed” say the voices from the drain before the blood splatters into Beverley’s face.

There was such an effortless joy to that night, my birthday.

I was thinking about the lyrics to “True Trans Soul Rebel” again earlier and wondering if I would have been married by now if I were a normal fucking human being cis.

I know that I put way too much emphasis on having a romantic relationship, intimate companionship and all that. But that is something that my brain is constantly fucking screaming at me about.

The wild and howling desperation of a band like Mayem (circa Live In Leipzig, of course).

I really, truly am worried that I will never experience a positive emotion again.

[nicenight]

A Little More Human

Rating: General

Relationships: Genji Shimada & Angela “Mercy” Ziegler, Jesse McCree & Genji Shimada

Word count: 1700+

Tags: hurt/comfort, angst, trauma, self-hatred, emotional hurt, shame, platonic gency and platonic mcgenji but you can easily read romance into it if you want haha

Summary: Genji, ashamed of his newly acquired cyborg body, struggles with feelings of self-loathing and disgust. Dr. Ziegler and Jesse McCree provide support.

read it on ao3

 Dr. Ziegler insisted on checking up with him weekly. It had long past the point where such frequent appointments were necessary as Genji’s physical health had improved significantly the past few months.

 Every week she would measure his heart rate, ask if he is experiencing any new pain, followed by having him slowly curl his fingers and bend his limbs to ensure proper connection between his robotic parts and neurology.

 Mostly, she would just talk to him though. Dr. Ziegler was an incredible physician but she wasn’t a trained therapist and Genji often had the impression that that was the role she was attempting to emulate. Or perhaps it was just in her nature to establish a personal connection between herself and her patients. Her disposition was warmer than that of a somewhat distant shrink and her eyes conveyed genuine kindness and interest. Genji knew she meant well but he couldn’t help but resent her for it.

 Sometimes her kindness felt too sickly sweet to him and her inquiries about how he was feeling sometimes made him grit his teeth. It made him feel coddled, like an invalid. She pitied him and it made him sick to his core. But at the same time he was desperate to be understood, for soft affection, for a gentle hand resting on his remaining biological one and that intense need made him somewhat ashamed. It made him fully aware of just how broken he was. An amalgam of flesh, circuits, blood, and metal. Neither human nor machine but something in the middle and the thought made his head spin.

 Dr. Ziegler invited him into her office one afternoon. He sat on the edge of the examination table while the doctor carefully pressed a stethoscope to his exposed chest. The metal was like ice on his skin and the hairs on his arm raised.

 “How are you feeling today, Genji?” She asked. “Have you been well?”

 Inexplicable anger coursed through him. Do you honestly think I’ve been doing well? he wanted to say but he bit his tongue before the bitter retort could come out.

 “I’m fine, Doctor.” He said instead, voice stiff and slightly constrained. His caustic tone wasn’t lost to her.

 Dr. Ziegler opened her mouth to say something but closed it. She took a moment to jot a note onto her clipboard and carefully set it down on her desk. A few seconds of silence passed before she spoke up.

 “It’s not my intention to cross any boundaries,” She began carefully. “But if I do, forgive me. I just want to let you know that you can tell me if something is wrong...I know the change hasn’t been easy for you but I’m here to help you through it.”

 “I did say I was fine, didn’t I?” Genji responded, annoyance clear in his voice.

 “Yes, but-”

 “So just leave me be.” This was not something he wanted to talk about. This was not something he felt had to explain to anyone.

 “Genji,” Dr. Ziegler started. “I want to make sure you’re well. Not just because it’s my job but because I do care about you, truly. If my words offended you, I’m sorry. I just believe it’s important for you to know that if something is troubling you, I’m here.”

 She rested her hand on the skin of his shoulder but the sensation was too much. He recoiled, sliding off the edge of the table and stood.

 “But why?” He asked, voice raising. “Why do you care so much?”

 “Liebe, please calm down.” She raised her hands in a placating gesture. “I care because you’re my patient and I can see you’re in a lot of pain and-”

 “Don’t.” Genji said, trembling. “Don’t…”

 He curled in on himself slightly, glancing between the floor below him and the door to his right. In his peripheral he could see the dark grey metal that made up the majority of his body and he bit the inside of his cheek hard.

 Dr. Ziegler was silent. He heard her move closer and his body tensed. When her hand touched his shoulder once again he lashed out, slapping her hand away.

 “Don’t touch me ,” He gasped. He could see the hurt in her eyes and the way she cradled her hand and felt disgusted with himself. He was disgusting.

 “Please have a seat, Genji.” Dr. Ziegler said, her voice soft and concerned.

 “No.” He said firmly. His eyes lingered on the door.

 “Genji-”

 “I SAID NO,” He shouted. His swept his arm to the side and knocked over the operating tray next to the table. It slammed loudly to the floor, scattering metal surgical instruments and a surprised gasp escaped Dr. Ziegler.

 He backed away and saw the look of shock in her eyes. She was afraid- afraid of him . In that moment he became hyper-aware of the way he must look to her. Wild red eyes, wires jutting from what was left of his body, suited in cold metal. A broken man, something inhuman.

 He turned on his heel, threw the office door open and sprinted down the hallway. He could hear her voice calling out to him, hear the clack of her shoes against the floor as she chased him but he was quick. Much quicker than her. His breath came out in harsh puffs as he rounded a corner and slammed head on into someone.

 Genji stumbled as the man fell on his behind, a surprised shout escaping him.

 “God damn , watch where you’re goin’ will ya?” Jesse grumbled, struggling to stand on his two feet.

 Genji attempted to run past him but was held back by a hand firmly grasping his robotic arm.

 “Where in the world do you think you’re rushin’ off t-” Jesse started but was interrupted by a fist knocking against his jaw.

 “Let me go!” Genji shouted but the grip on his right arm remained. He swung his left fist out again but it was caught before contact was made.

 Jesse held Genji’s arms tightly, anger very clear in his face.

 “You little- what the fuck is wrong with you?” Jesse growled. Genji struggled to escape his grasp but the larger man kicked his legs out from under him, causing Genji to topple to the ground. Jesse quickly had him pinned and he could hear the tell-tale sound of Dr. Ziegler’s footsteps approaching. His heart thudded loudly in his chest.

 “Herr McCree, what do you think you’re doing!?” She exclaimed. “Get off of him this instant!”

 Jesse relinquished his hold but, suddenly overwhelmed, Genji made no effort to leave. He just laid on his back, body stiff and arms trembling as he moved to cover his face. He couldn’t breathe. Adrenaline coursed through him but the urge to run was gone.

 Dr. Ziegler dropped to her knees next to him, hands hovering over his body but reluctant to touch.

 “Are you okay, liebe?” She asked tentatively.

 A sudden sob broke through Genji’s chest and he was ashamed. He felt weak, like a child but once the tears started he couldn’t get them to stop. He gritted his teeth and convulsed as a hand stroked through his dark hair.

 She hushed him, nails lightly scratching his scalp and a wretched wail tore from his throat. It echoed off the metal walls and Genji was vaguely astonished that such a pained and pitiful sound could come from him.

 “You’ll be okay.” Dr. Ziegler said softly. “You’re going to be okay. I know you’re hurting but everything will be okay.”

 Jesse stood awkwardly by, unsure of what to do and somewhat embarrassed by the situation. Regardless, he stayed and after a moment elected to crouch down next to the doctor and loosely grasped Genji’s hand in his own.

 The three of them stayed like that for a few minutes and Genji was torn between wanting to rip himself away and cling desperately to them both. He truly felt like a child, crying pathetically with a deep desire to be held and comforted. The hand in his hair made him think of his mother and the hand on his own, his brother. The thought forced another sob out of him and he tightened his grip on Jesse’s palm.

 It wasn’t long before Genji’s cries faded and were slowly replaced with steady, shallow breaths. He felt numb, disconnected from his body and light-headed.

 “So, uh…” Jesse finally said after a few minutes of silence. “Do ya need a drink or somethin'? Like a beer or...sake?”

 “Don’t encourage such unhealthy behavior.” Dr. Ziegler scoffed.

 “Hey, a drink now and then never hurt nobody, Doc. Relax.” Jesse said, idly rubbing the red bump forming on his jaw. “Matter a’ fact I think I may need one soon to dull this ache.”

 Genji slowly sat up, back hunched. He stared blankly at the wall in front of him. His nerves were shot and his brain buzzed.

 “Hangin’ in there bud?” Jesse asked.

 “You could say that,” Genji said simply, voice devoid of emotion. He paused a moment before adding: “Sorry I hit you.”

 “Hah, don’t sweat it.” Jesse said, “I had worse, believe me. Not a bad left hook ya got there, though.”

 “I think maybe we should get out of this hallway before someone comes,” Dr. Ziegler suggested. “If you like, Genji, perhaps we could rendezvous outside my office? Or would you rather be alone for now?”

 Genji was silent. He thought of his earlier actions, the glinting medical instruments strewn on the floor, the shocked look on Dr. Ziegler’s face and cringed. He didn’t want to be alone but he couldn’t bear being around her after all that. He was embarrassed over his breakdown and he wiped the tear tracks from his face.

 “I’m...I’ll go with you.” He said finally. “I’ll clean up your office...I’m- sorry.”

 “Don’t worry about it.” She said, offering her hand to him as she stood. He stared at it for a moment before taking it in his own and standing with her.

 Jesse lifted himself up as well and tucked his hands in the pocket of his jeans.

 “Well...I guess this is where we part ways.” He said. “I’ll catch ya later, Doc. And take care, Genji. The drink offer still stands, just so ya know.”

 Dr. Ziegler rolled her eyes and smiled softly as Jesse meandered off.

 “Let’s go then, shall we?” She said, starting off in a brisk walk. Genji followed closely behind, shoulders hunched slightly and face red from crying. The shame remained but the hurt had faded into a dull ache.

 He felt better but not by much.

[ourworldnotyours-blog]

Inspired by a friend I wrote my thoughts down.

Don’t really mind if anyone reads this but I’ve got no where else to turn so writing it is. I feel like I should start by saying that there is something inside of me that for some reason or another just does not want me to succeed. Every single time I achieve anything my mind brings me straight back to being shit thinking someone else has done better and why should I bother. It’s an overwhelming sense of self doubt that I am in a constant battle with. It never let’s up and I never stop doubting.

I’m not too sure what is happening inside my mind but it feels like an over analysis and critique of every look, touch, smell and interaction I have with everyone and everything. Most of the time it feels like nothing will ever go right for anyone when I am involved. Sure sometimes it appears that everything is working out but somewhere along the line it all comes crashing down. Again and again and again. Whether that be an outwardly expressed emotion or just me suffering internally (the latter happens majority of the time). I have tried many techniques (including seeing a psychologist, therapy, meditation, recreational drug use) and nothing seems to work, only mask the problem for a short period of time. I’m sure this is a form of depression but which one I do not know. The thing about trying to cope with this is I feel shut off and alone even though I have such an amazing group of friends who are always willing to help. In my mind however I couldn’t possibly burden any of my friends with shit that is happening in my life because who wants that dumped on them when everyone already has their own problems that could be more important. I’ve always tried to be as selfless as possible and I am convinced that the only way I can be happy is by bringing everyone around me as much happiness as possible. Obviously this is impossible but it’s the only time I’ve been truly happy is when I see my friends getting along and everyone having a good time regardless of myself. Actually no I think about maybe that’s not the case but I’m honestly not sure. Sometimes it seems like I can deal with this masterfully but most of the time it does not and the only reason I havnt left yet is because I owe money to some people. As soon as that is settled I’m leaving for awhile to reset my understanding and hopefully find peace. One other thing that I have to talk about which eats away at my soul slowly and that is relationships. Again I’m not interested in sympathy nor am I seeking help. All I’m doing here is putting my tumble of thoughts into some kind of coherent writing piece. I’m not sure where it stems from or why it happens but everytime I’ve gotten close to someone in the past I always invest too much of myself too quickly and it fails. It’s like the moment anyone shows any interest in me my subconscious becomes determined to fuck it up. Almost like I’m not allowed to be happy. It’s strange and now I’m starting think with the last girl that I absolutely love to bits (and she loves me back lo and behold) was just me being in love with the affection she showed me. I’m trying to rationalise my thoughts but I’m confused as fuck about the heater or bit I love her for her or just because my love is reciprocated. Then there is the big gaping hole inmy heart that is occupied by Lucy (not her real name but this will do). From the moment I met this particular girl I knew that I had to be with her. So I pulled out all the stops. We would talk every day, she would come meet me at work for lunch, we went out drinking heaps together and we always flirted but never anything more no matter how hard I tried. Then she started dating a mutual friend (not at the time but now he is one of the better guys I know) who she said she wasn’t even sure she was interested in and thus we became the closest of friends. To the point where I found myself giving her fucking relationship advice because I only ever want her to be the happiest person she could possibly be. I have absolutely no right to be mad at her or angry or upset yet even being around her now is excruciating because I know that I could never be with her because I value our friendship. So much more than my own personal wants and needs. And I know how happy Bran (not his real name) makes her when they were together. Things have been really crazy with life in general over the last few months and it has put a lot of strain on everyone’s friendships and relationships. Now they are no longer together for the time being because I think the both need to have time alone to regroup themselves. But now I’m left trying to pick up the pieces for them and get them back to being their happy selves (whether together or not). I honestly think they are pretty perfect for each other but I’m constantly thinking what if, what if I said something. But I can’t. It’s too selfish and just when I think I have my thoughts about her under control they go haywire just seeing her. I am finding it difficult while writing this to accurately convey my thought and feelings on this but I’ll try and summarise briefly. I know me thinking I’m the best thing for her is selfish and there is no way of finding out really but I can’t stop thinking it. It drives me mental because I don’t want to jeopardise our friendship ever and all I do in life is centred around making my friends life’s as happy as possible and being with me is not going to bring that level of happiness to anyone. Some days I think my life force attracts destruction for anyone I try to help. Obviously this doesn’t happen all the time but it does happen enough for me to believe that wherever I go disaster follows. So clearly I don’t want to expose any of my friends to self destructive behaviour. Just the other night during a shit time in my own head I thought a out what would happen if I just drive off and left without a trace. And these thoughts are creeping into my head more and more often and it’s scary. Leaving or dying scares the shit out of me but sometimes everything just gets so tough that I just want to roll over and die but I can’t! I’m scared shitless of what’s happening inside my head. Toxic thoughts are horrible and are the seeds for severe depression and anxiety and if continue to allow my mind to run wild unchecked I may find myself in a truly terrifying position. There is so much more to talk about but I can’t. This is enough for now to put out the internet. I don’t expect anyone to read this and if they do and you know me do not say anything please. Just leave me be and met me sort everything out as it comes. I’m not really interested in involving anyone in by daily struggle so just leave it but be aware. Sorry if you read this and think a fuck head. I dont mean to be. I honestly think im meant to make people happy in life but it becomes harder and harder to do when I suck so much. Stupid fucking chemical imbalances in the brain. Ben out

P. S. Even ousting this intonwriting and putting it out there seems incredibly selfish of me as well because I never know who will read it. So if you do just know I’ve been coping like this for my whole life so realistically I’m fine with how everything is going it’s just sometimes I’m not. And this was written during one of those times where thoughts wandered and I got in a depressive loop where I had to clear my head or otherwise free out. So yes I do struggle and sometimes life is hard but there have been so many positives coming through him the cracks that eventually things will be dandy. I just had to voice some shit out loud in the hopes that it might give me some semblance of peace. Only time will tell. P. P. S Love you Be

[healingincircles-blog]

Outflowing.

Outflowing I have been quiet from any real blogging endeavors for a while... But if I want to follow these principles, then I must practice "outflowing," and that means I must write. Out-flow. So, my inspiration to kick my insecurities and perhaps pursue a blog again comes from Lewis Howes' "School of Greatness" podcast episode -  "10 Principles of Abundance and Prosperity" Out-flow. Here's a link to the episode and show notes - it's fantastic. https://lewishowes.com/podcast/chris-lee-abundance/ It's one of those podcast episodes that I want to listen to over and over again. One that I want to listen to again and again to try to absorb more and more meaning and insights and wisdom from. I want to draw all I can from it. I want to learn all I can from it. And not just learn it, but practice it. Integrate it into my psyche. But pause. Let's go back for a second… After my accident a few years ago I started a blog, "The Reconstruction Pursuit." Writing it was my way of coping, processing, getting it out of my system. Writing my blog was something I could do to share what I was going through, all of the processing I was doing, like I said, a way to help myself cope. And in writing, I was hoping and still do hope that somehow my darkness could be someone else's light. I was enjoying writing, and it brought me joy to know that some of what I did write was meaningful.

Now cue up 2016 - VERY simply put, depression decided it would creep back in to play it's wicked games again. I felt a ton of frustration, anger, overwhelm, resentment, and all sorts of other emotions and shit towards the accident, towards life, towards myself, etc.. I wanted it to all just disappear. In pure rage and absolute feelings of stuckness and helplessness, I wanted to deny any of what happened. So, I deleted the blog (though I have some posts archived that I will pull up and try to share again) and I shut up. Little bits of tumblr posting here and there, but nothing really consistent or focused like I was starting to be with the Reconstruction Pursuit..

But alas - My brain is back in my head, and the unwelcome guest of depression has been excused --ehh, more like kicked to the fucking curb and beat to a pulp after a pretty brutal fist fight every time he tries to re-enter the party. Now, I want to re-honor the struggle. Honor and respect the darkness, the challenges, honor and draw blessing from what literally almost killed me. I want to let all the bullshit do nothing but fuel me forwards, and hopefully fuel others forwards when they feel dark and hopeless and helpless and lost like I did… 

In my quietness I have been doing a lot of learning. I have been pursuing a self-driven education in psychology, personal/self-development, human high-performance, mindset, yoga (it's amazing)… And, I don't think it does myself or anybody any good to pursue learning so much helpful and empowering information and not give it out (**outflow!) and share it (we will talk more about that "out flowing" in a bit).

I have been diving into the worlds of self-development and growth, "high performance," mindset, psychology, and becoming an expert of your own being. I have been diving into how to really get to know yourself and learn to master yourself, your brain, and learn to embrace - fully and completely - who you are, uniquely and authentically. I have been learning how to pursue consistently working to enhance and improve who you are, what you are, and reach levels of absolute high-performance in your inner and outer worlds- mind, body, soul. The fields of high-performance and self-development are fascinating. They light me up, they get me thinking, contemplating, they inspire and motivate me, and I have a desire to become competent and knowledgeable in these fields because the teachings I have pulled from them so far have helped me immensely to work through what I need to work through...

Depression. 

Anxiety. 

Complex PTSD. 

A major TBI (head injury), followed by some second impacts on other occasions, (which would actually mean collectively three more significant concussions after my accident...) all leading me on wild dance with post concussive syndrome/ second impact syndrome and the oh so wonderful and complicated - yet fascinating - things that come along with well, hitting your head really fucking hard…

Being in your 20's - being a young person trying to discover who they are and find their way in the world.

Being an athlete and working through identity shifts and relationship shifts and “relationship drama” with sport, performance, competition, creativity…

Working through those mighty existential questions, thinking about life and purpose and meaning..

Yeah – it's a lot to work through. But I'm not the only one who has to work through it - we are all human, we all go through what we go through and must work on what we need to work on individually. 

Return from rambling… Now you have a little picture of where I've been in the time of mostly keeping my fingers off the keyboard. Mmmm, ok, maybe just a little more rambling for a moment (though I don't think it's necessarily just rambling, I think what I am writing has some value, rather than just being noise). I am proud to say that the pit of darkness I was in, I'm not there. As I eluded to earlier, I have kicked depression out of the house and it gets ugly when he tries to re-enter... Do I have occasional rough days, low moments? Little "meltdowns" or "panic-freak-outs?" Yes. Do I have some days where I am down or moments when I feel like I am running away, trying desperately not to be caught and consumed by that darkness trying to suck me under again? Yes. But that's part of my humanness. Being aware of it, recognizing it, and deliberately choosing to fight it off and improve constantly as a human, well, that gives me something to work on. Ultimately, I win.

So getting all this going again, hopefully my writing style will convey something clear and meaningful… I write what is on my mind, what is in my heart, what is coming from that space in you that is your soul… I write as I contemplate, I go with the flow, I just let it come out, not a lot of editing.. I've decided I do not want to fear judgment for what I write or how I write, so I will write. The fear of being criticized, well, I no longer want it to hold me back. So again, I will write. It's raw, perhaps sometimes here and there a little messy, but is raw not the most real? Organic has a little dirt left on it. (Builds immunity.)

And now, coming back from all of that and returning to what was on my mind when I started this whole post thing was "outflowing" - Principle #1 "Outflowing" -- https://lewishowes.com/podcast/chris-lee-abundance/ To focus out. Wherever you go, give. Whatever you put out comes back multiplied.Law of attraction. What can you give today? Check out the podcast and the "show notes" – https://lewishowes.com/podcast/chris-lee-abundance/ – to get the recap and ideas from them, but this is what I have to offer from what I have gathered… It's an evolving understanding. Outflowing - letting what is inside you that you have to give flow out of you…- knowing that what flows out of you will flow back to you, magnified - The good and the bad. What we give, we will receive. What we sow, we will reap. Outflowing is recognizing and acknowledging your strengths and talents and gifts and giving them away, sharing them, using them to serve and benefit others. Using them as your light - illuminate. (Remember, where there is light there can be no darkness…) Part of outflowing is to recognize what you're proud of within yourself and you life and integrate those "wins" into your psyche - celebrate them! Celebrate your victories. This builds your feelings of self-worth and confidence, and when these feelings are enhanced you can also recognize and give away the qualities they bring – Exude confidence. Exude a confident, quality character. That's a gift to give.

Outflowing is also sharing what you have learned, your experiences, your life, and the insights, knowledge, and wisdom that your life and your experiences have brought you, with humility and graciousness, humble and free of ego, with the hopes and intentions of it being enlightening or inspiring or uplifting to others who may need to hear it. I guess for me then that means sharing what I am learning and sharing the tools and skills that I am building and putting into practice. I think it means not trying to stuff it away and hide it and try to make it disappear, but rather sharing what I have been through and experienced, how I have overcome and fought through a variety of things… It means being open, honest, vulnerable - yes - outflowing is being open and honest, transforming fears into faith and tragedies into triumphs and sharing what I have worked on, worked through, and continue to work on and through in this life. 

And then (perhaps most importantly) - There has to be love. Love.

It's an outflowing of love. It's vulnerability and willingness to let your humanity be seen and known and to say "this is who I am and who I am is what I have to give" – give all of who you are to the benefit of others, with the intention of love and service. Love-filled and love-fueled service.

Love is a driving force, a binding force, a force of connection, a force that we really cannot use words to describe, but nonetheless, a magnificent force that is empowering, and truly, exactly what many of us need so, so badly to infuse into our beings to really empower our lives. 

Outflow that. Love first.

#sometimesmessy.  So if this feels like and 'incomplete' ending to you, then expect the "vibe" of the post to be continued further into more posts. 

Namaste.

[rockrevoltmagazine]

INTERVIEW - Wilson

“Who is Wilson?” That is one question I get asked often by friends when discussing bands that I want to see and shows I am heading out to write about in my role here at RockRevolt Magazine. After the last time I was asked, I picked my jaw up off the floor (WHO IS WILSON? I think, incredulously…), got down to business, and decided to reach out to my Friends in High Places. 

Wilson is made up of Chad Nicefield on vocals, Jason Spencer and Kyle Landry on guitar, James Lascu on bass, and Matt Puhy on drums. I was fortunate enough to track down Chad for this chat to find out exactly what is it that makes Wilson tick, makes them the ultimate party band, and what’s with all of the fuckery anyway! 

First of all, thank you for taking the time out of your busy days to talk to me. I appreciate it.  I am excited to have the chance to chat!! You’ve toured the US and the UK, as well as Europe, and you’ve been on some pretty amazing bills as far as tourmates, both that you supported and who supported you. This question has a few parts: How do audiences here in the States compare to audiences overseas? What is your favorite part of touring? And what is one thing that you miss the most about home when you’re on the road?

We’ve been very fortunate to tour a lot of the world and to share stages with some legends. It’s been a wild ride thus far. I’ll say this about UK/EU vs USA/CAN – they LOVE their Rock N Roll over there. It’s incredible to see the overwhelming love of REAL bands overseas. I wish home had the same love, but I can feel it growing and coming back to the forefront of entertainment. There’s NOTHING like the ethereal experience of seeing and hearing a band LIVE.

Home is Detroit. I miss Detroit as a whole; my family, friends, trouble…the usual.

I’ve heard that said of audiences in Europe from other bands, so you’re not alone in those experiences. Speaking of fans, your fanbase is solid, rabid, and growing by the day! What are some of the most memorable fan experiences you’ve had?

We’ve had some great ones. I think my most memorable experience was when a fan had me write “Will You Marry Me?” on my marching bass drum and walk up to them in the crowd so he could drop down to one knee and propose. Quite a wild one for sure!

  That sounds incredibly cool! As a former marching band geek, I can appreciate that bold move! I’ve been keeping an eye on your social media pages, and the love you guys get from your fans is incredible. I love seeing the tattoos, the girl who posted about talking about her love for you in her class for a presentation, and even the proposal recently posted to your Facebook page! What do all of those moments mean to you in terms of your fans and why you do what you do? It has to feel incredible!

Someone once said “WILSON IS A LIFESTYLE,” and that is fucking NUTS to me. As we grow and more and more folks start to hop on the train, I really start to “get” what they mean. We have become a family with our fans. Sure, sometimes it can get exhausting keeping up with such a wild bunch of freaks, but I don’t think we would have it any other way. Just take a look at our SECRET GROUP on Facebook, (yes, you can join) “The House Of Fuckery.” It’s a supportive, wild, “anything goes” home for the Fuckery Krew. It does feel incredible.

  I am going to hop on that as soon as I finish up this interview for sure, thank you! Now back to touring. You’re heading out on the road here in a few days with Breaking Benjamin, including a little cruise around the oceans on the Shiprocked cruise. What are your expectations of the tour – including the cruise – in terms of performances, energy, and crowds?

Expectations are for the birds. Actually, I don’t think their brains can create those. So maybe WE ARE BIRDS!!

Now, that’s a good way to look at it! Speaking of that, I am going to be heading out to see you in my area in Cleveland for the show and to do a little review myself. What can I expect to experience from your live set as a “Wilson Live Experience Virgin”, as it is?

Sweat, mucus, and FUCKING FUN!

Sounds like a good time to me! What’s next after this tour ends for you? I know it’s a short one in terms of dates, so what’s the plan once you get off the road?

The beginning of record number 3. We are going to continue to work on the songs and hopefully start to record them!

Are we going to hear any new music from you guys in 2017? Anything brewing for the fans?

ABSOLUTELY!

Tell me about a typical day on the road for you guys. How about a typical day in the studio…?

Typically, we spend many hours inside of our lady Betty White (the van) and then we go to a gym to release the built up energy from that drive. Then we head to the venue, unload our trailer and our bowels. Next we eat food and poke fun at each other. Come up with some crazy set list idea, and then we rock and roll. Then we drink booze and find a place to pass out. The following day we wake up and do it all over again.

In the studio, it’s a focused chaos. All of the above applies, except we don’t use the van.

It sounds like you’ve got the Rock and Roll Lifestyle down pat! Now, for some fun. What is one thing about each of you that the fans may not know?

James = Plays FIFA video games obsessively.

Kyle = Loves science obsessively.

Puhy = Can’t count to 10 without laughing (that’s probably a lie).

Jason = Is obsessed with Goldfish (the food).

Chad = Has webbed toes on both feet (2 on each).

I’ll make sure to bring some Goldfish with me to Cleveland, if I can smuggle them in! With an album named, Full Blast Fuckery, you know you’re going to have a good time with the music. So, what is your process like for writing? What’s the ultimate message you want to convey through your music?

It varies, but it always starts with “heart”; something we feel sends itself out of our bodies and into the canvas of life in front of us. We really want people to feel comfortable having a good time with life and having no boundaries. We want our music to destroy any obstacles life puts in front of you by listening to it. Whatever that means, it is the honest answer to why we create this form of art.

That’s one of the best answers to that question I have ever heard. I love the idea of heart and no boundaries. We’ve lost some heavy hitters in the music industry in the last year or so, and there’s been a lot of talk of legacy in the industry. What do you want the legacy of your music to be, and of you guys as musicians?

If we were to put a grave stone down for our band it would read, “Here lays some guys who made sure they acted like gentlemen with fools hearts and left a lifetime of smiles on the world’s faces.”

You maintain a solid social media presence, and I was wondering what your thoughts are on that as far as another tool to reach out to the fans. It seems to be working in your favor, so it’s clearly worthwhile to that degree. Do you feel it makes you TOO accessible to fans?

The only time it feels that way is when it pulls you away from other areas of your life; like relationships, family, friends and truly LIVING. We started this band by claiming “Wilson is not an internet band.” What we meant by that was you don’t GET us from behind a computer screen, you GET us by being in a room with us.

Man, I love that answer. I’d look forward to “getting” you in that way soon. So, so cool. Speaking of access, there’s a camp of people claiming that the era of the music video is behind us with everyone streaming music now more through their ears than their eyes. Do you feel this is true? I know you have some music videos out, and they’re pretty fuckin’ cool in my opinion, so what is your take on the usefulness of the music video in today’s streaming society?

Anyone who says that is an idiot. We just don’t see it the way we used to. Every time you turn on the Youtube or Netflix you hear music attached to video – and sure it might not be a video outlining that specific song, but it’s the same “emotion”. If you decide you like a band, you will dive deeper into their essence. We create platforms for our fans to dive into and will continue to do that. We don’t give the human soul enough credit. We all still long for that media. We just need to be coerced into getting there because of all the distractions nowadays.

I’m going to sound like a broken record, but I love that answer and wholly agree. To me, there is nothing better than a great music video – be it a simple lyric video or a well-produced epic-style video that tells an amazing story. Now, where did the name Wilson come from? There has to be a story…

A party. We needed a name for a flyer. We played some shows under the name and it started to work, so we were stuck with it.

Well, the fact that it worked helps out to your advantage for sure! Before I let you go, do you have any last words for our readers?

Get off your ass and fucking rock.

Thank you again for taking the time to chat with me today! I can’t wait to get off my ass and fucking rock with you guys in Cleveland. I’ll see you there!  

If Wilson is coming to your area, get off your asses and fucking rock with them! You won’t be sorry!! 

Interview by Devon Anderson, RockRevolt Journalist and Managing Editor

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INTERVIEW – Wilson was originally published on RockRevolt Mag