#really feel the urge to isolate myself from all my friends and family

[gregmarriage]

genuinely so fucked up right now, and so desperate to leave the house, that i would consider my pap smear, a holiday

[manie-sans-delire-x]

What is it actually like to have ASPD? How do your thoughts and emotions differ from a “normal” person on a daily basis?

Wow this is surprisingly difficult to answer. Theres a lot I could talk about but I'm not trying to write an essay, and I could answer this in different ways- like academically/in general terms of ASPD or my own specific personal experiences?

I can only speak for myself, and I'm not 100% convinced I even have ASPD, nor would I give myself as a perfect example, but...

On a regular day to day basis, not much honestly. Or maybe I just dont notice it because its normal to me. Its mostly just a strong disconnect from other people, anhedonia, apathy and boredom, lack of motivation, feeling nothing, desire for excitement.

Impulsive and bad decision making/habits and having no self discipline, like spending money that I really shouldnt, constant drug and alcohol use, stealing.

Not meeting responsibilities and deadlines.

Neglecting, avoiding, not prioritizing relationships.

On worse days, anger and irritation, violent urges and desires.

Many of the symptoms overlap with other disorders I also have (severe depression and c-PTSD), so it can be hard to distinguish.

Its like this.

Most people live for love, to feel those positive emotions and closeness to family and friends. Thats what it comes down to and makes it worth it to work everyday and suffer through all the hardships of life. Ask most people what they live for, and they'll say their family.

In an evolutionary psych way, it makes total sense right? Humans are very social animals, we evolved to have that strong craving need because it keeps us together and alive. Same reason loneliness and isolation is so painful for people. Infants even die from it. It also works to keep people's behavior in line and prosocial.

Now take that away, and have to live and find some kind of joy, pleasure, meaning anyways. You try to force yourself to feel things for other people, and its like being blind and waving your hand in front of your face. Theres just nothing, no response. Im a creature that lives in persistant persuit of trying to feel emotion, even negative, in any way, anything, I am in such poverty I'll take whatever I can get, if I cant feel love and happiness Ill seek out pain. I feel like a shark sniffing out blood in the water, following any trace of excitement, any promise of something that can make me feel emotion. Its like being a drug addict to pain. Maybe thats just me, Im a sadist and a masochist. Make me feel something, alive, and I'll love you forever.

Its like having your friends and family love you and being utterly cold, even repulsed.

Its like not seeing your dog for months, seeing how excited she is, loved and missed you, and realizing a dog has more emotion than you do, despite raising her since she was a puppy.

Its like going to work and having your coworker tell you with tears in her eyes how her daughter was raped at 12, how she was as a child as well, how both her son and ex husband killed themselves, and feeling utterly nothing about it.

(despite hating that and being sympathetic, but the emotional response is not triggered, the emotional empathy is not there)

Its like having all the people who have been closest to you tell you that they're afraid of you. And it hurts, but you also like it.

Its like committing various crimes, or quite immoral acts, even violence, and feeling no guilt about it.

Its like often losing your job because you get bored and sloppy, or getting in trouble with authority because you dont follow the rules.

Its like putting yourself in dangerous situations, and people say they would be so scared, that they're scared for you.

Its like witnessing a severe car crash, giving CPR, watching a child die, and going to work the next day.

The plus side of being emotionally disconnected is that you can stay calm and function in highly stressful situations when most everyone else is freaking out, and not even be traumatized by it.

Heres something else I posted...

[zenkindoflove]

Do you have any advice for making yourself just sit down and write?

I really want to start writing again (I have not written since high school[and I’m old]) and I have so many ideas in my head but for some reason I can’t make myself write them. It’s not even writers block. It’s like fear? And not even fear about the quality of the writing. I’m super delulu and think I’ll be good at everything on the first try 😅

It’s like stage fright over writing even if it’s only for myself. I think if I can just make myself start I’ll find a groove. But I can’t make myself start.

Hey anon!

First of all "I'm super delulu and think I'll be good at everything on the first try" - Hello are you me? LMAO, this is me and my big, unnerving ego. I'm always like "oh, I think I'd fucking EAT." Even counter to evidence.

First, I want to say I relate a lot to the state you are in now. I wrote a ton when I was younger. First original stuff as a pre-teen/teen and then when I was around 16, I started writing fanfic regularly in my first fandom. I would say I wrote and posted (though I've deleted a lot of these fics since then) regularly from 2006-2012. I then had some pretty big life altering stuff happen, and I only wrote very sparingly up until late 2023 after I finished ACOTAR.

I've always thought of myself as a "writer" but during those 10 years where I wasn't really writing (fiction that is. I was writing plenty as an academic scientist going through graduate school, postdoc, and then the few years of adjuncting trying to keep my career afloat) I kind of thought that it was all just something I used to do. And then I got a new obsession with Elucien and felt like "oh, I can definitely write about this." And here I am. And I think I'm doing really well. I've really shown myself that being a writer never really leaves you. You just need the motivation, space in your life, and some discipline to do it.

Okay, but to your question, how to get started writing? Well, the answer is truly "just start writing". Which sounds like I'm blowing you off, but I think I have a few tips that might help you.

Take those daydreams that you keep having to chase away the crazy pain of life and jot down little details about them. Don't think of it as you're writing the story down. Maybe you're just making a bulleted list of the things you like to fixate on. Maybe it's capturing a cute moment with a few vibey words. Maybe you're really inspired and you write out a outline of a basic plot. Some of these may end up becoming a story down the line as you build momentum.

And if you do feel the urge, just sit down and write 100 words of a scene. No one is watching. No one will read it. It's just you and your computer. Who cares if it's fragmented sentences and half baked thoughts? And then when you return to it, maybe you realize "Oh, I could add some here, and maybe a bit there." And suddenly you're actually writing out a one-shot.

I also highly recommend looking up prompts for when you feel like your ideas are tapped out or you need just a little push to get the ball rolling.

For me, I have also made it a point to write a little bit each day or every other day. Some days nothing will happen and that's okay. But now that I've started again, writing has become a rush for me. I've really found myself again. I had such an identity crisis during the pandemic. I became a mom completely alone and isolated from friends and family. I became disillusioned with becoming a professor which I had been working towards since I was 18. And sure enough, coming back to this hobby that I did in my teens/early twenties really grounded me in the person I always have known. I just needed something that was only mine to have again.

I hope you can start that journey too, anon! And if you ever want to come off anon and chat, my DMs are always open!

[rachelcommitscrimes]

HUGE VENT/RAMBLING dont read unless you like really really want to i guess idc i’ll probably end up deleting it

i have the biggest fucking urge to message my abuser(s) anonymously and tell them how much they ruined my life and why i have lifelong self esteem and trust issues because of them. why i feel like throwing up every time i think about them. especially her, she fucking ruined me. i don’t care that it was in 4th/5th grade i still remember you. you almost gave me an eating disorder and told me i “wouldn’t get into heaven if i cut myself” well guess what bitch i still did i still have scars on my thighs and its all your fault. i made my family worry about me because of you. you made me feel like a freak for having normal feelings only to lovebomb me later and tell me we were gonna be friends forever. you don’t deserve anything you have now you should just move back to california and die there. if you’re still alive by the time i’m 80 i’ll find you and hurt you. You isolated me from my friends and family and made my life revolve around you. You were friends with the people at school who made my life a living hell but i stayed with you because i didn’t have anyone else. but guess what i’m popular and prettier than you will ever be in your whole miserable pathetic excuse for a life. And you had the audacity to tell me i treated you like crap? I cut myself after you sent me that message and begged you to stay with me and you still left. Learning from my mistake of being your friend didn’t make me stronger, it just made me never be able to trust anyone ever again. Wherever you are now I hope you’re as miserable as i am.

[greatfruitboo22]

I'm going to rant because I don't feel like I have anyone I can talk to about anything, really. I don't have money for a therapist, and I don't want to be a burden. I have been struggling and honestly the urge to just disappear is so fucking strong. First my mental health is pure shit right now. My depression at an all time high. All I want to do is is sleep. I have no motivation to eat, or do anything honestly. I can't sleep through the night. The only peace I have, no people to bother me and no one to prove myself to. Then I sleep all day, avoiding my responsibilities and others. I know part of it is because of my ADHD and Autism. Which until recently, I didn't realize I had both. And when I talk about it, I just get push back from my mom saying, "You aren't autistic I would know if you were. Or It only works if you have an official diagnosis, "but that means that it could be used against me because it's on a document that others can see. And that scares me. There are still so many places and people who use that against you. I'm scared that while I'm re-learning how to function without masking and not pushing myself back into burnout that someone will use it against me. I have gone back to a dark place where I want to die because I have lost my footing, and because I don't know where I'm going, it feels like a never-ending pit. I feel nothing and everything all at once. I don't feel like I have support anymore. Since my burnout, I quit my job that I liked because I couldn't handle being a mask, and getting statements like your face needs to show more emotion. I'm sorry that in order for me to function, I can't make faces. I don't want to smile to appease someone. Because I left that job, I have no money, one of my accounts negative, and when I think I fix it, it just gets worse. I started a new job, got two weeks in, and missed an entire week because all I could do was sleep. Depression isn't a real illness, so why did I miss it right? Jobs don't allow for mental illness days. Only sick days. But I am sick. Mental illness is a sickness of the brain. My brain that tells me these people can hear you make calls, they are judging you. They make fun of you behind your back. People are hard for me. I want friends, and I want to be kind, but eye contact makes me anxious, talking makes me anxious, and keeping conversations makes me anxious. I get anxious getting out of bed each day. I get anxious about eating in front of people. It's overwhelming. I am also dysforic. I started using they/them pronouns about a year ago, and only like five people in my life made an actual effort to use them. I am non-binary and while I still prefer femme presenting, I don't feel like a female. My family won't use my pronouns. My dad was confused and didn't try. My mom gets mad when I correct her. So many times I say those aren't my pronouns I get back no one will use those for you, how do others know, you aren't correcting them, you are my daughter. My aunt barely accepts I'm bisexual. My sister tried for a little while but stopped when it got too hard for her. I just want to feel like me in my skin. I am dealing with weight gain due to PCOS, and I hate it. I feel like I can't lose any weight. I want to live somewhere without the rest of my family, but I cannot physically afford to live on my own. Everything is so expensive. It feels like all these things are just piling on, and I want it to stop. I want to feel some freedom. I feel so isolated in the place I am in right now. Everyone around me is growing up and moving on. I don't feel like I have friends anyone. I don't know who is there anymore. Not that I would ever say anything about how I feel. I just wish I could breathe.

[pridepages]

Shouldding On Ourselves

I just finished Mistakes Were Made by Meryl Wilsner. I have thoughts...

Here there be spoilers!

Forbidden romance is a trope that tantalizes readers. Lots of us want to be teased with a bite of the forbidden fruit--and Meryl Wilsner’s Mistakes Were Made is a juicy one!

Mistakes is the story of Cassie Klein, a college senior who meets Erin Bennett, a sexy older woman, at a bar. The two hook up in the parking lot and part ways, fully expecting never to see each other again. Imagine their consternation when they meet again at breakfast and discover that Cassie’s best friend is Erin’s daughter! Erin and Cassie know there are plenty of reasons for them to stop this disaster right here. But what starts as addictively mind-blowing sex deepens into an illicit romance. What will happen when their friends and family discover the truth?

Titillating taboo keeps readers along for the ride. But woven between each steamy sapphic sex scene are themes of desire and repression, particularly how they impact women in our society. To be raised as a woman is to be raised with expectations by the world that we learn to internalize and dictate to ourselves: “Oh, I want chocolate cake. But I shouldn’t have dessert.” “I want to lie on the couch all day, but I really should catch up on my chores.” “I don’t want to wear a dress, or makeup, or shave my legs. But I should look groomed.”

On and on it goes.

This insidious little word--should--triggers a learned response to ignore our natural desires. It seems inconsequential, but the repercussions can be serious and lifelong. 

One fateful day I was out at a party with friends. We were talking about our romantic histories, people we found attractive, etc. Suddenly, our resident bi queen turned to me and asked me point blank: “Are you queer?”

And my response was: “I don’t know.” Not a definitive “No.” I didn’t know. It genuinely hadn’t occurred to me that I was even allowed to ask myself that question.

That day led to some long conversations in therapy. Ones about my relationships with friends, family, and even myself. At one point, my counselor stopped me and said: “You say ‘should’ a lot. You talk about the ways you ‘should’ be feeling instead of the ways you actually feel. Fuck ‘should.’ Stop shouldding on yourself!”

That was life-changing advice. 

I stopped shouldding on myself. I forced myself to redirect every time I started to spiral over worries that I wasn’t measuring up, that I wasn’t believable in my identity, that what I wanted for my life was wrong.

So you can imagine me cheering Erin right along when she says: “Fuck should. It doesn’t matter what I’ve been trained to think I’m ‘supposed’ to do. What do I want? What makes me feel good? What will make my relationships stronger? Those are the questions that matter. Not what should I do.”

It’s not perfect. I still feel those terrible urges to please, to say the ‘right’ thing, to get an A in living my life like that’s a thing that’s possible to do. But I take comfort and courage from the fact that I’m not the only one working on unlearning this tic. Consider: during the lockdowns of the COVID 19 pandemic, a wave of women came out of the closet. Many factors probably contributed to that. But I’m willing to bet that at least one was the fact that--shut up in isolation with fewer obligations to distract and no other voices shouldding them down--many opened themselves back up to their dormant inner voices. Women began relearning how to identify their natural desires. Surprise! At least some of those desires were gay as hell!

I salute the courage of the late bloomers who have come out of the closet even if it meant upending their life. Defying the expectations of others, making choices that can even hurt others, is a frightening thing when we’re taught to prioritize everyone else over ourselves. But, like Erin, we need to remember that our courage can be a model for the ones who need it most. As Erin tells her daughter: “I want you to do anything you want to. It’s your choice...You get to find out what’s right for you. You get to make mistakes along the way. It’s your life.”

There’s no ‘right’ way to be twenty-one years old, or thirty-eight years old, or any other age along the road. Each life is a beautiful, unique work of art. But we have to remember: not every person is going to love every artwork out there. “Sometimes we have to do things that make us uncomfortable for people we love.” That’s ok. It’s your life. It’s your masterpiece.

So go out there and do whatever the hell you want. And, for the love of god, stop shouldding on yourself!

[waitfuckitsnotjustptsd]

been coming to some realizations about the ol' teenage years and the effects of social isolation, csa, emotional and physical abuse, and religious brainwashing all whipped up into a nauseating salad while you're going through puberty for the first time

that's where a lot of my relationship and sexual dysfunction come from. being forced to confess every single fucking thing to a parental figure who then threatened to go tell the creepy old bishop about "your little problem." as if me touching my own body was some kind of horrible addiction. she made me dissociate completely from my whole body and suppress every natural urge i had. she told me god would only forgive me a few times and then he'd stop after that because clearly i wasn't really sorry enough for enjoying my body at all

and then she just engaged the rest of the fucking family to make sure i never had any time alone, which was the most horrible overstimulating shit ever for my autistic ass. i wasn't allowed any alone time for any reason. shower? she'd always find a time to sneak up and knock on the door really hard just to make me jump and keep me on edge. actually she did that for fun all the damn time, just like she pulled the hair at the nape of my neck to see me tear up because she found it hilarious. she screamed at me when i finally did it back to her though.

never had a problem holding me down to stick needles in my face, feeling me up under my shirt, touching me everywhere no matter how much i hated it and made that clear, pulling up my shirt and bra in front of the rest of the family. people make fun of the weird kids who bark and growl, but it was the only thing that made her back off.

and there was nobody i could talk to, because "family things stay in the family." i wasn't allowed to go to public school or leave the house at all without a parent until i was 17 just so she could control my entire world. i had exactly one crush for about a week until she found out and started tearing me down for it. i couldn't have any friends she didn't personally approve, and she also had to personally approve their parents. i wasn't allowed sleepovers. one time i came back from a church activity wearing blue eyeshadow one of the youth group leaders had put on me because i liked it, and she told me i looked "like a prostitute" and freaked the fuck out. the Sunday after that, she copied her own makeup onto me to show me off as essentially a tiny version of her to all the adults at church.

she was honestly just a possessive jealous creepy gross incestuous pedophile, and i wanted to die. the only way for me to escape was burying myself in a book and getting my consciousness outside of myself completely. even that wasn't enough after a while.

she realized one day that i was getting bigger than her, and she decided to start having weird wrestling matches with me on the living room floor. i'd been carefully supervised through tae kwon do classes but i was too scared to hit her. she always ended up tickling me and sitting on me in ways that weren't right for anyone to do to a kid to win. i just wanted to let loose, crack her jaw, throw her out the window, but i knew if i did that the consequences would be severe.

if i ever see her again i'm showing her what a left hook feels like. she loved to complain about how i was born evil and just the most badly-behaved kid of all time, but sometimes i wish i'd really unleashed everything and shown her what an unholy terror really is.

nowadays touch is still a minefield for me, even just a tap on the shoulder can send me into furious shaking. i don't know how to have sex without ignoring what i feel and just trying to make someone else feel good. i can't cuddle anyone but my girlfriend, and even that kinda freaks me out sometimes.

the moral of the story is, don't fucking have kids if you're going to abuse them. don't even get a pet. collect rocks or something, find a hobby, tie a boulder around your neck and chuck it off a cliff into the ocean like that jesus guy said, but don't have kids if you're going to abuse them. oh and burn your bible/book of mormon/christian scriptures of choice, that's not a childrearing manual.

[so-much-nonsense]

because this is life

yest i wanted to kms and today im sitting on my bed struggling to study without getting distracted. this is so funny to me. yest nothing in the whole world mattered. yest i couldnt care less about all this but, today, here i am, giving it so much importance. are we all just lil creatures. if yes why did i have to suffer so much. i dont want to live anymore. it stopped feeling like im living, for myself. i cant exactly tell when. bc few days back i was so happy and thoughtful about amount of emotions i can go through. yest night something just snapped and i sobbed uncontrollably in silence as i laid in my bed covered in sheets in the dark. what are friends and family in these moments? yest i wanted to die and no one were there for me. not even one person i could think of that i could call for some safety net. or even just to talk. my "friends" seem to be busy with their own fucking lives, lives im not a part of. "family" i cant call and worry. "people whod listen to me" i refuse to open upto. what has my life become today. before yesterday my life was so rich. after today if you ask me ill tell you it still is but ill be lying. i should stop opening these apps and checking my messages again and again. fucking not one person is gonna text me or even reply to me. its not vulnerability i am scared of, its misunderstandings. we as smol humans seem to have a lot of these every single day and they ruin lives. ig this is life now. crying in secret. lonely. questioning everything. but ik ill not feel a thing in this blog a time from now. if i still do itd really be the worst life. there is nothing to say anymore. my mind blank but suffering, lost in chaos. sometimes i think i just write all these things because i like writing. but a little later in life i thank myself for having closure. it is so bad that i feel isolated from everyone. i feel like i cannot to talk to anyone. i feel like everyone is going ahead with their life but me. dying is not an option. so idk. also annoying how much importance i can give to people and never get it back. i have never been this person but i think im slowly changing into this person. do i stop caring? idts. bc i think everyone is sad, at least a little bit. so if im there for them in even one of those moments im happy to be. hence i dont find a reason to shut off people. regardless of what they might to(unless theyre horrible things) they are also learning and i would be happy to be there for them. i want to be there for people all the time. i dont understand this urge. maybe because there never was or is anyone for me.

[mylightsatnight]

It Was...

It was the little ‘tink, tink, clack’ metallic sounds from my heart shaped locket bouncing against it’s own springs and hinges.  My breastbone the trampoline for it’s rhythmic step to my footsteps so hollow and yearning.

It was the smiling barista, less a smile today than the other days, and maybe she saw something less in my eyes, but it’s not fair to ask today...Not fair to ever ask, really.

It was the way that a family member survived an ER visit, and I was urged to phone.  And I wanted to send flowers, hell I would have dropped what I was doing then and there if I had known and raced to the hospital picking up every red light ticket I could on the way.  But it turns out she didn’t want my bedside support, so I’ll be over here without any tickets, and a shame in my heart knowing that an end-of-life scenario, isn’t enough for reconciled reunification...

And it was the cross I never saw you wear, but the God I knew you believed in.  

It was the way I ne’er spell god with a capital G on my own accord, but it meant something to you...and you meant something to me...and those are the kind of sacrifices I began to make before we became smoke and cement...One impenetrable to the other.

And It was the way I did my glances around the cafe, and saw no other patrons aside from myself.  Alone is a state of virtue that I know better than most.  And ‘Alonska’ is a State that you can guess even though I changed the letters because the isolation of that state matches the virtue that the patriots hold.  And Virtuoso is the condition that I was, perhaps destined for ‘Alonska’...not the state, but the state of being.  And I threw my virtues out the windows, unaware that they were tethered to my skills with a rope in a comical way Bugs Bunny would have chuckled at...So now I’m skill-less, jobless, Virtueless, and most of all, Carrot-less, but at least I still have my silly humour along with a book of scrapped memories of all my friends who never made me feel alone, yet...here I am, with no hand to hold.

It was the London Fog, in the tall Strawberry Mug, made with the right ingredients, but combined in the wrong way.  

I remember my novel I wrote about strawberries, and the youthful charm it contained, and the youth that I feel in my bones waiting to explode, and the sorrow in my brain waiting for me to explode, and the google searches for dark answers I needed the questions to...

I have so many damned questions, and I’d have less if the answer to Love was searchable.  And I googled it, just to see, just to SEE if it might be there.  And there were 4 results.  A play, a song, a movie, and this: C8H11NO2 + C10H12N2O + C43H66N12O12S2.  The proper chemical combo.  I tried that combo, but maybe I had one too few carbon, or I just got the order wrong...Because it imploded in my own face, the beaker bright, acidic, and orange with stardust of poison.  So now that I know....just how hard it is to get the ingredients right...I’m not so mad at the barista anymore...It’s just so hard to get right...

It was my left hand that reached up my neck and felt the links on my locket.  I felt a gentle, yet coarse rusted copper gold.  I realized that the links were all smaller than I thought they would be.

And I realized that the links each stood for a moment in my life.

And I realized that some were already made, and some still needed to be added.

And I realized that maybe my life is about adding links, and then taking them away so that the locket and my heart might hang in the same spot.

And THEN  I realized, that even if I got the links right, by some miracle chance, that I’d still have problems timing the pendulum swing...

And I realized that this life has no rules on what you can do...

But somehow...Rules on who you can do it with...

...

And I realized, that no matter the speed I’m bound to take in this life,

It was all for something...

Even if I never figure it out.

[sometimesrosy]

Have you ever had this urge to run? For years I’ve been talking of how I’d like to live abroad, of how I don’t want to be in my small town forever, of how I’m missing opportunities or whatever. I’m a very lonely person, but do have a great support system in my family and boyfriend. We’ve been living together for 3 years and bought an apartment together. That has been going great, but I feel more and more disconnected with my life. I don’t like my job, I don’t like the people in this town, I don’t like how there’s nothing going, how there’s no one new to meet. It really is a small town, in a small country. It will have a huge improvement until 2030, with projects for an international data center, a university polo, a train station that connects high speed trains directly to a big European capital. But until then… I feel like I’m wasting my life away, just surviving each day that goes by. To make matters worse, both me and my partner hang out with this friend of ours that lived most of his life in New York. He’s content with his life here, but talks so much about his past and I can’t help but wonder “man, things are so incredibly different, it really is like in the movies!” But it’s not something I can suggest to my partner. Moving to another continent? That’s too much. He doesn’t even want to go live in the capital, and I’m not sure our capital would be enough for me. I’ve talked with him about moving to the UK, but I can never have a serious conversation with him, he immediately replies “you can go and maybe I’ll go after”, but Ive told him I’m not willing to risk our relationship, I would rather sacrifice myself than lose what we have. But that’s exactly it, being in my life feels more and more like a sacrifice and I can’t pinpoint why. I don’t know if it’s really me wanting to run from my life, or if a part of me really needs a change. My mom says I’d be happy living abroad, and she knows me better than anyone. Our friend said he came back from NY because he needed a change. I need a change, but I don’t know how great that change will have to be. I’m not too worried about going because I know we will always have here to come back to, with our families. I realize it’s too much to ask of him, but I just feel myself withering away. I’ve had depression once, while at university. I’m 26 now, I don’t want to have another major depression, but I also feel like it’s too soon to think I’m wasting my life away. Sorry for the incoherence, writing this from the heart.

PS. Forgot to say, many people I know are actually moving abroad and going to the UK, mostly. They’ve had way more opportunities there and don’t want to come back here, and I envy that feeling. At my first job, there was an elderly couple that would talk to me from time to time, and they would question me if I had thought about moving abroad because there’s no opportunity for me to grow here. At the time I didn’t give it much thought, had just come back from university and starting my first job. But now? It’s not even because of the career opportunities, it’s because I feel like I don’t belong here, like I’m so out of place. Just wanted to add this.

+++

You are in a pickle.

You want to move, badly, but you have a life that is built where you are and it isn't that portable.

I do think you're romanticizing life abroad and you're not romanticizing your own life-- all you see in your life is drudgery. Life in big cities is also a lot of drudgery. It can be very very exhausting and stressful because you have to work so hard just to afford basic necessities. But of course, yes, there are good things about it. Lots to do. Many people to meet. New experiences.

I spent most of my life in New York City, and I didn't like it for the first twenty years. And then I did like it for the next twenty years. Now I live in the country, very isolated, and sometimes I wish I could go back and be less isolated and have more opportunity, but I'd give up the security, peace and opportunity to do my own work without worrying about the rent every month.

Maybe you should travel. Before you give up your life as it is, find a way to spend some time in London or New York on a less permanent basis. I don't mean travel like a tourist, I mean find a way to stay in a real apartment in a real neighborhood for like a month or whatever. Try it out a little.

I don't know if you'll find the answer to your problems in another country.

Maybe you will, but like I said, there are tradeoffs wherever you are. Will another PLACE make you happy? Maybe. Maybe not. The problem is that wherever you go, you're still you. So if you don't figure out the problems inside of you, they're going to travel with you and sooner or later, when you discover that living in a city is not the romanticize movie like dream you thought it was, they're going to come bacl.

[orleans-jester]

This dress was well worth the wait. Thomas would be thinking the same thing, even if he had to wait until his death day to see his Valerie in it. He couldn’t wait to spend the night with his arms around that beautiful waist of hers, feeling the fabric, feeling her. Appreciating everything that the dress did to emphasize her - much like she thought of him, she could wear anything. Something like this - it could make someone faceless. Someone would just remember the gown and not the person wearing it, but not Valerie. Not his wife. He’d never forget the way that the fabrics made her skin appear even softer, the colors complimenting her, the shape that it gave her, oh boy, like she was sewn into it. Her face - the most stunning of all, of course. He was going to be looking into her eyes all night as he swung her around the ballroom. Of course he was going to be dancing with her. There was no chance that he wasn’t. Socials always took second place after romance.

Nothing felt more appropriate than Poe tonight. It was a Halloween ball, gothic style, in a dark and mysterious castle. Did it get more spine-chilling than that?

“I know, I always feel the same,” Thomas chuckled, holding tight to Treebeard as they were brought up the mountain in their own special way. Some people had to take the stairs, some people took the bus - these two were special enough to get their own special escort. “I’d say we’re going to end up somewhere far more spectacular than Isengard.”

He checked his pocket again. He wasn’t coming empty handed, no. He was still determined - maybe foolishly since it hadn’t worked yet - to get Frank talking about something. After all, their ladies were friends. It only seemed right. He was bringing along a tin of fine Irish tobacco, since Frank was known for smoking. Might be just the thing to get him through thte door.

--

Iorek was just living his best life right now. He still mainly lived in the zoo, where it was nice and cold but he could leave his enclosure. He knew how to work the doors and it was never locked. He was getting a sugar high from the coke, so he kept wriggling his back in the seat, almost in a dance, just because his body was feeling the urge to move. Being a creature that had been in a zoo all of it’s life, it was used to stares so the gaggle of women who kept looking over at him was hardly a bother. He’d sniff them as they came on but wasn’t threatening.

GoGo wasn’t expecting much attention tonight with her attire, especially with everyone else being so dressed up. All the other ladies, Chip’s wives, it was like a fashion show. But she also couldn’t say that she wasn’t a bit pleased that the effort she put in was noticed, even if she wasn’t really the dress up type. At least not until she met Scout, who had rubbed off on her a bit.

“It was either this or my work uniform, and I made a vow to myself not to ever wear that after working hours,” Go-Go chuckled. Despite being in school almost full time, she still kept up her job at the stupid cafe. Dale had been right. She made some pretty good money there, as humiliating as it was. Besides, not like she had very much shame. If she brought some to the family name … good. “Hot is better than kawaii, I’ll take it.”

She let out a little snort of a laugh. “Independence, it helped.” After bunking with him at Elsa’s, she had moved into her own apartment and had been there since August, while he had gone off to Peru to do whatever Dale does. She never really asked questions. “Quite the crop top, Dale.”

Offended by being called Spindly? Hardly. “All the better to move faster.”

“Fun fact,” Figaro called from the front of the bus. “They put Wybie in the movie to make it LESS creepy. The book doesn’t have him, and it’s balls to the wall isolation.”

Because leave it to them to know.

But as for Ellie, all that time alone with just Babyface for company has really gotten rid of her filter, so joking and teasing, it had become a real big thing. It’s how she showed love, now more than ever. Not that she had a say in her aunt’s relationship, but that little quip was her way of letting Koda know that she approved. Anyone who could influence her aunt into wearing THAT and not something frumpy was well worth accepting.

Ellie’s grin only grew bigger when she heard Babyface stand up for her. She put an arm around his shoulder and looked at Koda. “Yeah, take that, Koda!”

Laughter was all over the bus, even Elsa smiling as she leaned into Koda to hear his compliment. “Thank you,” She said, taking the compliment without ever attempting to fish for more. “Though I do feel different tonight.”

Dapper? Oh yes, Thomas was that and more. Valerie did so love Thomas in a suit, almost as much as she liked him in jeans with his toolbelt... almost. There was just something about those jeans and his boots. But woo-wee when that man went for dashing he actually pulled it off. Not all men could. Suits often wore men and guys all had a tendency to look like these poor things attempting to look grown up, mature, or that they have more grace than they actually do. It never works. The suit wears them. Not Thomas though. He can wear damn near anything and pull it off as a true gentleman even though Val knows quite well he can be quite the naughty fucker in bed. Yeah, he handles his suits and wears them well along with everything else including his beard at every length he'd let it grow.

No matter how cliche it might be there was hardly a more beautifying feeling than seeing such a composed man as this jaw drop and then realize it was because he set his eyes on you. Valerie looked down at herself. She'd been saving that dress for awhile wishing for a proper occassion for it besides one of their own backyard dates as fun as those might be to make up reasons to dress up. Watching his face made her own jaw slack, her chin tilt down. She pushed her hair behind her ear as a way to stabalize the high this man sending through her with just his face. His expression was priceless. Then he opened his mouth. Oh lordy, her private poet was at it again...and quoting Poe during a Halloween Ball of all times. She didn't always know if he was quoting, usually was, or if they were his own words, but Poe was one of the few he sometimes recoginized since Val tended to read darker tales when reading on her own. So, she couldn't hold back her grin at all.

"I feel far more precious than Annabelle Lee when you look at me."

It was true. She had a way of knowing she could slay, but her under-the-bed days despite being shed and long past, still lived somewhere under her skin like something in her wasn't always sure it was okay just to simply exist. Thomas's eyes always fixed that. He was her onion picker like in Holes and her personal poet. She hoped she contributed something here.

As they rode up in Treebeard's branches to the castle Valerie couldn't help but whisper, "I still feel like Merry and Pip on our great adventure whenever we get to do this. It must mean tonight's going to be special." She decided traveling in Tree had to have been a good omen.

On the bus Speed was going on overhead. Who didn't adore Keaneu or Sandra B? Win-Win. Dale was actually paying attention to it about the time Ellie and Babyface showed up and it all the emotional hugging and cussing commenced.

Chip's wives really could not stop staring at Iorek. They were very used to Chip and him continuously bringing more animals than one family would normally take care of, but a polar bear? Yeah, okay... Fig had him beat with that one. This was a first for them. One even slapped him and asked why they didn't have a polar bear. Koda would give her the evil eye like she was being offensive just to fuck with her. Pippin was going to be watching her bear language use for the rest of the evening. At least Elsa wasn't the only one distracted by the polar bear in some kind of way.

Scout would look GoGo up and down and quirk her right brow when she saw her Morticia outfit. "Classic. My Dad loves dressing up as her." She meant Flotsam though she didn't specify, but that quirk did not come down out of her hairline. She was unabashedly checking her digs out. "Damn girl. You look... like...excuse the Paris Hilton speak, but seriously... just really hot tonight." Scout couldn't not say it. She always called 'em like she saw 'em, just like the rest of her family.

That's why Dale chimed in after. "Let me see." If Scout thought so he wanted a better look. So he absolutely let himself take Laveau's worth of eyeballing her. "Damn GoGo. She's right. What'd you go and do? Grow up while I was away in Peru?" He said acting like he hadn't seen her since. "You are looking fly."

Then Chip would say, "You could also be good at being the other mother on Coraline. She was so spindly like a spider. You just need buttons for eyes."

Yup the Laveaus were in the house always calling 'em out alright.

Jenna said, "How about we sew buttons on your eyes Chippy?"

Chip would give one of those blank looks like he had no idea he inadvertantly put someone down and they weren't really sure GoGo's threshold for it. "What? It'd be a good group costume. I was thinking I'd be Wybie."

Dale shook his head. "Oh you mean the character who gets his voice sewn shut because he doesn't know when to shut up?"

Chip's wives were giggling. Koda laughed too until he heard what Ellie called out as she was saying her hellos to her Aunt Elsa in the middle of all this. Should she call him uncle yet? Oh geeze. Oh geeze. So maybe they were starting to be a thing, but that was probably a little too soon.

Koda almost balked though. He got thrown and had that wiggle wobble neck people get when they're anxious about whatever is about to come out of their mouth. "Oh, I don't know....depends..." Then he managed a comeback. "I would say definitely yes if you're looking for a wrassling match. You'll be calling uncle with me faster than anybody you know."

Babyface wanted to Kelso burn her so bad but held off because he was trying to do the stick by his lady thing. So, instead he said, "You clearly haven't ever seen my Hell's Ells in action. You're gonna be calling her uncle."

Everyone paused for a moment because he didn't say it quite right, but that was Babyface. He knew what he meant. So, did everyone else. Dale was cracking up. It was so good to have everyone back in the same room again. Dale's spirits went from emo-depresso to wanna get his drank-on real quick. He was having and they weren't even at the castle yet. They were only on Figaro's bus.... with the polar bear... and his Coke... watching Speed... and taking jabs at one another. Oh yeah, this was the life.

Koda would turn after all the rukkus and say, "You always look pretty, Nizhoni." He felt the need even though it was just a teenage niece bagging on her fashion sense.

Frank was right about this being important to Delta. She always said she'd be happiest if she could just go home with Frank, but as that wasn't an option of permanence she gave long thought to making the best of being in this earthly realm. She access to a few a portals that could wisk her away to other places like Christmas Town, Halloween Town, even a fairy realm. She had friends who had friends on the other side. She had her mother's grimoire in reach. She knew demons. Death. This didn't have to be like before. She referred to Flotsam often in her mind, but that was because she was angrier than him about the past.

This disturbed her. Watching Valerie/Flotsam make so much headway with Thomas in what that family calls progress boils her blood. She doesn't get it. When she let's things go she does so for completely different reasons and she's just not over her father and mother. She can't quite let it go. All of it. To see one of their most affected victims move on is mindblowing for little Delta. It dawned on her it's probably because it's not family that did it to them. Any grudges she holds against her father or mother are more easily comparable to what Flo holds against Jetsam. There's a love/anger relationship there just like she has with her parents. But, she's damned determined to not let King Triton or Maleficent's past ruin anything about her second life with Frank this go around. The same goes for Boogey, Sally, or Jack, anyone relative to the circle of their story. So, fuck yes this ball is important to Delta. She's invited the people back into her world when a little part of her hates them all for existing and not fixing everything for them while they were just kids, and all she really wants is Frank. This ball is her admitting it's time to move on.

She'll still only move on her way. Some people job. Some people drink. Delta dances.

As the bus came in and more guests filled the ball room she noticed more of her dancers had arrived. A couple of Chip's wives were in her crew now. Ray and Jenna were dancing sort. The other's not so much.

Dale was enjoying being introduced to Black Arts and Nebby. "More Beagles. I don't think the world feels right without thinking there's Beagles out there to call."

Black Arts smirked, "If Grandpappy had anything to do with it, there's more out there than we know yet."

Babyface sneered his nose as he put together what that meant. "Ew dude. Just ew." It was true though. Grandpappy got around. He knew the guy wasn't wrong.

"Where's Nebs?" When Black Arts turned around to look around the ball room to where she'd gotten off to she'd already found someone to be silly with. She'd made a quick friend in Scout. Like attracts like and the willingness to put themselves out there started to heavily ensue. Throwing Beagles and Laveaus together had a tendency to do that. So they quickly added to the dance floor. "Come on GoGo." Scout would try to lure her in so she'd have her usual big friends circle Scout tended to have. At least in her own circles.

Delta had found Piper first and told her that she wanted to get the whole dance number over with so they wouldn't have to worry about outfit changes for the rest of the night and just have fun with everyone. So it was Piper's job to rally the rest of the troops. They were all to meet in the dance room upstairs shortly so they could make their entrance, do their thing, and then they could back there to get fixed back however they wanted for the rest of the evening. Delta wante to make sure the most of the guests were there before they did it. It seemed like a good bulk of them was here. Hopefully Figaro didn't have too many more bus loads left on call.

So that's when Piper went up to Maddy in her eyeball outfit and Bastien got a good look at all those eyes. "WOAH!" He started looking all over the place, not just at Piper like her costume extended beyond her actual outfit.

"They're watching." At first he sounded haunted or spooked by it. Then the grins came to life.

"They all wanted to come to Delta's Ball. Holy shit."

He'd yet to acknowledge Piper was even there. He was totally just tripping on the eyes. Her face wasn't viewable in the costume but her voice was crystal clear, not muffled at all.

"It's me Bastien."

"I know." He answered but still didn't seem to be talking to her directly.

Piper couldn't tell what was happening with him. She leaned into Maddy and whispered, "Um we're wanted up in the studio to get ready for the dance. Should I change into a normal dress after I can't tell.. He looks so happy."

[stranger-nightmare]

I’m sooo excited!! I’m also craving angst for Druig please 🥺

Could you write something where the reader has been silently struggling with her mental health and when the eternals all reunite he notices that she isn’t the same bright person he once knew and he makes it his mission to get her to open up to him?

𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐌𝐞

Pairing: Druig x (female) Eternal!Reader

Summary: after the Eternals split you felt isolated and alone, struggling with your mental health. When the Eternals finally reunite Druig notices there’s something wrong and encourages you to open up to him

Warnings: angst, discussions of struggling with mental health issues, namely depression / anxiety, minor Eternals spoilers

A/N: please take care of yourselves, your mental health is so so important. If you’re struggling please reach out to someone, a friend, a loved one, a professional, anyone you trust. As a long time sufferer of depression and severe anxiety myself I know how difficult it can be to deal with. My asks / messages are always open if anyone wants / needs to talk🥰🖤 thank you for your request and I hope you like this!!

When the Eternals had split it had devastated you. Your family suddenly torn apart. Apparently your shared purpose of eradicating all the deviants being the only thing that kept you together. So, once they were all gone, you and the Eternals were free to go your own ways. You just hadn’t expected the split to be so quick, so final. These people that you loved and had been side by side with for decades, suddenly gone.

You’d looked to Druig, the one you were closest too out of all the others. The two of you had a bond that no one else could compare to. You were always the one to go to his side when him and Ikaris clashed over how to deal with the humans. You were the one he always defended when you had different ideas on how to deal with the deviants. And yet, when the time had come, he’d simply retreated into the Amazonian forest.

And so you’d lived your life, devoid of love, devoid of purpose. Days, months, years, decades, they simply passed by you. You simply kept yourself occupied each day, making sure you were never alone long enough to really to think. You never settled, jumping from different locations whenever the urge struck you. You felt so disconnected. Nothing in your life was permanent and it scared you. You always kept people around but you never really let them in. You were scared to get close to anyone knowing you’d eventually lose them anyway.

Today you were sat in your living room, a rare moment where you were alone. You stared out your window, taking in the nightlife of the city below you. There was a weird comfort to be found in watching other people go about their lives as you sat in the dark silence of your apartment.

A noise behind you makes you spin your head instinctively. You turn only to see the majority of your fellow Eternals in the foyer of your apartment. Ikaris, Sersi, Sprite, Kingo, and another man you didn’t recognise who was holding a camera. And finally, Druig.

You feel the wind rush out of your lungs as you lock eyes with him. After centuries of feeling numb suddenly a thousand emotions surge through you at once. You blink back tears at the sudden rush of emotions.

“Hi” Sersi finally speaks. “We need your help."

...

And so now here you all were, on the Demo, reunited once more. You stood in silence against the wall as Phastos went over his technological inventions that would help Druig harness your collective power, hopefully enough to put Tiamut to sleep and stop the entire planet from being eradicated. You could feel Druig’s eyes shift to you every now and then, constantly flicking between paying attention to Phastos and staring at you. You deliberately avoided his eyes.

Once the plan had been established it was time for all of you to get some rest before the day ahead. You slink silently out of the room, padding quietly to what had once been your room.

You’d barely made it to the centre of the room when you feel him behind you. Druig. You freeze, keeping your back to him, knowing that looking at him would hurt too much. After years of being uncomfortably numb you’re sure your chest would collapse from the pain of confronting him.

You hear him step further into your room, now only a few paces behind you. Your body tenses and he obviously notices as he stops before coming too close.

“Y/n” he speaks softly. “Are you okay?” The question takes you slightly by surprise.

You shrug. “Yeah I’m fine” you do your best to keep your voice under control.

“Hmm” he hums softly behind you, clearly not believing you.

“It’s just the whole end-of-the-world situation. It’s a lot to process” you lie, deciding the best tactic was to throw him off course so he wouldn’t prod too far into how you were actually feeling.

“I think there’s more to it than that” he sighs. You shrug again.

“Y/n please, what’s wrong?” he asks softly.

You shake your head lightly, fighting the tears that were threatening to fall. You just wanted to be left alone. It’s what you were used to now.

“I know something’s not right. You’re too quiet. I know the situation is dire but I can tell it’s more than that. It’s like you weren’t even here with us, like the life has somehow been zapped out of you. You’re nothing like I remember you. And I don’t intend that to sound mean but I- I-“ he sighs before continuing. “I just don’t know what happened to you. You used to be so full life. But now... now you’re like a hollow shell of who you used to be.” You can hear the sadness in his voice.

You feel your shoulders shudder as a silent sob racks through you. You’re hurt by his words but you know they’re true. He sighs defeatedly.

“I didn’t intend for that to sound mean. I- I’m just worried about you, y/n” he says softly.

“You didn’t seem to be too worried the last few centuries” you mumble.

“What?”

“Nothing” you sigh, trying to control your breath again.

“Please, just talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong” he pleads with you. “Y/n please.”

“I don’t know” you finally confess.

“What do you mean you ‘don’t know’”? he questions you, taking one step closer.

“I mean I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Druig” you snap. “It isn’t that simple, it’s not just one thing. It’s everything Druig. Everything. I’m just so alone. I just feel sad all the time, and when I don’t feel sad I don’t feel anything. I can’t connect with anyone. I’m too afraid to even try. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me...” you ramble, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

You suddenly feel Druig’s hands on your arms, spinning you around to face him. He looks you in the eye, concern plain on his face.

“Hey hey, there’s nothing wrong with you” he whispers urgently.

“Then why do I feel like this all the time? Why am I so alone? Why didn’t you ever come see me?” your voice cracks on the last sentence. You hadn’t even meant to ask that last question but the words were out your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“Well why didn’t you come visit me?” Druig counters in a panic. You make a sound that’s half way between a scoff and a sob.

“I wasn’t exactly sure you wanted to see me. Especially considering you were the one who snaked away into the Amazonian forest without so much as a goodbye. I thought you didn’t want to see any of us anymore” You see something like regret flash across his face.

“I was afraid” he admits quietly, his eyes breaking away from yours to stare at the floor. You knit your eyebrows together in confusion.

“Afraid of what?” you whisper.

“Afraid of the way I felt. The way I felt about you” he says hesitantly. “The way I still feel about you” he whispers so quietly you almost miss it. You’re taken aback, unsure of what to say. Thankfully he carries on quickly.

“But y/n you need to understand that there’s nothing wrong with you. The way you feel, isolated and alone, it’s perfectly normal. Especially considering the way our family split. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my time living with the humans is that everyone feels like that sometimes, you’re not alone, even if you feel like you are. Sometimes human brains are just wired differently, some people are just predestined to having depression. But listen to me y/n,” he pauses to grab your face gently. “You’re not alone. I’m sorry that I made you feel so by never coming to see you. But I’ll never leave you alone again. I’m here, I’m right here” he whispers.

“I’m not going to promise you’ll feel better immediately. I can’t promise you’ll feel better for a long time to be honest, but the point is I’ll be there, by your side, to face it all. Okay?” he asks gently.

“Okay” you nod lightly, a tear of happiness sliding down your cheek, a smile on your face for what felt like the first time in centuries.

—————

Masterlist

A/N: not me as someone who’s suffered from depression and anxiety for like ever and struggling to put the description in writing. Sorry I feel like this probably isn’t the best depiction of depression, and please note I KNOW depression is not cured just because someone is there to support you but I do know it helps so that’s what I was going for here. I hope this was okay??🙈🖤

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[cowboyjen68]

I'm starting to see lesbianism as more of a community or culture than some inherent trait. Of course it can be all of that at once, and I wouldn't call myself a lesbian if I didn't have an innate love for/attraction to women.

But on tumblr I've seen quite a lot of people trying to define lesbianism in a very strict and scientific way, and it just doesn't sit right with me. I'm not a lesbian just because I love women. I feel like I'm a lesbian because of the communities I participate in, not because I have some biological urge to hook up with a woman. It's about bonding with other WLW and it's about art and protests and barn raising.

This isn't really a question, sorry. I just needed to get it off my chest, and your blog feels like a safe place to talk about this. You and your posts are appreciated :)

Hey.. this is absolutely a good space to talk through things and get out ideas and dialogue worthy thoughts "on paper".

SO please do not pile on anon. Disagreeing can be done with tact.

I have to disagree with you to some extent. The definition of Lesbian is pretty clear, that is why it is called a "definition". Words can have meanings that are not subject to gray areas, movement of boundaries or modern context. Sometimes they are just a word used to communicate a particular idea, experience or fact. I would never want my sexuality to be vague. I want others in my life and in my world to know exactly how I love and so I use lesbian and no other word for my sexuality because it is precisely what I am. 

However, I think I see what you are getting at. Lesbian is my (our) sexual orientation and while that does not define our personality, limit our friends or social life or control our interests, much of what many of us LOVE about being a lesbian is the community which comes with that word, that sexuality. What you are describing is that community. One that we are privy to because we are lesbians.

Lesbians absolutely can have a  particular culture and friendship circle. We, without a doubt, have the ability to share a rich history and common experiences that bring us together.  Lesbian community has been amazing for me and I can count on my lesbian friends to help me with everything from hugs, to jobs, to help on my house when I can’t do a task alone. I have seen them take in virtual strangers to keep them safe. I have seen them fix cars (mine included). and help on construction projects (my basement, another friends failing roof).  Many lesbians I know offer the support of lifting other lesbians up and encouraging them to keep going when it get rough.

Intergenerational lesbian friendship and mentorship is the most amazing movement I have every encountered. The back and forth of listening and sharing stories and respecting our different experiences based on time and context is gift to all lesbians who are willing to participate. 

I could see how you feel that the word lesbian, the definition, stretches beyond the description of your sexual orientation to encompass the way in which you chose to engage with others who share the same. 

For me, while I am a lesbian and that brings me unending joy in the way i love and live my life, I am a lesbian even in a vacuum. If I was suddenly on an island, alone, forever, I would still be a lesbian. My innate sexual orientation, sexual and emotional attraction/bonding ability to other women would always and forever be there. I could not act on it or participate in any community, lesbian or otherwise and yet, still a lesbian., Something so innate is always there no matter my past actions or present situation. 

Many women in other cultures, hell, even in some parts of America, go all their lives, or the bulk of them never expressing their true innate sexual orientation or acting on it. They might even act in opposition to it. They might be isolated, or kept isolated. They might be in a dangerous societal or family situation. Or could be just never given the opportunity to really meet other lesbians due to socio economic or ability limitations or location. IF they were born being a lesbian no lack of lesbian community will change that.

What it can affect is their feeling of self worth, their ability to see themselves as complete and normal. Without lesbian community, many lesbians never find the joy in their sexual and emotional attraction to women. That is I think where you are going with your thoughts. And that is not wrong. Lesbian is life long and static. Lesbian community is important but is not a requirement to be a lesbian. 

[stufftippywrote]

not an astronaut

This is based off a personal experience. Tw for fat-shaming, homophobia, and general assholery from an asshole kid.

The bell rings cheerfully as Bitty steps through the doorway. This was one of his favorite places when he was younger. The eclectic curios, every shape and size and color, packing the shelves were an endless source of fascination for young Eric Bittle, and the owners were friends of the family, so they knew Bitty well and didn't freak out when he picked up a ceramic pepper shaker or glass figurine and held it in his hands like an ancient treasure.

He walks through the store with that same sense of wonder now, 30 years later, and brushes his hand reverently over the shelves. They’re not looking for anything in particular today, but Bitty has told Jack about this place so many times, he simply couldn’t help but visit. Besides, you never know when you might find the perfect accent piece for the new home.

Chicken-shaped serving bowls, a porcelain figurine of a girl dancing, a set of silverware in a dusty wooden case. Bitty is spoiled for choice. As he browses, there’s a movement at the back of the store, and he catches a glimpse of someone hauling boxes through a door. He wonders who runs the place now. The sign still says Thompson’s Antiques, but he knows Mrs. Thompson passed and Mr. Thompson is getting on in years. Could it be that…

A prickle of fear runs through him.

The figure in the back drags the box to a nearby aisle and starts unpacking it, placing items on a low shelf. Bitty’s curiosity overflows. He moseys into that aisle and begins to speak, but the man raises his head before he can get a word out. He has to catch his breath all over again.

The man’s face goes slack. “I know you,” he blurts.

Eric puts his hands on his hips and gives a bright smile. “Davey Thompson. So you’re here after all!”

~~~

“Davey, this is Eric. Eric, this is our little boy Davey.” Mrs. Thompson’s smile is bright as she urges her son forward. “Why don’t you two go play at the playground while Mommy and her friend talk?”

The kid is tough-looking, with ruddy cheeks and a thick build. Eric reaches out his hand to lead Davey along the way. The minute they’re out of earshot, Davey snatches his hand back like he’s just touched a hot stove. Eric turns, surprised.

“You’re fat,” Davey says.

Eric blinks.

“You look dumb,” Davey adds on. And thus a quote-unquote “friendship” was born.

~~~

Davey stands up. He still has the same tinted cheeks and stocky build that Bitty remembers, but his face is sunken somehow, and he’s built up muscle where baby fat used to linger on his arms and shoulders. He’s got a tattoo on one arm – a Japanese koi fish, mid-splash.

“Nice ink,” Bitty comments.

And Davey Thompson, for possibly the first time in his life, smiles at Bitty. “Thanks.”

“The shop looks nice,” Bitty says, surveying the shelf like it’s his domain. “Hasn’t changed much since I used to come here.”

“You’re – you’re Eric Bittle, right?” Davey says, sounding almost scared of the answer. “From school?”

“From way before school,” Bitty responds. “You’re looking good.”

“Uh. Thanks. Same to you.” Davey looks uncertain, almost sheepish. There’s a moment of awkward silence. Davey tries to break it. “Um. So. What are you –”

He doesn’t seem to have the strength, or the will, to come up with the rest of the sentence. Bitty picks it up. “I’m a pastry chef,” he says. “I have a bakery and I cater, and I’ve put out three cookbooks. Can you imagine that?”

Davey looks kind of stunned. “Wow,” he says slowly. “Good for you. Where’s the bakery?”

“Up in New England. Providence, Rhode Island, to be exact.”

Davey snaps his fingers. “That’s right, you went to college up there. For hockey, wasn’t it?”

~~~

Bitty takes a swing at the ball. He misses, and it goes tumbling behind him into the net.

“Hah, you’re the worst goalie,” Davey says.

Somehow, Bitty finds the courage to say, “Let me play forward.” But his words are swallowed by the passing of a car on the cross street.

“What?”

“You be goalie.” Bitty gives the phrase all the menace he’s got in an eight-year-old body.

Davey laughs, a cruel laugh that sounds like ripping paper in Bitty’s ears. “Why? I can score on you all I want. That’s why we made you goalie.”

Resentment simmers like a low sun in Bitty’s gut. He wants to challenge Davey to play him on actual ice. He knows Davey can’t skate. As bad as he is, Bitty can’t possibly lose to him there. But the words stay stuck inside, plastered to the inside of his stomach, making him feel sick.

“Worst goalie ever,” Kevin chimes in.

“The worst, the wooooorst,” all four of them sing to him.

Bitty crouches low and is glad they can’t see much through the oversized goalie mask. Someday, he thinks, someday I’m gonna get them.

~~~

“Something like that,” Bitty answers easily. “And you’ve been here running the store?”

“Pretty much.” He doesn’t look very proud of that fact.

“I remember you used to say you were going to be an astronaut.”

“Ah, well –” The rose tint on Davey’s cheeks grows a shade deeper. “We were kids. I figure I missed my shot to make something of myself.”

All of Bitty’s nurturing instincts come alive. “Don’t say that. You’re doing well. Doing good, honest work. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Nah, man. It was just the easiest thing to do, once Mom got sick. I had to be here for her, and I … just stayed.”

Bitty gazes at him. This isn’t the attitude he expected from Davey Thompson, not in the slightest. He seems so defeated, as though Bitty’s arrival has reminded him of everything he isn’t. Bitty doesn’t want to be that for him, but he doesn’t think he has a choice in the matter. He quashes the small, self-satisfied demon that’s cackling in the back of his head. He’s not that kid anymore, either.

Just then, the chimes jingle at the front of the store. The babbling voice of a young child brightens the room. “Ah,” Bitty says, “there they are. He had to keep them outside a while before they calmed down. Little kids just work themselves up into a dither sometimes.” He offers an apologetic smile to Davey and retreats down the aisle toward the front of the store.

Suze is quiet, but it’s clear she was crying her eyes out earlier. She hangs on to her Papa with a fierce fist. Robby’s eyes are bugging out at the sight of the store. “What’s that?” he keeps asking, tugging on Jack’s slacks. Jack himself looks a little the worse for wear, but happy. That kind of tired-happy that they see in each other’s faces every night once the kids are in bed.

“Come on, Rob,” Bitty says, holding out his hands. “Want to see Daddy’s favorite store?”

Robby holds out his hands to be picked up. Bitty obliges, despite the warning creak of his back. He turns to take Robby further into the store and sees Davey standing there, staring them down.

He points. “I know you, too.”

“Ah, here we go,” Bitty says with a laugh.

“Were you in school with us? I don’t think that’s right, but—”

Jack holds out his hand for a shake. “Jack Zimmermann,” he says. “And you are?”

“My old friend Davey,” Bitty fills in. He can’t help but put a pointed emphasis on the friend part.

Davey clasps Jack’s hand but doesn’t seem to want to let go. “You’re Jack Zimmermann? The hockey player?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

Davey pumps Jack’s hand about four more times before finally letting go. “It’s – it’s good to meet you.” He looks at Suze, still curled up in Jack’s other arm. “And these are your kids? Or—” He turns to Bitty, face contorted in confusion. “Are they your kids?”

“Both,” Bitty answers cheerily. “Davey, meet my husband.”

Davey Thompson very nearly has a coronary right there.

~~~

“Hah, you’re just small all over, aren’t you?” Davey says with a pointed glance at Bitty’s crotch.

“You can’t help how you’re born,” Bitty retorts, but he pulls up his boxers right quick.

“Yeah, some people are just born stupid,” Davey agrees. Bitty instantly regrets replying at all.

Kyle whispers something in Davey’s ear. They both laugh.

“You’re right,” Davey says. He turns back to Bitty. “He’s right. They do say things about you.”

Bitty’s heart drops to his stomach. “W-what things?”

“You know! That you’re—” Davey flaps his wrist.

He doesn’t seem to have the nerve to say the word, but he doesn’t have to say it. The others in the locker room laugh.

For not the first time, Bitty is tempted to just ask, “So what if I am?” But he can’t. Not to these people. This isn’t how he wants his coming out to happen. So he just turns away and pulls on his sweatpants, ignoring the rills of laughter that echo against the lockers, and feels small. Small all over.

~~~

Davey recovers from his shock and nods his head rapidly. “Oh, I get it. Uh, congratulations. Uh, Bittle, could I talk to you a sec?”

He has that sheepish look again. Bitty watches as he retreats into one of the side aisles. “Gimme a sec,” he tells Jack, setting Robby down, and follows Davey.

When they're isolated, Davey turns to him sorrowfully. “I, uh—” Davey looks at the floor. “I was pretty mean to you in school.”

It isn’t what Bitty expected, not at all. To be honest, demons in the back of his head aside, this sort of thing doesn’t bother him so much anymore. Why should it? He’s married with two kids and a brand new home. He doesn’t spare a lot of time thinking about the distant past. “Um,” he starts, suddenly terribly embarrassed.

“No, let me—” Davey raises a hand. “Just let me. I said a lot of nasty things to you back then. I’m really sorry about it. I think about it a lot, and I’m just – I’m really sorry.”

There is a piece of Bitty that’s happy, even smug, at hearing this apology. But mostly he just pities Davey at this point. What a thing to carry around your whole life. “We were kids,” Bitty says. “Kids say dumb things. It’s all water under the bridge.”

“Still.” Davey says.

“I can’t say it didn’t hurt me,” Bitty goes on. “But I turned out okay, don’t you think?”

Davey laughs grimly “Yeah, look at you … and look at me.” He shrugs.

“You seem to be doing all right,” Bitty says charitably.

“I’m not an astronaut,” Davey says.

Bitty laughs. “Neither am I. We’re all good.” He pats Davey on the shoulder. A moment passes between them, silent, as they both listen to the sound of the past giving way to a new, kinder present.

After the moment passes, Bitty grins “Come on, I’m going to introduce you to my kids. Do you have kids?”

Davey flushes. “Yeah, I got a teenager. A real smartass. I wonder where he learned it.”

“Pictures!” Bitty declares. “Get that phone out, I demand pictures.”

Davey struggles to pull his phone out of his jeans pocket. This time, he flushes with pride. He narrates the story of each photo as they walk back toward the front.

[baya-ni]

The Queer Appeal of Sk8

Recently @mulberrymelancholy reblogged a post of mine with a truly galaxy brain take about how Sk8 “is a show made for queer fans” and generally how sports anime often depicts love and relationships in a way that’s more accessible and relatable to ace/arospec people than other mainstream media does.

Just, *chef’s kiss* fucking brilliant. I urge you to read their post here (note I’m referring to the reblog not the actual post).

And basically, it got me thinking about this concept of Sk8 as a Queer Show, and the kinds of stories and dynamics that tend to attract queer audiences in droves, regardless of whether its queerness is made explicit or hell, whether that queerness was intended.

And that’s what I’ve been pondering: What are the cues, markers, or coding, in Sk8 that set off the community’s collective gaydar?

I obviously can’t speak for the community. So here’s what aspects of the show intrigued me and what, for me, marks Sk8 as a Queer Show beyond the subtextual queer romances: a punk/alternative aesthetic, Found Family, Shadow as a drag persona, and The Hands.

1.) The Punk Aesthetic

All three of the above screenshots are taken from Ep 1, and every single one of them depicts background characters. They’re nameless and ultimately unimportant characters, yet each of them designed so distinctly and so unique from one another, one could mistake each of them for the main character(s) of another story.

Of what little I know about Punk subculture, I do know this: that the ethos of Punk is heavily built around a celebration of individuality and non-conformity. Sk8 seems to have incorporated this ethos into the very fabric its worldbuilding, and the aesthetics and culture upon which it takes inspiration appeals specifically to a queer audience.

I don’t really need to explain why Punk has such deep ties with the queer community. For decades, queer people have found community and acceptance within punk spaces, and punk ideology is something that I think is just ingrained in the queer consciousness as both lived experience and a survival tactic.

Therefore, a show that adopts punk aesthetics is, by association, already paying homage to Queer culture, intentional or not.

Queer fans notice this- like recognizes like.

2.) Found Family

This also needs little explanation.

Too often, queer individuals cannot rely on their “born into” families for support and acceptance. Too often, we are abused, neglected, and abandoned by those who we were taught would “always be there for us.”

And so, a universal experience for queer people has been redefining the meaning of Family, having to build our families from scratch, finding brothers, sisters, mothers, and fathers in people with whom we have no blood relation, and forming communities tied together by shared lived experience rather than shared genetics.

And this idea of Found Family is also built into Sk8′s narrative.

Like, for example, the way that Reki promises MIYA that he and Langa will “never disappear from [his] sight,” filling the void that MIYA felt after his friends abandoned him.

And in the way that JOE becomes a paternal figure for Reki, teaching him ways to improve in skateboarding, and ensuring that Reki doesn’t self isolate when he’s feeling insecure.

And in the whole Ep 6 business with Hiromi acting as babysitter to the Gang.

Hell, even ADAM (derogatory) is associated with this trope. Abused as a child, he finds solace in an underground skateboarding community and culture he helped create- his own found family (or some powertrippy version of it anyway).

Again, queer fans see themselves depicted in the show, but this time in the way that the show gives importance to Found Family relationships between its characters.

3.) Shadow and Drag

This is one that’s more of an association that I personally made. But I was intrigued by the way that Hiromi adopts his SHADOW persona. He wears SHADOW like a mask, and adopts a personality seemingly so opposite to his day-to-day behavior.

Further, the theatricality and general “gender fuckery” of his SHADOW persona, to me, just seemed so similar to a the characteristics of a drag persona (I don’t know a whole lot about drag but enough that I’m drawing superficial similarities).

There’s also this aspect of a “double life” that he, and actually all the other adult characters of the show, have to adopt, which is a way of living that I’m sure a lot of queer viewers see themselves reflected in.

4.) The Hands

Ohhhh the Hands.

One of the things I noticed very early on is the way the show constantly draws our attention to Reki’s hands, which I thought was a little strange for an anime about skating. After all, skating doesn’t really involve the hands, or at least the show doesn’t really draw attention to hands within the context of skating.

I count 3 times so far between Eps 1-9 in which hands are the focus of the frame.

First, when Reki teaches Langa how to fist pump after Langa lands his first ollie, second, when Reki and Langa make their Promise, and finally, when Langa saves Reki from falling off his board.

And you know what they say, twice is a coincidence but thrice is a motif (no one else actually says this I think I’m the only one who says this lol).

I’m not really certain why hands seem to be such a shared fixation among queer people (at least among those I interact with). All I know is that gay people are just fucking obsessed with them.

I have a Theory as to why, and at this point I’d love for other people to chime in and “compare notes” if you will, but I think it basically has to do with repression. And in the same way that queer people have had to redefine the meaning of family, we’ve also had to redefine intimacy.

Being overtly physically affectionate with someone of the same sex, even if they’re your significant other, or often specifically BECAUSE they’re your significant other, can still be dangerous, even now despite the “progression” of society. Queer people know this, this vigilant surveillance of our environment and ourselves, always asking ourselves, “Am I safe enough to be myself?”

Already, Western culture is pretty touch-averse. That is, it’s considered taboo to touch someone unless they’re a family member or a romantic partner. And to touch a person of the same sex in any way that could be misconstrued as romantic (which is most things tbh) is a big no no.

There’s just A Lot to unpack there.

But basically I think that queer people, by necessity, have had to learn to romanticize mundane or unconventional ways of being physically intimate so that we can continue to be romantic with one another without “being caught” so to speak.

Kissing and hugging is too obvious. But a handshake that lingers for just a second too long is much more likely to go unnoticed, braiding someone’s hair can easily be explained away as just lending a helping hand, touching palms to “compare hand sizes” is just good fun.

But for queer people, these brief and seemingly insignificant touches hold greater meaning, because it’s all we are allowed, and all we allow ourselves, to exchange with others.

God, I’ve gone off and rambled again. What’s my point? Basically that the way the show draws attention to Reki’s hands, and specifically how they’re so often framed with Langa’s hands, is one of the major reasons why I clocked Sk8 as a Queer. It’s just something that resonated with me and my own experience of queerness, and I know that I’m not the only one who noticed either.

~

So in conclusion, uhhhh yeah Sk8 the Infinity is just a super gay show, and it’s not even because of the homo-romantic subtext (that at this point is really just Text).

Because what’s important to understand is that Queerness isn’t just about same-sex romance.

Queer Love isn’t just shared between wives/girlfriends, husbands/boyfriends, and all their in-betweens. Queer Love can be two best friends who come out together, queer siblings who rely and support one another, a gay teacher who helps guide one of their questioning students, a queer community pitching in to help a struggling member.

And that all ties with another important thing to consider, that what we refer to as the “queer experience” or “queer culture” isn’t universal. In fact, it wrongly lumps together the unique experiences and struggles of queer BIPOC all under one umbrella that’s primary White and middle class.

So I think what drives a lot of my frustration about labeling a show like Sk8 as Queerbait is this very issue of considering queerness and queer representation within such narrow standards, and mandating that a show must pass a certain threshold of explicit queerness to be considered good representation.

I get that someone might only feel represented by an indisputable canonization of a same-sex couple. That’s fine. But labeling Sk8 as Queerbait for that reason alone ignores the vast array of other queer experiences.

The aspects of Sk8 that resonate most deeply with my own experiences of queerness is in the way that Reki and Langa share intimacy through skating (intricate rituals heyo). For me, them officially getting together ultimately doesn’t matter- I’ll consider Sk8 a Queer show regardless.

Similarly, @mulberrymelancholy​ finds ace/arospec representation in that very absence of an on-screen kiss. A bisexual man might find representation in Reki, not because he enters a canon relationship, but in the depiction of Reki’s coming of age, growing up and navigating adolescent relationships. A non-binary person might feel represented through CHERRY’s androgyny.

That’s the thing, I don’t know how this show will resonate with other members of the queer community, and it’d be wrong to make a judgement on Sk8′s queer representation based on my experiences alone.

That being said, Straight people definitely don’t get to judge Sk8 as Queerbait. Y’all can watch and enjoy the show, we WANT you to enjoy these kinds of shows, and we want you to share these shows and contribute to the normalization and celebration of these kinds of narratives.

But understand that you don’t have a right to tell us whether or not Sk8 has good or bad queer representation.

And even members of the queer community are on thin ice. Your experience of queerness is not universal. Listen to the other members of your community, and respect that what you might find lacking in this show may be the exact representation that someone else needs.

[tenthgrove]

More yandere Tiziano can't squalo plz

Squalo and Tiziano- The Escape

Yandere Squalo and Tiziano x Reader (GN)

Content Warnings: Coerced Relationships, dub-con kissing, manipulation

(A/N: Since this request was quite open-ended I decided to take my own approach and write a short fic about what happens when you try to escape from them. This scenario is set in the same canon as the previous post on yandere Squalo and Tiziano, about a month after Reader is forced to move in.)

This house is uncanny in its shallow attractiveness. A wonderful meditteranean retreat, spacious bedrooms and sprawling gardens, two beautiful men who fawn and wait on you constantly.

It would be the stuff of dreams, had you not been forced to be here.

You awake to Squalo and Tiziano's voices calling you from the hall. You should have figured that your insistence on sleeping in the spare room last night would leave them extra clingy all morning. Every time you manage to get away from them for a bit, they always bring their affections back 10-fold the next time you're forced to wallow in their presence. Maybe it was a mistake, in retrospect, to insist on such a thing when all it ever achieves is putting off the innevitable, but on the other hand if you had agreed to one more night pressed between them like some wrangled stuffed toy you think you might have screamed.

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself that this will all be behind you in a few hours.

Your first port of call is to throw some clothes on and check the bags hidden away down the side of the wardrobe. You've been carefully shifting all your more important belongings into them for the best part of the week. God knows if they find them, no excuse in the world will conceal what your plan was.

::::::::::::

Breakfast is as you expect. Tiziano cooks for the three of you while Squalo whines about how much he missed holding you last night. You force yourself not to lash out at him since you know your plan depends on keeping them happy for the next hour or so. You smile, and nod, and indulge their petty conversation while you eat, before heading back to the spare room to finish getting dressed.

You see, the best part of your plan is that they know you're leaving today. You have their permission to go shopping and, with some convincing, to go alone. The 'escape' part is simply that you have no intention to come back.

You wheel your suitcase quietly down to the front room, clutching your handbag tightly. Inside is 300 euros that Tiziano willingly gave you, after you mentioned that a shopping trip might lift your spirits.

How kind of him to fund your breakout.

Your heart rises with hope as you fiddle the key into the lock, only to sink down again as you hear a voice behind you.

"You're not leaving without saying goodbye, are you Tesoro?" Squalo calls. Shit, he heard you. You quickly shove your suitcase behind a plant pot and put your hands behind your back before the pair join you in the front room. They smile, and you fight the urge to scowl.

"Are you sure we can't come with you, love?" Tiziano pleads.

"No. It's nice of you to offer but I'd really like to do this by myself," you insist, adding a curt smile.

"Alright beautiful, we understand," Tiziano sighs, tracing his fingertips up your arm in a way that makes your skin twitch. "Now, how about a kiss goodbye?" he requests. Your insides curl. This is the part you were hoping to avoid. Still, no point in dragging it out or you might never leave.

You take a sharp breath and lean forward, eyes closed. Tiziano's kiss is bearable enough, tender and gentle so that it's easy enough to ignore the sensation. That comes to a screeching halt when Squalo yanks you from his arms, smashing his mouth against yours like his life depends on it. You push him off in revulsion, but it seems he's satisfied enough.

"Alright beautiful, off you go," Squalo chuckles.

"Yes, thank you," you say. There's an awkward pause as they smile at you, waiting for you to leave. You'd hoped they would bugger off so you could get your suitcase back but that doesn't seem to be the case.

"Well, aren't you going to go?" Tiziano prompts you. You exhale.

"Yes, goodbye," you concede, walking out the door sans-suitcase. Damn, you really wanted to take your stuff with you but you guess you'll have to manage. As long as you've got your money and documents, you'll be fine.

You look back blankly at Squalo and Tiziano as they wave you off from the window. You won't miss those two.

::::::::::::

Your feet feel like stone. Walking for an hour was fine, two was uncomfortable, three was tiring and nine is getting downright unbearable. Barring your quick stop for lunch you've been walking non-stop and you're really starting to think you won't be able to make it.

Your original plan was to walk to your friend's house and plead for shelter, hence avoiding a risky phone call that might be traced by the mysterious syndicate Squalo and Tizianio claim to work for. You have high-confidence in the viability of this idea- your friend is hardly the sort to refuse to rescue you from a situation like this and they weren't on the list of relatives the pair used to threaten you when they first made themselves known to you. That means they don't know where this person lives.

But, all that's for nought if you can't actually get to the place.

In Squalo and Tiziano's house, control was always achieved through the fear of the power they might possess. Never once did they threaten to hit, starve, isolate or deprive you. And yet, every time they would passingly mention how their syndicate had eyes in every town and village, you felt yourself shiver.

You don't want to stop at a hotel. You don't want to stop anywhere run by people you don't know, just go straight from A to B. But this doesn't look anything like the area your friend lives in, and your feet are ready to give out on you.

Worse, the sun is starting to set.

Damn it all, you think. You make a B-line for the nearest hotel and force your fears to the back of your mind.

You know it's stupid, but you half expected a squadron of armed mobsters to burst out of the staffroom the second you approached the receptionist. Of course, Squalo and Tiziano have probably only just realised you aren't coming back and even then, there's no way they'd have found you this quickly. You remain calm as you ask for a room, even as the receptionist makes clear you aren't getting it without showing your i.d. No matter, you think. You'll only be here for one night.

::::::::::::

Dawn brings with it a new sense of optimism when you awake to find your hotel room as you last saw it. You're not in the trunk of the car, bound or threatened at gun-point, and there certainly isn't anyone clinging onto you in the bed. It would seem that you've made it through the night undetected.

In other words, you've made it through the hardest part.

You dress quickly and gather your things. You don't think you'll stay around for breakfast; it would be better to just pick something up from the shops and eat as you go. You found a hotel leaflet with a map of the local area, and it seems you're less far from your friend's house than you thought you were yesterday. With any luck, you'll have reached it by the next day.

And thus, your freedom begins.

You check out at the reception without issue and begin the final stretch of your journey. That's when you get the distinct feeling you're being watched.

You're not even at the end of the street when a car pulls up beside you, the voice within stopping you dead in your tracks.

"You know darling, it isn't usually typical to go shopping for 22 hours straight, but we're glad you enjoyed yourself," Tiziano cajoles. You snap around to meet eyes with him, sitting in his car with Squalo at his side, both smiling gleefully. They're enjoying this.

You look around, your ankles shaking as though you aren't sure what direction to take. The locals clearly take no notice to the sight of someone being hollered at on the street, and given how deep syndicate control supposedly runs in this area, you doubt they'd care much more if you were to be dragged in.

You could run, you could always run, but they've got a car and you're willing to bet quite a few weapons. Even if you gave them the slip, you're now close enough to your final destination that tracking you down would be a piece of cake.

Shit, shit, shit. You guess you don't have much of a choice.

Fists clenched, you avoid eye contact as you approach the car, climbing into the back with your head bowed in defeat. Squalo chuckles lightly.

"You're really too cruel, love. Forcing me to spend two nights without your embrace in a row," he chides you.

"Not to worry, we kept ourselves busy. Registering at a hotel in your own name? Really darling, how amateur!" Tiziano remarks. You growl lowly. That's it. Consequences be damned.

"How about you two just fuck right off to hell!?" you explode. "Damn the both of you! I was doing just fine until you waltzed on over and decided you fancied having me for yourselves! Fuck you! Fuck you both!"

Tiziano laughs.

"Oh darling, do you really expect us to believe you hate us so strongly when you were so quick to get into this car?"

"What?! That doesn't- You would have chased after me if I didn't!" you protest.

"Oh, definitely," Tiziano concurs. "But don't you think you would have at least tried to flee if being with us was such a horrible fate?"

"You threatened my family! You threatened me!"

"We did no such thing. All we did was politely remind you we're aware of your addresses," Tiziano reiterates.

"Like I don't know what that's meant to imply!" you fume.

"Alright, we'll play along. Maybe we were a bit pushy in making you ours," Squalo admits teasingly. "But I honestly can't remember the last time I saw you look afraid. Angry, yes. So attractively angry..."

"...But the fear your words would imply you feel for us simply isn't there, Amore," Tiziano agrees with him. He finds a suitable spot and pulls the car to a halt, turning to you fully. He takes your chin in his hand as Squalo brings a hand to your shoulder.

"Can you truly, honestly claim to despise being with us as much as you'd assert?" Tiziano presses you. You go quiet.

"Just as we thought," Squalo scoffs. "Now, I'd say we've both earned another kiss."