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brawlingdiscontent · 2 months ago

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CW: Mentions of death and suicide, spoilers for all of Interview with the Vampire season 2

In season 2, episode 5, “Don’t be afraid, just start the tape,” a number of key questions circle around Daniel and Louis: Why did Louis pick Daniel to go home with him? Why did he ultimately save Daniel from Armand? This post unpacks these through a close reading of the episode and explores how they shed light on 2022 Louis’ character arc. (AKA, I decided to be a huge dork about this episode!)

Near the top of the episode, Daniel raises his “outstanding questions” about 1973 with Louis: “...like why you talked to me in the first place?” He doesn’t buy Louis’ unsatisfactory and avoidant answers, but Louis succeeds in dodging his questions with another – “What’s the next thing you remember?”

In the flashback, we see Louis reject Daniel’s sexual proposition because, as 2022 Louis tells Daniel, “you offered something off the menu.” But what, exactly, is that?

Louis’ problem is his inability to examine or work through the massive amount of pain he carries, relying instead on various strategies of avoidance (which, for example, form the spine of his Paris life). The result is Louis’ dissociation and separation from himself. In 1973, the resulting internal pressure has culminated in a self-destructive spiral (128 boys) from which Louis desperately needs an outlet—which leads to what present-day Daniel describes as a “floundering” Louis, “eager to spill” “tape after tape of emotional upchuck”—burning with the need to vent the pain held inside and repressed for so long.

Later Louis tells Armand, “the ten hours I spent with that boy were more exciting, more fascinating than decades spent with you!” which Armand mishears as Louis saying that DANIEL is fascinating (and obsesses over this—more on Armand later). But what Louis actually says is the hours spent together were exciting and fascinating, in other words, the experience Daniel afforded, the interview. So what was this experience?

While the interview is valuable, not just any interview or interviewer would do the trick. Daniel is more than ”an eager black hole” absorbing others’ stories, and the experience is more to Louis than just having a listening ear.

The key, surprisingly, lies at the point where Louis snaps. Deep in reflection and depression, Louis tells Daniel that after Claudia set off on her planned Europe trip he thought about killing himself, staying in the park until the sun came up. And instead of empathizing Daniel gets mad:

Daniel: “Are you kidding me? What, you were just gonna end it!? I mean, what about life? Like, joyrides and night swimming, and marriage, and cancer, and all of that till the death rattle? I mean we gotta carry all this shit and you had a ticket out and you were just gonna throw it away?..... you were given the gift, and I’ve been hearing you bitch the night about it.”

Upon Louis’ answering outrage, Daniel adds: “I mean, you don’t understand the meaning of your own story.”

While, to be clear, Daniel also doesn’t know the meaning of Louis’ story and his take on it is pretty bad (the meaning is ‘make Daniel a vampire??’) The provocation within these words and his call to life are very valuable. When Louis examines his existence he only finds meaning in pain, which makes him afraid to look closer and makes death seem the only viable escape. Daniel, even with all his struggles, affirms life through its challenges and prompts Louis to interrogate his own narratives about his story, which fixates on the burdens of vampiric existence.

Meanwhile, in Louis’ immediate environment, the only thing Armand knows how to affirm is death, which we soon watch him try to coax Daniel into. (Not taking sides on Armand, here. I think both Armand lovers and haters can agree that whatever else he may be he is a Sad Little Muffin). Throughout season two Armand repeatedly discourages Louis from engaging with his pain. For one brief example, in 2.1 when Louis cries when discussing Claudia with Daniel, Armand calls for a break and tells Louis he's ‘lost control of the interview’. I think we can read multiple motivations into Armand’s actions: that he’s intervening both for Louis’ sake as he’s afraid that confronting the pain will kill him (as it almost did that night in 1973) AND that he doesn’t want his lies exposed— he’s a complex creature.

Figuratively, for Louis’ arc, Armand represents fiction and illusion. That’s what the theatre’s about, and his big-boss persona hiding a fragile gremlin, and even his ‘Rashid’ disguise. He generally prefers pleasing fantasies and fictionalized narratives—including wilfully ignoring the reason that Louis is with him in 2022 (the name, unspoken in their home for 23 years)—to painful truth. In this respect and others, he is the exact counter to Daniel (which makes them such a fascinating pair).

Where Armand is death, Daniel is life. Where Armand is illusion, Daniel is truth. By offering the opposite of Louis’ current environment, life and truth, and giving him permission/encouragement to address his pain, Daniel becomes a source of fascination that Armand can’t pin down. (And how could he figure out that it’s Daniel’s joy for life and zest for truth that’s the source of Louis’ fascination, when Armand, himself, has little of his own.)

However, Louis doesn’t understand the gift that Daniel offers him in the moment. Instead, injured by the provocation, he lashes out and attacks Daniel. It’s what happens later, in the fight with Armand, that cracks things open for him.

Louis and Armand’s fight is the emotional equivalent of them digging their fingers in each other’s open wounds. One of the last things that Armand says to Louis before the latter runs onto the roof is: “...[Claudia] didn’t love you, not like he did. Not like I have.” Louis says, “I know. I know! Yes. I know. Thank you for saying it. It’s all creeping back…” And then after some more raving and a, “She’s calling me”, now high off his mind from Daniel’s drug-laced blood, Louis runs onto the roof.

Louis running out into the daylight is not so much a deliberate suicide attempt as it is an externalization of his pain, triggered by the memories. His burnt and charred body actualizes the pain that he always carries inside, like a festering wound, but is only now facing.

While in this painful moment of (literal) exposure, Louis is living out the show’s tagline “memory is a monster” an alternate tagline could also be drawn from it – “the truth, even if painful, will set you free’—which Louis comes to recognize. His pained “thank you for saying it” to Armand after the latter's devastating remarks about Claudia is about Louis’ need to confront the pain. I’m not at all saying that Claudia didn’t love Louis (even Armand’s wording modifies this “not like he did. Not like I have”), but rather that Armand’s words, combined with Daniel’s assertion that Louis doesn’t know the meaning of his own story, draw attention to the fact that the narrative he’s been crafting for himself is one that both preserves his pain, and avoids engaging with or working through it. (Which will eventually lead to bigger discoveries like “I didn’t realize it was a gift”.)

Despite the horrific experience of being burned, as he lies in bed recovering Louis finds that the remembering is worth it, making him realize the value of Daniel’s questioning—and feel the need to return the gift by saving Daniel’s life, where only a few days before he would have drained him had Armand not intervened.

Daniel doesn’t need to live as a testament to Louis and Armand’s relationship—that’s just the bullshit Louis tells Armand to get him to go along with it. Daniel’s high off his mind, but his instincts have helped Louis to see that Louis’ own is one of the “stories that need telling,” and handed him the key he needs to move through his grief. My favourite little detail about this scene is the light hanging above Daniel’s head as Louis offers his pep talk. Daniel sheds light for Louis, so Louis, in exchange, offers him a different kind of metaphorical light: words for when things get tough. They offer each other mutual support (best bros!!)—in a way that Louis’ two hubbies have so far been unable to do.

Unfortunately, when Armand wipes Louis’ memories of this encounter, the guiding light Daniel offered is gone, too—instead going on to become a central part of Louis' season two character arc once the memories are recovered.

The question then emerges—if Daniel’s speech was so valuable and healing, why the memory wipes?

There’s two options: Louis may have recognized the value of what Daniel offered but have still been unprepared to examine his pain, and so asked Armand to erase the memories. The other option is that, Armand, worried about another suicide attempt and Louis leaving him, took away that choice for him by erasing the memory. (What really strikes me here are the parallels between Armand and Lestat. Lestat kidnaps Claudia and threatens to kill her to prevent Louis from leaving him but also out of a desire to save Louis’ life, given his despair at Claudia’s absence. Armand arguably operates in the same way. Both do messed up things for somewhat pure as well as selfish reasons).

I think what actually happened could be somewhere in the middle of these two options—Armand manipulating/convincing Louis into erasing the memory, and a pained, still-healing Louis agreeing. And then of course, in typical Armand fashion, when the topic comes up, he dodges accountability with a, ‘But it was your idea, babe.’)

And yet, we see the effectiveness of Daniel’s intervention through the progress they make in the new interview session and once Louis recovers these memories in 2022—for example, we see Louis go from torturing Daniel for probing too far into Claudia, to facing deeply painful memories of her and acceding to Lestat’s version of the story of Claudia’s turning.

As a form of summary, we actually see this whole dynamic I’ve detailed play out in the beginning of the episode in Dubai (and that’s what’s so perfect about the writing!!)—when Daniel says ‘grab that’ and Louis asks about what he’s grabbing:

Louis (recorded): “Funny thing, trying to remember what occupied one’s time, when one was ignorant of the plotting around him.” Daniel: It’s a thing with syntax, I see it a lot. The impersonal pronoun ‘one’—one’s time, one didn’t—becomes the third person ‘him’. Stops being ‘I’ or ‘me’. Louis: And that indicates what? Daniel: You’re circling something, you’re getting close to something you want distance from. Language as a chicken exit on a roller coaster. Armand: Or it’s daytime and a vampire of Louis’ age is fighting the narcoleptic pull of the sun.

It’s the same ditty - Louis dissociates, Daniel identifies the pain point, and Armand tries to change the subject.

What’s lovely, then, is how this little exchange is prologue to the past playing out yet again the present. And so it comes to pass a few episodes later that Daniel uses his skills as a “bright young reporter with a point of view” to once again shine a light for Louis, getting him to see past the pain, and exposing the truth (Daniel voice: He didn’t save you, Lestat did!)

In conclusion: Best bros 4 eva!!

Thanks for reading! Medal for you, if you got this far!

#interview with the vampire #iwtv meta #iwtv season 2 #danlou #brawlingdiscontent #tumblr I wrote you an essay #There may not be an appetite for giant essays in this fandom #which is totally fine - but I’ve written one anyway because I’m stubborn and write for myself!#for the young'uns - the subtitles are references to cassette tapes and related technologies #iwtv edit

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into-the-grey · 3 months ago

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~I Can't Carry This Anymore~ ALT Version

Noah x F!Reader Fic

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. THIS ONE IS DARK.

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, depression,mental illness, burnout, blood, and death. This one is SAD, you have been warned.

WC: 1.7k

Taglist: @wh0th3h3llisbucky @blend-in-with-the-madness

I came across an old story I wrote for an assignment in a writing course, and it gave me this idea. I apologise in advance, this one is VERY trigger warning heavy, please, if you're not able to handle this one, don't force yourself through it. While I may not shy away from these topics, please do NOT try to handle it if you aren't able to.

I have also posted the original edition, which is also possibly triggering, but doesn't contain suicide material, but does contain talk of school shootings. You can read that one here if you feel safe to do so.

I acknowledge the sensitive nature of some of the topics discussed in this duo of stories, and please don't think I'm glorifying them or encouraging them. If anything, I beg of you, if you don't think you can handle these triggers, or your mental state is fragile in any way, PLEASE give these ones a miss and go read something fluffy. (yes I'm putting this on both.)

I know I'm probably being dramatic, it's probably nowhere near as graphic as I think, but the internet is a different place than it was when I was 14 and I just don't want anyone to suffer because I'm an idiot that enjoys writing about heavy shit.

The room was quiet, the lights off and the world outside was dim. Rain pattered softly on the window, the gauzy grey curtains masking the little light that peered through, casting shadows over your desk.

You sat at your desk, staring at the floor. It had been a while since your mind worked the way you wanted it to. Everything seemed to blur together, and you could hardly focus on the things you wanted to. It didn't matter how hard you tried, it was like words swam on the page when you tried to read, and everything outside your home felt dangerous. You felt unwelcome, so you stayed in your room.

The only interruption to your unending solitude was him. Noah. He would come and visit you sometimes, and he would talk to you for hours.

Today was one of those days. You knew it would be, but you weren't sure why. You just felt it in the air.

You heard his slow footsteps trudging up the stairs in the late afternoon. He had probably come from the studio, or maybe he'd been writing at home. You were never sure, but he came. That's what mattered.

He entered your room silently, closing the door and sitting on your bed. He sat silently for a moment, looking around the space. You gave him his time, letting him find what he wanted to say. You could see in his tense shoulders that it had been a hard day for him too.

'Fuck today has been rough,' he said quietly, confirming your suspicions as he picked at his fingernails.

'Do you want to talk about it?' You asked him gently, watching him as he swallowed hard. He chewed his lip for a moment, thinking through all the messy thoughts in his mind.

If there was anything you loved about Noah, it was that you could confide in him, and he confided in you. You would bear each other's misery when you needed to, helping each other get back to the good days.

'It's just been a lot to deal with, y'know? There's a lot of pressure from the label, and I'm not sure if I'm ready for the next steps yet. I don't feel like I've had enough time. I feel lost, like everything is so muddled, and I don't know how to straighten it all out.'

You nodded, understanding him perfectly. You had felt the same, drowning in the sea of obligations and the weight of your life pulling you under.

'If you need more time, tell them. They can't push you to do anything yet, can they?' You said, turning on your chair to face him properly.

He took a shaky breath, glancing in your direction.

'I want to say something to them, to tell them, but how do I know they'll understand?' he huffed softly, his eyes lowering to his hands again, picking at a loose thread on the hem of his black hoodie. 'The guys get it, they're supportive, but the label... Don't get me wrong, I love what I do, but this... it's a lot to process...'

'I know baby, I'm sorry,' you sighed. 'At least you have the guys. You're not alone in this, they can help you advocate for yourself.'

'They try to advocate for me, but they're still reeling too.' He sniffed hard, tears coming to his eyes. 'Everything just stopped, and it was out of nowhere. Sure, I guess we should have seen it coming, I'm sure it was building up for a long time, but we just... we didn't. I hate that we didn't see it, we could have done something, and we wouldn't have to do this. I feel like it's my fault.'

'Noah, baby, this is not your fault-'

'I know it's not, but I can't shake the feeling. I feel like I should have tried harder. It's been months of this, and I can't stop feeling this way.'

His shoulders shook as he breathed, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees. He couldn't seem to meet your eye. You could feel the heaviness of his shame radiating off of him, and it broke your heart.

'Noah, it'll be alright, I promise,' you told him, standing from your seat and standing awkwardly by him.

'One day it'll be better, I just wish I knew when,' he whispered.

You knelt down in front of him, searching his eyes in the low light. They glistened with heavy tears that started to trickle down his cheeks. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, unable to look at you. The guilt made his lip tremble, locking his fingers together tightly.

'So do I,' you told him, reaching for his hands. He stood, leaving your fingers hanging in mid-air as he crossed the room to look out the window.

'I haven't been able to sleep. The things people say, it's all I can hear...' He thumbed over a figurine on the windowsill, the porcelain cat cold beneath his fingers.

'Don't listen to them. You don't owe them anything, not your time, not your energy. You need to focus on you, baby.'

You stood, taking his place on the bed and watching him as he traced raindrops that ran down the window. You could see a hint of his reflection on the glass, catching the sad smile on his lips as stared out the foggy glass.

'Do you remember when we were kids? How we used to be outside in weather like this, jumping in puddles and slinging mud at each other until your mom had to hose us off?' he asked with a melancholy chuckle.

'I do,' you nodded. 'I remember when we tried to build a sand-castle out of mud, and it just kept collapsing. You were so determined to make it work.'

'Things were so much easier back then. So much simpler, no deadlines, no commitments, no gossip or rumours. I miss those days.' He huffed a laugh to himself, tears still dribbling down his cheeks.

'I know. I wish things could still be like that.'

He nodded, turning around and looking over the room. You watched as his eyes took in every picture, every painting, every memory that gilded the walls. You followed his gaze, feeling tears pricking your eyes as you saw his smiling face in so many of the photo frames.

He seemed to focus on the same one you did. Your favourite picture, the two of you bundled up in thick jackets and huge gloves, you with a beaming smile and him with all the love in the world in his eyes as he looked at you. His long hair blew around his face as he grinned at you, the camera in his hand as he took the selfie. You had never seen snow like that before, but he wanted to show you.

You were so young, so stupid, and so in love.

'I wish I'd told you that day that I loved you,' he breathed. 'I wish I hadn't waited.'

'I knew, love,' you told him, glancing back at him. He stood with his arms crossed, trying to look casual, but you knew he was desperately trying to hold himself together while he longed for better times.

'I know you knew, but I still wish I'd said it. We could have had so much more time together...'

'We were still together, Noah, we were still as close as ever.'

'It wasn't enough.'

You watched the memories dance across his mind, seeing him process every single one. The good days, the bad days, the worst days.

Noah let himself slide down the wall in front of the window, looking at the floor. If he looked hard enough, he was sure he could still see it. The remnants of the worst memory.

'I'm sorry you had to see me like that, Noah,' you said quietly, knowing exactly where his mind was. 'I don't know what I was thinking.'

'I know exactly what you were thinking,' he sighed. 'You felt as alone as I do right now, and that was my fault. I should have been here for you. Everything went so wrong, so fast, and I wasn't there for you.'

'You were busy, love. Your career was taking off, you had so much to do, I couldn't put all of my shit on you. It wasn't fair to expect you to carry my load when you already had the world on your shoulders.'

'I don't care, I should have been there,' he coughed, clearing his throat.

'I wish you weren't...'

Your admission hung in the air, falling on his deaf ears. He sat silently for a little while, just listening to the sound of the rain on the glass. You knew he was picturing it, seeing how you struggled to breathe, how you had detroyed the rug with your blood, how you were so pale...

The rug was long gone, but the memories would always remain.

He finally stood, and you mirrored his movements, following him to the door.

'I have to go, we have another dinner meeting tonight, but I'll be back,' he promised, his hand on the doorknob.

'I'll be here,' you told him, resting your hand on his shoulder. He looked back at you, his lips pulling into a tight smile as the tears fell faster. His hand raised, touching his fingers to yours on his skin. The sob he choked back broke his heart, seeing his lip curl back over his teeth as he squeezed his eyes shut.

'I love you,' he told you, his voice wavering. 'I love you so fucking much, and I miss you every single day.'

You wished he could feel you as you wrapped your arms around him, your cheek resting between his shoulders and holding him together as best you could.

'I love you,' you told him, praying that he could hear you, 'and I'm always with you. I'm so fucking sorry, Noah.'

He pulled himself together as best he could, but your family was used to seeing him leave in tears. He opened the door, and he stepped from your grip, turning and looking back into the empty room you were trapped in.

For just a moment, his eyes met yours. You could have sworn that he could finally see you, just for a second. His trembling hand raised, reaching towards your face as he blinked through his tears.

'I love you,' he whispered again.

'I love you,' you whispered back.

His hand dropped back to his side, and he stepped away, closing the door behind him.

You sat back on your bed, staring hard at the floor as you listened to his footsteps trudge away, your heart breaking in your empty chest. Regret had never been so heavy.

Death didn't solve a thing. So why did you do it?

Why did you kill yourself?

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #Trigger warnings

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hbyrde36 · 3 months ago

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Caught in the Undertow

Chapter Three

Ch 1 Ch 2 <-

WC: 4769 | R: Explicit | TW: Suicidal ideation, depression | Ch 3/10 | AO3

Note: Trigger warnings apply very strongly to this chapter, and it is probably the heaviest chapter of the fic.

Steve had been a little on edge all day.

He kept trying to convince himself that it wasn’t a big deal, that tonight would be just like any other post Upside Down fuckery get-together, nothing whatsoever to get worked up over.

But it was no use.

It was a big deal. Tonight would be the first time any of them had set eyes on Eddie since the night they’d killed Vecna—since the night they’d almost lost the other boy for good.

Assuming he actually showed.

Steve almost couldn’t believe it when Dustin called saying Eddie had finally come to the phone, and not only spoke to him but agreed to a party.

It seemed like a huge step after he’d so thoroughly cut them all off. Because no matter how many times Steve had told Dustin to give it time, that everyone heals from trauma in their own way, at their own pace, Steve knew that’s exactly what Eddie had done—he just didn't understand why.

It gave him a bad feeling about the night to come.

Still, the relief at hearing that Eddie had finally reached out to one of them, that Steve might finally get to see him whole and well after keeping him alive through sheer force of will alone, only to have Eddie ripped away from him at the hospital never to be seen again…

It had been enough to send him to his knees.

The phone rang, pulling Steve from his thoughts and forcing him to stop wiping the already clean kitchen counter to answer. It had to be Robin. He’d known this would happen. She swore she’d get her mom to drop her off for once so he wouldn’t have to venture out when Jonathan and Nancy were already picking up the kids.

"Hey, Rob. You need a ride after all?"

"Steve?” A voice that was definitely not his best friend’s came over the line. “It's Wayne."

"Oh! Mr. Munson. I thought—"

"Boy,” Wayne huffed, and Steve could practically feel him shaking his head. “How many times are you gonna make me say it?"

"Sorry—Wayne,” Steve corrected himself. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to calling the older man by his first name, it just wasn’t how he was raised, but Eddie’s uncle seemed hell bent on making sure he did.

"That's better."

"Is everything okay? Is Eddie...?" Steve clutched the phone with both hands, willing the knot forming in his stomach to go away. He could only assume either something had happened, or Wayne was calling to tell him Eddie wasn’t coming after all.

"He's fine,” Wayne was quick to reassure him. “As fine as he’s been, at least. He's in the shower now getting ready to head over to your place. I can't tell you how happy I am that he's finally going to see some of his friends."

"Me too. I… I know the kids miss him."

“Right,” Wayne huffed a laugh. "You say that as if you’re not a kid yourself."

Steve wasn’t sure if he was imagining the double meaning or not, but decided to ignore it.

“I guess I just haven't felt like one in a long time.”

Wayne hummed in understanding. "I hope it’s not too much to ask, but keep a close eye on Ed tonight, will ya? I know this is a good thing. Him getting out of the house feels like the first step towards him living his life again, but… well, you know I worry."

"It’s no problem," Steve said immediately.

As if that hadn’t already been his plan for the evening.

“Thank you, Steve. Oh, and I think maybe it’d be best if we don’t let on to Eddie that we’ve been talking. He might take it the wrong way, like we been talking bad about him behind his back. Would you mind keeping it between you and me?”

They sort of had been talking about him behind his back, but it wasn’t like that. It wasn’t malicious. And Steve knew there were things Wayne didn’t share. Half the time the older man simply told stories about Eddie growing up.

“I won’t say a word, promise.”

Steve's camaraderie with Eddie's uncle wasn’t something he ever could have predicted coming out of all this.

Wayne had been understandably skeptical when he learned that his nephew had been found, and his life saved by a group of kids, and that that group had included one Steve Harrington.

Steve’s dad and Wayne had to be roughly the same age, and Richard Harrington had long held a reputation for being a stuck up asshole. Steve also had no idea what tales Eddie might have come home telling about his own asshole years, so he could hardly blame the man for being wary when they’d first met in the hospital’s waiting room.

Regardless of his concerns, Wayne had still looked Steve’s number up in the phonebook and called, on one of the rare days he wasn’t already there haunting the halls of Hawkins General, to tell him that Eddie had finally woken up. Though at the time he still wasn’t allowed visitors.

They wound up talking on the phone for more than an hour, until Wayne ran out of change.

Steve couldn't tell Eddie’s uncle anything about the Upside Down or Vecna, for fear of violating the NDAs they’d all signed years ago, even if Brenner was dead now, and no one had shown up yet this time around to demand their continued silence. And to his surprise the older man didn't push, almost like he knew there were things Steve wasn’t allowed to share no matter how much he might want to.

He did explain, in the most sanitized version of events possible, that he and the others had been with Eddie the whole time. Trying to protect him, to hide him from the citizens that were hell-bent on hunting him down, while also dodging the advances of the real killer. And when the worst had happened, he—Steve, had done CPR, refusing to let Eddie succumb to his injuries.

It was all the truth he could offer, and really it wasn’t that far off. Wayne had cried quietly into the receiver, though they both pretended he hadn’t, and couldn’t seem to thank Steve enough.

Steve went on to tell him about the boathouse. How he hadn’t really known Eddie that well in school, but that even after the other boy had threatened him with a broken bottle to his neck, he quickly realized that everyone had it wrong. Under all the leather and chains, and loud brashness, Eddie was sensitive, kind, and wouldn’t hurt a fly unless provoked.

He even went so far as to say that he hoped, once the dust settled anyway, that he and Eddie could get to know each other better. Not the most damning of statements, but still more than he’d really meant to share. Steve wasn’t sure what had possessed him to be so honest. There was just something about Wayne Munson that made him feel comfortable and safe.

They spoke every single day after that. Either on the phone, or more often in person when both of them were camped out in the hospital’s waiting room with a revolving cast of others.

It’d been hard to hear that Eddie didn’t want to see anyone.

Wayne hadn’t said those exact words, of course, but it wasn’t hard for Steve to read between the lines. The entire group of them, not just those who had fought against Vecna from Hawkins, but Mike, El, Will, Jonathan, Jonathan’s friend Argyle who had inexplicably stuck around after driving the rest of them cross country in his pizza van— even though some of them had never even met Eddie, they all rushed to the hospital when word came down that their friend’s name had finally been cleared. His restrictions lifted.

Dustin took it the hardest, refusing to go home because if Steve wasn’t leaving, then why did he have to go? And Steve couldn’t really argue with that, he’d done this to himself. Thankfully Claudia showed up eventually and didn’t give her son the choice.

Steve continued to talk to Wayne often, still went to the hospital nearly every day, even though it was clear that reports on Eddie’s progress from his uncle would be all the proof of life he’d get. Wayne was always checking in on Steve too, asking if he was eating, sleeping, that sorta thing. It was kind of nice having an adult fuss over him like that, he’d almost forgotten what it was like.

Robin grabbed Steve by the hem of his polo, forcibly pulling him into the kitchen where Nancy, Jon, and Argyle were hanging out.

“Hey, watch it!” Steve yanked himself out of her grip, straightening his shirt.

Robin leaned in close to whisper. “You have to stop staring, dingus. You’re going to freak him out.”

Steve scoffed, keeping his own voice low. “As if he’s even looked in my direction once.”

“I know Wayne asked you to look out for him tonight, but don’t you think you’re taking it a little too seriously?”

“I told you that in confidence!” Steve hissed under his breath.

“Just relax. He seems fine to me.” Robin patted him on the arm and turned to join Nancy in her discussion about studying for finals.

She wasn’t wrong exactly. Eddie did seem fine—with everyone else.

Eddie had been the last to arrive and Steve worried at first that it might be too much, walking into a house full of people and being inundated by the likes of Mike and Dustin. He’d even said as much to the younger teens when they heard the squealing of brakes as Eddie’s van pulled up, warning them not to overwhelm him with questions or say anything about the hospital.

And for a moment Steve thought he’d been wrong.

Eddie came through the door, dimples on display, all big stupidly pretty smiles, a bit crooked now from the still healing scar near his mouth, but that only drew Steve’s attention to his lips more.

He hugged Dustin, reintroduced himself to Jonathan, who of course remembered him from school, met Argyle and El, and greeted everyone else one by one.

Everyone but Steve.

No one else seemed to notice the oversight, and Steve, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, proceeded to quietly brood in the corner, taking breaks only to freshen his beer so he’d have something to do with himself while he observed—not stared, Robin.

The longer he watched, the more convinced he became that Eddie wasn’t as okay as he was pretending to be. His already lithe frame looked even thinner now. He was swimming in his usual ripped jeans and faded Black Sabbath t-shirt. No, Steve still didn’t know who they were, but he could read damnit. And there was something in the set of Eddie’s shoulders, the way he clenched his jaw, balling his hands into fists when he thought no one was looking, a tightness around his eyes—eyes with dark bruising below that spoke of many sleepless nights.

Or maybe Steve was overreacting. Maybe this was just what happens when someone is recovering from almost dying in a hell dimension. Maybe it was a good thing Robin had pulled him away before he could do or say anything to embarrass himself.

Steve wasn’t sure how long he’d been milling about the kitchen making awful small talk with his ex-girlfriend, her boyfriend, and her boyfriend’s stoner best friend when Eddie came stumbling into the kitchen, Robin following close behind with wide eyes on her way back from the bathroom.

Eddie mumbled out an apology to no one as he banged into the counter before finding his way to the fridge where he took out a beer, and proceeded to down it in one go with the door still hanging wide open in front of him.

Steve shared a baffled look with Robin. There was no way Eddie had gotten that drunk off of the two, now three beers, he’d had since he arrived. He had to have started before he got there, or broken into Steve’s dad’s liquor cabinet in the office.

“Hey, Eddie… um, do you think maybe you should slow down?” Steve said cautiously, taking a tentative step towards the other boy as he popped open yet another beer.

At least he closed the refrigerator door this time.

“That an order, King Steve?” Eddie slurred out, looking Steve in the eye for the first time all evening. He swayed into Steve’s space, poking a finger into his chest. “How about you just mind your own fucking business for once, and leave me alone.”

Eddie’s words were biting, vicious, and Steve found himself taking a step back, holding his hands up as if surrendering. This time it was Nancy he exchanged a quick glance with. She looked just as confused as he felt, brows tightly furrowed, bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

“Man, that’s—that’s not—” Steve began, floundering for what to say. He didn’t understand what was happening, why Eddie was so angry. He thought they’d moved past high school reputations after everything. “I just don’t want to see you get sick or something.”

“Whatever,” Eddie made a dramatic show out of rolling his eyes, before fumbling in his pockets and pulling out his keys. “I’m outta here.”

When Steve hesitated, afraid to make it worse, Robin walked right up to Eddie and snatched the set of keys out of his hand. “Oh no you don't. No way we’re letting you drive like this.”

“Fine, I’ll walk!” Eddie snapped, moving to step around her, but found Jonathan his path.

“You can’t walk all that way, man,” Jonathan said.

“Watch me,” Eddie spun on his heel, nearly fell when he lost his balance, and almost ran into Nancy who had moved to block the other way out of the kitchen.

“There’s still people out there who are after you, Eddie. It’s not safe," she said.

Eddie laughed, but it was an unsettling, hollow sound, devoid of any actual humor. He looked at them all in turn with dull eyes. “Jesus H. Christ. What a meddling pack of fucking do-gooders you are. So what if they’re after me. Who cares?”

“I do,” Steve blurted out, unable to keep his mouth shut any longer. “We all do. We’re your friends, Eddie. Of course we care.”

Eddie scoffed, shaking his head as he rounded on Steve again. “Yeah, sure.”

“Look, I’ve got a guest room, why don’t you sleep it off and you can drive home in the morning.”

“You just looove telling people what to do, don’t you?” Eddie crooned, mockingly. “Maybe I don’t want to sleep it off.”

Robin moved to stand between them, facing Eddie. “What is your problem, huh?”

“You wanna know what my problem is?” Eddie asked, tilting his head, pointing an accusing finger behind her. “Him. He’s my problem.”

Steve had a horrible sinking feeling in his gut, but he tried to push it aside. It could be that Eddie was just an angry drunk or something, in which case, trying to reason with him right now was pointless, but he still had to ask.

“I don’t understand, Eddie. What did I do?”

“You should have fucking left me there!”

Everyone froze, the kitchen falling absolutely silent in the wake of Eddie’s words. Steve watched as all the blood drained from the other boy’s face, leaving him more ghostly pale than ever.

Eddie took a stumbling step back from Robin, pushing past Jonathan, who didn’t try to stop him this time, and took off. Steve listened for the sound of the front door opening and closing but it never came. Instead he heard a door slam down the other end of the hall where the bathroom was, and realized that Robin still held Eddie’s van keys in her hand.

The raised voices of Dustin and Max filtered in from the other room, snapping the group of older teens back to life.

“Shit,” Steve ran his hands roughly through his hair. “You don’t think the kids heard any of that do you?”

Argyle jumped into action, peeking his head around the doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room before turning back with an easy smile. “Nah, the little dudes are like, fully engrossed in arguing about what movie to watch, they’re fine.”

Steve raised his face to the ceiling, letting out the breath he’d been holding. Robin wrapped an arm around his waist, pressing her cheek into his arm.

“Nance, do you think you guys could drive everyone home?” Steve asked.

Nancy shrugged. “Yeah, yeah I guess, but… what are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure, but it feels like this is my fault somehow,” he said, leaning his head down against Robin’s for a moment, taking the comfort she offered while he could. He had a feeling the night wasn’t going to get any better from here. “So I should be the one to fix it.”

They told the kids that Eddie wasn’t feeling well, and had gone upstairs to lay down and needed quiet. They weren’t thrilled about getting kicked out, denied their big group sleepover, but Steve promised a raincheck and that seemed to smooth things over.

Dustin lagged behind when the others split off into Nancy’s car and Argyle’s van, shooting suspicious looks between Steve and Robin. “I’m not stupid, I know something’s wrong. Something you're not telling me.”

“Do you trust me, Henderson?”

“You know I do.” Dustin scowled. “But you can’t treat me like a kid forever.”

Steve drew him into a tight hug. “I know, just… let me handle this one, okay?”

“You’ll take care of him?” Dustin asked, voice muffled where his face was pressed to Steve’s chest.

“Yeah, buddy. It’s gonna be okay. I’ll call you tomorrow, I promise.”

Robin was the last to go, hovering in the open doorway while Nancy’s car idled out front.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?”

Steve would have loved for her to stay, to hold his hand through whatever the hell was about to happen, but he had a feeling he had a better chance of getting Eddie out of that bathroom without a crowd. And if Eddie wanted to keep taking his anger out on Steve, well, he could handle it, and at least no one else would have to hear.

“I’ll be alright.”

“Are you going to call Wayne?” She asked.

He’d already been waffling back and forth about calling the older man. He didn’t want to worry Eddie’s uncle even more than he already was, but he might not have a choice.

“If I say yes, will you go?”

Robin elbowed him hard in the side before throwing her arms around his neck. “What Eddie said, Steve… I-I don’t like the sound of that.”

Steve swallowed hard around the growing lump in his throat. “Me either.”

Steve approached the bathroom slowly, wrapping his arms around himself when he heard Eddie sobbing through the closed door, so sorrowful and loud that he could practically feel the other boy’s pain.

Steve’s heart broke.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself before knocking softly on the hollow wood.

The sound of Eddie’s cries was choked off abruptly, replaced with a muffled whimper. Steve could imagine clear as day the other boy sitting in there with a hand thrown over his own mouth, desperately trying to stifle the sound.

Steve squeezed his eyes shut, taking more deep even breaths as he bowed his head. He was intimately familiar with bathroom floor breakdowns, and not just the one he and Robin now looked back on with an odd fondness, the moment they became them. He’d spent more than one night on a cold tile floor. After the first demogorgon, after the tunnels, the Russians and the mind flayer, and just a few weeks ago, after Vecna—after Eddie.

Steve sat, pulling his knees to his chest, resting his back against the door frame.

“It’s just me, Eddie. Everyone else is gone. Do you… do you want to come out and talk? Or I could come in there?”

“Go away, Harrington,” Eddie said weakly.

“If you don’t want to talk, I could just sit with you.”

“Haven’t you done enough, King Steve? Just leave me alone, man.” Eddie's voice shook.

It was the same words he’d thrown in Steve’s face in the kitchen, but the sharp edges had been filed off.

Steve sighed, letting his head fall back against the door with a soft thunk. “Come on, Eddie. You know I'm not that guy anymore. I thought we had a moment back there, in the woods?”

He still had no idea where this was coming from. What had he done to make Eddie hate him all of the sudden?

Eddie let out another humorless chuckle. “A moment? What am I—your fucking prom date, Harrington?”

“You know what I mean. I thought we had an understanding, that we agreed we were both different than the other expected.”

“What part of any of this has convinced you that I’m not exactly the freak everyone says I am?”

“You’re not a—”

Steve’s reply was cut off by a metallic clatter on the other side of the door. His stomach dropped, his mouth went dry, and his heart began hammering in his chest. It could be nothing more than the chains from Eddie’s jeans dragging on the floor, but if it wasn’t…

Steve shot to his feet, trying the handle though he knew it’d be locked.

It was.

“Open the door, Eddie.”

“Fuck off.”

Steve jiggled the handle again. “Unlock this fucking door or I’ll break it down.”

Eddie scoffed. “You’re not gonna break your own door down.”

If Steve was right about what he thought might be happening in there, he’d do a lot worse than damaging a stupid door to stop it.

“Try me.”

Steve backed himself up, prepared to use his shoulder like a battering ram, when he heard the faint click of the lock disengaging.

The hinges squeaked as he pushed the door open carefully.

Eddie was huddled on the floor, wedged into the corner between the sink and the wall, curled in on himself. He rocked gently back and forth as he stared down at the knife gripped tightly in his hand.

Steve kept his movements slow, kneeling down on the floor as far from Eddie as the cramped space would allow.

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” Eddie whispered.

Steve swallowed back a pained sound, blinking back tears as his fingers itched to reach for the other boy, to hold him. He might not be the smartest guy in the room, but he was absolutely sure that when Eddie said here he wasn’t talking about Steve’s house.

He inched forward, holding his hand out.

“Please give me the knife.”

Eddie’s eyes, red rimmed and puffy, shot up to meet his, and they still held so much anger—but also a hint of fear. He snarled, but released his grip on the blade, letting it drop to the tile between them.

As Steve reached for it, retracting the blade and slipping it carefully into his pocket, he let his gaze roam over Eddie’s body, relieved to see no spots of blood on him or the floor. He wasn’t sure he could handle seeing Eddie part with his blood again.

Eddie hugged his legs to his chest, tucking himself into an even tighter little ball, glazing at Steve as he rested his head on his knees. “Always think you know what’s best, don't you? Who put you in charge, why do you get to make that decision?”

“I don’t—I don’t know anything, man.”

Eddie’s eyes fell shut, sending fresh tears cascading down his cheeks. “Why couldn’t you just leave me down there, huh? I was as good as dead. It would have been easier, safer.”

Steve opened and closed his mouth several times. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to pull Eddie into his lap and never let go.

Eddie sniffled loudly, wiping his face on his jeans. “I did what I did to keep Dustin safe, to make sure you had the chance to win, but I never planned on making it out of that place.”

Steve did reach out then, and surprisingly Eddie took his hand, letting Steve pull him to his feet—and didn’t let go. Eddie wouldn’t look at him, but he allowed himself to be led out of the bathroom, up the stairs, and all the way to the guest room where he finally let go, laying down on the bed to face the wall.

Steve hovered in the doorway, a little afraid to leave the other boy alone, but he had no idea what he was doing. He was in way over his head here. He needed to call Wayne.

“I’m not sorry that I saved your life,” Steve said quietly to Eddie’s back. “I could never be sorry for that, but I am sorry that you’re hurting.”

By the time Steve made it to the bottom of the stairs again he was a wreck, crying and shaking so badly that he almost dropped the phone as he dialed the Munson’s number from memory.

“Hello?”

The moment the call connected Steve’s legs gave out, and he slid down the wall to sit on the kitchen floor, thankful for the phone’s long cord.

“Wayne…” Steve sobbed out the older man’s name.

“What’s wrong? Is Eddie…?” Wayne’s panicked voice came loudly through the receiver.

Steve pressed the phone hard into his ear. “He’s here. H-he’s laying down in my guestroom.”

“What happened?”

“It’s… he… I can’t—I can’t—I can’t even say it.” Steve hiccupped, and his voice caught, his throat gone painfully tight.

“Breathe, son. It’s gonna be alright, but you gotta breathe. Go on—in and out, on my count.”

It took a few tries but Steve did his best to follow the man’s directions, concentrating on the sound of his voice as he counted off to five. Taking air into his lungs slowly, holding it for a beat, and blowing it out just as slowly until he felt a little less like he was going to pass out.

“That’s real good, Steve. You drop your head between your knees?”

He did, nodding as though the other man could see him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered.

Wayne clicked his tongue. “Nothing to be sorry for. Do you think you can tell me what’s going on now?”

Again Steve nodded to no one but the floor and the empty room.

“Eddie—he was drinking and I tried to get him to slow down, but he… he got so angry and then he said—” Steve cut himself off, unable to repeat the words, and skipped ahead to the worst of it. “He locked himself in the bathroom. I sent everyone else away, and I-I tried to talk to him, but… Wayne, he was in there, crying, holding that knife he carries.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line.

“Shit,” Wayne cursed softly. “I knew he was having a hard time, but I didn’t think…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault, kid. I just don’t know what to do, how to help him. I’m supposed to go back to work tomorrow night, I can’t afford any more time off. We might not owe on the trailer but there’s still bills to pay. I was already nervous about leaving him alone, and now—I can’t lose him, Steve.”

Steve didn’t even hesitate to make the offer. He’d been fired from the video store for missing too many shifts anyway.

“What if he stayed here with me for a while?”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Wayne said.

“You didn’t, I’m offering. I’m not working right now, so I can be home with him all the time and maybe—I dunno, maybe I can get through to him.”

There was a long pause before Wayne spoke again, where Steve was afraid the man would turn him down. "I know there’s things… stuff he can’t talk to me about, that he can talk to you about. Are you sure about this?”

“I’m sure, and I promise I won't let anything bad happen to him.”

“I know, son, you’re a good kid. Okay. Let me pack some of his things. I'll be there soon.”

Chapter 4

Thanks and love to @penny00dreadful and @pearynice for all your help and encouragement with this.

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

#Sad/Angst with a HAPPY ending #I repeat HAPPY ending #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fic #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #tw depression #tw sui ideation #robin buckley #wayne munson #cw depression #cw sui ideation

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leonstoenailunderhisbed · 7 months ago

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Lately, I’ve been thinking about Leon, Ada, and Claire. Especially on their relationships because I think they’re pretty interrelating so here’s another analysis made by yours truly <3

TW: mentions of mental illnesses, MY OPINION! + observations. This is strictly based on my knowledge. I’m majoring in English- doesn’t mean I’m 100% correct, it just means I’m pointing out some things that I thought were pretty cool. Take this with a grain of salt.

So I actually propose that we bring the color theory into play, mainly between Leon, Claire, and Ada.

In RE2R and in Infinite Darkness (death island too but I’ve yet to watch it), Leon is portrayed as blue. (His RPD uniform and his suit/jacket) back in my English class (film vs book) we talked about the different types of people and how the author/creator purposefully assigns a character a specific color.

By majority belief, the color blue represents sadness and often times calmness as well. However, I have a different view on why CAPCOM seems to love Leon in winter colors (blue/green/purple)

Leon is the definition of the Blue Character Theory- these types of characters are compassionate, loyal, confident, and can manage their emotions (keep it cool in other words) but sometimes these characters are prone to become over emotional (depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, etc.) and I actually wrote a small paragraph on Leon in infinite darkness about this because I found it so interesting that Leon- a cool and reserved guy, has these complicated emotions welled up inside him and one of the only ways we can tell is by the color of his representation. (Think of Euphoria and how colors really affected the way the characters act, especially Maddy and Cassie and how different they are.)

I’m also going to be hella bold and say that his eyes are a CLEAR representation on his character by color analysis. His eyes are blue, not only because he’s a white man- but because the “eyes are the windows to the soul” thing really does help us understand him better. They clearly did this on purpose to let the viewer catch a glimpse at Leon’s raw personality. His eyes are very expressive if you really REALLY analyze them.

And when you bring someone who is represented by the color red (Claire and Ada) there’s already an established connection between the two. Although Claire and Ada are way too different in personalities, I like to believe that they both have at least the same level of ambition, stubbornness and leadership. Red characters are known to lead or take matters into their own hands when the world is against them. If no one is going to help them then they’ll do it themselves.

In ID, Claire did her own investigation. She took charge and decided to that if no one would help her, including Leon, then she’ll just do whatever she can with the power she has. Ada is similar in that aspect. Ada has a way of getting things done her way, just like Claire. She uses the art of manipulation to make sure her plans are fulfilled, even if it means at the cost of others. She’s ambitious and goal-driven, much like Claire.

CAPCOM represents the two women in explicitly red or at least with red items (hair, dress, shoes, etc.) it makes me believe that they know what they’re doing when it comes to giving characters their own individuality.

Now, we know that blue and red are complementary colors based on the color wheel.

But we also know that Leon and Ada don’t really have a healthy relationship (I’ll get to this in another post near the future once I’ve got evidence) which is contrasting to Leon and Claire’s relationship. Which prompted the question: Why?

I mean, yeah Claire is Chris’s sister and by affiliation Leon enjoys her company. But it is also clear that the two of them worked very well back in RE2R (the fence scene) their chemistry and tension was high but when he’s with Ada, it seems different.

It is no doubt that Leon had/has (? I’m just as confused as bro tbh) a crush on Ada. I read somewhere from the notes on Leon that he was actually glad to have seen Ada in RE4R (not too sure for RE4OG since almost everything is about the remake)

CAPCOM purposefully follows the Red Oni/Blue Oni trope (a Japanese folk tale, shout-out to my professor for putting me on that) but what why are there two red ones and one blue one? Is CAPCOM keeping their choices open for Leon’s potential love life? I can’t say for sure what’ll happen or what everything means because this is something I over analyzed.

Remember, I’m only an English major student, I still believe my observations are pretty vague or at least a little bit underdeveloped. Hopefully sometime near the future I can make better analysis 🙏🏼

Also, tysm for all the amazing comments and reblogs 🥹🙏🏼 idk how to reply to reblogs but I really do appreciate the fact that you guys like my fics. I promise I have more to write (I have a list in my notes app lmao)

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #id leon kennedy #re4 leon #leon #leon kennedy headcanons #di leon #claire redfield #resident evil 4 #resident evil 2 #resident evil claire #ada wong #resident evil ada wong #re4 ada #re4 remake #re2 remake

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tiredgraduate · 4 days ago

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You want my honest opinion on some of the election statistics & politics right now? I never, NEVER, like to comment on politics, but I'm tired of being quiet and holding this in. There is no one I can be honest with and talk to other than you lovely people on the internet.

I voted blue as a young white christian woman. I was born and raised in the heart of a red state. My parents were considered super conservative, even to other Christians and conservatives. My extended family is still that way, to the point where asking genuine questions about history and reason is seen and taken as offensive and treacherous to the American good. When I went to college, I was still a very right-wing minded person. Here's the thing: I naturally have a soft heart. I don't like being mean, and I don't appreciate other people being crappy for no good reason. My upbringing in the church and my relationship with Jesus Christ both in and out of the church has only strengthened that part of me.

So, in college, I encountered a number of classmates and fellow musicians that were of other ethnicities, members of the LGBTQ community, and so much more. I learned quickly to see them as my cohorts and friends, and that I had no grounds to judge them based on their life and struggles. As they say, and I take literally, hate the sin, love the sinner. I couldn't care less if you're black, white, gay, trans, struggling with drug addictions, addictions to anything like porn, social media, etc.

I struggle with some of that too, which gives me no ground to judge. As the Bible says, "He who is without sin, cast the first stone." I am no better than anyone else, and I am actively trying to make that evident in my life.

As I said before, my ultra conservative christian family didn't like this. Not one bit of it. I managed to befriend and be a safe place for a number of my fellow musicians, because I knew about their bad experiences with other christians and the church, a recent burn from the church on myself, and their mixed family backgrounds that made my being an older sister that much more important. So, naturally, I started to lean more left, and at the same time, away from the "church."

To say I left the church would be accurate. Christianity, less so. It has been a rough four years in finding my faith again. But in the midst of that, I learned about the world around me from the perspectives of both christian and non-christian. I didn't have a reason to be spiteful or hateful towards a specific demographic (unlike some of my family).

Then I graduated and moved to New York, and let me tell you - blue state living is where it's at. But in stepping away from something you've been immersed in your whole life, you then see the issues within. I noticed this with the church, then with my family, and then my hometown and state. There are some SERIOUS issues with all of them.

This TikTok explains a lot of what I think of the modern "church:" https://www.tiktok.com/@k.t.phillips21/video/7434922467652554027?_r=1&_t=8rGnfwwJxNP

The church condemns so many things, until it applies to them. The burn from the church in my life came from a previous pastor telling someone to do something behind all of our backs, and that led to my family collapsing in on itself and my brother attempting suicide seven times. All because one man thought he knew what should be the case in a situation, and didn't think to bring God into the matter.

For my family, it's the same type of thing. The allowance of certain things, while condemning the same things when others struggle. It's exhausting. So, when I moved to New York, I blocked numbers, deleted others, and had a serious talk with my immediate family about boundaries and what being 20+ hours away meant. I happen to have understanding parents and siblings after the events of three years ago. On the other hand, my extended family is messed up. Constant asking of "are you depressed" or "do you have a boyfriend yet," while not actually caring about the answer, or just blatantly ignoring the truth. Recently, I cut off almost all of one side of my extended family because of a wedding happening in March between a girl who is barely eighteen and a boy (he is NOT a man, he just happens to be my cousin) who is TWENTY SEVEN. The relationship was arranged, and they recently decided to move the wedding up by 4 months because, and I quote: "he(cousin) just couldn't wait 😉." Mind you, his last relationship, he kidnapped from one state under the guise of "meeting the family" but was actually bringing her to another state after dating for three weeks to marry her without her family's knowledge or consent. It's messed up.

My hometown and state? Oklahoma. I think that question answers itself. Considering that it was completely red on Tuesday, and is the top state of searches "can I change my vote."

Anyways - I am disappointed in a lot of people. So many things were on the line in this election, and the fact that people are just now educating themselves on what this means now that they've re-elected Trump is ridiculous.

If a felon cannot get a job in some areas or vote, why the hell should one become president? Second - why is said felon SO quiet after winning? Something is wrong.

To my fellow women who voted blue, I'm sorry for what we're going to see and what we're encountering just days after the election. To the LGBTQ people who see this, I'm sorry too. To all of you blue (and some red) friends, I am sorry. I'm sorry that 53% of white women voted against a reasonable choice, and voted for a literal felon, rapist, and just crappy dude. I'm sorry that all of us are having so much mixed emotion about what the next 4 years looks like while my family and many others are home celebrating the idea of cheaper groceries. I wish I could hug many of you, because it's crappy that we're united and meeting like this.

To the people who voted red - I'm sure you've heard this already, but I really hope you get what you asked for. I hope you get what you wanted. I hope it affects you directly. I hope you see what happens when you don't educate yourself until it's too late. I hope you see what happens when you only look out for yourself. I hope you see how un-loving and un-Christian some of you are acting.

For the little boys (you are NOT men in my eyes right now) that keep saying "your body, my choice" and are saying so many crappy things to the women in and out of your life because you feel empowered by one president-elect: I hope you eat your words. I hope you manage to get your head out of your butt and see what you're doing. I hope you realize you've shoved your head so far up your butt that it came out of your throat and that's why you're acting the way you are. I hope you have to eat your words and get everything you think you're going to get and more.

I am lucky to be considered "safe" in a blue state, but I am still so heartbroken over my friends who aren't considered safe and have to deal with this stuff head on. I wish things were different. If any of you happen to know me in real life, take this to heart. If you don't know me, know this anyway:

I am sorry for how people in America are acting right now. I am sorry that we have to live in a nation so broken and frustrating. In the middle of it all, you are loved, and I pray now that something good comes out of this; that we learn to love and be loved, we learn to be gracious and forgiving instead of angry and condemning. I pray we learn to be people over Americans, that them and us doesn't continue, and that we learn what the right thing is and how we are going to move forward. If you need someone to be an ear or a friend, I hope you find one. Whether that is someone in real life, someone on another site, someone here, or even myself.

You are not alone ❤️

#queue #election 2024 #us politics #politics #you are NOT alone

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kwop-kilawtley · 2 years ago

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Bella’s depression months/suicidal tendencies/ hallucinations in New Moon are not “romantic,” sorry. It’s just horrible how traumatized she is. Imagine being a 17 y/o girl who never dated anyone and the first person you date is a mythical creature who essentially is the idea of perfection. It knocks down your self esteem even more, makes you feel embarrassed for not being enough and then after you almost died at the hands of others of his kind, he leaves. Leaves you for dead.

How is it romantic that she now sees no worth in her own humanity? That she deems life useless without him. Then Jacob comes along and makes her see life can be good again. She falls in love with Jacob naturally and effortlessly. If Edward and Bella were truly “fated” and “meant to be,” Bella wouldn’t be so in love with Jacob the way that she is. Jacob is the only person who truly understands her and he would do anything for her. He would protect her and keep her alive.

Bella choosing Edward is literally suicide and allows her to be stunted, to not fix her self esteem issues. Yet this is supposed to be romantic somehow?? The text literally leads you to believe that Bella will grow and get out of her depression with the help of Jacob. And he totally could have because she could’ve been open about the vampire secret since he knew about them too. It only makes sense in my mind she chose him. She actually has fun with him, he understands her personality better than Edward, understands her mind better than Edward. Their love is so intense that she even says she may have actually chosen Jacob if she hadn’t known what losing Edward felt like. She was so deeply traumatized by him leaving she couldn’t even bear the thought of having to heal. But she almost did. She could have.

The fact Bella cannot let Jacob go all throughout Eclipse even after Edward comes back is proof that she’s not fated to be with Edward. Literally no matter how many times I read these books I will never see it that way even though her narrative wants you to believe that in the end. Like sorry but having cutesy quotes and ogling over his physical perfection every second without there really being true reason behind it, just doesn’t hit for me. They were together for mere months and she’s already talking about “I want to be with you forever.” Like yeah that was me in high school too with the first person who ever gave me attention. I didn’t know any better tho. Now pair that with someone who literally hypnotizes humans lol.. yeah she didn’t stand a chance. Yet her lack of autonomy is romantic? Gross. She even says “it’s like Sam & Emily, I never had a choice.” How does anyone find this romantic LMAO.

If Bella had no feelings for Jacob and he had no good aspects of him and he wasn’t trying to keep Bella alive the whole goddamn time then no one would be for Jacob. But she literally is in love with him, it’s just not “magical” bullshit love. Which doesn’t even make sense for her btw. She doesn’t have any development whatsoever. Vampirism is just her bandaid and Jacob and the entire wolfpack are done dirty.

She tries to die and hear voices of her ex who abandoned her yet that’s romantic lmfao. New moon is legit based off of Romeo & Juliet, a tragedy where they both die. Bella & Edward simply shouldn’t have had a happy ending. Naturally it doesn’t make sense that they do, which is why breaking dawn is such a shit show. Because their relationship just doesn’t make sense and only harms them and everyone around them.

& before anyones like “it’s just a fantasy stop analyzing it wahh” no <3 these books shaped my way of viewing relationships as a teenager and it should be talked about how harmful some of the messages in the series are.

#twilight #twilight renaissance #team jacob #jacob x bella #jacob black #new moon #bella swan #bella x jacob

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sociopathicartist · 20 days ago

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SOCIOPATHICARTIST!!!!!!! GIVE ME A ONESHOT WITH FELL SANS, AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!!!!!!!!

..(please)

Heyyy! I will totally give you this Fell Sans one-shot, I’ll figure out what to do with your life later ;3

TW: Suggested suicidal / depression topics.

Sans yawned, chomping his teeth back down together in a sharp ‘click’ as he stared down at his shotglass. “so, how ya been holdin’ up?”

You scoffed and laughed, looking away from him as you spoke. “We talked yesterday, you know how I’m ‘holdin’ up.”

The two of you were seated in a booth table pushed off into the corner of the singular roomed bar- one that neither of you expected to find each other at.

Usually, you’d stumble into each other at Grillbys- or would randomly show up to the other’s apartment, rummaging through the fridge first for anything good while you both talked (his fridge was always overflowing with lasagna and dijon mustard) - so finding each other at some random bar in an unpopular part of the city at midnight was unexpected.

Naturally, when you waltzed into the bar entirely ready to drink your mentality away and call an Uber home, you didn’t expect to see your best friend sitting at one of the booth tables in the very back corner all alone, tracing his pointer phalange around the rim of his shot glass with his mandible propped up on the ‘palm’ of his hand.

Your first thought was to try and scare him, and you had the full and honest intention to do so and honor your duties as a best friend, but for some reason something kept you standing in the entryway of the bar, staring blankly at him from across the room.

The fact that he looked exhausted wasn’t what bugged you, he always looked exhausted and with how well you knew him, he pretty much always was exhausted and on the brink of falling asleep anywhere.

It was the sight of him looking so….. empty.

His red pinprick was lit up even though he was sitting alone, so he wasn’t comfortable being here right now. At least not enough to bring back his soft white pinpricks. His permanently upturned smile was lax, similar to how it was when you saw him sleeping. He just looked so numb.

It caught you a bit off guard. He was a pent-up angry guy- that’s for sure- but he was still extremely emotional, either making stupid comments while laughing or expressing his annoyance or yabbering on about his most recent terrible event, only showing his ‘softer’ side where he could relax a bit more around both you and Papyrus.

So… Seeing him so numb and empty just startled you a bit.

You shuffled slowly over to where he was sitting, unintentionally making him jump and swat away your hand when you gently tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention.

Obviously, you joined him to sit.

“ya, sure i saw you yesterday.” Sans slurred his words, a habit in his normal speech that he had even when he wasn’t drunk. “but s’ twelve o’clock in ta morning, anyone out here at ta’ bar is either havin’ a bachelor party or is lookin’ to erase their day with their thoughts.”

God, if you hadn’t gotten so used to listening to him all the time then you’d seriously have a hard time understanding what he was saying due to how his speech formed.

“Just because I want to drink at twelve AM doesn’t mean that I’m trying to erase my day.” You tapped your fingers on the wooden booth table, the polish on it a bit nicked and worn down. “Maybe you’re self-projecting, Red.”

Sans rolled his red eyelight. “that’s not my name, quit callin’ me that.”

His words were mindless, you knew it. If he really hated that nickname then he’d probably be a lot more worked up about you dropping it so much into the flow of conversation.

“s’ just a long day, s’ all.” He mumbled quietly through his sharp teeth, and you swore that you could almost hear the ‘bling’ effect when the light reflected on his golden tooth.

“Yeah?” You smiled a bit at his openness, never getting over the pride that he was so comfortable around you that he didn’t even think twice before opening up. “Tell me about it, sweetheart.”

He was unphased by the nickname you slipped in, having heard it from you many times just like he dropped it on you. “just one of those days. nothin’ too much happened, jus’…”

Sans trailed off into silence, and you knew what he was talking about.

Neither of you had directly talked about it before, but it was obvious that Sans was depressed.

You didn’t blame him, it was something you were struggling with too, and with his life back in the underground that left a lot of mental and physical scars on him, healing wasn’t necessarily the easiest thing.

He had tried therapy.

He had been hanging out more with his friends.

He had picked up hobbies.

He did everything he was supposed to.

So why did he still wake up feeling like this in the mornings? He wasn’t in the underground anymore, he should be happier, he was making so much effort toward a better life, but for some reason he still found himself stuck in this gray area that embasked his mind.

Even with his brother, Papyrus, there was still that dull feeling.

You were the only person he could breathe around and just be numb.

“y’know how it is, sweet stuff.” Sans grabbed his shot glass with his pointer phalange and thumb, tilting his skull back as he straight shot it down through his teeth, the magic liquid dissipating instantly inside him.

You watched as he set the empty shot glass back down on the buffed wooden table, and for the first time tonight, he finally looked at you.

God damn if you weren’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. It was fucking candy to his eyes, even when it was midnight and both of you were deadbeat exhausted, your hair a bit messed up, and your makeup is long taken off.

Fuck, he could just stare at you all day.

“Yeah, I know.” You offered him a small smile, taking in how his red eyelight vanished within the first few seconds of just looking at you, being replaced by his soft, white pinpricks that chipped away the fake-gruff personality he had.

Both of you were quiet, just staring at each other and exchanging the same unspoken thought that you both had each time you hung out.

Neither of you wanted to admit just how much you liked staring at the other, and neither of you wanted to admit that you would be open to doing a lot more than just gazing longingly.

“so, sweetheart.” His tone was almost tsk’d, and his words were surprisingly sharp sounding on the ends. “whassa about your night, hm?”

“My night.” You sighed, your hands falling from the table and onto your lap as you sunk down into the booth chair, almost sliding under the table. “Just one of those days.”

Your words mimicked his, and he let out an unpleasant snort before he realized how far you were sinking into the booth chair.

“where ya goin’ slidin’ down like that? those floors are fuckin’ disgusting if you’re plannin’ on falling down on ‘em.” Sans commented in his usual, snarky tone that was joking and lighthearted.

Ew. Yeah, you can only imagine how gross not just the floors were but the booth seat you were also sitting on was. You quickly planted your feet on the ground and pushed yourself back up into the seat.

You once again found yourself staring at the tough skeleton for a few seconds longer than you should. “Guess my plans of sinking into the ground are ruined, some skeleton freak told me that it was too gross.”

Sans rolled his pinpricks again. “guess so.”

You pressed your thumbs together in your lap as you looked at him, noticing all the little nicks and grooves on him that not many people would notice unless they really looked at him.

Like how you looked at him.

There was a deep scar that began on the very edge of his mandible, somehow not very noticeable because it only began on a very small nic of his mandible, and continued down onto the first notch of his vertebrae that lined his spine connecting to his skull.

It was easy to figure out that he got it from being held down with a knife of sorts pressed sharp up against him under his skull.

Another scar he had was on his left hand- his dominant one which he always did everything with- a scar that slid across each of his metacarpals, showing that he either accidentally cut himself deep or someone slashed his hand when he went to grab something.

The most noticeable one (his metacarpals were usually covered up with fingerless gloves) was a little chip on the bottom of his eyesocket. While this was a bit harder to spot, it was more noticed since his eyesockets are where anyone looks at for eye contact, so if you’re looking at him close then anyone could probably see it.

It was small, sure, just a very small chip in a similar spot as his brother's deep, slashed scar. He could have easily got it from running into a pole or something- which sounds like something he’d do- but with his past, it was also very plausible that he got it from being ganged up on.

Where he didn’t have scars, he occasionally had little grooves or small surface nics on his smooth bone anywhere, just natural wear out that Papyrus also had from simply existing and falling over, running into something, accidentally cutting themselves, and so on.

“i think i know what you’re problem is.” Sans spoke to you, tearing you away from your mental daze of thoughts. “you gotta fuckin’ starin’ problem.”

He wagged his pointer phalange side-to-side in the ‘no’ motion, deciding to poke fun at you. “didn’t cha’ parents ever teach ya manners? that starin’ s’ rude?”

You sighed, giving him an unamused expression. “Har, har. You have a staring problem too, stupid bitch.”

“shut up.”

“You shut up.”

Your playful jabs died as the two of you went quiet again.

Why was everything in slow motion right now? You hadn’t even drunk anything like you intended to, unlike Sans, even though he wasn’t even tipsy. The two of you typically talked back and forth without the conversation ever dying, was it suddenly different because of the midnight atmosphere?

You slowly grabbed onto the table and pushed yourself out of your seat, stepping over to the other side of the booth as you slid onto the side that Sans was at.

“whatcha doin’?” His tone was genuine, and he wasn’t teasing you (for once) with his questions.

You scooted close to him, looking at him from a familiar and close angle. “God forbid I want to sit next to my best friend.”

Maybe you were delusional, but Sans was looking at you in a certain way that you had only seen him have when you caught him staring at you, and he’d always either quickly look away or pass it off by pretending to glare at you and playfully bat your arm.

Now didn’t feel like the right time to jokingly hit each other and look away though.

“kay.” Sans looked back down at his empty shot glass, his hands zipping the zipper on his jacket up and down slowly.

You snuggled back into the seat, leaning your side against his and tilting your head to the right to rest it on his shoulder. “Sans?”

Unlike how most people would expect him to be, Sans slowly wrapped his arm around you, pulling you in a bit closer as you looked at nothing. “yeah? whassit, sweetheart?”

Even though the moment was quiet, and the only sounds were the soft jazz on the speakers and the quiet laughter and chatter of drunk people in the bar, you didn’t feel like now was the right time to say what both of you were thinking.

So you said something else instead.

“I’m here for you for days like these, you can always go to my house and talk instead of some random bar.” You knew he hated sappy stuff, and so did you, but it was the next best honest thing you could think of rather than what you originally wanted to say.

“yeah…” Sans traced small circles on the side of your arm, closing his eyes as he sunk a bit against you. “i know.”

Neither of you exchanged another word - partly because it only took a few minutes for you both to fall asleep and get kicked out by the owner of the bar at four in the morning, clearly having overstayed your welcome.

Both of you laughed about it at the moment as the two of you walked back to your nearby homes together, but you knew that there were lingering unsaid words in the air.

Maybe some other day.

#undertale #undertale au #undertale alternate universe #sans #sans undertale #sans x reader #sans x you #sap #classic sans #sans headcanons

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pancake-breakfast · 1 year ago

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CW: Trauma and Suicidal Ideation

Once we reach volume 6 of Trigun Maximum, I think it's fair to say that no one in our party of protagonists understands Vash on an emotional level more than Meryl. After all, she's the one who got a full dose of Vash's emotions back in the Dragon's Nest.

It seems like a lot of what we see of Meryl in Volume 6 is her trying to process all of that, which honestly would be rough for anyone. We've seen how Vash himself is processing it and that can easily be summed up as "not well." It's not exactly a surprise that she's showing signs of depression and suffering from night terrors all throughout the first chapter. But in spite of the fact that Vash (likely inadvertently) traumatized her with both his history and the reveal of what he is, she remains so concerned about him.

The first action we see her take after coming across his memories isn't to try and flee or defend herself from him, but to shoot at Legato. There are five superhuman beings stuck in a deadlock, and then there's her, a mere normal human, and she's the one who breaks that deadlock. She sees what she needs to do and, despite the tears in her eyes, she does it without hesitation to defend herself and her friends.

She may be small, but her power is adequate.

And when everything dies down, she's the first to verbally check on Vash.

This question is kind of loaded, though. On the surface, she's asking if he's ok and back in control, but she could also be asking a myriad of things about what the hell even happened just now, or what happened in July, or how everything she saw about his arm in his memories has affected his wellbeing and how he's coping.

Vash's response is meant to reassure her, but it's so vague it does little to dispel anything but the fear of immediate danger (be it to himself or to others around him). It's no wonder Meryl is still haunted by so many thoughts and feelings after all this; they really needed to sit down and have a long talk about what happened both in the Dragon's Nest and in what she saw in his memories. But they don't. And so Meryl is left floundering.

It's something that's gonna bite them both in the ass sooner rather than later. Much, much sooner.

But again, as we move into the next chapter ("The Gunslinger"), Meryl's primary concern still isn't about Vash's destructive capability. It's about whether or not he'll be able to survive his next gunfight. 'Cause there's always a next gunfight for Vash.

Sorry, I lied. That's not the face of someone who's afraid their friend won't be able to pull a trigger to save their own life in the next gunfight (which is playing out in the now right in front of her for this scene). That's the face of someone who is deeply concerned for her friend whom she know is absolutely drowning in the sorrow of his past actions, of having pulled a much bigger trigger than the one of the gun now in his hand (or even of the Punisher that Vash has seen fit to commandeer for this mission), and who has every reason not only to go to great lengths to never repeat the mistake of July again, but enough regret to possibly let even the lowest of lowlife scum put a bullet in his own head to keep that from happening.

She thinks of his angel arm, but her immediate thought isn't, "Oh, no! What if he goes off again?" Her thought is, "Oh, god. He's carrying waaaaay too much emotionally, it's making him suicidal, and he is going to die here."

So, then, what's up with this reaction a few chapters later when Vash accidentally releases just a tiny bit of his power to stop a bullet?

My thought is this is the conversation Vash and Meryl didn't have coming back to bite them both in the ass.

Meryl hasn't had a lot of time to process these memories, and as best we can tell, she hasn't talked about them to anyone. Wolfwood kind of gives her an opportunity, but instead the two of them get caught up in denying they know as much as they know. If they'd instead had a conversation about Vash, it might have helped Meryl find a place for some of this.

But the person she really needed to have that conversation with is Vash.

While Meryl's flashback is of the events of the Dragon's Nest, from what we saw at the end of the Dragon's Nest arc and in the Gunslinger chapter, Meryl isn't that afraid of Vash and his power. The one who truly fears Vash's power is Vash himself.

Despite Vash having only recently regained his memories of July, he's still intimately aware that he has immense raw destructive power. But it's been over two years since he blew a hole in the moon, and even before that he had literal decades to build up the determination that (usually) keeps him moving forward when the horrors are too great. Meryl has had... what, a week? A month? A few days? Not nearly enough time.

If she and Vash had spent some time talking over what they both learned about him in the Dragon's Nest, it might at least help Meryl recognize what parts of it are her and what parts of it are him. Even if it didn't, it might have helped Vash contextualize her panic in this scene and find a better way to respond, or helped her to dig up the words for it before the boys ran off, since she would have spoken them them already in a more controlled setting.

But that didn't happen. So instead, we get to see all of Vash's fear and panic over what might happen if he loses control manifest in Meryl. And it manifests as screaming, trembling, and tears seemingly without end.

Thank God for Milly, or it might have resulted in her feeling the same kind of loneliness and isolation Vash feels, as well.

#cw trauma #cw sui ideation #trigunbookclub #meryl stryfe #trigun maximum #trigun manga #volume 5 #volume 6 #character analysis #manga analysis #pancake thoughts

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doctorpandorica · 3 months ago

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So Fanfiction, Deadpool and Wolverine, and Logan, made have a fucking epiphany about my mental health. Seeing it sky rocket at the box office, gives me hope that A, I am not alone and B, the world can be a better place. And I have to say, I really do believe both Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman deserve the world.

For the first time in my life yesterday, I looked at myself and thought I look pretty. The FUCKING kicker is I did again this morning and I felt the same way. Maybe just a baby step, but it's a step in the right fucking direction mother fuckers. But, How did I get here (Yes, I'm pulling this shit on you).....

I have horrendous fear of endings and I finally learned....or accepted it's because it's symptomatic of my misery. Things like desperation, depression and anxiety can trick you into the allure of mistaking familiarity as comforting, even when it's hurting you. That you are far less that what you are actually and are deserving of far less than you actually do, that the consequences of our choices are proof that our pessimistic view is the whole of reality.

But, it's only half of the truth and that is the majesty of realism, seeing the glass is both half full and half empty. The best understanding of Pessimism, Optimism and realism can be explained in a quote by William Arthur Ward. Where the three are stuck out at sea on a sail boat,

"The Pessimist complains about the wind; the optimist expects it to change; the realist adjusts the sails."

To make the best choices in life you need to see every possibility and my heart goes out to those that are so blinded by pessimism, hope seems like fairy tale. I mean it's hard enough even if you can see things are possible but, it's still a bitch of an up road battle.

Which brings me to one of the most devastating ones in my life, the death of my dad. I always wondered how someone who seemed so sure of himself, could understand my pain so well. In hindsight I knew he had very hard life, it shouldn't have surprised me that he not only had crippling OCD, Anxiety but, depressions that at times reached suicidal ideations.

I was more my father's daughter than I realized, and took those fucking movie, to really appreciate what that meant.

Don't blindly accept things, ask questions.

If I had, I would've realized it's not that I don't care what others think, I'm really fucking depressed. And that's why I don't put effort in what I wear, or personal hygiene or wear make up. Never assume to know who you are, that's part of the majesty of life, that not knowing.

You never truly fail, until you give up.

For more clarity , I would like to add, some words of wisdom from a beloved science teacher,

"If at first you don't succeed, find out why"

Treat people fairly, across the board "Give people a chance"

To be sparingly coupled with, both

Trust your gut

This requires a lot of hard work, with self regulation and introspection. I've found DBT or Dialectical Behavioral Therapy to be very helpful. Which I must add the following because, I was wrongfully diagnosed with Autism (feeds into the dangers of acceptance). My therapist who diagnosed me ironically introduced to me the saving grace that is DBT. But, told me it wouldn't help me because I am autistic which she came to the conclusion based on ...

Flat Effect

Only developed when I hit puberty, the same time I developed depression and anxiety. People don't develop autism later on in their life, they are born with it.

Black and white thinking

If anything I think this is the problem with society and for anyone to say this about me, has obviously never heard me talk about anything. I found this utterly insulting

Anger prone

Repressed emotions and didn't start happening until 20's

Lack of Eye contact

I get really nervous around meeting new people, particularly if they stand really close to me for some fucking reason. Once I get to know people I have no problem looking them in the eye.

Lack of Socialization

Low self-esteem brought on by my Depression

Social Anxiety and general Anxiety (fear of doing something wrong)

I actually do have a desire to socialize, but mistook relief after social based anxious episodes as me not liking it.

The same was done with someone very close to me, who was told they were Bipolar even though it didn't fit. They chose to trust they 're doctor, and was proven insanely wrong by they're new Doctor who aptly diagnosed them as having Borderline Personality and they are doing so much better.

Anyway I participated in a DBT group for about 16 weeks or so, one of which was diagnosed late in life with a form of autism. And the difference by the end of those weeks only strengthened my faith in DBT.

Don't start anything, but always finish

Don't go looking for a fight but, stand up for yourself when necessary, emphasis on necessary.

As long as people aren't hurting others or themselves, mind your own business

For some people this can be tricky, especially for those guided by their idealized narratives of the world. Again DBT can help with this in the grand scheme of things.

I mistakenly thought, that because I didn't seem to react how I would expect (bad assumptions) that I was fine. Even though, I was able to acknowledge that I was deeply depressed, which I was able to trace back to age 11, which for clarity was 20 years ago. Which fun fact I only discovered in my senior year of high school, followed by my anxiety a year later my first year of college. IT IS NEVER TOO LATE !!! EVEN IF YOU ARE GOING TO DIE TOMORROW!!! HAPPYNESS MAY NOT BE A CHOICE BUT THE PATH TO IT IS!!!

More In-depth analysis of how Hugh Jackman, Ryan Reynolds and Marvel factor into follow in follow up post. Because This post is too damn long, already. Thank you to those who read it all the way through , I wish you contentment.

#Deadpool #Wolverine #Deadpool and Wolverine #Hugh Jackman #Ryan Reynolds #DBT #Trauma Dumping #Hope #Choice #Realism #pessimism #optimism

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beanghostprincess · 10 months ago

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Sanji has helped me in so many ways. I will forever be grateful for the creation of this character. He quite literally means the world to me right now.

(TW: ED/Depression/Suicide attempt mention)

I've always struggled with food. Well, not always. But at the end of middle school (more or less. Give or take. Age 12/13) I became obsessed with what I ate. I still don't know exactly how it started, but I think it has always been a mix of my need to control my life when it's crumbling down and the necessity to look skinny (both things are my mother's fault, mostly. And also lots of things going on at the moment). So I started skipping meals constantly and throwing away food and throwing up. Not gonna get into details, but it ruined my life without anybody knowing until a huge depressive episode came and then I tried to off myself, yadda yadda yadda. Then I just stopped eating food and my meals every day were basically a monster and gum and maybe a piece of fruit. I couldn't even drink milk without crying. Then it got a bit better. Then a bit worse. It wasn't very consistent. And then I started doing exercise but that only made me even more obsessed with calorie intake and healthy food and I still can't drink milk or bread without at least feeling awful about it.

And then I watched One Piece.

I know it sounds extremely silly and dumb, but it has helped me in so many ways. I'm not gonna get into all the things it has done for me, because then I'd have to talk about Robin, Nami, Luffy, Pudding and Buggy which are, like, the characters that have helped me the most next to Sanji, and I would not finish this post.

But Sanji is just so, so important to me.

He speaks about food with such passion. His whole thing about not wasting food literally comes from an experience of starvation and because of the sacrifice his father made for him. He keeps saying he refuses to let people go hungry, no matter what. That we all deserve to eat. He relates food to love and cooking is his whole life. It kind of started as a joke when my brother said "nooo, now you can't waste food because Sanji would be sad" and I- That day I literally ate wayyy more than usual with that thought in mind. And I didn't feel bad afterward for once. And he's just- He just makes me feel so comfortable around food. Which is the normal amount of comfort somebody should have and sometimes it's not even that, but it helps. It helps so much.

Then his whole thing with Germa and the Vinsmokes. It killed me. My relationship with my mother is, uh, you can call it complicated but I fucking hate her so. Yeah. And Sanji's story about rejecting his blood relatives and finding better people who will love him hit so close to home. Him being different. Weak. More emotional. A good person. Sanji refusing to use the name Vinsmoke. It's my whole life. Sanji self-sabotaging himself all the time and constantly sacrificing himself, too? I just can't do it, man, he means the world to me. And then Wano happens and he turns out to have the same body as his siblings but he's still himself. He's still Sanji no matter how much in common he has with the Vinsmokes. And as somebody who's constantly dealing with people telling them that they look like their mom? I fucking love it. I know I look like her and I even act like her sometimes but that doesn't mean I am her. And it doesn't mean she deserves to be part of my family, because she isn't and I can't wait to get rid of her in my life.

It's not only food and family, though. Sanji has helped me accept myself in so many ways too. In the way I perceive others and in the way I act. He has helped me eat. He has helped me realize you don't have to consider your blood relatives family if you don't love them. He has helped me see that my kindness is a strength and not a weak spot.

Not to mention that his whole thing with gender and sexuality, how the fandom portrays him, and how I personally write him has been of so much help in understanding myself. I recently discovered I was a lesbian, and also being genderfluid I just- I just love Sanji so much I be projecting my gender issues and internalized stuff with comphet on him. And let me tell you, it helps.

This whole thing is just something short and sweet I wanted to say because media affects people. In the best of ways. One Piece in general has saved my life in many ways, but Sanji in particular is still helping me every day.

#i love you sanji i love you i love you #i started crying while i wrote this lmfao pathetic behavior sorry sorry i love my boy too much #but one piece is literally my favorite thing i swear i haven't been happier in years #and i still struggle a lot with everything but it's a lot of help #one piece #black leg sanji

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yuri-is-online · 10 months ago

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Same Anon here that dropped that mess of an angst post lol. Maybe I should find some name for myself if this becomes a regular thing.

There are a lot of valid points there. For as lightly as the story treats everything, wow this would be messed up irl. But I digress, I personally can see this potentially taking a much darker route. I don’t know if you’re comfortable talking about this so TW: Brief mention of suicide

I imagine Yuu to just bottle everything up for the aforementioned reasons of being seen as weak for expressing any of their emotions only for it to all come out in one big mental breakdown. I think it would be quite poetic for Yuu’s breakdown to be more of a quiet self-destructive thing just to contrast the showy, outwardly destructive nature of the overblots. I always thought it could be some spur of the moment decision to just end it all out of sheer hopelessness and a thoroughly crushed sense of self-worth. I just can’t see a teenager handling a burden this heavy very well. Whether or not Yuu survives could be up to how dark you want to go.

Also if it isn’t too much, I would like to see that post about the boys’ individual reactions to Yuu running away sometime. But I’m aware you only write for a few at a time so…

You are more than welcome to give yourself a name! I don't have any named annons so you are free to choose anything you like, and make regular appearances if that is what you wish. While I try to only write for a few characters at a time, I don't mind doing a bullet point type post with my thoughts on the boys reacting to Yuu running away sometime, but I need to think as part of me wants to write something sappy and romantic, while the other part wants to focus more on Yuu and their character. I could do both I suppose (￣ω￣;)

I'm fine with talking about suicide, but since it's a sensitive subject I am going to place my thoughts under read more and tag it so if it is something you, dear reader, are triggered by you needn't see more than you are comfortable with.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, discussions of suicide and depression, isolation, abandonment, and missing persons. This also kind of takes a trip into theory town I am so sorry annon. Please do not interact with the words below if you do not wish to think on such things.

I want to start out by saying that when a person is depressed it is not always obvious, even if they are contemplating suicide. We don't have a complete understanding of what drives someone to kill themselves because we can't ask people who have. I do think there is an element of assuming that either the world or you will be better off if you are dead; which I would like to stress simply is not true, but you are not evil for struggling with that feeling even if people try to make you feel like you are.

Yuu's breakdown being "more of a quiet self-destructive thing," as you stated dear friend, would be extremely poetic. To me it highlights the disparity between Yuu and the overblot boys. They have power and are able to hurt others to try and make themselves feel better, Yuu has next to none and is only able to hurt themselves.

Crowley mentions that there is counseling available to all NRC students, assuming the school follows real life laws we can assume the Professors are mandatory reporters. If Yuu shows signs of depression or self-harm, they will be required to report that and recommend Yuu for counseling, but the thing about therapy is that it's not a one size fits all solution. The patient needs to accept that they have a problem and, perhaps more importantly, trust their therapist otherwise you won't benefit from the treatment.

That's assuming that a counselor would even understand how to treat Yuu in the first place, there's a lot going on with their situation and while I could see a good therapist taking it very seriously, there's only so much they can do, which brings me to my sort of sticking point with this and why it took me so long to answer your ask.

Why in the hell is Yuu in Twisted Wonderland in the first place??? "Because they're Alice" ok sure but what does that like actually mean. I don't want to derail this into theory town but I keep thinking about the translated lines Crowley mutters to himself when calling Yuu a beast tamer that doesn't appear in the text box... something about how they look more like they are meant to be eaten by the beast than tame it.

There is a part of me that feels like Crowley wants Yuu to feel isolated and despondent about their chances of getting home, like he needs them to be accepting of their death and convinced it's the only way they will be useful. Something to do with Grim and that big Chimera at the beginning of the game, in the light novel there is someone telling Yuuya to take their hand but they can't move to take it, all they can do is stare up at the big monster and it's evil grin (if i remember correctly)

Anyway all of that to say I can see two sorts of scenarios leading to Yuu trying to harm themselves.

Route A: Summer

As was correctly pointed out in these tags on the original post, I think Summer would be the worst time for an actively depressed Yuu. If they have been seeing a counselor, they will likely not be available over the summer months, Crowley didn't take us on vacation with him the first time so there's no way he'll do it now, and everyone has their own families to get back to.

They only have Grim and the Ghosts. And while Yuu might love them, they technically belong here. Yuu does not. The lack of other friends bothering them means Yuu has time to think good and hard about where they are. And who they left behind.

I like to listen to Dateline while I work sometimes and one of the things that always gets to me is how little closure people feel when someone goes missing, even if they find out what happened to them. If Yuu is missing in their world and their family loves them... they just have next to no chance of ever finding that out. Ever.

If Yuu has a bad relationship with their family, or none at all, they probably start feeling like they are going insane. They have nothing worth going back to really, to the point that people would probably encourage them to see being in Twisted Wonderland as a good thing, a chance for a fresh start. But it has been anything but.

Summer would be a good time to run away, it's easier to be homeless in the Summer, plenty of places need part time help anyway, and Yuu can make a clean break from the school before anyone notices they're gone.

It's also a good time to decide you want to die. By the time your friends come back they will have already gotten used to life without you anyway.

.... i could see this making grim overblot tbh. He blames the school for taking Yuu from him and by the time everyone returns he is there. Waiting. The consequences of their actions given form.

A monument to all their sins.

Option B: Sacrifice

So back to theory tangent.

Grim and Yuu are one student. Crowley treats them as such, but what if he-

Or whoever the real final boss is

Need them to actually be one student.

So they approach Yuu, offer their sympathies. Tell them they know why Crowley cannot send Yuu home.

"Because you came here by dying, don't you remember? These events you have seen, all your misfortunes and troubles, they've all been like one big dream. What a terrible fate you've met... but no worries. I know how to set you free."

The strange masked man places his hand on your shoulder and guides you to the mirror. You see your reflection in it, for the first time you idly realize, hair spread out on the pavement with a halo of blood spatter about your sleeping head.

"You needn't be scared." the man's voice is calm, soothing even, so much so that you almost believe him when he says

"You've died once before, after all. You know exactly what it feels like, it will just be like going to sleep."

Sleep sounds good, even if you have just gotten done fighting to stay awake, so very good you nearly miss the creature's wicked grin spreading mockingly across the reflection of your peaceful face.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #tw sucidal ideation #tw suicide #sorry i was gone for so long i was obsessing over cows and ufos -_-#i think i worked it out of my system and put posting fic in my goals for this week so time to get back in the saddle

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