#with my sister and her husband also being in the mental health field

[virtie333]

It's not often I have to take an Excedrin AFTER I get home from work.

Around the same time my mom got sick, the barn where I have boarded my horses since 2002 was leased out to a woman who ran a Equine Assisted Psychotherapy program. She took in rescued horses and from everything I heard about her, she was a good person.

Since then, I can't even tell you how many times Chester and I have been 'thrown under the bus' by this woman. I want so badly to leave, but there is no barn so close to my home as this one, and I want to care for Chester myself, not let barn staff do it, but it's too far to drive to other barns in the area more than once a day. I'm praying for someone with a private barn close by that is looking for just one or two boarders.

Anyway, I had an 'episode' after working (or trying to work) Chester this afternoon. My imagination ran wild, and I starting thinking 'wouldn't it be funny (i.e. a nightmare) if the barn owner was asked to be my therapist?' Logically I know it's not possible, as she has no connection to CSS, but it still sent me into a panic attack.

[scarletcomalies]

I have been obsessed with Sister Mary Eunice lately maybe you could write about reader and Sister Mary Eunice being childhood friends and then they met again and she is already practicing being a nun or sum'n. Forbidden love of sort?

rise of devotion

Sister Mary Eunice x Reader

Word count: 7,565

A/N: AAAHHH! Thank you for your request! I have always looked forward to write something related to my beloved Lily Rabe 💘 Sorry it took so long.

A/N II: I would like to clarify that I wrote this based 100% on the approach given to the concept of the "Devil" in AHS: Asylum. Therefore, my interpretations are purely for fictional purposes. Personally, I don't believe in a "devil" or a "God," but I do believe in the existence of various positive and negative forces that affect our world in mysterious ways, so I also wanted to offer that possibility in the story.

Warnings: Irreverence, mention of caning, devil possession, humiliation, exorcism, happy ending though!

Upon an unexpected reencounter, you and Sister Mary Eunice develop a forbidden connection.

By choosing to study psychiatry, you embarked on a path that definitely contradicted long-standing religious doctrines. People who used to greet you cheerfully and welcome you into their homes for a cup of tea now whispered and gave you disapproving looks, for your choice to delve into the complexities of the human mind through scientific standpoint was seen as a direct challenge to their faith-based understanding of mental health.

And above all, even your own family wondered why did you turn your back on God and defy the plans they had for you? You were supposed to find a good husband, get married and devote yourself to being the best housewife you could be... or else become a nun to serve God for the rest of your days.

In spite of everything, the town of Framingham was your home. You couldn't deny that it had its charm, such as Mr. and Mrs. Bowery's coffee shop, where you were served multiple cups of chocolate while the couple watched you spend countless hours at the same table, reading exaggeratedly thick books. Or, visiting the home of the few friends you counted on, those friends who also swam against the current and somehow it seemed like it was them and you against the world.

You always believed that the only opposition you were willing to put up with, would come from your own family. You assumed that when it came to matters of the heart, you would naturally be drawn to someone who shared your ideals, if not surpassed them. Little did you know that one day, you would reencounter a person who was your polar opposite.

As you sat in the coffee shop's tables, you submerged yourself in the pages of the DSM-I. If it wasn't because you took a pause to take another sip of your chocolate, you wouldn't have noticed someone's intense gaze fixed upon you. It was as if the weight of their stare could pierce through your very being. Initially, you dismissed it and continued reading, attempting to brush off the discomfort that grew within you.

But then, the line was crossed when the person who had been observing you boldly decided to approach you.

"We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ. 2 Corinthians 10:5," her raspy voice came through.

"So nice that your faith provides solace and guidance for you," you replied, without even looking up.

"The Lord undertakes to save all those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:18 says so," she insisted.

"I'm of the idea that science doesn't always have to fight with religion, but if you consider my field a threat to your unsubstantiated beliefs, I suggest you keep it to yourself, and don't bother me," you countered, and without being able to prevent it, you could notice yourself adopting a tone of irritation.

"You're neglecting the power of prayer and the healing it can bring to troubled souls. God's love is boundless, and it can provide true salvation," she replied.

The persistence of the woman who kept on imposing her religious views started to wear thin on your patience, so you closed your book and looked up in her direction, intending to firmly demand her to leave you alone.

Your eyes were first drawn to her attire, the unmistakable indication that she was a nun. It pretty much explained her intrusion. However, when your eyes locked with hers, your breath seemed to be caught in your chest.

Never before had you encountered eyes so captivatingly blue, and the perfect contrast of her golden hair, slightly peeking out from beneath her habit, and those lips, full and adorned with a delicate shade of pink. In that fleeting moment, your frustration and impatience were momentarily forgotten, overpowered by the undeniable attraction that she had awakened.

"You always reproached your parents for taking you to church, and you were never satisfied with God-related explanations in the face of certain phenomena," she commented, this time with a smile adorning her face. "I should have known you would end up like this, (Y/N)."

You frowned for a moment, but then, your eyes widened as you realized who was standing in front of you.

"Mary Eunice!" You exclaimed, nostalgia and disbelief evident in your tone.

Her smile grew wider as she heard you call out her name in recognition. The memories of your childhood friendship replayed back in your mind.

"It's been such a long time," she breathed out. "The last I heard, you had left town, and it's been..."

"Eight long years," you interjected, a proud smile forming on your lips. "I returned just a week ago. The welcoming nature from people was quite interesting, to say the least. But yours wins the first place," you added, subtly alluding to the judgment you were a victim of ever since you arrived, including hers.

"Well, I had to surprise you in a way," she shrugged.

"A 'hello' would have worked. That's the traditional way to approach someone," you replied, and gestured for her to sit in the chair across from you.

"Look who's talking about tradition," she laughed, sitting down across from you.

You raised your arms, letting her know she had caught you there, "Guilty."

She let out a laugh, and you found yourself immersed in appreciating how her nose wrinkled and lovely dimples formed in her cheeks. Old feelings were rising from within your heart, as if time had never passed for neither of you.

You immediately recalled a time where you were still a child, and innocently seeking guidance, you turned to your parents, questioning why you couldn't marry your best friend Mary Eunice when you both grew up.

Their response, explaining that marriage was based on mutual attraction and love between a man and a woman, only increased your confusion, which was eventually clarified during your teenage and adult years, filled with discovery and a long journey of acceptance.

To your young heart, the idea of loving someone simply due to a deep connection and admiration seemed perfectly natural. The limitations imposed on love perplexed you then, and even as an adult, the question lingered in your mind. Why should societal expectations dictate who you can and cannot love?

"I came to this place with the intention of finding you," she confessed, after going over in her mind how to tell you. "It took asking a few people, and they all said there was a high probability you were here."

As much as you wanted to avoid it, a blush formed on your cheeks, extremely flattered at the idea that Mary Eunice intended to meet you again.

"Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Bowery really know how to make a place cozy," you agreed, laughing lightly. "Any particular reason?"

She shook her head, "My father passed away a few months ago. When I went to visit my home, my mother and I looked through old pictures, and there were several ones of me and you. It made me realize how much our friendship meant to me back then," she continued, taking a deep breath as she looked at me with her blue eyes filled with nostalgia. "When I heard you returned and opened your practice here, I felt... like it was a sign from our Lord."

You were transported back to the early years of your childhood. Mary Eunice, the girl who moved into the house across the street when you were only five years old. Your parents visited her family's new home, and she eagerly invited you to show you her enchanting dollhouse. As simple as that, a friendship blossomed for six years.

Sooner or later, life would lead you down different ways, as Mary Eunice's family relocated to the other end of town, and in consequence, the distance between you grew both geographically and emotionally, for her parents decided you were not a good influence on her, therefore you were forbidden to visit her.

The once-unbreakable bond began to fade into a distant memory, until she decided to tease you with Bible verses in a coffee shop when you were all grown up with very different chosen life paths.

"I'm glad you sought me out," you admitted sincerely. "I'm sorry for your loss. If you ever need to share your feelings, I'll be more than happy to offer you a shoulder to cry on."

"Thank you. Your kindness means more to me than words can express. I have found strength in prayer during these difficult times, and God has listened to me," a smile softly graced her lips, as her eyes brightened in appreciation.

Even if you didn't share the same strong beliefs as Mary Eunice, you always respected the power of faith and how it could provide comfort in certain individuals during times of hardship. If her faith in God gave her strength and helped her cope better with the unavoidable adversities of life, then you were glad she had that refuge.

You placed your hand over hers and you offered a reassuring squeeze, a silent gesture of understanding and support.

As your conversation continued, one piece at a time, you and Mary Eunice shared every detail of your lives, starting at age eleven, when circumstances forced you apart. You listened closely to her describe her journey as a nun, as it was the aspect of her life that made her the most proud.

"I felt a calling deep within my heart, urging me to dedicate my life to serving others and living a life of devotion. I knew becoming a nun was my path to fulfill that calling," she took a moment to collect her thoughts before continuing. "After much contemplation and prayer, I joined the order and then, the path led me to Briarcliff Manor, where I believed I could offer hope and healing to those in need."

"It's truly remarkable," you found yourself saying, your admiration towards her palpable in every syllable. "To have such a deep calling and to summon the courage to follow it through. It takes a lot of strength."

***

"Science cannot explain the evil that resides in this patient's soul. You're chasing shadows and ignoring the true path to salvation," Sister Jude retorted, throwing the patient's files at you in a dismissive manner.

It would have taken much less than that for you to grab your things and leave, except that Mary Eunice gave you a look that completely melted you. A look that denoted all the hope she had for you.

Two months had passed since your reunion with Mary Eunice. From time to time, you both would meet in the park or take walks around town. It wasn't until a week ago that she asked you to visit Briarcliff Manor to examine a patient who was clearly showing signs of schizophrenia.

There were many people with various conditions, of course, but this one, specifically, had to be put in solitary confinement after assaulting a guard.

"Um, excuse me, Sister Jude, but Dr. (Y/L/N) has, uh, dedicated to the study of the human mind," Mary Eunice interjected. "We may have different perspectives, but we share the commitment to helping others."

Both you and Sister Jude made no effort to hide your puzzlement. Mary Eunice was not the type to contradict others, much less someone as imposing as Jude Martin. You could only hope she didn't get caning after that.

Because you knew, no matter how much your dear friend wanted to hide it.

"Sister Mary, don't be fooled by this world of sin and deception," Jude responded as soon as she recomposed herself. "Your duty is to God, and so is mine. We must protect this institution from outside influences," she gave you another contemptuous glance, which caused you to roll your eyes.

"I understand, Sister Jude, but I also believe that God works in mysterious ways," Mary Eunice said, as if she had expected Jude’s response and had rehearsed her answer beforehand. "Perhaps Dr. (Y/L/N) was brought here for, uh, a reason. Let us not dismiss the possibility of divine guidance."

Sister Jude's expression softened, for the very first time ever, and she sighed.

"Remember, Dr. (Y/L/N), don't let your scientific pursuits lead you astray from the path of righteousness," she established, and headed to leave the room.

You smiled in amazement, and Mary Eunice mimicked your action, then let out a satisfied laugh. That allowed you to appreciate her beautiful dimples that added even more charm to her smile.

"What was that, Mary Eunice?!" you exclaimed, and walked over to her with your chair to sit next to her.

"I don't know," she said, looking just as surprised as you and Sister Jude. "I know how brilliant you are and... I just couldn't let her discredit you like that."

"I'm proud of you, but more than that, I'm grateful," you replied, taking her hands in yours. Her hands felt warm as always, and on her sleeves, you could notice traces of flour, an indicator that she may have been baking bread before this meeting.

"It's nothing," she shrugged, and looked into your eyes. You watched her blue orbs for a moment, and suddenly, you were in another world in just a second.

"It's everything," was all you could say. "It was for me."

She smiled slightly, and looked down. That caused you to grab her chin and cause her to look up at you.

"Thank you," you spoke again.

She nodded, "Sure, it was my pleasure, I mean..." she chuckled. "I have faith in these patients, and I couldn't imagine a better person for this task with Allan, not even the Monsignor."

You opened your eyes in surprise and let out a gasp.

"You don't know how much your words mean to me," you replied. "I promise I will give him the best of treatment."

"I know you will," she replied, rising from her seat. "I have to... go check on that bread I left baking, and I guess you have to get home."

You nodded slowly.

"Yes, I do," you sighed, rising from your chair as well.

"I'll see you around then, partner," she teased.

Mary Eunice never hesitated to give you a heartwarming hug whenever she bid you farewell.

You loved her hugs, because she was a tall woman, and with the heels she wore, she was even taller, so you always ended up being wrapped in her arms and could easily lay your head on her shoulder.

And this occasion specifically, you couldn't forget it. That memory would follow you into the grave, you knew.

When she reluctantly pulled apart, your faces unintentionally remained mere inches apart. You stared at her lips, believing that would be the only thing you could afford to do.

However, she was the first to make a move, it seemed that today she decided to take risks, and do everything that, perhaps, deep down, she wanted to do and never had the courage to do it.

You lips responded to the tender pressure, and her fingers were trembling as they touched your cheek before she drew back. The kiss lasted about five seconds, but in that moment, you corroborated the relativity of time, because for you, they were the most beautiful and eternal five seconds you ever experienced.

"Are you free tonight?" She whispered against your lips. You nodded in response. "Good, meet me at 10 p.m., at the secret spot I talked to you about, you remember?"

You nodded again.

A tender and forbidden connection blossomed between Sister Mary Eunice and you that day, something that you thought would only happened in your wildest dreams, was taking place. There were stolen moments that ignited a fire in your hearts, and they became a routine.

If Mary Eunice snuck out from Briarcliff to go to your apartment, she made sure to return extremely early, and if questioned, she always made sure to buy something at the market or bakery, and explained to Sister Jude that she got up early to go get the item in question.

And when you snuck into Briarcliff through the secret entrance that Mary knew about, you had to watch yourself as you left her room and slipped through the corridors so as not to be seen.

"I didn't see you come in," Sister Jude once remarked, maintaining that suspicious and accusatory demeanor you were so used to that you were not intimidated even if you were now actually committing illicit acts of some sort. "You're too early."

"Yes, I am indeed early," one thing you loved about being a psychiatrist, was that you had an uncanny ability to lie if you wanted to. They taught it to you so you learned how to detect it, not how to employ it, but well... "It's just, they're repairing water leaks in my building, so my washing machine isn't working. I was wondering if I could wash my clothes here."

You showed her the small bag of clothes in your hands, which contained the nightgown you used during the previous night inside the place.

Every time you snuck into Briarcliff, you brought a change of clothes to change into the next day, because you foresaw that eventually Sister Jude would discover you prowling the halls, and if she saw you in a nightgown, that would ruin everything.

She snatched said bag from you, and arched an eyebrow. "Just a nightgown?" She questioned.

You shrugged. "I didn't want to risk carrying a bag full of clothes, in case you refuse," you explained. "This is the only nightgown I need, in case they take a the whole day to fix the leak."

She nodded, and took the bag with her.

"No way! And did she really wash your nightgown?" Mary exclaimed, laughing, letting you see those dimples you were so crazy about.

You just laughed, which confirmed her question.

The evening of that same day, Mary was at your apartment. You were lying on her chest, and you could hear her heart beating, while her long fingers were massaging your scalp in circular motions.

"Do you know how much I love that intelligence of yours?" She asked, and took your chin delicately so you would look up at her. "Maybe it's wrong that I found it extremely attractive that you were so good at lying," she added, as she let out a giggle. You giggled alongside her.

Her fingers traced the contours of your face, and her mood seemed to change slightly. "And you know what else is wrong?" She whispered. "How much I want to kiss you right now."

You eagerly closed the distance between you both. Your lips met in a very passionate kiss, and you didn’t know how, but every single one that you shared managed to be better than the last one, and it never failed.

"Am I good at it?" She spoke when she pulled apart.

You frowned.

"Good at what?"

"Kissing. I just... I wonder if I'm any good at it. I've never had the chance to... practice," she avoided your gaze when she asked.

Your heart swelled with a tenderness that only she could evoke.

"Aww, my love," you exclaimed, pouting. "Your kisses are the best, not just because they’re so addictive, but also because they come from you," you said, as you booped the tip of her nose with your index finger. She wrinkled her nose as she smiled.

Life felt like a dream whenever you and Mary were immersed in the little world you created. Part of you wished you could display your affection like other couples, stealing kisses at the movies, holding hands while taking a walk in the moonlit streets, or taking those pictures in a photo booth, but you cherished your encounters with her, no matter if the places where you could have them was limited to two.

Three months have passed since that first kiss you shared. Until one day, you dressed up carefully, wearing what Mary had said was her favorite dress. You chose a new pair of shoes to add a different touch to the outfit that you hoped she would like.

She entered the office you occupied whenever you visited the place. She seemed to notice every single detail of what you were wearing as you rose from your seat.

But just as your lips were mere inches apart from hers, she spoke, "This is wrong," she stammered, her voice trembling.

"What's wrong?" You asked gently.

"I've been thinking... about us. About what we're doing," she murmured, avoiding your gaze at all times. "It's not... appropriate," she confessed, her words filled with guilt and sadness. "I've been thinking about my role as a nun, about my commitment to God and the vows I've taken. What we're doing... it goes against that. I'm betraying my faith."

And it felt like reality hit you for the very first time, and you realized that it was naive to think that this thing you had with Mary would last forever. It couldn’t, it simply couldn’t.

You reached out and gently cupped Mary's cheek, looking into her eyes with understanding.

"Mary, listen to me," you urged, you were desperate for her not to regret the precious moment you shared. "You know I respect your beliefs, but they are subduing and suffocating you," you harshly snapped, and she denied with her head quickly, as tears formed in her eyes. "Yes, Mary, The Bible can be interpreted in many ways. Love is a beautiful thing, and it's not something to be punished for."

"But it's a mental illness," she whispered, her voice heavy with guilt. "We're both wrong, according to our respective paths."

You shook your head gently, a reassuring smile on your lips. "Darling, you trust my experience, right? It might be considered so, but it's not. Love is a natural emotion, and it's not something to be ashamed of."

Mary cried even more, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"But it's forbidden," she choked out. "This desire is my burden to bear."

"You're not alone in this struggle," you replied, sadly. "We can… rewrite our own destinies, be pioneers of our own love story. Please, Mary, don’t regret this,” you pleaded, as you surrounded her waist with your arms. You really wouldn’t be able to bear the pain if she ever punished herself for what she had done.

But she pulled you away, and she shook her head, signaling you that she indeed would hate herself for something so innocent as the kisses you shared.

She stepped out of the room, the door closing behind her with a soft click. You were left standing there, your heart heavy with several what if’s crossing your mind. What if, instead of staring at her lips, you simply pulled away from the hug like you always did? What if you didn’t hug her in the first place that day?

Because if only one of those options had happened, Mary Eunice would not have turned away from you. And the worry gnawed at you.

Likewise, every time you visited the institution in order to follow up with your assigned patient, you stayed a little longer and slipped through the corridors in the hope of running into her. Little did you know, however, that she intentionally locked in her room so as not to see you.

Days and weeks passed, until one day, she was shamelessly walking around with her head held high. She seemed to have had enough of hiding, and her demeanor somehow urged you to be the one to hide instead.

"Mary," you said, unable to help your smile.

It is well said that sometimes, by letting go of something you desire, you are bringing it closer to its arrival. Because, you stopped looking for her desperately as before about three weeks ago, and almost miraculously, she was right in front of you.

"Doctor," she said, with an arrogant air that you could detect with just one word.

You walked besides her in silence, waiting for her to say something, but not a single word came out. She even seemed to be walking alone and you simply followed her like a puppy. Somehow, you discovered that she was very aware of that fact, and it amused her.

You confirmed it when she indeed gave you a quick glance and scoffed mockingly.

"Uhm... how have you been?" you couldn't think of anything else to get the conversation flowing. It was almost pathetic.

"Wonderful," she said with a smile. Finally, you ended up at the door to her room.

You gave her a questioning look, asking her in a roundabout way if she wanted you to come in with her, or if she wanted you get the hell out.

You opted for the first option, and she didn't object at all. In fact, you would have preferred her to at least kick you out or insult you, something... just something that didn't show the cold disdain with which she was treating you.

"Mary, I... I understand that you might consider me a bad influence, for having somehow 'tempted' you to kiss you..." you paused, not knowing how to concretize the sentence you spent so much time going over for when you had her in front of you.

You put yourself in her shoes, maybe she considered you some sort of temptation and she hated herself for succumbing to it.

A sly smile curled upon her lips, as she responded, "Bad influence? Temptation?" She laughed, her tone filled with a mockery that was starting to make you feel irritated. "You do think I regret that?" She moved closer, her body language becoming subtly more alluring as she leaned in. "Regrets are a human quality, everyone has them. And as you can see," she gestured to herself with a sweep of her hand, "I'm far beyond such trivial concerns now."

You felt a tight knot forming in your throat, as you felt an unbearable regret take over your mind with every word spilled from the woman’s mouth. This was not the Mary you knew, the one whose innocence and kindness defined her character. What have you done? Had you participated in whatever event had led to this.

You had no time to answer, or even to organize your thoughts, when she led you to her bed and gently pushed you to sit down.

"Mary..." you tried to formulate.

"Shhhhh..." she put a finger over your lips. "I'm sick, sick of being me."

She began to remove the habit covering her head, revealing her silky blond hair. It seemed that was enough to stop your thoughts for a moment, so you could appreciate how beautiful she looked with her loose hair flying down in waves to just below her shoulders.

She seemed to notice, because the expression of victory on her face seemed to say more than a thousand words. It seemed that the power she had over you gave her strength to go through with whatever her plans with you were.

"Mary, I understand that you are tired of all the abuse you have experienced here and I am glad that you do not regret our… affair. In fact, I commend you for putting an end to it," you began, looking up. The fact that you were sitting and she was standing did not help your situation at all, as she towered over you, almost as if you were somehow assuring her that she was superior to you. Immediately you realized that and stood up, which made you feel slightly better, although the height difference was always considerable. "But you don’t have to go the other extreme. This, is not you."

She clenched her jaw together, making you sit down again.

"How adorable that you think you can understand me, that you believe you can see through to the heart of the matter," her fingers trailed lightly over the edge of your jawline, her presence being incredibly intoxicating. As much as you tried to remain strong, you unavoidably melted at her touch. "What's happening here goes far beyond your textbooks and analysis."

"I just know you hit rock bottom," you whispered, as soon as your faces were only inches apart, just like that one time. "And this is you rebelling yourself. Like a teenager."

Her blue eyes redirected to your lips, and ascended again to your eyes. The latter indicated that she decided not to lean in and kiss you just as she did weeks ago, but the reason was quite different.

“But it's hopeless, don't you think? You, a rational psychiatrist, and me, a devoted servant of God. Such a love story is laughable," she replied.

There you realized, she wanted you to beg for it, convince her that you were meant to be together despite the circumstances that seemed incredibly inconvenient for both of you.

"I know, and I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I never expected to feel this way about…" you started.

"Oh, spare me the cheap excuses," she interrupted you. "Don't try and justify what you desire, what we both desire. It's only natural.”

You didn't know why, but that answer didn't give you any peace of mind. Yes, Mary may have decided to accept the fact that she was attracted to you, which would have thrilled you. But something didn't seem right. Something wasn't right.

And you confirmed it when, at your lack of response, she began to shed the rest of her attire, slowly revealing a red baby doll she was wearing underneath.

Your pulse quickened, and your eyes widened in such a way that you felt like they were going to shoot out of your skull.

It all happened so fast, or maybe it seemed that way since you were so immersed in a mental battle where you were searching for how to cope with this situation.

"Mary, don’t," you exclaimed, grabbing the top of her tunic, which was resting on her elbows. "I understand that you're feeling some sort of adrenaline rush right now, but when this expires, you'll realize what crazy things you're doing," you said, as you tried and placed the tunic back on its place.

"Don't be a prude now," she spat, grabbing your wrists to stop you from touching her. The force with which she did so made you protest in pain. "I'm finally giving you a chance to fulfill those fantasies of yours, or what? Are you going to deny to me what you’ve done? You're a dirty whore," she screamed the last part. "Whenever we saw each other, the first thing you did after when you were alone again was go and pleasure yourself, imagining it was me fucking you hard right there. You're a sick woman, doctor. Maybe I should lock you in this place too."

You had no idea what to say. It was true what she said, but how did she know? Was she watching you? Or was it all just mere deduction?

The only thing you were sure of, was that you felt attacked, accused, pointed out, so it was only a matter of seconds before the palm of your hand hit hard against her cheek. It was with such force and rage, that your hand burned and began to tingle.

The next thing, left you completely shocked.

For a brief second, her gaze softened, subsequently showed puzzlement. Lastly, she started breathing heavily, almost having a panic attack.

"(Y/N)! I didn't mean to... I didn't mean to tell you all that! I just..." but she didn't continue, instead, she took a deep breath, and her gaze hardened again. "Ah, actually, I did want to, but as usual, I'm too weak of character to tell people their truths."

Not willing to waste any more time, you immediately retreated from the place as quickly as you could, and the last thing you heard was a loud mocking laugh from Mary.

Although you were drowning in nerves, and many things you could not explain, you were relieved, for that last incident made you conclude that Mary was suffering from Multiple Personality Disorder. It was more than obvious.

However, you couldn't explain how Mary seemed to be aware of what she was doing. Generally, the individual tends not to remember their actions during the dissociative state. You also couldn't explain how she knew what you were doing after seeing her, when there was no way for her to discover you.

The most logical thing was that perhaps this was a case of partial amnesia, and as for the latter, perhaps a person overheard you on one occasion and it happened to reach your friend's ears. Your neighbors were not the most discreet and the walls of the building you lived in were not the thickest ones either.

This led you to a mission, which was to understand her traumatic history and uncover the root causes of the disorder.

***

"Can I talk to Mary, please? Who am I talking to right now?"

It has been about one week ever since you last stepped into Briarcliff, and now you had a new case to address.

Sister Jude swore this was demonic possession, but you did nothing but laugh in her face and dismiss her foolish hypothesis. But you understood why she believed it, for the answer Mary gave you could give rise to such interpretations.

"You can call me whatever you like. Some call me the devil, others call me Satan," she replied, with that same tone of vanity that you had to face the last time you saw her.

"I see," you nodded, looking directly into her eyes. "And according to what I recall, you do what Mary doesn't have the courage to do, in order to protect her."

"Oh, Doctor, you misunderstand. I'm not here to protect Mary," she countered. "I'm here to embrace the darkness within her, to unleash the desires she represses, and to revel in the power I bring. I'm not a protector, I am the one who will vanish her.”

You were taken aback by that statement. This was indeed a strange case, and perhaps Mary hated herself a little too much more than you thought.

"Oh, and what desires could they be, that she's repressing?" You tried your best not to show any sign of surprise. But something deep down within you was alert, something that warned you that she could sense any feeling anyway, no matter how hard you tried to hide it.

"The longing she feels for you, the desire to be close to you, to hold you, to kiss you," she explained, as if what you asked was the simplest question to answer. "The desire to take revenge on her 'friends' for humiliating her in the swimming pool that day, or that desire she has to beat Sister Jude to death with the same canes with which she punishes her," she continued. "No matter how much she has gone to confess her sins, or how many Our Fathers she has recited, she knows very well that all that will not leave her mind."

Mary was a noble soul, too noble that it was almost infuriating when it came to certain things like letting others take advantage of it… so this all made more and more sense to you.

"Oh, I... I understand," you sighed. "Well, I would like to talk to Mary. I want her to tell me how she feels," I insisted. "I can help her understand those feelings."

"I’m afraid she slumbers now, resting peacefully while I take the reins," she refused. "But, I bet you know, Doctor."

"I know," you affirmed. "From school to her everyday life in Briarcliff, she has faced such hostility and mistreatment. No wonder she developed these dissociative identities as a way to cope."

"I like to feed on those who are weak in spirit," she replied. "Even if she refuses to accept it, I am a shield against the pain and shame she couldn't bear to face. But it seems you're starting to understand her struggles, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," you answered simply. "Thanks for everything… Satan," you scoffed in amusement a little when calling her by that name.

Normally, with your other patients, you observed at least a slight process after a few weeks, but Mary Eunice's case, which at first seemed so easy to understand, was now the one that frustrated you the most.

You asked Mary's acquaintances, she never presented dissociations, nor behavioral changes, nor any symptoms of Multiple Personality Disorder. Not in her childhood, not in her adolescence, and certainly not in adulthood.

No matter what method or technique you used, you always left the room feeling humiliated and you could even say like a failure.

You never backed down from a challenge, and no matter how complex they were, you were confident in your abilities and understood that you were a human being, not some sort of all-powerful being who solved everything with a magic wand. However, seeing how the Mary you knew was fading more and more, made you hate yourself for not being one.

You reached a point of despair, where you never thought you would find yourself. You began to consider the —previously ridiculous— statements of Sister Jude and the Monsignor.

And this only gave rise to more questions.

If he was the devil, why did he allow me to question him as if he were really a personality invented by Mary? Why didn't he bother to prove to me the veracity of his existence, if he knew full well of my skepticism.

"That's what he wants," the Monsignor assured me. "He wants you not to believe he exists, so you give up, to doubt yourself and weaken your spirit."

You said it yourself. Religion did not have to fight with science.

There were certain phenomena that you couldn't explain to yourself, like that gut feeling that knew before you what was happening. You felt exposed even when you swore it was nothing more than a personality Mary had created... there was always something that made you feel this was something more.

And so, you were inside Mary’s dimly lit room. You never thought your presence would be approved for a ritual such as an exorcism, but the Monsignor said you were maybe the closest thing to a loved one Mary had. How could you ever refuse, if that was the case? You were more than moved.

You stood on the one side of the bed, listening to the Priest’s strong prayers, as you held a small crucifix in one hand and a vial of blessed water in the other. The demon that had taken hold of her seemed to mockingly glance through her eyes.

At the Priest’s signal, you took a deep breath, and addressed her, your voice firm yet filled with tenderness. "Mary, I want you to remember the moments we shared when we were kids. Remember when we went to the Bowerys’ bakery and they let us help them with the morning bread to sell? We were covered in flour," you chuckled softly, your voice occasionally trembling as tears welled up in your eyes. "We can share more of these memories together, if you keep fighting. I promise you won’t have to step into Briarcliff ever again, in fact, Lana Winters just got out of here, she will expose this place, burn it to the ground. I want us to celebrate that victory, Mary, please," you were pleading at this point. It was evident there was a desperate longing to break through her sorrow and reach the true Mary Eunice buried deep inside.

“I’m tired of fighting," you finally heard her voice, and you opened your eyes that were previously shut down as you sobbed. She was also sobbing desperately. "I want to rest."

"You are not your thoughts," you continued, speaking as firmly as you could. "You are not your hurtful experiences. You are not the sum of the pain they've caused."

Mary let out a small gasp, and a hint of a glimmer appeared in her eyes as a few tears escaped.

The Priest continued reciting his prayers, as strongly as he could. You, at the same time, recounted stories of your shared childhood, of the joy and comfort you brought to each other's lives.

While the Priest was in charge of expelling the demon inside her, you were in charge of helping Mary rise from among the darkness.

"Remember when we mowed the neighbors’ lawns? And with the money we earned, we went to the movies, and stuffed ourselves with food?" You continued. "Remember how we had a sugar rush and played Tag, you’re it at the back of my house for three hours straight? Remember how you screamed in the middle of the backyard it was the best day of your life? I do, it was the best day of my life as well," you wiped a few tears with the back of your sleeve, as you watched her scream desperately, and even though it pained you like a million stabs to see her in such a state, you were now sure she refused to give up now.

"Even though we parted ways, I got nothing but well wishes for you," you concluded. "And I’m never leaving again, never without you. It's never too late to come back to my side," you poured your heart into the words.

And then, in a moment that seemed to stretch beyond time itself, you saw it, a flicker of recognition, a spark of the person you knew and loved.

At the Priest’s sign, you raised the crucifix and splashed a few drops of holy water onto Mary Eunice. You repeated several words of encouragement, and the Priest repeated his prayers.

Her body tensed, a guttural sound escaping her lips. The demon's resistance was palpable, but you held your ground, the faith and love in your heart was what predominated every second.

"Mary, you are so close!" You urged. "You are stronger than this. You are one of the bravest, if not the bravest soul in this world!"

Her body arched, with a strangled cry piercing the air. And then, as abruptly as it had started, it was over.

It was over…

Mary’s once yellowish eyes cleared as if a veil had been lifted, bringing the beautiful ocean blue back to her irises.

She looked at you.

"Is that... you?" She whispered, the disbelief was noticeable in her face. But you knew, she was a warrior, and deep down she always knew as well, not for nothing she remained as kind as ever despite her unpleasant experiences.

With tears streaming down your face, you nodded. "Yes, Mary. It's me."

***

In the cozy cottage located on the outskirts of town, tranquility was the main thing that could be breathed in the air.

A year and a half had passed. Away from the now shut down Briarcliff, Mary Eunice decided to resign as a nun and take an indefinite break after the exhaustive event that had been her life. The journey had been one of pure healing, growth, and rediscovery for both of you, specially for your partner. But that was what you were there for, wasn’t it?

The sun generated warm rays across the kitchen where you stood. You were placing candles on a cake you took out from the fridge, which was adorned with frosting flowers. You woke up very early, and baked it yourself, with the help of the Bowerys through the other line of the telephone, of course, and it turned out better than you expected.

With the candles lit over the cake, you made your way to the small dining area, where Mary was taking the last bites of the pancakes you made her. Those were her favorites, you certainly had to make them for her on this special day.

"Happy birthday to you," you started singing. She looked up and her eyes lit with thrill, immediately, a wide grin spread all over her face. "Happy birthday, dear Mary. Happy birthday to you!"

Blowing out the candles, she turned to you with an appreciative expression in her eyes. "Thank you," she said softly.

You leaned in, expecting a gentle kiss, but Mary surprised you by pulling you close, her lips meeting yours with a desire that caught you off guard, and left you breathless.

"Oh wow, is it your birthday or mine?" you teased her playfully.

She laughed, and it always made you feel like you won a contest. "Well, does it matter? Every day feels like a celebration with you, the only difference, today I get a cake!"

You chuckled, and nodded in agreement, as you quickly went back to the kitchen and grabbed a knife to cut the cake you had prepared with too much love for your beloved Mary Eunice.

The simple act of sharing a slice of cake felt insignificant to others, but only you knew how much struggle and resilience it had taken for this simple event to take place. And the awareness of that simple fact, was that made every day as special as this one, as your girlfriend said.

[jamethinks]

Head canon for Donavan

He was low key a true feminist. He respected women and spoke out heavily against post war abuse. He supported the idea of women continuing to work and defended their right to be in the army. When the media got on his wife’s dick for not having a kid yet he said he was perfectly content never having kids if that’s what she wanted.

He may have been a warlord and imperialist but he still had rather progressive views on women and women’s rights.

And it’s not really a mystery why. Now this is mainly for my fanfic that I will never post so I’m keeping it separate but

The Don Man has never been one to hold biases against people. He preferred to look for direct signs of honesty and relatability rather than focusing on external factors. That’s not to say he didn’t ha our any bigoted views but it rarely affect individual interactions.

A lot of his feminist views were rooted in his relationship with his older sister (an OC), Donna Desmond. She was only 10 months older and was regarded as family disappointment. She was often excluded from conversations and left to stand at the side. She was promptly married off at the age of 18 and her children weren’t even considered valid heirs to the family group. She was seen as unintelligent and hysterical and found herself locked up in her house for the rest of her life after the death of her young children. She is really remembered when discussing the Desmond family to the point where people didn’t even know she existed.

Donathan had a very different perspective on his sister. He didn’t even see her as his older sister but more as his twin flame. They had many common interests and she often assisted with his work and assignments. The played logic games together and he regarded her as his only true competitor. He adored his older sister and to this day still seeks her out for advice.

While at war, Donatello was informed that his sister had suffered a mental breakdown and had to be lobotomized for her own sake. He had always been wary of his sister’s husband and the claims he made regarding his wife’s behavior. However at the time he was too preoccupied with school and later the military to proper investigate the situation. Instead, he trusted the words of the people around him. That his sister was just delusional and unwell.

After he was discharged from the military in 1943 he spent a lot time at home rehabbing from his brain injury. He made many request for updates on his sister and her wellbeing, he even tried to visit her at her home but he was too weak. Once he got back up to his full strength the first place he went was to see his sister after so many years. The week he spent with his sister was the most traumatizing of his life, seeing just how badly the confident brilliant woman he once adored had been torn down and stripped of her own autonomy.

She was as social and communicative as before but there was a clear difference in her intellect. She behaved in an almost robotic way. Her body was covered in scares and bruises. Her once hopeful eyes were dull and strained as she struggled to maintain a cheerful demeanor. It pained Dontholomew to see his sister in this condition, but it also enraged him to think about how long he had been lied to but the people around him. He resented his family for abandoning his sister for reasons he could not understand. But he mostly resented himself for being so passive and not acting on his guts.

One of the first policies enacted by the Jamaican Mafia leader (the Don) was the illegalisation of lobotomies. The decision was quite the left field as he had never expressed any issues with mental health treatments. During most of his campaigns, he also spoke out against domestic violence against mothers and children especially among war veterans. He also once shared the horrors he witnessed during the war of his comrades sharing stories of sexually assaulting women from the Allied countries.

Honestly I have 2500 word book report that I just don’t want to do. So expect more incoherent ramblings from me idk. One day I will tell you about Dionne.

[katarh-mest]

I have a hard time seeing how children fit in with our well rounded future, because there isn't time mathematically possible to personally watch your kids and both parents to have careers. The only way to do this is to sacrifice time, or be home to sacrifice that income, of which some of us don't need in the first place.

I also don't see a problem in keeping some traditions alive, we do it as a whole country it builds culture everywhere, I don't think we have to bury all the traditions.

marriage is a tradition, having children within that marriage and wanting to be their primary teachers and nurturers is also traditional because moms have always historically been the first teachers, and continues to be a female dominated field, even when we had just one room school houses.

I don't see anything wrong with it either. I knew from an early age I didn't want to be a mom; I knew from an even earlier age I didn't have what it takes to be a teacher! I'm not patient enough. I struggle to understand how someone can't do the things I can do and that lack of empathy is one of the things that would have made me a terrible teacher. I recognized it pretty early on.

Ironically, my husband is a teacher, a fantastic one. He's now a teacher of teachers. He's got that skill set and the patience to work with students until they "get it" and to take a concept and adjust it in different ways until he finds the one that his students can finally grasp. It's impressive. But even he realized he'd probably be a mediocre father at best so he was totally okay being the cool uncle, same as I'm the cool aunt. After his sister divorced her husband, he took on the "positive primary male role model" spot for his nephew, and they're very close. (Much like me and my niece.)

I have a hard time seeing how children fit in with our well rounded future, because there isn't time mathematically possible to personally watch your kids and both parents to have careers.

One of the things that has got to give is the 40 hour work week. Dropping it to 30-35 would give us back some of the much needed time to fit in parenting. A single income household that relies on one person being outside of the home for 50-60 hours or two people outside of the home for 40+ hours each doesn't leave enough time to parent. What I remember largely of my father growing up was his absence on weekends, because he worked a second job to try to feed his family of four. Admirable, but at the cost of his health. He died when I was 22. Never even got to see his one grandkid from my sister. That was unfair to him, but my mother was mentally ill and couldn't hold down a job either.

[anotheronechicagobog]

Functional Dysfunction - Rheese - Chapter 5 - It Isn’t Salad

written by @anotheronechicagobog

warnings: swearing, mention of abortion, mention of attempting to force abortion, unplanned preganancy, Connor and Robin are still together, Jimmy is still an ass, but now so is Chilli

The next day everyone was acting weird around her. Manning and Maggie were now running away from her, Halstead couldn't meet her eyes, Choi pretended to take a phone call when they were alone in the doctor's lounge, and Doris was completely silent. That never happened. She gossiped about anything and everything, until now Sarah hadn't believed there was a force on earth powerful enough to shut her up. 

A distraction came in the form of a mass casualty structural collapse at a construction site. Injured workers flooded in, while Sarah and Choi were tasked with going to the scene and treating people in the field. It was Sarah's first time working like that. So far it had only been fully stocked EDs or ORs with copious amounts of staff ready to jump into action. Here there were limited supplies, limited staff, and unlimited chaos.

So far the building they were constructing was a small five-story apartment building, it didn't have any walls or floors, it was just metal beams and underlying structure. Half of the crossbeams had just... Come off, taking the workers that were on them, towards the concrete foundation, where other workers were. It was a grizzly, awful site. There were going to be so many casualties, no doubt about it. She reached her first patient, a woman no older than twenty, whose arm was being crushed by a beam near the shoulder. It was purple. She had to amputate.

Red tag, red tag, black tag, red tag, black tag, black tag, black tag, red tag, green tag, black tag, red tag.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She hadn’t eaten in ten hours and there were two more action-packed hours left in her shift. While she was finally back in the hospital, she couldn’t help but feel like she was still at the disaster site. One wrong move, one wrong word, and tragedy would occur. Of course at Gaffney it would be social tragedy, but still, she felt like she was navigating a mine field. She’d been on her feet non-stop since her shift started and she was feeling more mentally drained than physically drained. The other interns looked at her the way she imagined vultures would, beady eyes looking at your dying soul, ready to devour your corpse. Except... She wasn’t dying. She was in perfect health, it was apparent that they thought her career was about to be drop-kicked into an active volcano. Boy were they in for a surprise.

“Dr. Reese, scrub up, I need you in the OR with me.” Chad Dovingly, the resident “legacy” intern, almost yelled at Dr. Abrams, but Sarah watched him stop himself. “Sam-”

“Do not call me by my first name, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that. Call me ‘Dr. Abrams’ or don’t speak to me at all.”

“Right, right, my apologies. Dr. Abrams, are you sure that Dr. Reese is the right choice? I mean, I was literally born to be a surgeon, I was in the top ten at my med school, and Dr. Reese, well... Is this because she’s pregnant-”

“Stop. Talking. You may have been in the top ten of your class, but she was the first in hers. She has shown far more dedication and skill than any of you here, and I will not stand here while you not only accuse me of favouritism, but belittle your colleague and fellow intern because of a matter that is absolutely none of your business. The reason you aren’t scrubbing in as much is that you’re not good enough to yet, so if you want to scrub in more, prove to me that you’re worthy of it, because honestly so far Dr. Reese and Dr. Kim are the only ones who have done so.” He dismissed the other interns with only a head nod, leaving the two of them alone in the hallway. “Dr. Reese, the surgery is in two hours. Read up on the procedure and eat something, then meet me in OR four.” The confusion must have been displayed on her face so he sighed and pulled her to the side away from the other interns. “Dr. Manning cornered me earlier and informed me that you’ve been on your feet all day, and you’re going to be staying late. So eat something and then join me in the OR.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll see you in two hours then.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She had a sandwich in her bag, but she doubted that the cold cut meats would still taste good after all this time. She debated going to the cafeteria but at this time all that would be available was heavy fast food. “Sarah?”

“Hi Dr. Manning, don’t worry Dr. Abrams ordered me to eat something before I join him in the OR.”

“Good. I was actually coming to get you, we ordered pizza down in the ED and I was wondering if you wanted to join us?”

“Something tells me you’re not going to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“A correct assumption, come on it should be here by now.”

They were almost at the doctor’s lounge when Sarah couldn’t ignore the need to ask anymore. “... You know, don’t you?”

“Yes. We all do. I’m sorry that we’ve been avoiding you all day, we just didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“What sur-”

“SURPRISE!” Sarah jumped out of her skin and then looked around the lounge. There was a shiny blue ‘congratulations’ banner along the back wall, streamers taped to the ceiling and a stack of pizza boxes on the table. “We want you to know that we’re here for you and that we’re happy for you. I know that you don’t have a lot of time, she needs to scrub up at OR four in... one hour and fifty-one minutes, but celebrate with us a little now, we just want to make sure that you feel supported.”

“And that you eat, no one needs you fainting in an OR.”

“Thank you, all of you, so much... I really appreciate this, I was pretty scared at first, I still am, but I’m confident in my decision.”

“Trust me, we know Sarah.” Puzzled, she looked around at her co-workers and found them all snickering in the direction of Connor and Robin. Connor blushed and lowered his head with anawkward smirk while Robin rolled her eyes. “Doris tried to talk smack and I can honestly say that I have never seen someone get verbally eviscerated so viciously. Showed all of us not to mess with Robin.” Everyone around her chuckled and seemed to unanimously agree with Maggie. “Thanks.”

“No problem, Sarah. Besides I think it was about time someone knocked her down a peg. I mean, I know that gossip is just a part of hospital life, but she just takes it to a whole other level.”

Maggie and Nat were the least tense around her since this whole thing started, Choi and Halstead just seemed relieved that there wasn’t anything wrong with her, April and Noah just seemed content to make her laugh as loud as possible, Robin made sassy quips about the two of them sticking together, and Connor just made sure she always had pizza on her plate. They exchanged a smile when he made sure that she was the first one to eat ‘I know that it’s not salad but it’s still pretty good’. Sarah couldn’t have been more delighted to see Connor moving more freely, lighter, with an enormous weight having been removed from his shoulders.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

The surgery... Did not go well, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault thankfully. Their patient had the largest tumor she’d ever seen in the centre of their brain and when Dr. Abrams removed it, it looked horrifying to be frank. There was literally a hole in this poor man’s brain which unfortunately resulted in brain damage. It was a serious risk from the beginning, so the patient and family had been informed numerous times in the days leading up to and of the surgery. Delivering that news had been assigned to Sarah and she was not looking forward to it. She left the recovery suite where the patient has just been examined after waking up and went to the waiting room where his husband was waiting along with his twin sister were after Dr. Abrams told them to wait while they examined him. “How is he?”

“He’s okay, right?”

“I am so sorry to tell you this, but he did sustain significant brain damage and it’s very likely that it’s permanent. There’s also a possibility that he could... Pass away due to the severity.” The second that the word ‘sorry’ was out of her mouth they both broke down in tears, holding onto each other for dear life. “You can see him, if you want, and I can explain a few things. Dr. Abrams will check on him again tomorrow at seven am, to give him more time to improve-”

“So, he could get better, my brother could recover.”

“I need to stress that while that is a vague possibility, it is incredibly unlikely, and I don’t want to get your hopes up. I’m so sorry.”

“... Can you take us to him? Or at least me? I totally understand if you can’t see him yet, he’s your twin, but... We- He’s the love of my life. I need to see him.” Sarah nodded and gestured for them to follow her, she wasn’t sure if his sister would at first, but she did, with a far-off, grave look in her eyes. Sarah tried not to think about it, after all, this poor woman was just told her twin brother suffered brain damage and would probably never be the same again, she was allowed to react however she needed to. Still... Sarah couldn’t help but feel like foreshadowing had taken physical form, like her patient’s sister knew more than she was saying. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sarah had forty minutes left in her shift when alarms started blaring. She knew before she even turned around who it was and what the outcome would be. Despite being in her usual ‘crap someone’s dying’ speed her ankles felt like lead, and her soul had stayed at the computer she was working on. Her mind was still there, still searching her head for the best course of action before conducting it, giving orders to nurses, telling someone to get his loved ones out of the room, and shouting for someone to page the on-call neurosurgeon... But it was no use. And from the way everyone was looking at each other that this was the outcome they expected. “Time of death, 21:37.” Her voice felt so out of place, the vibrations her thoat made were irritating. The late patient’s fiance and sister were in the doorway. He was sobbing so inconsolably, so loud, it made Sarah’s heart clench. She however, looked numb, like a part of her just died. She looked Srah dead in the eyes and Sarah’s heart broke all over again. She’d known. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you Dr. Reese... I know that you and Dr. Abrams did everything you could. Could- could we have a moment with my brother? To say... Goodbye?”

“Of course.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When she finally left the hospital she was in tatters. She wasn’t sure if it was the pregnancy hormones or if it was her patient’s death, but all that she really wanted to do was cry. No, she needed to cry. Sadness and despair was bubbling up inside of her and she just didn’t want to keep it inside her. But of course the universe had other plans. When she finally made it to her car the last two people she wanted to see were standing beside it and sitting on it. She sighed, on the verge of tears and not in any mood to deal with either of them. “Jimmy. Chilli.”

“We need to talk.”

“We don’t actually. We really, really don’t. You don’t want to be involved and that’s fine. When they’re born we’ll do a paternity test because that’s what’s required for you to sign away your rights, and then you’ll do just that, and then you’ll walk away. It’s okay.”

“No it’s not. I’m not okay with you having my baby.”

“And I’m not okay with it either, he’s my... Boyfriend and I don’t want another chick to have his child.”

“Okay, first of all, neither of you get a say and whether or not I have this child. My body, my decision, that’s it. Second, Chilli, you have absolutely no say here in anything. You are not the mother or the father and I’m not even sure if you guys are dating given your hesitation in calling Jimmy your ‘boyfriend’ and you have such a volatile on/off relationship, you get zero say in anything even remotely related to my baby.”

“HEY! DON’T TALK TO HER LIKE THAT-”

“Speak to me like an adult or don’t speak to me at all. You don’t get to yell at me, you don’t get to use that tone with me, it’s not okay.”

“I CAN SPEAK TO YOU HOWEVER I WANT! AND YOU ARE GETTING AN ABORTION EVEN IF I HAVE TO DRAG YOU THERE MYSELF!” In the next three seconds Sarah observed three things:

There were two of them and one of her

They were in a dimly lit, poorly monitored parking garage alone

They had to deal with violent people at their jobs more than she did and would likely overpower her

“The hell she is! She made her choice Borelli and you didn’t get a say in it!” Okay, so #2 was not true apparently, as Connor walked closer to them from the entrance. “This isn’t any of your business doc, so just go, okay?”

“You’re threatening my friend in a dark parking garage. Yes, it is my business. But it isn’t yours, you’ve said that you don’t want to be a dad, so you won’t be, and I don’t even know why Chilli is here, so you two need to get off of Sarah’s car and leave her alone.”

“No. We don’t have to listen to you. I’ll talk to her however I fucking want, I don’t have to move away from her car, and Chilli doesn’t have to get off it. Fuck. Off.”

“Connor, you worked a long shift, you shouldn’t have to stay for this, I’ll figure it out.”

“I appreciate the thought Sarah, but you worked a long day too and I’m seriously worried about your safety around them. Why don’t I just drive you home? It really isn’t a big deal.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am-”

“HEY! DON’T TALK ABOUT US LIKE WE AREN’T HERE! AND THIS ISN’T ANY OF YOUR BUSINESS!”

“Oh, go suck an egg, Borelli. Lead the way, Connor.”

“Gladly.”

They’d managed to make it to his car before the, quite honestly delusional, couple(?) realized they were seriously leaving, and Connor was pulling away with them shouting expletives and trying to chase the car on foot. “Thanks Connor, I really appreciate this.”

“Anytime Sarah, seriously. I care about you, you’ve become someone I trust and I want you to be safe and happy. I’ll help to make that happen if you ever need it.” Maybe it was the hormones, the encounter with Jimmy and Chilli, or the day just catching up with her, but she just couldn’t keep the exhaustion and gratitude out of her voice. “Thank you.”

[haveamagicalday]

My reads of 2020

My top ten is in a separate post but here are the rest of my reads!

5 Stars

If You Tell by Gregg Olsen 

This is a memoir about the Shelley Knotek case. It focuses heavily on the relationship and struggles of her three daughters that were just children when Shelley’s tortures started. This book was fantastically written for such a morbid tale but be warned, it is not for the faint of heart. Trigger Warning: Abuse, torture, murder

Wayside School Beneath the Cloud of Doom by Louis Sachar 

The Wayside school books were some of my favorite growing up. I made sure to reread them all before reading this one. It felt like no time had past at all. This is a great blast from the past that won’t disappoint old fans of the series. 

4 Stars

All Your Twisted Secrets by Diana Urban

A group of seemingly unrelated students are invited to a scholar dinner that turns out to be a trapped. Once all the students arrive, they are locked in with a bomb and the the option to choose one person to die or they all die. As the night slips away, we learn the secrets and connections the students share that brought them to their predicament. Surprisingly not as suspenseful as you would think it would be and the secrets/bad things the students had done in the past really weren’t that twisted. Still it was very fun with an explosive ending.

Beyond the Shadowed Earth by Joanna Ruth Meyer

This is a sequel to Beneath the Haunting Sea and actually focused on the hero from the first’s books antagonist, Eda. Eda overthrow our hero from the first book as heir to the throne, blamed the king’s death on her and had her wrongfully banished to an island that launched the story of the first book. After that we never visited Eda again as the book focused on a different story instead of getting her kingdom back. So in this one, we see what happened to Eda after she took over. She is not a good person and the author isn’t afraid to make her unlikable at first, but also redeemable through her adventure and misfortunate. 

Break Your Glass Slippers by Amanda Lovelace

Another book of poetry from Amanda Lovelace that delivers profound and touching poems.

Daughter of the Forest by Juliet Marillier 

A classic retelling of The Six Swans. This story takes place in a medieval/fantasy version of Ireland. Marillier is one of my favorite authors of fairytale retellings. This book is definitely a slow read but is gorgeously written and rich in character development. The story follows the fairytale with little variation. Trigger Warning: Rape (graphic depiction).  

Lady Killers: Deadly Women Throughout History by Tori Telfer

Nonfictional account of female serial killers. I liked that this wasn’t written like a wikipedia page and took a more narrative approach. After the first few women, they all start to blend together though. Lots of poisoning happens. It would have been nice for some variety. 

Malorie by Josh Malerman

The sequel to Bird Box that we probably didn’t need but was still good nonetheless. This one focuses more on Boy and Girl (now named thankfully) as teenagers and their view and challenges of the world they’ve grown up in. This book introduced new concepts that were interesting and creative. Somehow this managed to have a relatively happy and satisfying conclusion.

The Monstrous Feminine by Barbara Creed  

A look at horror films through a feminist and psychological lens. I absolutely loved this book and the ideas it presents. The first half of the book takes a look at certain horror films (such as Carrie, the Exorcist, Alien, ect.) and “challenges this patriarchal view by arguing that the prototype of all definitions of the monstrous is the female reproductive body.” I liked the first section of the book more than the second part where I felt it focused too much on Freud and his findings and challenging them through horror films.

No Judgements by Meg Cabot

A cute, fluffy romance that takes place on a small island preparing for a category 3 hurricane. Bree finds herself forced to shelter with the island’s resident heartbreaker and they don’t get along. At first ;)

The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides

Alicia, a famous painter and wealthy wife, shocked the world when she killed her husband and then stopped speaking afterwards. Now committed to a mental institute, Alicia is still refusing to speak. Theo is a therapist who jumps at the opportunity to work with Alicia and discover what really happened with her husband. Some of the twist was easy to pick up on at first but there was plenty that kept me guessing. This was a real page turner.

When We Were Magic by Sarah Gailey

Alexis and her group of friends have one very big thing in common; they are able to preform magic. One night, Alexis’ magic causes an accidental death of a classmate and the friends have to ban together to make things right. This was a creative and moving read. There’s plenty of magic but it almost comes secondary to the friendships and blossoming love between two of the friends. 

The Year of the Witching by Alexis Henderson

Immanuelle lives in. a patriarchal society where the prophet’s word is law and the town is bordered by the evil and forbidden Darkwood. In the Darkwoods lurks four witches that seem to be calling out to Immanuelle. This book had fantastic world building and the story was unique and engaging. Sometimes it felt like we were just skimming the surface of possibilities and I felt that the book could have been longer or divided into a series. While the story wraps up in the end it does turn out there is going to be a sequel so I’m excited for that! Trigger Warning: Mentions of Rape

3.5 Stars

The Cousins by Karen M. McManus

Jonah, Aubrey and Milly never knew their rich grandmother. Her children were all cut off ominously with a note simply saying “you know what you did.” Now their grandmother is reaching out to the cousins and inviting them to work at her island resort for the summer. Lots of secrets and twists await them! This book was a lot of fun and probably my favorite of this author’s so far. Some of the twists border on zany but the overall tone of the book is a little zany so it works.

Horrid by Katrina Leno 

After her father’s death, Jane and her mother are forced to move across the country into Jane’s mother’s childhood home. The manor has many secrets hidden within that Jane must face. The book was well written and intriguing. The books deal with grief and mental illness with a touch of the supernatural. I felt that the overall pacing felt off though. Very little happened in the beginning and then a lot happens in the last 30 or so pages and then it ended abruptly. It was a great concept though and I'm interested in more from this author!

One of Us is Next by Karen M. McManus

A sequel to the hit novel, One of Us is Lying. This book focuses on one of the character’s from the first books little sister and two of her classmates. The stakes in this one didn’t feel quite as serious as the first book but it was a fun read with interesting twists!

The Return by Rachel Harrison

Julie went missing, leaving her 3 best friends grappling with tragedy. Then, exactly two years later, she comes back with no memories. The four friends decide to spend a weekend together but something is not quite right with Julie. This book was creepy! However, it focuses more on the relationships of the four characters and dealings with grief with a touch of supernatural sprinkled throughout. It’s a gripping novel from start to finish that will keep you guessing.

3 Stars

All the Missing Girls by Megan Miranda

Nicolette returns to her hometown for the first time in ten years after the mysterious disappearance of her best friend. Shortly after arriving another girl goes missing, forcing Nicolette to relive what happened years ago. What made this book a page turner was that it tells the story backwards. Once she gets to her hometown it starts on her 10th day and works backwards to what happened on the day of her arrival. Unfortunately, while the concept works at first it builds up to a lackluster and disappointing ending. If you were to put the book in the correct order, it wouldn’t work as there are stuff that is found out in the first few days that the reader doesn’t know about but the characters do that wouldn’t make sense in a narrative sense.

Behind Closed Doors by B.A. Paris

From the outside Jack and Grace come off as the perfect couple but behind closed doors, everything changes. No twists here, Grace is Jack’s prisoner and she is desperately trying to get away. The book alternates between past and present about her current situation and how she got there. This involves a lot of suspension of disbelief. Jack is a cartoony type of villain with no real motive and he would never be able to get away with what he was doing. Grace is also not the smartest person, there were a lot of different ways she could have escaped but for the sake of the story she doesn’t. Don’t get me wrong, this was still a suspenseful and fun read but also questionable and some points.

The Blue Salt Road by Joanne M. Harris

A quick, fairytale like story about a selkie who was tricked into becoming human and now longs to return to the sea. I feel like there was a message being preached in this story, but I can’t really pinpoint what it was. Regardless, this was a magical little read.

Clown in a Corn Field by Adam Cesare

Clown in the corn field is a slasher film put on page. It starts off like a typical YA novel and sets up a mystery as to who the clown is, but then the clown attacks at a party and the rest of the novel is that one night as the clown wrecks havoc and the teens have to escape. I think I wold have preferred and more drawn out mystery but fans of slasher films would really enjoy this!

Coral by Sara Ella

A sort of retelling of the Little Mermaid. Sort of. This book focuses on strong themes of mental health. The mermaid/fantasy side is minimal and almost completely disappears in the 2/3rds in to the novel. It was a slightly confusing read but had a powerful depiction of depression. Trigger Warning: Suicide

The Doll House Murders by Betty Ren Wright

A sad but sweet little mystery novel about a preteen girl who discovers a dark secret via an old dollhouse and its mysterious moving dolls. The subject matter was dark but the story was written for middle graders and thus mystery is handled with simplicity and strange charm to it.

Good Girl, Bad Blood by Holly Jackson

The sequel to A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder. This book hasn’t been released in the US yet but you can still get the British/original version on amazon which is what I did. This novel requires a stretch of disbelief and I didn’t think the mystery was as good as the first one. However, if you are a fan of the first one, you will still want to check this one out as well!

I Know Who You Are by Alice Feeney

You definitely have to suspend your disbelief when you read this one. It's gripping and while some twists were easily guessed, the final one took me for a surprise. It's equal parts dark/chilling and cheesy/silly. I'm still left with a lot of questions after the ending. It makes the book fall apart when you think about it but if you just take it for what it is, an entertaining but cheesy thriller, you'll enjoy it.

The Harp of Kings by Juliet Marillier 

This book features the children of the main characters from the Blackthorn and Grim series but you don’t need to read that series in order to read this one (though you should!). The book features three teenagers that are training to be warriors that are selected to go undercover in a nearby kingdom to find the stolen Harp of Kings before the new king’s coronation can take place. It was slow in the beginning and I felt there wasn’t much character development but it was an enjoyable read.

In Darkling Wood by Emma Carroll

Alice’s sick brother is getting a lung transplant and Alice is forced to stay with an estranged grandmother. Her grandmother lives on the edge of darkling wood, a place rumored to be filled with fairies. This book reminded me of a less dark version of When A Monster Calls. It deals with some of the same themes but this is more aimed towards children with a feel good ending.

The Lost Girls by Heather Young

In the summer of 1935, six year old Emily disappeared leaving her two older sisters and parents devastated. Sixty years later, both sisters are dead but one of them left behind her house and a notebook detailing what happened that summer for her grandniece, Justine. This book wasn’t so much of a thriller but focused more on Justine’s current issues with her daughters and ex boyfriend. I found the chapters with the notebook pages in between chapters more interesting than the modern story.

Love, Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli 

I read the first Stargirl years ago but reread it before reading this one. This sequel doesn’t manage to capture the same charm as the first one did. The book is a series of letters that Stargirl writes (but doesn’t send) to Leo from the first book following her over the course of a year. I found it surprisingly boring at times and Stargirl seemed far to normal as compared to the first book. It was neat to see what she was up to after the first book but overall I didn’t think it was a necessary sequel. 

A Psalm for Lost Girls by Katie Bayerl

Callie’s older sister was considered a saint in her small town before she tragically passed away. Now the city is trying to have her canonized, but Callie knows her sister wasn’t a saint, and the pressure is what ultimately killed, so now she’s on a mission to prove that her sister was just a normal girl. This book involved a missing child that Callie’s sister was supposed to find before she died but couldn’t. The mystery there was very predictable and was kind of on the back burner to Callie’s story. I think this would have been a more interesting story if it had been from the sister’s perspective and how it felt to be a teen saint while she was still alive.

The Rose Without a Thorn by Jean Plaidy 

The story of Katherine Howard, the fifth wife of King Henry. I was looking for a novel that painted Katherine as sympathetic, as most adaptations make her out to be a seductress. This novel was strange as it read as a wikipedia entry in a narrative form. It was all telling and no showing and lacked real emotion. From the minor research I’ve done, it seems to be pretty accurate in terms of events that happened. Trigger Warning: Sexual Abuse featuring a minor (but isn’t presented as such)

Sadie by Courtney Summers

Sadie’s sister was murdered and she is determined to bring the killer to justice. In between each chapter about Sadie is a the transcript for a podcast that is covering the case, as well as Sadie’s future disappearance . This is a very popular book but to be honest, I'm not sure what the point was? The podcast was an interesting idea but it basically just rehashed everything we already knew. Not much was added by it. The ending just fizzles away and the story tended to drag in places. It was very well written though and I think I was just not the right audience for it.

The Seventh Bride by T. Kingfisher

A creepy retelling of Bluebeard. It reads like a YA in some places but Adult in others. It was definitely unsightly and out there but I found it confusing in some places. It has some great creepy imagery and slight body horror to it.

The Supervillain and Me by Danielle Banas

Abby’s brother is a superhero beloved by the whole crime ridden town. But when a supervillain comes into town, Abby finds her paths crossing with him again and again. Okay, so the supervillain wasn’t even a villain and the reason for wanting Abby to help him was not a very good one. The book is mostly about the romance between the two which was nice but nothing spectacular. I found myself more interested in the musical Abby was starring in. It was about a cannibalistic royal family whose oldest son falls in love with a servant and he has to save her from being eaten by his family. Now THAT sounded interesting!

Winterdream by Chantal Gadoury

A Nutcracker retelling. This was a sweet retelling of the story. It didn’t add much to the original tale or the ballet but it was a good winter read to get into the spirit of Christmas.

They Wish They Were Us by Jessica Goodman

Freshman year, Jill’s best friend was killed by her boyfriend., Graham Now it’s senior year and Jill is the president of an elite school club but someone keeps texting her about Graham’s innocence and she can’t keep herself from diving deeper into the mystery to unearth what really happened to her friend. Gripping and twisty, this book was a solid teen mystery!

Not Rated

I’m Thinking of Ending Things by Iain Reid

I read this almost a year ago and I still don’t know what to think about it. I can’t decide if the story was genius or simple shock value. Did the twist make sense? I don’t know honestly. I read this before I even knew there was a netflix adaptation coming and I while I read this book in one sitting, I only made it halfway through the movie. I personally don’t think it translated well to screen. If you are looking for a quick disturbing read with an ending you WILL NOT be able to guess, then I highly recommend this one.

The Merry Spinster: Tales of Everyday Horror by Mallory Ortberg

There’s a pretty popular post on his webiste that has a link to a horrifying retelling of Curious George. This is a collection of retellings/unrelated short stories by the same author. I didn’t read all of the stories in this because some of them were just too difficult to get through and confusing. However, the dark retellings of fairy tales and children books were really enjoyable. I particularly liked the retellings of The velveteen rabbit, the frog prince and the six swans. I think they can all be found online and not just in this collection.

Midnight Sun by Stephenie Meyer

Is it good? No. Is it garbage? Yes. Did I still read it any way? Yes. Team Edward for life.

[bemybestoy]

Genesis of me

Genesis: becoming me! Hello bitches and kink lovers,This blog shall be an open letter to guide and smooth out  our relationship as I am sick and tired of how a dominatrix and a sub's role are misunderstood. Let me introduce myself, I am Krisztina, a pro domme, in my 30's and I am embracing this role for around 8 years. Meaning I am highly experienced and I tried it all, expect the practices that reach out my limit. Such as permanent damage, I would never put the life and health of a slave of mine in jeopardy not thru my instructions or even just widness(you cannot even imagine thru years how many times I was asked if we can perform a c2c castration  precedure, stabbing with knifes or swords for any amount I can posibly think of asking. I repeate it was about c2c so not bulshit as I would watch all along). When I refused such life threatning session I was offered same only to watch, not to instruct. Answer is still NO everytime. BDSM is not abuse, it is not guided endangerment, it must be sane, sane, consensual and have very clear boundaries of safety. To rewind i started to explore this world in my early 20s ofc and suprise , suprise in real life. Even if i am mostly an online fetish chathost and online domme, I did not know such sections of BDSM exist in camming world, till after a few years i have done dominance in real life. Let me explain! So I had a mid managemnt job after my university in a multinational company, which was and still is top 3 globally in its field and shall always be. There is not even a child all across this world that does not know what company is about when hearing it's name (do not be cretin enough to ask me the name, I will tell NO to your face. Or ask you what info you wish next home adress, Id identification number, blood group or home keys along with an open window in case you do not manage to use the keys:)) ). So i was there around 1 years and half and had a long distance relationship with often travelling . We all know those never lastunless one of the two moves abroad. So I hapilly informed my family and work collegues I wish to move to a different country to move in with my bf/ soon to be fiancee. The question in everyone's head right now was you bf your was Ds relationship? the honest answer is hell no! my bf was alike me a real alpha, one of the strongest man psysical and mental both and definetly would not take attitude from no woman (not even the love of his life, unless he was dick and she was right. To understand you need to picture a man at height 1,95 cm and around 100 kilos all fibers and muscles as he had been a kickboxer and when i met him a trainer for kickboxers at European level. A true montain of a man who yet never felt his manhood threaten if he discussed his feeling with me, his desires, his sensibilities, things i would do or say to hurt his feeling even involuntary a I was busy all the time and moving fast etc). So not only that he was not the submissive type, but even if we were in harmony from time to time he would give me 'attitude'. Now even if I am pleased and happy, even if I amm not the nagging type, no matter who you are and how much I love you, if you cross me I will whoop your ass. After a fe episodes, as chasing him thru the apartment every room with the moop tail pointed a him to kick his ass until he ran out, threating to stab his hand with a fork when he tried to touch my steak after leavig him without one as he made clearly to me he was not a pussy to carry grocery bagsand hence to help and many as suchhe decided I should meet one of his best friend from high school, a lady leaving in a city close. He said we would get along perfectly and the lady and I would get along perfectly. Who would knew I was in for such a big suprise.....(cheshire cat as i recall and type). So I did not know much about her ad what she does for a living when we were instruduced. We had  lovely conversation, then she invited me some day when i am off work to visit her house, met her husband also and spend some more lady time together(I was a manager in one of my bf business a gran coffee shop/ bar it was quite big and had 2 floors one was coffe shop and bar all white with blue lighting surrounding th wide bar and lower floor  couches and tables and ring dance for party rentals such as festivity, anniversieries etc. I done so many things in there: not only i would cash in all the money that being my main, but i would help the other emplyees by making cocktails- I made a course for that- , even cleaning or washing glasses, once out there i was the only personal managing or website, of course PR as even t planning as I was the one who organised every detail of our rental and someone even DJ, a lower floor had DJ booth with pro equipment which i manage to completely fuck up as I had no idea what I was doing and the booked DJ announced last minute he was so coming so my bf said as i am the most modern and tech savvy to give a try to see if i can work it. not only I was not able , but i fucked it up so bad we had to call a tehnician to fix it and he taught me basically how to use it on a minimal level to work it for the party which turned out great. Still cracks me out when i think of my face when i was sure i fucked it up lol. it was a dexter labority moment and his blonde sister deedee: i was like many if i press this and that i will fix it )  I was like well i cannot make it worse :))) Then I decided I need some female eergy without the 'guys' going everyday at my bf gym to do my box training, my krav maga and I gave a call to this lady ask her if I can indeed visit and when It is appropriate to come and suits her schedule.My employees and bf replacing me could manage a day without and i needed a getaway. She invited me in couple or days, my bf drove me to her house and then left to actually replace me. we had an amazing luncheon, laughed, make jokes, just getting to know each other mostly me and her, but also her husband. Then she informed me she had some work to do soon but i can wait with her husband. Unlike I want to come with her. I was like ok I want to come, ut i am not sure whether i disturb you and invite me just to be polite or if it is really ok. i mean i got the best manners you could witnes both on and out of my job. She said she would actually like to share what she does with me as she likes me and she is quite sure having such a strong and open personality  would not make me freak out. I was within my mind ' what should i freak out about?!'. but still acted al casual as i liked her myslf, it only made me very curious. I have a feline personality so curiosity is in my nature, though it is pure and observatory, not the gossip, lame and weak as usual women are. So..... she said she will be busy with work for around 2 hours and if i wanted to stay aside as she cannot pay attention to me. i was like ok... She then invited me at the basement where she said she would met at her 'office' a person whom she expects, as her work space has direct access from garage. Then we would both go downstairs. Well probably telling all cluess made you suspect or realise it was a full dungeon downstairs. a pro dungeon.you should have seen my face when i noticedall the tools, device,suspension systems and the rest of the toys. She looked at me patient and confident, without a care in her mind that i might judge or something.... let me soak it all in... then she asked: You still want to stay or do you want to go upstairs with my husband to keep him company thru soccer game was on tv? " . She was so calm as if she shown me a bush of pants in her garder:)) Then my first outspoken reaction to her it was one of a morron: my first words after what i have seen, my first question asked was if her husband knew about all these(as they do not share a house for more then 10 years). She said yes, but he does not interfer with her work, comes down sometimes, but participates rare and very dismissive toward whom she works with. So I gotten more curious. I obviously suspected what will happen soon, but never withness something alike.Well I done so many sessions and you remember even if having a perfect memory the big lines of the majority. The first one I had only as a peeper I remember in smallest little details. Bitch parked and had a hoody on. he knoecked and when was invited, he went down on his knees down on all stairs. He looked like a maggot or miriapod with his head down to do not cascade over stairs as he was not standing. She then informed her she had a guest which will attend, but will not participate. Not giving a fuck of his reaction. I;ve seen chain suspection bondage, over all punishment and esp cbt along with huge strapon penetration. Shge is quite tall1.80 and she really was at perfect level as he bitch even if him hanging from the ceiling without touch the floor or be close to it even. i was amazed and intrigued. So as soon everything was done and he left ofc i asked so many questions. She answered all with patience even if i must have been annoying like a child and not  take the time to put together the smarters questions. After i while I was blablabla in a hyper manner about what she does as a professional domina I was like wait! does my bf know about this? She smilled and said ofc. He sometimes rarely when visiting me participates even as a master helping mewith pain or bootlicking or stuff. He joins more then my husbnd who when bored and coming down to see when i finish at most lets his shoes licked by my slaves then goes upstairs. I found all these fascinaint and so alternative so ofc I wanted to see more.So often I would visit her as watch her sessions with her slaves. After several mouth a slave of hers made her after session a big financial tribute offer that i participate too and i can second her domining. She asked me if it is something I consider. I did want it, but felt like I would be clueless as per what to do. Even if you watch many times that does not mean you feel suddly like you can replicate that certainty in action. She said not to worry as bitch knows it is my first time and this and following her lead is exactly what it is excites him. So i mus not overthink, just try to have some fun. And damn! It was so much fun! the hormones, the excitment, the laughter from humiliation talk, the driven crazy look on the bitches' face, the overall experience. it was like wow! it is hard to paint it in words, with all lexicon richness or ability to play with words. it is pure extasy! :D:DAfter he felt she made sure he had a chit chat with a glass of wine, making sure i am good with all, she said how great i was as she does not like other lady dommes in general. What was the goodbye part when my bf arrved to pick me up in car she actually did give me my own tribute. how much money! like lots! Then she invited me often to participate in the session in which slave got excited about 2 lady dommes. I accepted that one per week as i was busy with my own line of work. I had so much fun more then a year. Seen lots, done lots.Then a night I was speaking to him in our bed, holding hands, after2-3 rounds of sex and many orgasms. My realtionships are very intimate and I always go for an open man, who is super smart so besides sex and comfy routine I would have a late night conversation till 4-5 am even if we had to bed up and work in couple hours. there is just something that it is most meaninful ina relationship, to communicate ina deep way and to enjoy it lots both of you. and get into each other soul, emotions and deepest needs.So I did ask him : what made you think she would like me and would like her? what made you believe i would enjoy all these as you know we do not do anything as such? He then said he met thru his life many type of women: brainy, prude, whores, dommes, swingerseven submissive lil fmale toys. And he said a true dominant is never made into one. Ofc you can be good if you copy and get exposured to it or at least satisfactory to a slave. But the best dominant are born, not made. It is in their nature and personalities. They give out clues all the time, no matter the random they do.It made me wonder lots. After a couple moment of silence with my head on his chest, lips against his neck and hand holded all thru our talk, just enjoying the thinking of each, the meaninful silence, i asked if he does not feel bothered about that facti enjoy myself playing with slaves when not only he do not do anything alike, but he is not playing with others either. I mean it is a vast emoions i fell which exclude him fully. he said ofc not, as our love life is something i need more then my alternative fun, thta he knows i can live without that experience, but i would be heartbroken if i was without us (you need to understand jealousy cannot be an issue here. Real pro dommes in dungeon do facesitting all dressed up thru latex or leather and it has got a suffocating breath control purpose. i will explain you why: first of all a n evelated domme cares about personal hygiene and she know there are many scat lovers visiting dommes. so to have one licking your pussy it is not quite sanitary. also ass worship is done thru leggings. the most expensive, best dommes will never allow a slave licking. that is just some vanilla crap made up buy hookers selling sex and bdsm aswell. a well respected professional odoes not indulge in that. I am not saing to use a slave for self sexual satisfaction makes you a bad, poorly skilled mistress. But you do that as a lifestyle domme.Meaning you have a domestic relatinship with your slave who is your life patner. Never in a pro dungeon relationship oral for a slave would be allowed or accepted). Drinking champagne straight from mistress soource yes, but without wiping after. You may have it fromshort distance her controlling her debit makeing her slave do not miss anything unless they agree before on a facial champagne game. But when you go to a pro domme you cannot expect her to enjoy licking pussy and ass. Not to mention licks or even nudity just because it arrouses you. so my bf knew my sex life involved only him, in vanilla terms we all know.And he was ok with my alternative fun. We were even if a modern couple a very faithful one. So our orgasms were only and strictly dedicated to one another, exclusively.He wasgreat in bed so i would have every single day more then ten orgams within couple of hours(we had wakeup sex, luch break sex and couple turns before bed, many squirty orgams, clit or vaginal without squirt). The most sexual gesture i seenin the pro domme who introduced me to this world is just around 3 times within one year to milk cock with latex gloves, but with ruin orgasm. she took hand of when she felt he would come load was shoot without touching he would lick after she pull gloved off and glove was washed after. More often she would make the bitch wank himself while she instructs him closeby. her husband accepted her line as he accepted and love everything about her, but he was like my ex fiancee: hear pussy, ass, breast, orgams, real sexual intimacy are for your pratner. Not for everyone. That is a hooker thing to do. To gave all that just just random everyones. One after the other.That is not what a real dmme is made off. Her strenght and charm comes out because he in full intimacy is hard to get if not impossible. And by all means a slave shoould be use till u reach full sexual satisfaction. But only for your chosen one or ones. I fyou are a lifestyle domme and have a slave as life partner or few slaves as toys as open relationship is ok. But you cannot expect same from a real pro domme! That is something builtand leveled up!PS Hmmm now to breath a lil as I poured everything  so fast. deep inhales and exhales. light a cigg after and build this disclaimer. my spelling is awful as you know me i type like a motherfucker in full speed. Ignore all errors and consider the essence of my phrases. I do not believe in going back to spellcheck unless you publich a book or something editorial. I did that during university in an non paid internship, both as corrector and publisher. But it was a publication spread and shippd on a national evel. And in both roles i learned that the first message and thought till publishing as you go back several times are worlds apart. So much changes. And since I do not publish something wanting to be of intellectual value I wish a very spontaneous, fast writing. It is the most sincere, no filters and even if shifting thoughts without a bridge causing some lack of coherency now and then it is more powerful as the first reactions are.  So yes a blog! why a blog? i do not do social media. it is lame, tacky and became brainless. i miss books or blogs at least. and i do not like at all media unless i do exposure over it from bitches craving for begging and tribute me for it. These reasons and that I cannot stand screens after 8-10 hours of online being available to sessions. I like to look in eyes of someone I talk to and they looking back at me. Instead of both or all dinner participants looking non stop at phone while we pretend to be together. Meanwhile no one is present as they focused on media and other stuffs over their phone .That is not only lame and un natural  , but also impolite. Themost important ask from people around me is manners first of all. One lack of manners become my refusal to have this creature close to me even silent, simply unacceptable.  In addition, if i must have my eyes after work on something i prefer a good movie or a book. Actual human contact is important to me as little as we have it nowadays with global situation. so NO, unless i will have video call activated which i will seldom have I do NOT exist until i am online the next day I feel the need to have people at my feet :) I am literary out of this world. I do not exist for anyone online. And enjoy it every minute !

[angry-slytherin]

Heaven Help Me(Ch 4)

Jo yawns, grabbing the coffee from Link’s hand, and taking a sip.

“Hey! I need that,” he takes it back, “Scout’s birthday party is tomorrow morning and I can’t leave until my fellow finishes his first solo Acetabular fixation.”

Jo gasps, smacking her face.

“What?”

“Oh my god. I totally forgot to get him a gift.” Link laughs at this.

“He’s only nearly three, I doubt he’ll even care; he’s only there for the cake and the attention.” Jo snatches Link’s coffee again, takes a swig, and hands it back to him. Then she stands up.

“He’s my only nephew, I’m going to spoil him!” Her eyes go wide, and she grabs her purse before leaving Link sitting alone in the lounge.

On her way out, she bumps into Izzie Stevens.

“Hey, Doctor Wilson. So sorry about the other night, by the way. My husband and I shouldn’t have been working out personal problems at work. But thanks for whatever you told Alex, it knocked some real sense into him.” Izzie smiles brightly. Jo smiles back, waving a hand.

“It’s no problem, really. I just told him that he should learn to agree with his wife before kids get involved. He’s the first person here who’s treated me like a friend, so I figured he would listen to my advice. I’m glad he did.” Izzie nods, locking Jo’s gaze.

“Do you have kids?”

“No. Someday, hopefully,” Jo shrugs, “With the right person.”

“Yeah. Once you find them, you’ll know. Alex invigorates me like no other sometimes, but I have no doubts he’ll be a great dad. He’s great with kids,” Izzie proudly states. Jo presses her lips together.

“He and I had a patient the other day, and he took is pretty hard when the kid bled out.”

“That’s him. I’m lucky, not everyone can say their husband will be a great father; but the way Alsx handles kids...it’s hard to have doubts.”

Jo smiles, “Yeah. He seems pretty great with them.”

“I’m sorry, I have a patient waiting. But it was nice talking to you!” Izzie waves, and Jo startlingly sees herself in the gesture.

***

“Hi Wilson.” A voice whispers in Jo’s ear. She turns around and it’s Alex, smirking at her.

“Hey Karev.” She grins back. Jo finds herself close to flirting, and she has to keep the fact that he’s married in the back of her mind.

“I figured I’d see you here. Is Link actually your brother? I don’t know him well, but he’s never mentioned a sister.”

“No. He and I waited tables together in undergrad for a while. He’s basically my brother, but not biologically or anything.” Jo looks down.

“Well biology doesn’t make a family for a lot of people. What about marriages?” Alex points out. Jo looks back up at him, eyebrows stitched.

“Yeah, I guess. My therapist used to tell me that for orphaned people- although I guess I’m only suto-orphaned in the technical sense- a biological family member becomes very important. I really should start dating in Seattle, shouldn’t I?” Jo laughs.

“How do you do that? Talk about having no family, no parents, so nonchalantly?” Alex questions. Jo bites her lip.

“I mean for me, it’s nothing new. I’ve never really had family. I was married once, but that’s over, and I was really young. It’s uh- I don’t like to talk about it. But I guess I don’t have a problem if it’s the conversation.”

“If it makes you feel any better, my mom was a schizophrenic all growing up, and my dad was a junkie who hit her and abandoned us. I was in eleven foster homes, by the way. I didn’t mention it when we both said we were foster kids,” Alex grins.

“Oh so we’re competing now? I was in thirteen.”

“That’s tragic. My brother is a schizophrenic now, just so you know. He tried to kill my kid sister; she was sixteen.”

“I lived in my car for a year. I was sixteen.” Jo locks Alex’s eyes and they both burst out laughing.

“It’s really nice to find someone who understands,” Jo smiles.

“Yeah. It is. I’m sorry you lived in your car and nobody loves you.”

“I’m sorry your family is either alcoholic or mentally ill.” Then they both start laughing again.

“You’ll find someone, Jo. Don’t worry. I mean look at me, I’ve got Izzie, and I’m going to have kids.”

“Oh yes. Lots of Stevens-Karev children.” Jo giggles. Link comes over to the corner that Jo and Alex reside in, with a camera in hand.

“It’s cake time.” Unexplainably, this sets the two friends off again.

***

After they’ve sung ‘Happy Birthday’ to Scout, and cut the cake, Jo finds herself with both Izzie and Alex for the first time; which is odd to her considering she’s basically been a third extension of their marital issues for the past week.

“Oh hey, Doctor Wilson!” Izzie Stevens is smiling again, that bright, happy smile that one can only have if they so possess great optimism and hope. It makes Jo smile too.

“You can just call me Jo,” Jo tells the blonde woman, and then presses her lips together in amusement, catching Alex’s eyes.

“Then you can call me Izzie.”

“Right,” a pause, “So Alex tells me you’re a surgical oncologist? That’s encompasses two medical fields in one; what’s that like?”

“Oh well I love surgery, but I also love getting to know my patients, and really bringing them through to health whenever I can. I’m sure you get that though, with your surgical innovation fellowship along with being a practicing surgeon, no?”

“I certainly do. Poor Alex here is just stuck fixing cute kids all day,” Jo quips.

“Oh ha-ha.” Alex rolls his eyes, “You keep killing mice, Wilson. I’ll be over here actually saving someone’s ass.”

“Alex!” Izzie chastises her husband.

“It’s okay, Izzie,” Jo waves the air, “You’re just jealous my brilliant brain is going to get me filthy rich.”

“Oh, hon, she’s got you there,” Izzie laughs. Alex grumbles, but stares at Jo nonetheless. It makes her look away, uncomfortable. Izzie playfully pushes Alex and they kiss. That makes Jo infinitely more uncomfortable.

“I uh- I’m going to get a drink I think. Would either of you like anything?” They both decline and Jo saunters over to the concession table. There is Amelia, holding her son. Jo grabs the small boy out of Amelia’s arms and holds him.

“Hey there, birthday boy. How does three feel?” Jo gives the baby a closed-lip smile.

“Great! I like the cake!”

“Awesome,” Jo gives Scout a high-five, grabbing a lemonade juice box. Amelia is studying her.

“Are you sure you don’t have a thing with Alex? Because he looks more interested when you talk to him than he does with his wife.” Amelia grabs a napkin, wiping icing off the kid’s face.

“Amelia! No! Why do you keep asking? You’re seeing things.”

“Am I though? Good husbands look at their wives above all else.”

“Well he’s not a cheater, and I’m not a home-wrecker, so stop it. I like your son way more than you right now, and he’s now stolen my lemonade,” Jo motions to Scout with her head, drinking her juice box.

“Alright fine, but give him back. He needs to go socialize with people his own age.”

“Leave my juice box alone,” Jo grins.

[rdwyns]

          hey y’all, it’s kit again ! swapping jeyne out for anya, my muse from the last iteration of warofcrowns but with some obvious edits ! if you remember her from the old version, fair warning, she’s gotten significantly worse. her intro is still absurdly, ridiculously long, i am well aware and will not apologize. but if you do manage to read the whole thing you have my eternal gratitude & admiration ! i’d also really, really love plenty of plots and connections for her so if you want to plot, here’s how: like this post if you don’t mind me messaging you, or get a head start and shoot me a message either on IMs or on discord !

⤷ ( kit. cet. 22. she / her. violence against children. ) the courts offer bread and salt to anya caron née redwyne of house caron. many say the twenty-five year old ruling lady of nightsong is known to be poised and insightful, though ill tongues whisper that she is insecure and volatile. when her name is uttered, one is reminded of a faint light in a sea of fog, sweet fruit souring into wine, & a dark stain spreading over silk. may she be blessed and protected in this war of crowns.

        tw - discussions or mentions of alcoholism, childbirth & pregnancy, domestic abuse & neglect, suicide by drowning, food & disordered eating, forced marriage, mental & physical illness, misogyny. ( yeah it’s a lot, don’t mind me. )

basics.

name. anya caron née redwyne. nicknames. age. twenty-five. traits.      + educated, reverent, insightful, poised, curious, resourceful, sentimental.      - guarded, resentful, volatile, insecure, transgressive, dependent. titles. ruling lady of nightsong. loyalty. house targaryen.

family.

desmond redwyne, ruling lord of the arbor. ( father ) viola redwyne née ???, ruling lady of the arbor. ( mother , deceased ) ??? redwyne, heir to the arbor. ( half-brother ) ??? ??? née redwyne, lady of the arbor. ( half-sister )

??? caron, ruling lord of nightsong. ( husband ) amerei caron, lady of nightsong ( sister-in-law )

pre - history ; house & parents .

the redwynes were always military men. had to be, really, being island people, more isolated and often more endangered than their mainland counterparts. really, there was nothing quite so loved as war, except perhaps wine.

an old, proud house, the redwynes and their fleet have fought for targaryen kings for centuries — they stood by aegon in the dance of the dragons, stood by jon & daenerys against cersei lannister, and even stood by maegos against the dornish and northern rebellions.

lord desmond redwyne took his father’s seat in the reign of king aeron. in a prosperous and peaceful time, men drunk on dreams of a glorious war grow restless — so he hunted, and whored, and drank, and none of it so much as touched his reputation. no, lord redwyne was an honorable man, a true servant of the realm, an example to many.

lady viola redwyne might have said otherwise, had anyone asked her. prone to bouts of melancholy, often disagreeable, and with a reputation for refusing suitors, she might have even succeeded had she not been so beautiful. lord redwyne must have her, and her father could not refuse.

his second wife, fifteen years his junior, and unhappy with the match, she could not love him, nor his other children, nor the arbor. a lack of love in such close quarters sours into hate over time, like bad wine. one of her few reliefs was that he already had an heir and a spare. poor health and misery would not have made her a brood-mare of any longevity.

family history & early childhood . 

as it stood, anya was more an unexpected result than a desired outcome, and ultimately even a bone of contention. she bound her mother by love, to the arbor and the man that she hated.

they were left well enough alone, for a time, viola and her daughter, the septa, and the maidservants. even the wet nurse sent away. anya’s infancy brought a modicum of respite, but it would not last more than a handful of years.

by that time it aroused suspicion. lady redwyne would hardly leave her chambers, refuse to let the child out of her sight, would not see her husband and even refused food for periods at a time. it was unhealthy, unnatural, they soon started saying. in inns and winesinks at ryamsport men would murmur ‘poor lord redwyne, imagine a wife that beautiful going mad on you,’ into their cups, laughing at their great fortune to have avoided his.

and perhaps there was something real to it, perhaps there really was something unsettling about the arrangement. perhaps not. but in the end it was only the talk that mattered. once it reached lord redwyne’s ears, red with shame at being laughed at by traders and fishermen, he put his foot down. viola’s whims were not to be indulged or tolerated any longer, and besides, ‘the child’—by this he meant anya—‘must grow to be a fool or a half-wit if left in her care.’

and so anya was removed to the care of a cousin, mostly sheltered from her mother’s influence. there were fights about it for months. the withdrawn lady redwyne who would not speak but to her daughter and her maidservant and looked to the window whenever anyone looked at her had disappeared. she raged, schemed to steal her daughter away, wept, wandered the halls at night, and made trouble.

lord redwyne even tried being gentle, for a time, speaking in soft pleading words for her to be reasonable, but gentle or harsh it made no difference. if she saw anya twice, even three times a day, it was not enough — to her mind, he had stolen her daughter, stolen her life, stolen her freedom and anything else he might think of taking, and she wasn’t wrong. but when she threatened to throw herself from the eastern tower, she sealed her own fate.

on horseshoe rock, one of the smaller islands in the waters surrounding the arbor, a small stout keep was furnished and staffed, and lady redwyne was sent out of sight, out of mind, and certainly out of the way, where she couldn’t cause another such a stir — and most importantly, after a while, the talk died down.

personal history .

with all the difficulties tended to, and all the loose ends and loose canons carefully tied down, anya’s upbringing was left to a succession of septas, servants, and after a time, an aunt, newly widowed  and returned to the arbor.

out of her father’s favor for as long as she could remember, with a rocky relationship with her siblings ( i won’t go into detail in case my wc is picked up ! ), anya found little relief within the castle walls. she attended her lessons dutifully, could sew and sing and smile, recite the houses, their sigils and heroes, and it all meant little and less to her.

she wanted to set sail, she had always insisted — since before she knew what it really meant, just uttering phrases picked up along the way the way one does around seafarers — but desmond redwyne would not suffer any of his daughters to venture so far beyond his control. he knew better than to trust sailors, and certainly never trusted women.

so instead anya spent years at her window, watching sails shrink and disappear over the horizon ; by the sea, swimming in a cove under the watchful eye of the septa ; sneaking in the fields during harvest, stealing grapes ripe to bursting. searching desperately, maybe shiftlessly, for a little bit of sweetness. all the while she visited her mother only rarely, on namedays and holy days and days when, for whatever mysterious reason, her father’s pity won out over his good sense.

she studied too, though silently, mostly unnoticed. the kitchen girls, the household guard, the way people talked when they didn’t think anyone was paying attention. watched her father most of all, and had no illusions about him. even if she still aspired to please him, somehow, to gain his approval, she knew: he was a cruel man, harsh, childish, selfish, drunk on wine and himself, and yet still too clever to let all of that be his ruin.

her betrothal, like any lady’s, was inevitable — on the horizon of her future, marriage appeared to her like a fog, uncertain in all aspects but its impending approach. in the end it was a transaction, as these things almost always are. a dowry of ships, wine, and gold ( but really, mostly ships ) was enough to make anya a desirable bride despite the whispers of madness that clung to her mother, and she was promised to the heir of nightsong without even the illusion of being well-matched.

demure, docile, even shy, few suspected that, days before she was to leave for her wedding, anya would disappear in the night. would sneak from the castle in the dark, with a torch and one gold dragon, paid to the wife of a fisherman who, in her husband’s small boat, rowed anya to the shores of horseshoe rock to say goodbye to her mother one last time.

it was a mistake, but she couldn’t have known that. she came at night, the only time she could, but to viola, startled from her sleep, she was a ghost in the moonlight. after the truth came, ‘i’m leaving. father says i must,’ her mother, in tears, threw herself in front of the door, on the ground, wept in fits and refused to let her leave. it was the first and last time anya ever truly believed her mad. with promises that she would refuse her marriage and sail home as soon as she could, she left.

she was guilty, of course — so guilty it ate her up, and very nearly killed her, but not so guilty that she turned back. her mother could not bear for her to go, but anya felt she would die — truly die — if she were forced to stay.

the preparations were already well underway by the time word reached them from the arbor. lady redwyne had disappeared. alseep in bed at night, swore the servant, but gone in the morning. the island was searched for weeks, coasts scoured, sailors and captains interrogated, but to no avail. some say she escaped, others that she was kidnapped, and yet others know with conviction that she simply walked into the sea and drowned

though she wore the her house colors instead of black, anya was married in mourning. the wedding was a ridiculous affair, lavish and splendid and festive, and it only made her all the more self-conscious. she was polite, sweet, but in the momentary lull of conversation she looked lost. doe-eyed — not innocent, but wary, reproachful.

( note --- everything that follows may be changed at a later date if / when her husband is applied for ; i’m trying to keep it as vague as possible for that reason, sorry. )

it was a relief to be gone from the arbor, that she could not deny, but things at nightsong were not better. she was withdrawn, in mourning, clumsy in her attempts to draw affection from her husband and all the while mistrusting him ; even at the arbor she knew the household, was familiar with the scullery maids and the maester. here she was a stranger in her own home, and resentment blossomed as easily and intractably as wildflowers.

in the end she found she had traded a familiar prison for one completely alien to her. in the end it was probably worse. she did not sour quickly, no --- it took time, but sour she did. 

tl ; dr , personality .

a traumatic, tense, and lonely childhood, ghost-like and disconnected. mommy and daddy issues, because why not. that and a poor marriage leaves her bitter, withdrawn ; there is a deep, foul darkness in her that she does not have the strength to keep at bay.

haunted by rumors of madness passed down from her mother, hard to disprove when she seems to be turning into her more and more every day. more recently questions of her fidelity have been raised ; she ignores them publicly but remains wary. honestly she’s not ‘mad’ it’s just what they call women with big emotions and opinions, y’know.

despite all that she still seeks sweetness, tenderness --- she is seriously traumatized and seriously sentimental, but not necessarily a good person. she might try to be or think she is, but in the end she’s also very shady and good at lying to herself, or aspiring to goodness. wants intensity above all else, whether good or bad. 

basically what happens when you put a sweet, sensitive girl into the rough, careless hands of men ; even when they do not mean to misuse her some damage is inevitably done. that’s not to say she’s only a victim ; she can be as cruel as she is tender, and hurting only makes her want to hurt more.

very insecure, which manifests itself in a lot of different ways ; does she try to make herself big and powerful ? does she try to turn herself into whatever it is she thinks someone wants ? does she overthink things and say too little end up seeming like an absolute whacko ? does she get overexcited and yes.

poised and image-aware but resents it. she should have been the daughter of a miller or a fisherman or even a knight, but not of a lord ; harbors secret dreams of simple domesticity but she’s been told at every turn that makes her weak or small-minded so she dreams of nothing instead.

plot ideas !

cousins. i haven’t yet decided what house anya’s mother is from, so there are plenty of options for familial attachments there, though probably a house from the reach / southern kingdom ! her father also probably had sisters, although they’d probably be another generation older and have adult grandchildren at this point, so. second cousins ? i think ? 

failed or cancelled betrothal. this is also super open ! again, would probably be someone from the southern kingdom, all things considered. what their relationship would be or whether they had even ever met is all very much up in the air. 

former flings. again i like to keep my plot ideas open to customization and further plotting ! but i also think that she may, probably, arguably, definitely have sought comfort elsewhere after realizing her marriage was not going the places she was hoping. idk man she just wants to be touched. how intense it was or how long it went on or what it meant are all very very open to discussion, i love a little drama but i definitely don’t need this to turn into a ship or anything ! and again this would be open to any gender because all my muses are bi !

enemies. i cannot stress this enough, i love enemy connections. maybe anya’s jealous and petty which she is perfectly capable of being ; she loves herself a backhanded compliment and has a bad habit of lashing out when she’s feeling upset or otherwise justified in her shittiness. could also be enemies due to bad blood between their families, since her dad is fairly shitty also. 

family ward. could go two ways ; either someone who spent some time in their childhood at the arbor or somewhere anya might have been sent for some time in her childhood ? she was fairly isolated at the arbor for most of her childhood but i would love for her to still have some childhood connections or something.

#badreputation friends. anya adores her sister-in-law amerei more than she can express ; both of them have a dark cloud of a bad reputation hanging over their heads. anya’s a madwoman and a whore, and amerei’s killed all three of her husbands, if the rumors are to be believed. which means that anya absolutely adores any lady with a bad reputation, especially if that reputation is only bad because of misogyny. they also don’t necessarily need to be friends, but anya definitely finds them more interesting than most others.

little sibling-ey relationship. yea i’m braindead and not thinking of cool names for these things anymore. anyway, gimme a muse who’s still all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and brings out the very best in anya ; she’s always been the youngest sibling but with an intense need to protecc ( catch her rehabilitating birds with broken wings and defending the baker’s boy from bullies ). also has loads of mostly half-bad advice to pass on ! 

literally anything else ! please ! i just love intense, extensive, or lore-heavy plots but also anything casual and fun i am not picky ! i just ! want plots and connections and muse to write !

[b0rtney]

Why I Do What I Do: 1. A Human Being with a Place of Birth

You can’t know where you’re going without knowing where you’re from, so today I’ll talk a little bit about where I’m from, and why I do what I do. This first part is about where I’m from as a human being.

I was born and raised in a nice little suburb of Missouri, about twenty minutes from downtown St. Louis. 

For kindergarten, I went to a nice Henry school and attended a nice Baptist church on Sundays, and maybe one other day of the week if I’m remembering that right. These were the kinds of places that would make any moderate person’s skin crawl. My older sister would scream and pout when my parents wrestled her into a church dress, but it would be a scandal if she tried wearing pants– that kind of place. My parents got divorced when I was six or seven, and that kind of thing had every person in that church turning their backs on my family, the fact that my mom soon began working to support me and my siblings was, I’m sure, the talk of the congregation for a little while– that kind of place. 

After my parents got divorced, I switched to another nice Henry school, and I moved to new houses: one for each parent. That nice Henry school didn’t work out for long. My mom couldn’t stand Henryity in almost any form anymore. And the tuition was too expensive for an electrician with a declining business and a brand-new real estate agent in 2007. So, public schools. My dad was zoned for a school with the best public schools around, so we used his address. Kehrs Mill Elementary was where I went starting in second grade, and where my brother went starting in Kindergarten. My sister started sixth grade at Crestview Middle. 

I went about half the year friendless in second grade, and then I met Fernanda. She was the only Hispanic girl in the whole school (there was one Philipino boy, two Chinese girls, an Indian girl, a Middle Eastern boy, and everyone else was African American or Caucasian). She, kind of literally, yanked me by the arm and dragged me into friendship, and I’d never been happier. We played Warrior cats (yes, based on the books, don’t look at me like that every school had some kids that did it… although I think the part where we lapped water out of the sink and hissed at her mom was a little weird). We made up a version of “Cowboys and Indians” where we would be two Chieftesses with inexplicable numbers of children and no husbands, facing moral dilemmas like what to do with prisoners of war when they won’t hear of peace– while our brothers (my one and her two) tried to shoot at us with Nerf guns. 

At this point, if you had asked me what I wanted to do with my life, I would have told you what I considered an impossible joke: I wanted to marry a woman, run an orphanage, adopt a bunch of teenagers and babies, and drive a van big enough to fit everyone in it when we went grocery shopping together. 

In third grade I took a long test in the school’s brand-new computer lab and I scored so well that they took me, once a week, on Wednesdays, to a different campus with other kids that scored really well on that test and we learned about lazers and climate change and cloning and other things for “gifted” kids. But otherwise, third grade passed in much the same way as second grade, but nothing exists without complications and so there came along a boy named Henry. He was new to school and he had what could have been called a cool haircut, for 2009, and Fernanda loved him. I didn’t. But she did, so I thought it was normal to like a boy, so I said I liked him too. And then he said he liked me better than her because she was weird and I kicked him in the shin and said something mean that I don’t remember anymore. But Fernanda didn’t like that, and she didn’t like me. So at the beginning of fourth grade she told me she wasn’t going to be my friend this year so that she could try being friends with someone else. 

So, I was alone again in fourth grade, for a minute. But by this time my real estate-mom had moved us to house number three (four, maybe?) since the divorce: a condo with blue carpets and mostly old people living there. This was where I met Branch, a kid from my class who visited his grandma in the condo directly above us. Branch and I each had a little brother, and by now my sister had taken to locking herself in her room and not talking to anyone, so Branch and me and our little brothers played “Hup-hups,” a war game where there were two sides, each with a commander and an infantryman who would respond to commands like “stay,” “go,” “attack,” and “attention.” It was pretty fun, so Branch told his friends at school about it, and they all wanted to join my faction, and this went on like a domino effect until I was running an army comprised of something like 30-50 fourth-grade boys, depending on the day, at recess. I don’t think I realized how weird that was at the time. We mostly just screwed around until another boy formed an oppositional army, calling themselves the Arachnids, because that was just about the biggest word you could know in fourth grade, and they started guerilla warfare. They would just straight-up attack us and try to hurt us. I would scream at the boys following me to run away, because I never wanted anyone to get hurt, but then the oppositional army leader had his arm around my throat and I was choking so I couldn’t yell very loud, and all the boys on my side just went to town attacking the Arachnids back. Somehow, none of the recess monitors– these were two grouchy old women who would always yell at me and Fernanda for trying to climb the trees– ever saw this, or stopped it. The violence continued until people got tired of it, and by the end of the year I was alone again.

Fifth grade was when the depression I’d had since I can remember really kicked it up a notch. It should be noted that I had no idea what depression was. I thought it was normal to just not want to get out of bed in the morning, to want to die all the time, to dig needles into your skin and try to make yourself bleed because at least then you have control over something. By then my mom had moved to house number five, within walking distance from the school, so my brother and I would walk together every morning. I made one new friend, named John, and he talked me out of suicide not once but twice, once by yelling at me over the phone and once by just existing, which is very impressive for a fifth grader, if I’m honest, but also I think I’ll always feel a little horrible for putting that pressure on him. I convinced myself that I loved him, at the time. 

You may be noticing a pattern with me and boys, but we’re not quite there yet. 

Of course, between fifth and sixth grade my family picked up and moved across the country from Missouri to Southern California.

I spent sixth grade and most of seventh grade friendless, and met a few friends in eighth grade– two of those friends are still with me to this day. In eighth grade I met a girl named Chloe, who had three pregnancy scares in a year and who convinced me to make out with her in a pillow fort in the room I shared with my sister while my sister was out with her boyfriend– and that was the first kiss I ever had and it felt like liquid lightning in my veins. But in eighth grade I also listened to my Republican parents on the matter of gay rights– of course, I barely knew what gay was, I just knew it was something you called people you didn’t like because that’s all that a Missouri elementary school teaches you about it– and so I thought gay people were a little gross, and I was a little gross for liking it when I kissed a girl, and I buried that part of me. In eighth grade I also met the boy who would be the first one I would date: Chris. I dated him from the middle of freshman year to the end of sophomore year in high school. We went on a few awkward dates, we held hands even though his were sweaty and we couldn’t get the timing right, we kissed even though it felt about as exciting as eating plain bread– not exactly bad, just not exciting or fun. 

Now the pattern might seem more clear. It certainly became very clear to me. 

I didn’t like boys. I like girls. I’ve liked girls since forever, and no amount of shame or repression was going to “fix” me because I. Wasn’t. Broken. I was depressed and I was anxiety-ridden and I was introverted maybe a little too much, but being homosexual was never an issue. 

I broke up with my boyfriend. I came out to my friends, then my siblings, then my parents, then everyone else. I had a girlfriend, and she lost interest, so I broke it off. I had another girlfriend, but I had never been interested, so I broke it off. Then I put dating aside. 

I continued to get straight As in school, take all the AP classes, run three clubs, rank nationally for field hockey goalies, help a friend of mine transition from straight girl to gay girl to nonbinary kid to straight boy, and accumulate a solid group of five friends. 

Then I got rejected from every college I applied to because of a clerical error I didn’t know about until a year later (after appeals were already a lost cause), so I got a job, I went to a community college, tried to go for a business degree and hated it, switched to a creative writing degree, and now here we are! With my applications submitted and one acceptance in the bag (thank you, University of Iowa!), now I want to focus on my writing and try to get published next.

Now that you know where I’m from, you know at least a little of what I care about. I deal a lot with mental health, so does my writing. My sexuality was a major unknown for me for a large portion of my life, so I include that a lot in the hopes that I can help someone else not be so lost with that. My hometown had very little racial diversity, so I want to represent more diversity in my writing. 

But I don’t want to get ahead of myself: in the coming posts, I’ll show you what I’ve written and read, so you can have a better idea of where I’m coming from as a writer, now that you know where I’m coming from as a person. 

[feelingforgod]

Mike’s Talk

Good evening brothers and sisters. My name is Michael Secrist and I’m a recent addition to the stake. I’m also a medical doctor and the  newest interventional radiologist on staff at the hospital down the road. I grew up not far from here in Palos Verdes and I’m very happy to be back within a few miles of the ocean. This is a stake unlike any I’ve ever been in. There is a feeling of excitement about doing the Lord’s work and actively loving all of God’s children. And the beautiful music we experienced at ward and stake Christmas programs – there literally were not enough seats in the loft for all the musicians and some singers sat in folding chairs. This really is a special place and I feel lucky to be here. I want to tell you a story about a little boy. This little boy was born with hazel eyes. You and I might see hazel eyes as a beautiful and rare variation in Heavenly Father’s tapestry of mortal life, but in his world, people with hazel eyes weren’t trusted. They were not “normal.” They were seen as other and unnatural. He always knew he was somehow different and people treated him differently. He tried desperately to fit in. He wore blue contact lenses to hide his eye color. He wore them all the time and never took them out. He wore his contacts so long that even his own family members believed he had blue eyes. And it worked. He was just like everybody else. He could fit in. He went to church with the kids his age and heard lessons about Heaven and eternal families and the blessings awaiting them...unless they had hazel eyes. One day he heard some high school kids talking about their favorite musician. “A reporter caught him at a night club without his contacts. Can you believe he had hazel eyes all this time? Gross!” Kids at recess made jokes and games about hazel eyes. No one wanted to get tagged and be “hazel in the middle.” The little boy’s family went to his grandparents’ house for Thanksgiving one year and some of the family made quiet conversation about an uncle who didn’t come around much. Some suspected he really had hazel eyes as well and that he might not even be hiding it with contacts anymore. “No! Why would you think that?” The little boy’s mother spoke up, standing up for her brother. She didn’t want to believe it of her own brother. Her objection came from a place of love but the little boy sank deeper into his chair and squeezed his eyes shut, just in case his disguise wasn’t enough. He would never let anyone know his truth – his shame. He would never be one of those people even his own family despised. His mother told him frequently she loved him. They all did. But they wouldn’t if they knew. It was as if he had a magnetic field surrounding him that deflected positivity. No “I love you” reached his core where he was imploding. The person his family loved was a blue-eyed boy that didn’t really exist. Years went by and the boy hoped the contacts would grow into his eyes and he could in some sense be normal. But, instead, his eyes began to hurt. They burned! The pain some days was so intense that he had trouble just functioning. His grades suffered. He got in fights with his little brother. Then one day at church he heard someone say that everyone who kept their hazel eyes hidden would be rewarded with blue eyes in the next life. Maybe that was the answer. So, he began daydreaming about how he could end his life. No one would ever need to know the shame he carried with him. He thought his death would be so much easier for his mother to deal with than the reality of an eternally damned, hazel-eyed son. After years of sobbing through nightly prayers to his Heavenly Father to change his eyes to blue, he now had hope in death. Amidst his suicidal ideation, a new bishop asked to talk to him – just a routine annual youth interview. The bishop was loving and kind and for some reason the boy felt safer than he had with other bishops. Quiet desperation bubbled to the surface. As he looked down at the carpet of the office to avoid the disgust the bishop was bound to feel, his magical blue contacts fell from his eyes and his carefully crafted disguise evaporated. And I said in a choked whisper, “I think I’m gay.” Surprise. Yep, I’m the little boy. Welcome to my story. To this point in my life, the words “I’m gay” had never passed my lips, largely out of fear that it would make it more true – make it real. As soon as I had said it, I began to panic. Surely, the bishop would react angrily and tell my parents. I’d lose my family and have to live on the street. The church would abandon me. Why did I say those words?! My life literally depended on the reaction of this man I barely knew. But instead of the reaction I was expecting, he just said, “Tell me more about that.” He asked me about my feelings and at the end of our talk, he hugged me. I was shocked that even after I had told him my deepest secret, he wasn’t afraid to touch me. We would have frequent conversations over the next few years but most importantly, he loved me. I likely would not have lived to my 16th birthday if he had not shown love to that scared 13-year-old boy. I went to BYU after high school and after one year there, I served a mission in southern Russia. Some people may think it’s too hard or that it should be impossible for a gay young man to serve a mission. On the contrary, most gay Mormons I know have fond memories of their missions because their sexuality isn’t an issue. The thing that has consumed their thoughts isn’t important for two years. No one is wondering why they aren’t asking out that pretty girl in the ward. Something else I found is that gay elders come equipped with a superhuman ability to love the people they serve, and, like I did, most of them begged and pleaded and made deals with God to make them straight in exchange for their wholehearted service. I didn’t find out until years later that many of the missionaries and even assistants to the president I most looked up to, many of the most solid missionaries, were gay. This very minute, the church is benefiting from the selfless service of hundreds of gay missionaries in the field. And, unfortunately, not all of them had a loving bishop like I did in my youth. And not all of my leaders have been so loving as that first one. One bishop told me he put a permanent mark on my record that would preclude me from ever holding a calling involving children or youth. To be a gay member of this church is painful and I would never pass judgement on any LGBT person who chose to step away in order to preserve their mental health. There are cases of post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms in LGBT people associated with their experience in our church (Source 1) similar to soldiers back from war and I feel it’s important to acknowledge their pain. By the time I completed my degrees in biology and linguistics at BYU, I was deeply depressed and I took a year off before starting medical school. During that year, I submitted myself to what is known as conversion therapy, a practice that now has bans in 14 states with legislation in many others pending. Every week, I drove several hours to pay an expert $300 an hour to make me straight. In my mind, this had to work because I thought there was no purpose in my living if it didn’t. It didn’t work, but I held on to my belief I would be transformed someday. In medical school, I met a wonderful woman. We began to date and became best friends. I brought her home to meet my family and I thought maybe this could work. If it was going to work with a woman, it was her. But whenever I thought of proposing to her, I got a sick feeling. I knew I loved her on every level – every level but one very important one, the physical. And although I knew she loved me enough to try to make it work, I wanted her to have a husband that worshiped her in every way. It was then that I knew I needed to finally share my whole truth with my family. I came out to mom and dad and 5 siblings by telephone in one night and the loving responses from them were better than I had expected. It was another surprise to me when I woke up the next morning and looked inward and I found the Holy Ghost was still there. I was in uncharted territory. I had no examples or established path anymore and I wasn’t sure what to expect. Over the next 6 years of post-graduate medical training, I learned a lot about myself. I allowed myself to date other men. I even fell in love once. I only share this because of what it taught me. I had been so conditioned to believe that any love for someone of the same gender was disgusting and corrupt. But the feelings I felt were pure, selfless, and beautiful. I finally understood what friends and family had told me about falling in love. Rather than turn my back on my Heavenly Father, this experience brought me closer to Him and I felt Him teaching me, “You see, Mike? You see what beautiful things I have in store for you?” My residency training made church attendance difficult and I felt removed from the church. I had to develop my own personal relationship with God independent of the instruction and opinions of church leaders. I learned to rely on personal revelation, which would benefit me enormously when it came to being gay, because this is something church leaders haven’t experienced and do not understand – and, more often than not, misunderstand. So, let me dispel some myths for you as a gay man and a doctor who has studied sexuality all his life. -I did not choose to be gay, nor have any of the hundreds of LGBT people I know. Why would anyone choose such a hard road? If someone comes out to you, it’s because they love you and want you to be a part of their life. They have always been who they are even if it took them a while to figure it out. -I am not gay because of anything my parents did and I was not sexually assaulted as a child. However, LGBT children and youth are at a terribly high risk of sexual assault and these beautiful children of God need to be protected. (Source 2) - Sexuality is not something that you can change. And it’s not something that my Heavenly Father needs or wants me to change. I know now by the source of all truth that I am the way He meant for me to be and He loves me so much exactly the way I am. My gayness is inextricably connected to my musical talents, my sensitivity to others’ needs, my ability to easily love other people, and so many parts of myself that I now see as beautiful and essential to who I am. I know my Father made me this way, so why would I want to change it? Brothers and Sisters, I have always felt the need to know how to save a life. I think there was always a low-grade anxiety that someday someone would be dying in front of me and I wouldn’t know what to do to save them. It’s driven me to learn about physiology and pathology. As soon as I was able, I learned basic lifesaving skills. In my 20s, one week after my test for my Emergency Medical Technician certification, my sister’s toddler choked in front of me with no one else around. I did what I was taught and popped a large mouthful of animal crackers out of her. I know that one of the reasons I was put here on Earth is to save lives in my occupation as a medical doctor. When I moved to Seal Beach, I considered whether or not I needed to be an active part of the ward, given how painful it can be for LGBT people to be present in church. Lesbian, gay, and bisexual youth are five times more likely to commit suicide than their peers. (Source 3) That risk is multiplied by being a part of a family, community, or church where homosexuality is unacceptable. (Source 4) We lose these beautiful young people one by one to suicide and it is completely preventable. I understand now that my mission on Earth is simply to save lives, not only in the hospital where I work every day but also outside the hospital. I mean to rescue as many of these young people as I can and help their families love them unconditionally. When I considered not coming to church, I was thinking about myself and my own comfort. But the Spirit turned my thoughts around on me and told me that I needed to be here not for myself but because someone else here needs to know that He knows and loves them just as they are. I know there are LGBT people in this stake silently suffering when people make comments that make them feel alone and hopeless. I know that there are several youth here who will come out to their families someday but in the meantime, they sustain deep wounds from comments their loved ones make about LGBT people or the “gay lifestyle.” Elder M. Russell Ballard said, “We need to listen to and understand what our LGBT brothers and sisters are feeling and experiencing. Certainly, we must do better than we have done in the past so that all members feel they have a spiritual home where their brothers and sisters love them and where they have a place to worship and serve the Lord.” We are members of the restored church of Jesus Christ and are fortunate to have more light and knowledge in one place than anywhere in history. But we should not be afraid to admit that we don’t know everything. Article of Faith 9 says “We believe all that God has revealed, all that He does now reveal, and we believe that He will yet reveal many great and important things pertaining to the Kingdom of God.” I don’t know how LGBT people fit into the Plan of Salvation, but my friend Derek, a trained biblical scholar and gay man who joined the church a few years ago, likes to say, “There’s more room for me in the Plan of Salvation than there is in the closet.” Where there are gaps in our understanding, let us fill them with compassion and unconditional love. Brothers and Sisters, I have a testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I believe He died for our sins and that he loves each and every one of us. I pray with all my heart that we will be sensitive to all types of people who don’t fit the mold and learn from them and the gifts the Father of all of us has given them. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Michael Secrist, 1/19/2019, Long Beach Stake Conference Source 1: Simmons, Brian W. Coming Out Mormon: An Examination of Religious Orientation, Spiritual Trauma, and PTSD Among Mormons and Ex-Mormon LGBTQQA Adults. 2017. The University of Georgia. Ph.D. dissertation. https://getd.libs.uga.edu/pdfs/simmons_brian_w_201712_phd.pdf

Source 2: Rothman, Emily F., et al. The Prevalence of Sexual Assault Against People Who Identify as Gay, Lesbian, or Bisexual in the United States: A Systematic Review. Trauma, Violence, & Abuse, vol. 12, no. 2, Apr. 2011, pp. 55–66, doi:10.1177/1524838010390707 Source 3: CDC. (2016). Sexual Identity. Sex of Sexual Contacts, and Health-Risk Behaviors Among Students in Grades 9-12: Youth Risk Behavior Surveillance. Atlanta, GA: U.S. Department of Health and Human Services.

SOurce 4: Lytle, Megan C. et al. Association of Religiosity With Sexual Minority Suicide Ideation and Attempt. American Journal of Preventive Medicine , Volume 54 , Issue 5 , 644 – 651.

[crown-of-light-shadows-and-love]

Who Is Your Pantheon?

Here’s my response for the @unrecorded-pantheon-roundtable first question, about who is your Pantheon, and how did you come to them?

For several years, I knew the High King as [a very well known recorded deity.]  Then, three years later, he told me that he wasn’t [that deity,] but an unrecorded god.  He introduced me to other members of his Family, and to the Land and customs of his Realm.

I technically deal with two unrecorded Pantheons, though the two of them are connected.

The Far Ones are the Big Powers, They’re the Running-the-Universe level Deities, and tbh They scare the crap out of me.  They’ve always been very kind whenever I’ve had need to speak with Them, but They’re just so *Overwhelming*.  Standing in Their presence makes me feel very, very, small.  

They can take human-ish forms, but when They choose to do so, They always take forms connected to whatever in nature They personify.  For example, Grandfather Sea appears to me, literally, as an old man made of the sea and the stars.

The Royal Family of Darkness is the High King and his immediate Family.

The King of All Darkness is the High King, who governs all of Darkness and keeps the Realm running smoothly.  I associate him with justice, art, life, the moon, white flowers, storms during the day, charity, and spicy food.  Spouse and rival to the Underworld Lord, father of Winter’s Sovereign, and twin brother of the Queen.

The Underworld Lord is the Ruler of the Underworld in Darkness, essentially the High King’s counterpart, as well as being his Husband.  He’s also very closely associated with blindness, eye care, and healing from mental illness.  I associate him with the Underworld, history, classical music, cooking of any kind, eye health, dental care, and caring for my home and f/Family.  Spouse and rival to the High King, father of Winter’s Sovereign.

The Queen is the most ancient of the members of the Royal Family of Darkness.  I mainly call her “Mother Death” these days, as she’s Death personified, but I love her dearly.  I associate her with trees, creativity, monsters, hunting, and fire.  Twin sister of the High King, and mother of the Lady of Grain and Sunlight.

The Lady of Grain and Sunlight is the daughter of the Queen, who rules over the Wilds of Darkness.  She and I aren’t as close as I am to other members of the Royal Family, but I do consider her to be my sister, and I like her a lot.  I mainly associate her with corn and wheat fields, as well as the cycles of harvest, and the cycles of death and life.

Winter’s Sovereign is the son of the High King and the Underworld Lord.  He’s the Crown Prince of Darkness, and will one day take the High King’s throne.  He’s a young god, the youngest member of the Royal Family who’s involved in ruling Darkness.  I mainly associate him with stars and winter time.

[wishtorn]

          heya i’m kit ! i’m going to start this off by apologizing for how obscenely long this intro has turned out to be. i really got caught up … but there’s a summary at the very end, and if you do read the entire thing you get a million brownie points ! message me here or on discord to collect. i’ve also included a handful of general plot ideas if anyone’s interested in them, but i’d also love to think up some more specific ideas. just like this or shoot me a message and i’ll come plot !

⤷ ( kit. cet. 21. she / her. none. ) the courts offer bread and salt to anya targaryen née redwyne of house targaryen. many say the twenty-four year old queen of the southern kingdom is known to be well-intentioned and nurturing, though ill tongues whisper that she is guarded and sentimental. when her name is uttered, one is reminded of sleepless nights, a faint light in the fog, & the smell of sea salt and spring.

         tw - discussions or mentions of alcoholism, childbirth & pregnancy, domestic abuse & neglect, drowning, food & disordered eating, mental & physical illness, misogyny. ( i didn’t realize it was going to be this much of a shitstorm until i sat down and started writing. idk what to say, guess i’m #dramatic ? )

pre - history ( house & parents. )

the redwynes were always military men. had to be, really, being island people, more isolated and often more endangered than their mainland counterparts. really, there was nothing quite so loved as war, except perhaps wine.

an old, proud house, the redwynes and their fleet have fought for targaryen kings for centuries — they stood by aegon in the dance of the dragons, stood by jon & daenerys against cersei lannister, and even stood by maegos against the dornish and northern rebellions.

lord desmond redwyne took his father’s seat in the reign of king aeron. in a prosperous and peaceful time, men drunk on dreams of a glorious war grow restless — so he hunted, and whored, and drank, and none of it so much as touched his reputation. no, lord redwyne was an honorable man, a true servant of the realm, an example to many.

lady viola redwyne might have said otherwise, had anyone asked her. prone to bouts of melancholy, often disagreeable, and with a reputation for refusing suitors, she might have even succeeded had she not been so beautiful. lord redwyne must have her, and her father could not refuse.

his second wife, fifteen years his junior, and unhappy with the match, she could not love him, nor his other children, nor the arbor. a lack of love in such close quarters sours into hate over time, like bad wine. one of her few reliefs was that he already had an heir and a spare. poor health and misery would not have made her a brood-mare of any longevity.

long before her parents ever laid eyes on each other, however, a scandal rocked the redwynes ; lord desmond was then merely the heir, a knight and a naval captain of some repute. his eldest sister was already wed to a lord on the mainland, but the younger was a wilder thing, with a taste for adventure that was indulged by their father. the lord greyjoy’s reputation preceded him, and when she first spotted him, on the deck of a ship off the coast of fair isle, he had already quite captivated her. they met in secret, at sea, where they were not lords or ladies but each king on their own ship. the last time her ship sailed from the arbor, it was under the cover of night, to steal away to pyke, and the shame and scandal of it tore through the redwynes like a hurricane. she was shunned, rarely spoken of, and when the news came from pyke that she had died, no one at the arbor shed a tear. 

family history ( early childhood. )

as it stood, anya was more an unexpected result than a desired outcome, and ultimately even a bone of contention. she bound her mother by love, to the arbor and the man that she hated.

they were left well enough alone, for a time, viola and her daughter, the septa, and the maidservants. even the wet nurse sent away. anya’s infancy brought a modicum of respite, but it would not last more than a handful of years.

by that time it aroused suspicion. lady redwyne would hardly leave her chambers, refuse to let the child out of her sight, would not see her husband and even refused food for periods at a time. it was unhealthy, unnatural, they soon started saying. in inns and winesinks at ryamsport men would murmur ‘poor lord redwyne, imagine a wife that beautiful going mad on you,’ into their cups, laughing at their great fortune to have avoided his.

and perhaps there was something real to it, perhaps there really was something unsettling about the arrangement. perhaps not. but in the end it was only the talk that mattered. once it reached lord redwyne’s ears, red with shame at being laughed at by traders and fishermen, he put his foot down. viola’s whims were not to be indulged or tolerated any longer, and besides, ‘the child’—by this he meant anya—‘must grow to be a fool or a half-wit if left in her care.’

and so anya was removed to the care of a cousin, mostly sheltered from her mother’s influence. there were fights about it for months. the withdrawn lady redwyne who would not speak but to her daughter and her maidservant and looked to the window whenever anyone looked at her had disappeared. she raged, schemed to steal her daughter away, wept, wandered the halls at night, and made trouble.

lord redwyne even tried being gentle, for a time, speaking in soft pleading words for her to be reasonable, but gentle or harsh it made no difference. if she saw anya twice, even three times a day, it was not enough — to her mind, he had stolen her daughter, stolen her life, stolen her freedom and anything else he might think of taking, and she wasn’t wrong. but when she threatened to throw herself from the eastern tower, she sealed her own fate.

on horseshoe rock, one of the smaller islands in the waters surrounding the arbor, a small stout keep was furnished and staffed, and lady redwyne was sent out of sight, out of mind, and certainly out of the way, where she couldn’t cause another such a stir — and most importantly, after a while, the talk died down.

personal history i ( childhood & youth. )

with all the difficulties tended to, and all the loose ends and loose canons carefully tied down, anya’s upbringing was left to a succession of septas, servants, and after a time, an aunt, newly widowed  and returned to the arbor.

out of her father’s favor for as long as she could remember, with a rocky relationship with her siblings ( i won’t go into detail in case my wc is picked up ! ), anya found little relief within the castle walls. she attended her lessons dutifully, could sew and sing and smile, recite the houses, their sigils and heroes, and it all meant little and less to her.

she wanted to set sail, she had always insisted — since before she knew what it really meant, just uttering phrases picked up along the way the way one does around seafarers — but desmond redwyne would not suffer any of his daughters to venture so far beyond his control. he knew better than to trust sailors, and certainly never trusted women.

so instead anya spent years at her window, watching sails shrink and disappear over the horizon ; by the sea, swimming in a cove under the watchful eye of the septa ; sneaking in the fields during harvest, stealing grapes ripe to bursting. searching desperately, maybe shiftlessly, for a little bit of sweetness. all the while she visited her mother only rarely, on namedays and holy days and days when, for whatever mysterious reason, her father’s pity won out over his good sense.

she studied too, though silently, mostly unnoticed. the kitchen girls, the household guard, the way people talked when they didn’t think anyone was paying attention. watched her father most of all, and had no illusions about him. even if she still aspired to please him, somehow, to gain his approval, she knew: he was a cruel man, harsh, childish, selfish, drunk on wine and himself, and yet still too clever to let all of that be his ruin.

her betrothal, like any lady’s, was inevitable — on the horizon of her future, marriage appeared to her like a fog, uncertain in all aspects but its impending approach. in the end it was a transaction, as these things almost always are. ships, wine, and gold ( but really, mostly ships ) were enough to make one of lord redwyne’s daughters a future queen.

demure, docile, even shy, few suspected that, days before she was to leave for king’s landing, anya would disappear in the night. would sneak from the castle in the dark, with a torch and one gold dragon, paid to the wife of a fisherman who, in her husband’s small boat, rowed anya to the shores of horseshoe rock to say goodbye to her mother one last time.

it was a mistake, but she couldn’t have known that. she came at night, the only time she could, but to viola, startled from her sleep, she was a ghost in the moonlight. after the truth came, ‘i’m leaving. father says i must,’ her mother, in tears, threw herself in front of the door, on the ground, wept in fits and refused to let her leave. it was the first and last time anya ever truly believed her mad. with promises that she would refuse the prince and sail home as soon as she could, she left.

she was guilty, of course — so guilty it ate her up, and very nearly killed her, but not so guilty that she turned back. her mother could not bear for her to go, but anya felt she would die — truly die — if she were forced to stay.

the preparations were already well underway by the time word reached them from the arbor. lady redwyne had disappeared. alseep in bed at night, swore the servant, but gone in the morning. the island was searched for weeks, coasts scoured, sailors and captains interrogated, but to no avail. some say she escaped, others that she was kidnapped, and yet others know with conviction that she simply walked into the sea and drowned.

personal history ii ( marriage & rule. )

though she wore the right house colors, anya was married in mourning. the wedding was a ridiculous affair, lavish and splendid and festive, and it only made her all the more self-conscious. she was polite, sweet, but in the momentary lull of conversation she looked lost. doe-eyed — not innocent, but wary, reproachful.

but the rockiness, the uncertainty, if at first seeming insurmountable, soon dissipated. prince daeryon was not her father, nor much like many other lords that had so worried her. no, he was kind, and gentle, and patient, and in need of some kindness himself.

as unlikely as it may be, they tended their happiness like a garden, and it wasn’t long before leaves were sprouting where her fear had been. for a while they lived well, on laughter and sunlight and the thrill of young love.

but of course it doesn’t last — nothing does. when king aeron dies, things change hard and fast. the freedom to walk through the city, ride in the kingswood, or sail to dragonstone for a fortnight on a day’s notice was gone, replaced by a hundred new duties, funeral arrangements to be made, small council meetings to attend.

at that point, the two of them also certainly start feeling the pressure for an heir. the difficulties and delays that had once been only a source of gossip became a source of concern, even as their duties kept them apart more often than ever, as the long nights and tense meetings started to fray his nerves.

they were soon blessed with a son, aeric, though the pregnancy and birth left anya exhausted, weary, and withdrawn just as her husband needed her most. the pressure of the crown which he had borne with such fickle strength was beginning to crush him.

no man, not even the best of them, could carry a kingdom on his own. it certainly wasn’t made easier by the constant jostling from one side or the other, a meddling mother, resentful elder sisters, or grasping, ambitious councillors. anya was forced to admit that however much she loved her husband, however good a man he was, he was not a good king. not good enough.

so she rose to the occasion, as gracefully as her fears and meagre experience let her, sitting in on small council meetings and more private discussions, by his side. she consulted carefully, leaning heavily on the hand of the king, working tirelessly to ensure her husband’s realm remained intact, his rule secure, and their family safe.

present.

her son is nearly four years old now, a happy, healthy child without the slightest clue of the dangers he is in, simply by virtue of his birth. anya worries about him constantly, and spends as much of her time as she can with him.

in king’s landing, she’s often attending meetings, writing letters, keeping busy — all to ease the pressure from her husband, who is only worrying her more and more as each day passes. he grows withdrawn, erratic, unpredictable, but she’s less afraid than sorrowful. he’s in pain, she can tell that much, but how to soothe it ?

very nervous about the trip north. she’s never been so far before, never left her son so long before, and certainly never seen her husband in such an unfamiliar — hostile ? — environment, and is deeply concerned with what issues might arise.

still, the coronation at winterfell is a solid opportunity to strengthen the ties that the previous generation had spent so long binding, to show each other and the realm that two kings intend to continue their fathers’ peace and collaboration.

tl ; dr.

      + well-intentioned, nurturing, insightful, gracious, curious, resourceful       - guarded, sentimental, unforgiving, hesitant, volatile, insecure, spoiled

a traumatic, tense, and lonely childhood, ghost-like and disconnected. mommy and daddy issues, because why not.

a betrothal for wealth and power ; naval strength and trade wealth married into royal bloodlines. 

a young son and a marriage that is loving, starts easy, but grows ever more strained under the weight of a crown.

trying desperately to keep her shit ( her kingdom, husband, family ) from falling apart at the seams.

way more responsibility, work, and stress than she signed up for, if we’re being honest, but she makes it work.

stress, anxiety, worry, chaos, fear, all those good things tbh.

and despite it all, at least a conditional kindness, and a sentimental softness that ought to be hidden better than it is.

plot ideas !

lady friends. yes i know how stupid that sounds, but honestly, a girl needs girls around her or she’s bound to lose it. i imagine she’d mostly know other ladies from the souther kingdom, but may have also met and befriended others from the north at the funeral of king aeron, or elsewhere.

almost- or cancelled betrothal. someone whose father was in talks with anya’s to arrange a betrothal, or perhaps one had already been arranged. they could know each other and have met, or have never laid eyes on each other. either way, once a royal prince is on the table, any deal is off.

cousins. i haven’t yet decided what house anya’s mother is from, so there are plenty of options for familial attachments there ! her father also probably had sisters, although they’d probably be another generation older and have adult grandchildren at this point, so. second cousins ? i think ?

enemies of the crown. honestly, i love some drama and animosity, so i’d love any reason for there to be tension and cold looks and only the barest minimum of politeness, with undertones of anger. ugh, wat a dream. could be they disapprove of the targaryens, or of daeryon in particular, or of her personally too i guess, or something went down ?

again these are just vague ideas, but i will come up with tons of more specific ones for anya and your muse(s) if you want me to !

[dandydevildog]

Life update stuff! Because I’m getting tired of talking around the things going on with me whenever I vague about being kinda sad sometimes.

Family health stuff and personal mental health stuff under the cut. No obligation to read whatsoever.

The big thing is in early December my dad was diagnosed with stomach cancer. The prognosis was fairly positive with surgery and chemotherapy, but understandably it’s been pretty upsetting for everyone involved. Dad going through so many ups and downs health and emotion wise, and my mom and I doing whatever we can but mostly feeling helpless.

He had pretty major surgery in March, and the recovery from that has been very difficult. Unfortunately on top of that, an unrelated spinal condition has deteriorated his ability to walk and he’s currently in the hospital. He was scheduled to have surgery on his neck that could potentially help, but before that he had to have emergency surgery on his lower intestines.

How many things can happen to one guy, right? It’s so unfair which makes it feel even worse. And on top of all that he’s been having circulation problems that are bad enough his heart has stopped and they’ve had to restart it three times. After the third time he signed a Do Not Resuscitate, because he’s exhausted and in a lot of pain. I understand this on an intellectual level, but it’s still rough to deal with emotionally. No real way to prepare for this kind of thing.

As to how I’m dealing with all this: not super well! I have two anxiety disorders which are amped up a lot lately. I don’t know if I’ve been able to fully be relaxed ever since December, I’m very tired a lot. I think I might also be depressed too? But that’s probably understandable. I haven’t seen anyone about it because that would make it Real I guess. I’ll try to make time to in the near future, but we’ll see.

It’s not all terrible. My sister had a baby and her and her husband are moving back to this Province in a couple weeks, going to be living super close too. I got a full-time job in my chosen field before I even got my diploma. I haven’t lost all my interests in things I like, in fact I’m clinging extra hard to the escapist things that bring me joy. Maybe that makes me stupid, but I gotta take positive emotions where I can.

Just had to get this all out somewhere instead of making non-specific “I’m kind of sad” posts. I don’t want anyone to be worried, so to the five of you that read this: thanks and I’ll be okay. Back to reblogging random stuff and posting dumb sketches soon <3 

[oldwickedlotus]

My first and honest post about my mental health

So, for the duration of my life. I have dealt with an onslaught of my mental issues and it comes from the fact that I over think and my own family contributes to it. I tell them one thing I feel and they just write it off and say it’s not their problem or issue. I have trust issues completely which means no matter how open I am about myself. I instantly regret it. I want to be able to talk to my family and how much they’ve hurt me through the years. If I were to bring that up. It will blow up in my face like it had last year.

As well as almost a year ago my father passed away. I think since then when my father passed I feel like there’s still something missing and I do know what it Is. It’s that no one understands me. Trying to put my emotions into words is a lot harder than it looks. That is why I have most recently turned to painting over drawing because I feel that there’s more freedom. I’m not saying that it’s my families fault for mentally abusing me since I was a kid. I think it’s also because I listened to everything they say to a T. I didn’t want to disappoint them at all.

Well, I did. I didn’t get a job in my field because I was afraid of rejection. As well as to not know how to get said car. I had one years ago and they ultimately took it away from me because they didn’t feel comfortable at all with me being behind the wheel. That took my confidence away from me and that went into a downward spiral for me especially when going to college. No one liked me and it was because they didn’t understand me. Which is fine I can forgive them for that. I just think that I have made myself not as confident as I was when I was a child.

I had a sense of freedom and I knew what I had wanted to be and that was to grow up and become an artist. Since I have moved out of my families house so long ago. I find It hard to not want to talk to them and on top of them contacting me and telling me to not get upset over someone’s health. That overstimulates me to the point where I feel an overwhelming of anxiety and depression. I think that’s what they were doing to me last year. Giving me updates on my dads health. They’re under exaggerating what is really going on with me. On September 7th of last year he had passed away.

Every freaking day whenever I talk to my family. They’re on a mission to figure out why he died. I know why and it was because of his alcoholism and my mother being unhinged and mean to him. Yelling and calling him names. I’m not saying my father is innocent. He had done the same to her. The unnecessary pressure of being a Rinear was tough because my mother hated my father family. Particularly his mother. I just want to be able to get my story out there and to feel of sense of hope that there is light in the dark.

When my soon to be Husband Lester, had cancer 3 years ago. My mother said some nasty things that I can’t even say. It is disgusting and it pushed me further away from her. Since I announced to my family that I am getting married on October 13th, 2023. They started talking to me again and are trying to control everything. I finally stood my ground and told them that I am going to wear a black dress with 5” in boots. The man I’m marrying to 6’4” whilst I’m 5’3”. So it’ll be awkward to get photos. That is why I’m wearing them instead of high heels because to be honest. I ain’t breaking my ankle on some thin ass heel and fall on my ass.

The other issue I am having is that my younger sister Kelsey wants no part of me anymore. I called her out on so many things. Her friends talking smack about me behind my back. Getting a secondary photographer for her wedding while she was also paying me for it as well. She felt bad because I’m not that smart. Then at the funeral she said some nasty things to me. Telling me I need to find a real job and not a crappy low end where I barely make any money. That hurt.

It hurts to know that she doesn’t want to come to the wedding. I was willing to let go of the past but apparently I’m nothing to her. Thankfully, I don’t need family. I have lester who has changed my life for the better. He showed the real side of me. So I just wanted to give you guys an update on my mental health issues and what’s been going on for quite some time. Until then, I will continue to post my art on here as well as my website.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #175

“imagine living like a king someday, a single night without a ghost in the walls.”

Have you ever had a teacher hit on you? Not to my recollection. Have you ever seen your ex’s new partner? If so, what do you think of them? I don't know or care if he currently has one. Do you think you can last in a relationship for 6 months? Done it twice now, it's not difficult if you're picky and serious with who you date. Does anybody know about your sex life other than your partners? Well my mom was somewhat aware of things that were happening. What was the last piece of candy you ate? Good question. I got my tongue re-pierced because of a bar length issue with swelling, and now this one is just shy of long enough to disable me from biting down entirely (they're snake eyes, so across the tip). I'm only just getting back into eating soft things very slowly unless I want pain, so candy's a no. I have to wait no less than three weeks to get a correctly-sized bar, and it's only been just over one aaaahhh. Have you ever been dared to do something you totally regretted? No. Is your room painted or wallpapered? Painted. What is the best kind of pizza in your opinion? I'm an American I stan them meat lovers. Is there something that someone has done to you that you cannot forgive? No. Well actually idk, I still don't know for *sure* if I forgive him. Like I'm completely over it and it no longer affects me, but I could never ever ever ever look at him even remotely the same or even consider trusting him. I don't think that's supposed to happen when you forgive someone. Have you ever broken a plate/bowl? Accidentally by dropping. What is your favorite restaurant? Olive Garden. Has anyone ever drunk called/texted you? I don't think so. Do you know anyone who has a homosexual parent? No. What type of music could this world live without? Pure screamo (no, not as a carpet term for metal). Are any of your pets “overweight”? No. Who’s the last person you cried over? Does myself count? Did the house you grew up in have a fence? Yeah, but not all around. What’s your YouTube channel name? 0zzkat. Who of your FB friends has the cutest toddler(s)? Uhhhh idk. Anastasia's baby girl is pretty cute, I guess. Did you decorate pumpkins this year? No. :/ They were totally gone the day we were gonna get one (the day before Halloween so no, we weren't that surprised lmao). What’s the craziest color you’d dye your hair? More like what color WOULDN'T I dye it? What’s the coolest hobby one of your friends has? Uhhh. Idk. Name a video game you can play over and over again? Shadow of the Colossus. I've beaten it around 30 times. Would be more if I didn't lose the disc, buuut it's actually coming in the mail now! What is something that will make you laugh instantly? Don't show me that fucking Linkin Park "crawling in my crawl" worm video. Name a movie you wouldn’t watch solely based on its name? None come to mind. What’s your dearest souvenir? *shrugs* What was the last strong scent you smelled? Probably coffee bc of Mom. Have you ever been in an unconventional relationship (long distance, polyamorous, same gender, age gap, etc)? If so, what challenges did this relationship present, and were they worth overcoming? Long instance + same-sex simultaneously. Distance is fucking hard when you really want each other's company, especially for emotional support. Being same-sex makes me nervous due to potential violent homophobics, especiiiiaaaally living where I do. I do it regardless, but even just holding hands leaves me worrying some asshole is going to cause a problem. I know my sister's husband isn't at all fond of it either and I'm 99% sure he's why Sara's never met the kids. But anyway, all those things are absolutely worth it. Would you ever consider something like a poly relationship, assuming everyone involved was alright with it? What are some things you think you would or wouldn’t like about it? Absolutely not, because I strictly believe in the exclusiveness of love. What is the most unhealthy relationship (whether friendship or romantic) you’ve ever had? What made it so unhealthy? Do you still talk to each other? Colleen, probably. We are just about the antitheses of each other, yet we were "best friends." We disagreed too frequently, she was drama-ravenous, we kept leaving and coming back, etc. No, we don't talk now, and I refuse to ever do so again as friends. Have you ever been abusive in any way? Were you able to change or make amends, or, in general, what do you think people should do to make amends in that situation? No. I absolutely do not believe in "making amends" with your abuser. Keep them the fuck out of your life. Have you ever forgiven someone for being abusive or allowed someone toxic back into your life? Did this person change for the better or not? Toxic... you mean Colleen? Did it too many times, and no, she didn't. Do you feel like your age matches your emotional development? If not, what age level or maturity level do you feel best represents where you’re at? Part of me says no, another says yes. I guess it depends on the subject. What is one thing about your personality that embarrasses you, but you can’t seem to change it no matter how hard you try? Have other people called you out on this embarrassing thing? Being socially awkward as all hell, and yes. When was the last time you did something “meant” for children? Do you think it’s okay for adults to do these things (ie. watch cartoons, have stuffed animals, dress in cute clothing, etc), or do you think there’s an age beyond which it becomes unacceptable - and if so, why? I was playing Spyro just earlier today lmao. In almost all cases, no. I do believe that something like a full-grown adult playing pretend with dolls or something may be questionable, but even then there's not a real reason I can give you. What was the last thing to “trigger” you (as in, in a true mental health sense, I’m being serious here) and how did you cope with it? What kinds of things do you tend to find triggering? What do you do either avoid or face your triggers? Something PTSD-related, but I can't remember exactly what it was, I guess because I got past it pretty quickly. There are certain songs I should avoid, I canNOT look at the medicine I ODed on, I don't like seeing or being near large knives at all... If you’re diagnosed with anything, do you feel that it accurately represents what you’re experiencing? All of them, yeah. What is a complaint you have about the mental health industry or about the type of treatment you’ve received from a mental health service? Have you ever had any particularly bad therapy experiences? I feel that too many people working in the field care far more about the pay than the people. I can't guarantee a professional truly cared about what I was dealing with until Holly Hill. I've had one particularly horrible psychiatrist that threw diagnoses and pills around like they were nothing (the most ridiculous being ADHD, which I in no way exhibited), and a long-time therapist I had was pretty bad, something I realized only after I started with my current one. She was strict about that "you've got an hour, you're staying an hour, you're leaving no later" shit, and we always ran out of things to talk about so I'd just be sitting there super uncomfortably and numerous times start crying because I felt so awkward, and she'd just take it as a sign that I wasn't telling her something. She drove "and how does that make you feel" and "what're you thinking of" into the goddamn ground. Yeesh, having been a mental health patient for so long, I could really write a novel here. When was the last time you realized you might be the source of a problem and NOT someone else? Hm, idk. I'm so uninvolved with others that that's a hard question to answer. What are some minor physical discomforts that really bug you (eyelash in your eye, a wedgie, rumpled socks, etc)? HAVING THE BOTTOMS OF YOUR PANTS GET WET. I hate chapped lips, too. Do you prefer vertical or horizontal stripes? Horizontal. Have you ever ridden a motorcycle? No. Are you ticklish? YEAH. Have you ever tried to make your own alcohol? No. If you were to join one of the armed forces, which would it be? I wouldn’t. Have you ever been in a submarine? No. Have you ever been in a hot tub or sauna? Only hot tubs. Do you believe there used to be dragons? No. What was your first alcoholic drink? A Mike's hard lemonade. Where did you go on your first ride on an airplane? Idk, I was a baby. What was your first detention for? Too many tardies. Did you ever have a treehouse as a kid? No. Have you ever been on radio? No. How long has your longest ever phone call been? A few hours. What is a meal you eat extremely often? Or do your meals & food choices vary a lot? Ummm I guess some kind of chicken is common? When was the last time you felt unable or unwilling to speak your mind to someone? Idk. What was the last thing you changed your mind about? Uhhhh how am I blanking, I change my mind on things every five minutes. Who was the last friend you saw, and what did you do together? Sara's both my girlfriend but also the only "friend" I ever hang with now even tho we live several states apart lmao. I was there two weeks, so we did an array of stuff. Who tends to show up in your dreams? Do you ever wonder if you appear in anyone else’s dreams? Hell, I barely ever remember my dreams. Jason still shows up maybe ehhhh around or maybe less than once a month, and I have no clue why other than maybe there's some PTSD effects I don't actually detect or something? It's not like I think about him much, so I really don't see why he shows up, but the theme is constant: awkwardness seeing each other again, and he sometimes tries to get back with me (thank FUCKING GOD even in my dreams, I don't). Sara's in some dreams that I remember. Mom, maybe. What is something you wish you could say to someone who is no longer in your life, or something you wish they could know? Nothing. What is something you do to feel better when you’re scared? I'll usually turn to YouTube for a distraction. Who do you feel you can count on the most in life? Is there anyone you wish you could count on more? Mom. What is the strangest book you have ever read? How did you find out about it? Probably Bite Me by idr-who. I actually don't remember. What was the last thing you broke? How about fixed? Another sensor came off the keyboard. :') I dunno about fixed. Is there a sign or symbol that means a lot to you for whatever reason (eg. seeing certain animals or birds, 11:11 or other repeating numbers, syncs, butterflies, hearts in nature, etc)? Butterflies and semicolons. Hence my semicolon butterfly tattoo. Do you have any personal ghost stories or paranormal experiences? Yeah. What do you get complimented on the most? My hair. What is something unusual that you find attractive? why does?????? everyone hate fedoras tbh?????????? What time do you tend to eat your first meal of the day? And your last? BOY this varies so much like fuck. Sometimes I don't eat breakfast at all, sometimes I do right when I get outta bed. Dinner can be at like almost 10:00 with Mom's schedule, or I may have it like five hours earlier. What was the subject of the last video you watched? I'm getting into a horror LPer and I'm binging her Silent Hill playthroughs. How would you describe your overall aesthetic? I like pink but bloody guts and brains are cool 2. What is the most challenging meal you have ever cooked? N/A What was your favorite thing to do as a little kid? Play video/computer games. Have you ever been close to drowning? No. Do you watch any Japanese anime? Not currently, but I've kinda had the urge to pick an interesting one up? Do you have someone who is protective of you (father, brother, etc.)? Mom and Sara above anyone else. Where was the last place you went, that you hadn’t been to before? Uhhhhh good question. I don't exactly go to new places often. Do you have any bad habits you aren’t working on changing? If so, do you ever think you’ll try to break them? I don't believe so off the top of my head? Then again I think everyone has little bad habits they don't try to improve upon, but I can't think of anything serious. When was the last time someone surprised you with their reaction or behaviors? I'm sure something with Mom, but idk what. Are you good at committing to things like Nanowrimo or Inktober? Nope. What is your preferred method of expressing yourself? Writing. Or drawing if I'm in the mood. Have you ever reached out to a crisis center for mental health support? If so, how was the experience? I tried to reach the suicide hotline via their online one-on-one chatroom because I was too afraid to actually call, but I ended up waiting I think 45 minutes before the OD happened. When was the last time you did something you were afraid to do, and how was the outcome? I drove at night and ordered food at a drive-thru myself. It went well. What is one positive thing you believe about yourself? I have a strong sense of right and wrong. What is something you have been through that has made you stronger? Depression as a whole. Other than money, what is something you wish you had more of in your life? Social life, success, and motivation to name a few. Is there anything that you tend to ignore for the sake of your sanity? Sure. Mental health stuff flares up sometimes if I think about some things too deeply. What was the last thing you argued or debated about? Did you eventually agree, or did you have to agree to disagree? Getting rid of Bentley, and neither, really. Mom knows we shouldn't have him for a world of reasons, yet she refuses to try to find a far more suitable home for him or at least talk to Nicole about it (he's her dog, but she doesn't live here), who's never even paid him almost any attention. I could rant about this for hours. What is something you wish was different about your family? THAT WE WERE CLOSER. What is your main struggle or focus in life right now? Getting out of the house/becoming more of a functioning adult. Are you more dramatic or stoic? I'm neither extreme, really, but I'd say I'm much further from stoic. Are you on medication for anything? If so, do you feel like it helps? Have you ever been afraid to take medication or had a particularly bad experience with it? A lot, but the only ones I feel don't work are the ones for my tremors and knees. I was on one med for a while that I was scared to take because it made me vomit (safe to say I wasn't on it long), and even my life-saver med made me sick at first, but I took prescription nausea pills to ride that out as my body adjusted. Do you prefer having long or short nails? Short, but not too short. When was the last time you had an argument with one of your parents? Idr. Do you tend to eat the same few things all the time or do you vary your intake? Would you consider yourself to be a picky eater? Are there any commonly enjoyed foods that you don’t like? I'm picky and definitely have a limited palate. Some foods I can think of for the last question include fried chicken, BBQ, watermelon, tacos, all cheeses but American, aaaand I'm blanking again in an area I should have a book about. Do you have good body image? Do you feel more confident about your body or your personality? What is one thing about yourself about which you do feel particularly confident? Ha, as if, so personality. I like how open-minded I am. How likely are you to compliment other people? How do you react or respond when you receive a compliment? What are your favorite types to receive? It depends on the person, the atmosphere, and my anxiety level. I sometimes fear complimenting people because I don't want someone to be like "um why is she talking to me?"/"is she flirting with me?"/"why did she notice that?", etc. I become so giddy (at the very least internally) when people compliment me because of how my self-esteem is, and I really appreciate them. The compliments that mean most to me are regarding my photography. With how badly I want to be a successful photographer, people seeming to genuinely like what I do has actually made me smile like an idiot and giggle publicly. It just means a lot to me. Describe the last thing you reblogged? How many posts do you tend to reblog during a day? A clip of Mark having a fit over a dog in RDR2. How much I reblog varies greatly; depends on how much I get on Tumblr that day, what I feel like sharing at that moment, what I queue... Have you ever lost your cool at work or somewhere else important? What happened as a result? No. Do you listen to your friends’ advice when they give it to you? Depends. If it's Sara, I usually do. What’s the last kind of soup you ate? Vegetable. Have you ever thought about getting your nose pierced? It is pierced. The most memorable time that you skipped school, what did you do? I don't recall. Did you ever have a favorite teacher in high school? What made them your favorite? Coach Collie. He was very friendly, wise, his sense of humor was great, he cared deeply for his students, was super chill, shared life advice all the time, etc. etc. Can you think of a time when you were really obviously judged by your appearance? What happened? Not that I recall. What’s something your mother told you growing up that you actually listened to? Mind your manners. What are three emotions you experience regularly? Stress, content, but also discontent. What is your favorite Halloween candy? Reese's. Is there anyone who refuses to communicate with you? *shrugs* What was the last lengthy packet you filled out? Something for vocational rehab. Is there something you still can’t do even though you’re an adult or might be expected to do this thing? I don't have a job or drive. When was the last time you congratulated someone? Were you happy for them, indifferent, jealous? When I found out one of my closest high school friends is pregnant. I was obviously happy for her. What would you say is your STRONGEST emotion? Maybe not the most frequent, but the most intense? And what emotion do you feel most weakly, even if you might feel it more often? Anger; envy (but it's not often). Have you ever gone somewhere in your pajamas? What makes this acceptable or unacceptable to you? Plenty times, but it depends on my level of shits given and the location. Honestly wish pjs were more acceptable in public places cuz like why not, you've got clothes on, just don't go around where everyone can totally see your dick, ass, or tits. Other than the usual things like IDs, etc, what do you always carry with you when you go out? My phone. What type of photography do you enjoy looking at? Do you take any photos yourself, and if so, what types of things do you prefer to photograph? LOTS!!!! I particularly love fantasy-styled portraiture or macabre work, and omg give me soft lighting. I'm a sucker for emotive or conceptual portraits and the like. I like to photograph an array of things, but my faves are nature and animals. Have you ever gone out for the Black Friday shopping rush? Did you enjoy it, or not so much? Or, what’s the busiest shopping day you’ve ever experienced? Nope. Busiest shopping day I indirectly experienced was when I worked at GameStop during the holiday season... nope. It's a small store and it was flooded. I hated it. Idk about one where I/my family was the shopper. Do you enjoy reading diaries or stories you wrote from when you were younger, or does it embarrass you? If you’ve kept them, was there a particular reason for hanging on to them so long? No. No. No. NO. I can't stomach going any further back than '15 at the RP forum because fucking cringe. All old stuff like physical journals and such, they're long gone because I never want to see them again lmao. What would you say was your first true hobby? What about your most recently developed one? Hmmm, probably video games were the first things I was *really* deep into. Recently developed... good question. Is there one thing that throws off your mood more than others, whether it be lack of sleep, lack of food, heat/cold, etc? I'M FUCKING /CRANKY/ IF I'M HOT. Serious lack of sleep makes me moodier. What is one common area of life in which you feel you have little to no experience (college, children, marriage, etc)? Work and independence. What kinds of things are you likely to complain about? HEAT. If it's hot to me, you're gonna know. I'll complain if my stomach especially hurts, sometimes with other pain. Do you like to put any extra effort into your food in terms of presentation, or do you prefer to just put it on a plate and eat it as it is, no frills? I don't cook, so. But I'd definitely be the latter. When was the last time you were mean or rude to someone else? How about the last time someone acted that way toward you? I hung up on this insurance agency or whatever they are that call me every other goddamn day. I dunno about the second question. What kinds of things are most likely to make you lose your temper? Have you ever done something regrettable or embarrassing while angry? I fucking dare you to ridicule the mentally ill in front of me. Goddamn dare you. For the second part, not to my recollection. Do you have a large dog? No, both our dogs are medium-sized. If not, are you afraid of them? Not at all. Do your parents know that/if you smoke? I don't. What is the reason you last received money? Mom borrowed some from me so she was paying me back. Is anyone in your family sick? Not to my knowledge. Are you very upfront about things or do you "beat around the bush"? The latter, typically. Do you ever write poetry just to get your feelings out? Not really anymore. Middle and high school? I was all about it. I wrote only one poem this year. How many bones have you broken? None. Whose house did you visit last? My sister Ashley's. Have you ever bought a fragrance by a celeb because you liked who it was? No. Do you have a gazebo at your house? No. What’s your favorite brand of bottled water? Essentia.