#with the loneliness when I’m ill but I can’t cope with it when I’m even a smidge better) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ghoulelegy · 25 days ago

Text

In The Breeze Of The Autumn Leaves - Chapter 7 - Smoke Signals

Notes: I was rereading I'll meet you at the cemetary gates by @gggoldfinch (yearly read at this point) and I CANNOT EMPHASIZE HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS FIC. I wasn't sure how to go about this but the author was one of the reasons I even started to write. This chapter was heavily inspired by the earlier chapters of her fic. OUGH. PLEASE READ IT WHEN YOU GET THE TIME! ok so back to the chase

Read here or on Ao3 Thank you @jimothybarnes, @em0bussy, @creatura-theanarchist, @everybodyshusband for all the wonderful support you have shown <3

Summary:

As you recuperate from a mysterious illness, you grapple with feelings of isolation despite physically regaining strength. Copia remains a steadfast presence, offering support, but a distance grows between you due to unspoken fears and the lingering uncertainty of your health. To cope, you throw yourself into your studies, but even that feels distant and unfulfilling. Finding solace in your emotional support dog, Juno, you begin visiting a nearby cemetery, discovering comfort in cleaning gravestones and reflecting on the fragility of life. This private ritual helps ease your feelings of loneliness and offers a sense of purpose...

Word count: 7726

As the days passed, your strength gradually returned, though the doctors remained puzzled by your mysterious illness. Despite their best efforts, they couldn’t pinpoint a cause, and you left the hospital with no real answers—just relief that, for now, you were stable enough to go home. Copia, always by your side, helped you gather your things, his presence a constant reassurance.

“Ready to get out of here?” he asked with a smile, his eyes full of warmth and relief.

You nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and uncertainty. “More than ready.”

Outside, the world felt different—brighter, more alive. Juno, your emotional support dog, was waiting as Copia pulled up to your house, her tail wagging furiously. She bounded over to you, her joy infectious as she nuzzled into your hand.

“I missed you too, girl,” you murmured, scratching behind her ears as her warm breath tickled your face. Dewdrop stood nearby, grinning at the reunion.

“Recognize me yet?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

You blinked, feeling a flicker of familiarity. “I do, but... I can’t place where.”

His grin widened. “I’m just a friendly ghoul, keeping an eye on things.” There was something in his tone that suggested he knew more than he let on, but you didn’t press further.

As autumn rolled in, the world around you shifted—crisp air, fiery leaves swirling across the university campus, students laughing and planning their weekends. Yet, while the campus buzzed with life, you felt a growing distance between yourself and everyone else. Physically, you were getting stronger each day, but emotionally, you felt out of sync with everything, especially with Copia.

Your connection with him had changed. What once felt effortless now felt strained, as if your shared moments were weighed down by the unspoken fear of your illness. You wanted to confide in him, but every time you tried, something held you back. The uncertainty of your health, the constant gnawing worry that it could return, made you pull away.

You threw yourself into your studies, hoping the routine would ground you, but even that felt out of reach. In class, professors droned on about assignments, but their words blurred into background noise. Group projects were a challenge—you were there physically, but your mind wandered, your contributions often overlooked.

“Maybe we could focus on deforestation's environmental impact?” you suggested during one meeting, but your idea was quickly brushed aside.

“Economic effects would be more engaging,” another student replied, already shifting the discussion away from your input.

It wasn’t personal, you knew that. But the rejection still stung. It was as if you were speaking a different language, one that no one else could hear. The isolation you felt wasn’t just social—it was deeper, something that clung to you even when surrounded by others. At parties, you’d laugh along with everyone else, but inside, you felt disconnected, watching life happen from the outside.

Nights were the hardest. You’d lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of your own thoughts press down on you. The loneliness was suffocating, especially when the pain from your illness would flare up. Even though Copia was still present in your life, a part of you felt distant, as if something between you had fractured.

But then, there was Juno. She was the one constant, the one presence that didn’t demand anything from you. When the world became too much, and the effort to keep up felt impossible, Juno was there, pressing her soft fur against you, grounding you with her steady presence.

One afternoon, while walking Juno near your home, she suddenly stopped and let out a low, insistent bark. You frowned, looking in the direction she was focused on—the nearby cemetery. It was a place you often passed on your walks, a quiet, solemn space. But Juno’s reaction was unusual.

“What is it, girl?” you asked, crouching beside her.

She continued to bark softly, her attention fixed on something within the cemetery gates. Curious, you followed her lead, entering the cemetery as a cool breeze stirred the fallen leaves. The air seemed heavier here, the quiet almost tangible.

Juno led you deeper into the cemetery, stopping near a weathered tombstone. The name was barely legible, worn away by time, but something about the place felt charged, as though history itself was holding its breath. You knelt beside Juno, running your fingers over the rough stone, feeling the weight of the past settling over you.

The cemetery had always been a place of reflection for you, but now it seemed different. Juno had brought you here for a reason, her quiet insistence making you feel as though something deeper was at play. You sat there for a while, lost in thought, wondering if your illness, the strange disconnect you’d been feeling, and this place were somehow tied together.

When you finally rose to leave, Juno trotted beside you, her earlier tension gone, replaced by her usual calm. As you walked out of the cemetery, a twinge of doubt crept into your thoughts. Was it fair to bring her to such a solemn place? Juno had always been there for you, your anchor in times of need, but had you imposed too much on her?

She looked up at you, her eyes full of understanding, as if sensing your worries. You knelt down beside her, gently stroking her fur. “I hope I didn’t disturb you, my love,” you whispered.

Juno wagged her tail and nudged your hand, as if to tell you everything was okay. In that moment, you realized that while she was your emotional support, she also had a strength of her own. She wasn’t just helping you navigate your loneliness—she was choosing to be by your side, no matter where the journey led.

Somehow, amidst the silence of the cemetery, you felt a sense of belonging. The dead, resting quietly in their eternal slumber, did not judge or expect anything from you. They were just there, constant and unchanging, their stories sealed away, waiting to be remembered by those who passed by. After that unexpected visit with Juno, where peace had settled over you in a way you hadn’t anticipated, you felt an inexplicable pull to return. There was something comforting about the solitude of the cemetery, a place where you could be alone but never truly feel alone.

The next morning, you decided to act on that pull. You wanted to give back in some small way, to honor those resting beneath the earth. It wasn’t enough just to visit. The need to clean the gravestones had surfaced as a task that might offer both meaning and comfort, a way to show reverence for the lives that had come and gone. It wasn’t just a chore—it was something deeper, something that felt right in a world that so often felt confusing and out of reach.

Early that morning, you gathered a small bucket of water, a soft brush, and some gentle cleanser. Juno, sensing your purpose, wagged her tail as she watched you prepare. You hadn’t told anyone about your visits to the cemetery. It wasn’t a secret, but more of a private ritual that you were still coming to understand. There was something about the isolation that felt safe, necessary even, as if the act of going there alone was part of the healing process.

The walk to the cemetery was quiet, the early autumn morning cool but not cold. The leaves had started to turn, and the gentle rustle of them in the breeze filled the air with a sense of transition. You reached the wrought iron gates, and as you passed through them, the atmosphere felt different than the day before. There was a tranquility that seemed to envelop you, a stillness that made the rest of the world feel distant, as if it were somewhere far away, unable to intrude on this quiet space. The cemetery felt as though it had been waiting for your return, its silent invitation open, welcoming you back.

You made your way along the paths, familiar now after your visit with Juno the previous day. You remembered how she had barked, how she had led you to that one particular grave, almost as if she had known where to go. Today, you were returning to that same place, but this time with a purpose.

The gravestone was still as weathered as you remembered, its inscription barely visible beneath years of neglect. Kneeling before it, you set down your bucket and began to clean. The task was slow, methodical, but it gave you a sense of focus that had been hard to find lately. With each brushstroke, with each swipe of the cloth over the rough stone, you felt yourself letting go—of the worry, of the uncertainty, of the lingering fear that had followed you ever since your illness.

As you worked, memories surfaced. The hospital, the doctors’ confusion, the endless tests. The questions that had gone unanswered. Copia’s worried face, his constant presence, always supportive but never demanding. And then, the growing distance you had felt upon returning home, that gnawing sense that something between you had shifted, even though you couldn’t quite say what it was. The feeling that you were moving through life but no longer quite a part of it.

But here, in this quiet place, surrounded by the dead, those thoughts felt less overwhelming. They were still there, of course—how could they not be? But the stillness of the cemetery seemed to soften them, taking away some of their sting. The dead didn’t care about your fears or your failures. They had their own stories, etched in the weathered stone, but they didn’t need anything from you. They simply were. And in that simplicity, you found a strange kind of comfort.

Time passed without you realizing it. The sun had shifted in the sky, casting a warm light over the gravestones as you continued to clean. The once-faded inscription slowly became clearer, the name and dates of the person buried there finally legible after years of being hidden. You sat back on your heels, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, and looked at your work. The gravestone wasn’t perfect—it still bore the marks of time—but it gleamed faintly in the sunlight, its story once again visible to the world.

You felt a deep sense of accomplishment, though it was more than just the satisfaction of a job well done. There was a peace that had settled over you, a quiet understanding that in this small, simple act, you had honored someone’s memory, even if you didn’t know their story.

Juno, who had been quietly watching you the whole time, padded over and sat beside you. Her presence was steady, grounding, as always. You ran your hand through her fur, feeling the soft warmth of her coat beneath your fingers. She looked up at you, her brown eyes full of understanding, as if she too grasped the significance of this moment.

As you looked around at the rows of gravestones stretching out in every direction, a thought crossed your mind. You wondered what Copia would think if he knew about your visits here. How would he react if he knew about the strange solace you found among the dead, about the quiet conversations you had with those who had passed? Would he understand? Could he?

You thought about how often he had popped into your mind lately, how his presence seemed to linger even when he wasn’t physically there. Despite the growing distance between you, part of you longed to share this quiet communion with him, to show him the peace you had found here. But another part of you wasn’t sure he would understand. The cemetery, this sacred space of the dead, felt like your own sanctuary, a place you weren’t quite ready to share.

Juno nudged your hand gently, as if sensing your thoughts, bringing you back to the present. Her warm, steady presence reminded you that, for now, it was enough to have her by your side. The complexities of life, the unanswered questions, the uncertainties—they could wait. There was comfort to be found in the simple things, in the loyalty of a companion, in the peacefulness of a place where time seemed to stand still.

You rose to your feet, stretching out your stiff limbs, and glanced one last time at the gravestone you had cleaned. It was time to go home. With a sigh, you looked down at Juno, who was watching you with her usual patient gaze. “Let’s go home, girl,” you whispered softly, reaching down to pat her head. “Thank you for being here.”

Juno wagged her tail in response, her eyes reflecting an understanding that went beyond words. As you turned to leave the cemetery, the sun beginning to dip toward the horizon, you felt lighter than you had in weeks. You didn’t have all the answers, but for the first time in a long while, that seemed okay. You had Juno. You had this quiet place. And you had the strength to keep moving forward, one step at a time.

The next day, something was different. As you and Juno walked toward the cemetery, the air felt heavier, thick with the promise of rain. The sky was overcast, the sun struggling to break through the dense clouds.

You had been to the cemetery almost every day now, cleaning gravestones, finding solace in the quiet, and losing yourself in the steady rhythm of it. It had become your private ritual—something that felt necessary, even though you couldn’t fully explain why. But today, as you neared the cemetery gates, you spotted someone standing just inside.

At first, you weren’t sure who it was—an unfamiliar silhouette dressed in black, tall and slightly hunched over. It wasn’t until Juno let out a soft bark, her tail wagging in recognition, that you realized it was Terzo. Terzo, with his dark hair falling carelessly over his forehead, stood with his back to you, his posture unusually still.

Normally, you would have expected some lighthearted quip, maybe a theatrical greeting that was so distinctly him. But today, there was none of that. He seemed lost in thought, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared at something in the distance. For a moment, you hesitated. Terzo wasn’t someone you had imagined seeing here, in this place of quiet reflection. His personality was too lively, too big for such a solemn space.

But there was something about his stillness that drew you in. You found yourself walking through the gate, Juno padding quietly beside you, until you were standing a few feet away from him. “Terzo?” you called softly, unsure if you were intruding. He turned slowly, his eyes meeting yours. There was no smile on his face, no hint of the mischievous charm you had come to expect from him. Instead, his gaze was soft, introspective, as if he had been caught in a moment of deep contemplation.

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, almost too quietly, he spoke. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You shrugged, feeling suddenly vulnerable in his presence. “I could say the same about you.”

He glanced away, his gaze returning to the row of gravestones in front of him. “Sometimes,” he said, his voice low, “you need to be reminded that life is fragile.

That none of this,” he gestured vaguely to the world around him, “lasts forever.”

His words hung in the air between you, and you felt a lump form in your throat. You hadn’t expected this from him—not this depth, not this quiet understanding of the weight you had been carrying.

He had always seemed so carefree, so unburdened by the things that weighed on you. But now, standing here in the cemetery, it was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a side of him you had never seen before.

“I come here a lot,” you admitted, the words surprising even yourself. “It helps. Being here… it makes things feel less complicated.”

Terzo nodded, though he didn’t look at you. Instead, he knelt slowly in front of one of the gravestones, his fingers brushing lightly over the weathered surface.

“I come here too,” he said quietly, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “It’s strange, no? To find comfort in a place so full of death?” You didn’t know how to respond, so you stayed silent, watching him. There was something raw in his expression, something unguarded that you had never seen before. It was unsettling, in a way, to see him like this—stripped of the bravado, the mask he always wore so effortlessly.

After a long moment, he stood again and turned to face you. His dark eyes were softer now, filled with something you couldn’t quite place—regret, maybe, or sadness. “I used to think I had all the time in the world,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But we never really do, do we?”

You shook your head. “No. We don’t.” The two of you stood there in silence for a while, Juno sitting quietly at your feet, her head resting on your leg.

The cemetery was peaceful, the only sounds the faint rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of a bird in the distance.

Finally, Terzo broke the silence. “You’ve been through a lot,” he said, his voice gentle. “I heard about what happened. The illness, the… distance.”

You felt your chest tighten at the mention of it, the memories rushing back—the uncertainty, the fear, the way everything had seemed to spiral out of control.

You hadn’t wanted to talk about it, especially not with him. But now, standing here, you felt the need to say something. Anything.

“I don’t know how to get back to normal,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “I don’t even know what ‘normal’ is anymore.”

Terzo’s gaze softened, and he took a step closer, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “Normal is overrated,” he said with a small, smile that seemed to never reach his eyes.“There’s no going back to how things were. Not really. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe it’s about finding a new way forward.”

You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that had suddenly formed in your eyes. “I don’t know how.”

Terzo’s hand squeezed your shoulder gently, his touch comforting in a way you hadn’t expected.

“You’re not alone in this,” he said softly. “You don’t have to figure it all out by yourself. There are people who care about you. People who want to help.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and for the first time in what felt like months, you felt a small flicker of hope. You hadn’t realized how much you had been holding everything inside, how much you had isolated yourself, even from the people who cared about you the most.

“I just… I didn’t want to be a burden,” you said quietly, your voice trembling.

Terzo’s expression softened even further, and he shook his head gently.

“You’re not a burden. You never were.”

For a moment, you stood there in the quiet of the cemetery, the weight of his words sinking in. Juno nudged your hand again, and you looked down at her, her warm eyes reflecting the same quiet understanding that Terzo’s had.

“Thank you,” you whispered, barely able to find your voice. Terzo gave you a small smile, one that was filled with a warmth you hadn’t expected.

“We all need someone sometimes,” he said quietly. “Even me.”

The sky overhead began to darken, the promise of rain becoming more real as the wind picked up. Terzo glanced up at the sky and then back at you.

“Come on,” he said, his voice lightening just a bit. “Let’s get out of here before we both end up drenched.”

You nodded, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. As the two of you walked toward the cemetery gates, Juno trotting beside you, the world didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore. Terzo had given you something today—something you hadn’t even known you needed.

As the two of you neared the cemetery gates, the quiet was broken only by the soft sound of your footsteps on the gravel and the occasional rustle of the wind in the trees. Terzo walked beside you, his usually flamboyant energy muted, replaced by a quiet solemnity. You stole a glance at him, noting the way his shoulders seemed slightly hunched, as though he carried a weight you hadn’t noticed before. Something was still lingering, unspoken.

Just as you were about to leave the cemetery grounds, Terzo stopped suddenly, turning back to look at the gravestone he had knelt in front of earlier. His hand moved to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair in a gesture you recognized as hesitation. He exhaled, a sound that was more than just a sigh—it was the release of something deeper.

“Wait,” he said softly, voice steady but laden with something you hadn’t heard from him before. You paused, turning to face him, and saw that his expression had shifted. There was something raw in his eyes, something vulnerable. “That grave,” he said, nodding toward it, “it’s my mother’s.”

You blinked, caught off guard. The revelation hit you like a sudden gust of wind, unexpected and stirring. For a moment, you weren’t sure what to say, your mind racing to piece together the fragments of this new understanding. Terzo, always the life of the room, always hiding behind wit and charm, had never spoken about his past—certainly not about something so personal.

“My biological mother,” he clarified, as if that distinction held more weight than the words themselves. His gaze remained fixed on the grave in the distance, and you could see the tightness in his jaw, the way he seemed to struggle with the admission.

“I didn’t know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the wind.

Terzo shrugged, but it was a gesture filled with more than indifference. “No one does,” he said, almost matter-of-factly, as though he’d grown used to carrying this part of his life in silence. “She died when I was very young. I barely remember her.”

You stepped a little closer, unsure if he wanted comfort or space. His posture remained tense, though his eyes softened when he looked back at you. “Sister Imperator raised me,” he continued, his voice quieter now, like he was peeling away another layer of himself he’d kept hidden. “But she made it clear I wasn’t hers.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and filled with a kind of sorrow you hadn’t expected to hear from him. “She did her duty,” he added, shrugging as if it didn’t matter, though the tightness in his voice betrayed the truth. “She gave me everything I needed—a roof, education, guidance. But she never let me forget I was a reminder of someone else’s choices.”

Your chest tightened at his admission. You’d never seen this side of him before—the loneliness he had buried beneath all the charm and bravado. You realized then that the loss of his mother was only part of the story. It wasn’t just her death that had shaped him, but the way he had been raised in the shadow of that absence, always feeling like he didn’t quite belong.

“She never said it outright, of course,” Terzo continued, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “But you learn to pick up on things. A certain kind of distance. A certain way of reminding you where you stand.”

You wanted to say something, but words felt inadequate. So you just stood there, offering your presence, hoping it was enough.

“It’s strange,” he went on, his voice soft and reflective. “Coming here, to this grave. It’s not like I have a wealth of memories of her. Just fragments, really. But I still feel like this is where I belong more than anywhere else.”

He let out a short, humorless laugh. “How sad is that? Finding more comfort in a graveyard than in a home?”

“It’s not sad,” you said gently, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s… human. We all look for pieces of ourselves in places we feel connected to, even if those connections are painful.”

Terzo looked at you for a long moment, something like gratitude flickering in his eyes. “I didn’t expect to talk about this today,” he admitted. “I don’t usually… let people in.”

“I understand,” you said quietly. “But you’re allowed to, you know? You don’t always have to carry it alone.”

He nodded slowly, as if considering your words, before glancing down at Juno, who had been sitting patiently at your feet. “Seems like you’re good at being in the right place at the right time.”

You smiled, feeling the weight in your chest ease just a little. “Or maybe you were ready to let someone in.”

Terzo didn’t say anything, but the silence between you was comfortable, filled with a quiet understanding. For the first time, you saw him not as the confident, witty man he projected to the world, but as someone who had carried a deep loneliness for years, someone who had always felt like he existed on the edges of things.

As the first drops of rain began to fall, Terzo glanced up at the sky and chuckled softly. “We should go,” he said, his tone lightening but still tinged with something deeper. “Before we end up drenched.”

You nodded, and the two of you turned toward the cemetery gates, Juno trotting alongside you. The rain fell in soft, steady droplets, but somehow, the world didn’t feel quite as heavy anymore. Terzo had shared something with you today—something he rarely shared with anyone. And in doing so, he had lightened the burden, if only by a little.

As you walked, you realized that neither of you were as alone as you had once thought.

You jolted awake from a light doze, your apartment’s familiar surroundings slowly coming into focus. It was early evening, the soft glow of twilight seeping through the curtains. Juno stirred beside your bed, her ears perking up at the sound that roused you—a steady, almost hesitant knock on the door.

Blinking away the haze of sleep, you sat up, rubbing your eyes as another knock echoed through the quiet apartment, firmer this time. A prickle of unease crawled up your spine. Visitors at this hour weren’t common, especially unannounced ones. Juno was already on alert, her head tilted as she listened intently.

You stood, feet meeting the cold floor as you padded toward the door. With each step, a gnawing sense of uncertainty built in your chest. Who would show up now? And why? The knocking stopped, leaving only an expectant silence that weighed heavily in the air. You glanced at Juno, whose dark eyes met yours with equal curiosity and caution. She rose to her paws, moving quietly beside you, as if sensing your nerves.

You took a deep breath, your hand hovering over the doorknob. "Who...?" The question died in your throat before you even spoke it aloud, replaced by the racing of your heart. What if—

No. You shook off the intrusive thought and twisted the knob. The door creaked open slowly, revealing a figure silhouetted against the dim light of the hallway. You squinted, the shadowed shape coming into sharper focus.

"Copia?" The breath you hadn’t realized you were holding rushed out. He stood there, his familiar face softened by the fading light, though his expression was more serious than usual. His brow furrowed, concern shadowing his gaze.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, not quite his usual casual tone. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

You blinked, shaking off the remnants of sleep and confusion. “No, not at all,” you said, stepping aside to let him in. “Is everything okay?”

He stepped into the apartment, his gaze scanning the room briefly before settling back on you. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just—” He paused, as if weighing his words, his hand brushing nervously through his hair. “I needed to talk to you.”

There was something in the way he said it—quiet, almost hesitant—that made your stomach tighten. You nodded, motioning for him to sit, though you couldn’t shake the subtle tension that now filled the room.

Juno nudged your leg softly, her presence grounding you as you both waited for him to continue

"Two things," the cardinal began, his tone serious yet somehow tinged with a hint of anticipation. "Firstly, I hope this isn't a bad time."

"Not at all," you replied, gesturing for him to continue.

"And secondly," the cardinal hesitated for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully, "the Hunter’s Moon Ritual."

"The Hunter’s Moon Ritual?" you repeated, a flicker of recognition crossing your face. "Oh! You mentioned that before!"

The cardinal nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his beak. "Well, yes. About that," he continued, his demeanor taking on a slightly more formal air. "You're invited."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. The invitation brought a mix of emotions—curiosity, intrigue, and a touch of apprehension. The ritual had been a topic of mystery and significance, and now, being invited felt like a doorway opening to a deeper understanding of the community's traditions.

"I... I don't know what to say," you admitted, feeling a surge of gratitude mixed with uncertainty. "Thank you for inviting me."

The cardinal inclined his head gracefully. "It would be an honour to have you join us," he replied warmly. "The Hunter’s Moon Ritual is a time of reflection and connection, an opportunity to embrace our heritage and seek guidance from the natural world."

You nodded, absorbing his words. The ritual held a weight of importance, not just as a cultural tradition but as a path towards deeper meaning and perhaps even answers to the questions that had been lingering in your mind.

"When is it?" you asked, realizing your curiosity outweighed any hesitation. The cardinal smiled, reaching into his feathers to produce a small parchment with delicate writing.

"17thth October, under the light of the full moon," he answered, handing you the invitation. "The location is the cemetery, and you are welcome to bring a companion if you wish."

“Wait…” shit, does he know?

“Speaking of the Cemetery….are you okay? I’ve noticed you’ve been withdrawn and—going to the cemetery a lot and-” Copia asks.

You hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. The cemetery had become a sanctuary for you, a place to find solace amidst the uncertainties that plagued your mind.

"I… It's just…" You struggled to find the right words, the weight of your unspoken thoughts pressing down on you. "It's where I feel… at peace. I've been trying to make sense of things."

Copia pricked his ears, his expression softening with empathy. "I understand," he said quietly. "Sometimes, certain places have a way of grounding us, offering clarity in ways we can't find elsewhere."

His words resonated deeply. The cemetery wasn't just a place of quiet reflection; it was where you confronted your fears and sought answers that seemed elusive elsewhere.

"I didn't mean to intrude," Copia continued gently. "But if you ever need to talk… or if you want company… I'm here."

You looked at him gratefully, touched by his offer of support. "Thank you," you replied sincerely. "I appreciate that."

He nodded, a reassuring smile tugging at his lips. "And about the Hunter's Moon Ritual… it might be just what you need. A chance to connect, to find answers or peace."

Sure.

"Actually, would you mind coming with me to gather stuff for the ritual?" Copia asked sheepishly, his usual confidence giving way to a hint of vulnerability.

You smiled, touched by his request. "I'd like that," you said "What do we need to get?"

Copia's face brightened, his eyes twinkling with a mix of excitement and relief. "There are a few special items required for the ritual. Some herbs, candles, and a few other things. I can show you where to find them."

"Sounds like an adventure," you said with a grin, grabbing your coat. Juno, sensing your enthusiasm, wagged her tail eagerly.

As you, Copia and Juno left your apartment, the cool autumn air greeted you, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and the promise of the upcoming ritual. You walked side by side, the conversation flowing easily between you.

"So, what exactly happens at the Hunter's Moon Ritual?" you asked, curious about the details.

Copia glanced at you, a thoughtful expression on his face. "It's a ceremony to honor the spirits, to seek guidance and strength. We gather under the full moon, perform rituals, and offer our intentions to the universe. It's a time of reflection and connection."

You nodded, intrigued by the concept. "Sounds powerful. Have you done it before?"

"Yes," Copia replied. "Many times. Each experience is unique, though, and it's always deeply personal. I'm glad you're coming. It means a lot. This year’s is special because we’re also doing a summoning.”

“A ghoul summoning?” you asked.

Copia nodded, his expression serious yet excited. "Yes. It's a rare and significant ritual. We're calling forth a ghoul to aid and protect us. It's a powerful and intricate process, requiring the combined energy and focus of everyone involved."

You absorbed his words, feeling a mix of intrigue and apprehension. "Is it dangerous?"

"Not if performed correctly," Copia reassured you. "It's a solemn and sacred act, treated with the utmost respect and care. The presence of a ghoul can bring immense strength and guidance.

“Tell me about the ghouls” you wonder

Copia smiled, clearly pleased by your interest. “There are six types of ghouls, each connected to a different elemental force: water, fire, earth, air, and quintessential. There are also multighouls, ghouls that embody several elements.”

He paused, gathering his thoughts. “Water ghouls are fluid and adaptable, able to manipulate water and often have calming, soothing auras. Fire ghouls are fierce and passionate, with the ability to control flames and bring warmth or destruction as needed.”

“Earth ghouls,” he continued, “are grounded and strong, with a deep connection to the land. They can manipulate earth and stone, providing stability and protection. Air ghouls are light and agile, able to control the winds and often bringing a sense of freedom and clarity.”

“The quintessential ghouls,” Copia said with a hint of reverence, “are the…most misunderstood ghouls. They embody the pure essence of creation and destruction, able to influence multiple elements and often acting as leaders or guides among the ghouls.”

“So why are we summoning a ghoul now?” you ponder.

“During the Hunter’s Moon, the gateway between our realm and the pit becomes… fuzzed,” Copia explained, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret. “It becomes a lot easier to summon.”

Your mind raced with questions, the concept both thrilling and daunting. “The pit?” you asked, a touch of apprehension in your voice.

Copia nodded. “The pit is where the ghouls reside. It’s a realm that exists parallel to ours, a place of raw, untamed energy. Summoning them requires a lot of power and precision, but during the Hunter’s Moon, the veil thins, making the process more manageable.”

You mulled over his words, the idea of such a powerful, otherworldly connection both intimidating and intriguing. “So, the ritual is more potent during this time?”

“Exactly,” Copia affirmed. “The moon’s energy enhances the ritual, allowing us to tap into the pit with greater ease and summon the ghouls. It’s a rare opportunity, and it requires careful preparation.”

“Is that why you need to gather supplies?” you asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “The ritual requires specific elements and tools to channel the energy properly. I could use your help in gathering them. It’s a way to immerse yourself in the process, to understand the depth and significance of what we’re about to undertake.”

You felt a sense of purpose stirring within you, a desire to contribute and be part of something greater. “I’d be happy to help. What do we need?”

Copia smiled, gratitude evident in his eyes. “Thank you. We need herbs, stones, and other natural elements that resonate with the ghouls’ energies. I’ll guide you through it.”

“The shop where we get our supplies is called ‘Elysian Enchantments,’” Copia explained as you both walked out the door. “It’s a bit of a hidden gem, known only to those who dabble in the mystical arts. They have everything we’ll need.”

The name sounded fitting, and you felt a spark of excitement. As you and Copia made your way to the shop, the city seemed to buzz with an otherworldly energy, perhaps in anticipation of the upcoming Hunter’s Moon.

Elysian Enchantments was nestled in a quiet, cobblestoned alleyway, its entrance marked by an intricately carved wooden sign depicting a crescent moon entwined with vines. The door creaked open, revealing a cosy, dimly lit space filled with shelves of mysterious items: glimmering crystals, ancient tomes bound in leather, bundles of dried herbs suspended from the ceiling, and various tools for spellcasting and rituals. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and myrrh.

A bell chimed as you entered, and an elderly woman with piercing green eyes looked up from behind the counter. She had an aura of ageless wisdom, her silver hair cascading like a waterfall. “Welcome, Cardinal Copia,” she greeted warmly, her voice resonating with a melodic timbre. “And who might this be?”

“This is my friend,” Copia introduced you with a smile. “We’re here to gather supplies for the Hunter’s Moon Ritual.”

The woman nodded knowingly. “Of course. The Hunter’s Moon is a powerful time. I’ll fetch what you need.” She disappeared into the back, leaving you to explore the enchanting shop.

Copia noticed your lingering gaze and stepped up beside you. “Ah,” he said softly, his tone reverent, “that’s a scrying mirror. Used to see beyond the veil, to glimpse the unknown.” His voice lowered, carrying a weight of understanding that sent a shiver down your spine. “They say if you gaze into it long enough, you can find answers… or questions you weren’t ready to ask.”

His words hung in the air as you looked at your own faint reflection, distorted by the ancient surface, and you felt a sudden curiosity mixed with hesitation.

Would you dare look beyond the veil?

The elderly woman returned with a small wooden box, her eyes twinkling with secrets. “These should help with your summoning,” she said, opening the lid to reveal an assortment of rare herbs, enchanted stones, and a vial of shimmering, iridescent liquid.

As you reached out to touch the vial, a strange sensation coursed through you, as if the liquid resonated with something deep within.

You quickly pulled your hand back, glancing at Copia, who seemed to have noticed your reaction.

“Everything okay?” he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

“Yeah, just… felt something,” you replied, trying to shake off the unease.

Copia thanked the shopkeeper, and you both gathered the rest of the supplies. As you left Elysian Enchantments, the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the city. The anticipation of the ritual ahead filled you with a sense of purpose and connection, ready to embrace the magic of the Hunter’s Moon.

Outside, the city’s energy seemed to shift with the approaching twilight. The air was electric, as if the very fabric of reality was thinning in preparation for the night’s events. You felt a thrilling mix of excitement and nervousness, your mind racing with the possibilities that lay ahead.

“Ready for an unforgettable night?” Copia asked, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

You nodded, feeling a rush of adrenaline. “Let’s do this.”

As you walked beside Copia, you couldn’t help but notice your heightened awareness of the shadows lengthening around you, the way the evening light seemed to bend and twist in peculiar patterns. It was as if the approaching ritual was awakening something dormant within you, something that responded to the encroaching darkness.

You and Copia passed by an alley, and for a brief moment, your reflection in a storefront window seemed distorted, almost otherworldly. You blinked, and it was gone, but the unease lingered. You shook your head, attributing it to nerves and the excitement of the upcoming ritual.

Back at your apartment, as you prepared for the night ahead, you noticed a faint, silvery sheen on your skin under the moonlight streaming through the window. It disappeared when you moved out of the light, but it left you with an unsettling feeling that something within you was changing, aligning with the energies of the Hunter’s Moon.

“Copia?”

“Yes, what’s wrong?” he responded, concern flooding his features like a tide.

“Can you give me a tarot reading?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly as you fought against a rush of uncertainty and hope, as if the very act of asking could break the delicate balance of the moment.

Copia blinked in surprise, his brow furrowing. “I’m going to be honest, I’m not skilled at those,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, a gesture that stripped away the layers of his usual bravado. “But I’ll try.”

He led you to a small table near the window, where the moonlight poured in, casting a cool, silvery glow that seemed to dance with secrets. As he pulled out a worn but lovingly cared-for tarot deck from his pocket, you could feel the air crackle with anticipation. The cards were edged with gold and illustrated with intricate designs, each one telling a story waiting to be unraveled.

“Alright,” Copia said, taking a deep breath that seemed to pull the very weight of the world into the space between you. “Shuffle the deck and think about your question or what you want guidance on.”

You took the deck, feeling its comforting weight in your hands, each card an invitation into the unknown. Closing your eyes, you focused on the swirling uncertainties that clung to you—the upcoming Hunter’s Moon Ritual that loomed like a storm cloud on the horizon, the mysterious illness that had entwined itself around your heart like a creeping vine, and the undeniable connection with Copia that both thrilled and terrified you. After a moment of silence thick with unspoken words, you handed the deck back to him, your pulse quickening with anticipation and dread.

Copia cut the deck and laid out three cards in a simple spread: past, present, and future.

The first card, representing the past, was the Three of Swords—a heart pierced by three swords, surrounded by ominous storm clouds. “This card signifies heartbreak, betrayal, or a painful truth,” he explained, his voice soft yet heavy with empathy. “It reflects the struggles and emotional pain you’ve endured.” His gaze locked onto yours, and in that moment, you felt the weight of shared sorrow pressing down on you both. Memories surged within you like a tidal wave—each one a reminder of loss, betrayal, and the loneliness that had haunted you like a relentless shadow.

The second card, representing the present, was Temperance—an angel standing with one foot on land and one in water, pouring liquid from one cup to another. “Temperance symbolizes balance, healing, and patience,” Copia said, a hint of a smile breaking through the heaviness. “It’s about finding harmony within yourself and your surroundings, suggesting that you’re in a period of recovery and stabilization.” His voice, imbued with warmth, wrapped around you like a soft embrace, igniting a flicker of hope deep within. The chaos within you began to settle, as if his words were a balm to your frayed soul. You found yourself drawn to his gaze, comforted by the kindness reflected in his eyes—an unwavering reminder that you weren’t alone in your struggles.

Finally, the third card, representing the future, was The Moon—a moonlit night, a path winding between two towering structures, a dog and a wolf howling at the moon, and a crayfish emerging from the depths. “The Moon signifies intuition, dreams, and the subconscious,” Copia explained, his brow furrowing slightly as he absorbed the card’s meaning. “It’s a card of mystery and uncertainty, but it also suggests that answers will come through inner reflection and trusting your instincts.” His gaze bore into yours, almost pleading, as if he yearned for you to find the clarity and peace the card promised.

As you stared at the cards, a wave of emotion crashed over you—an overwhelming sense of clarity mixed with an undeniable connection. The reading resonated deeply, mirroring your journey and the challenges that lay ahead. Relief washed over you, but apprehension clung like a fog, while tentative hope bloomed like a fragile flower pushing through the cracks of your heart. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, unbidden and raw, as you met Copia’s gaze, the vulnerability of the moment wrapping around you both like a cocoon.

“Thank you, Copia,” you said softly, your voice trembling under the weight of unspoken feelings. “This… this helps.”

He smiled, a warmth radiating from his eyes that made you feel seen, understood, and cherished, as if he could sense the intricate dance of emotions within you. “I’m glad it does. Remember, the future isn’t set in stone. These cards are just a guide. Trust yourself and your path.”

In that moment, as the moonlight bathed the room in its ethereal glow, the air between you was electric—a palpable connection that transcended the ordinary. It was a reminder that despite the uncertainties ahead, you had someone by your side who believed in you and your journey. The tears that threatened to spill were not just of sorrow; they were also of hope—hope for healing, for clarity, and for a future that could be shaped by your own hands.

With your heart laid bare, you could feel it deep in your bones—a promise that together, you would navigate the shadows and find the light.

#ghost the band #ghost band #band ghost #ghost fanfiction #the band ghost #ghost #ghoulelegy writes #in the breeze of the autumn leaves #terzo #papa terzo #cardinal copia

7 notes · View notes

whosthere54 · 6 months ago

Text

Song stream notes time

Aesthetic of C!sherb is up until 2 birds

Just kind of vibes for C!sherb (up until maybe brass goggles)

Songs with themes of loneliness potions bleeding - almost magic but more interdimensional stuffs (the beloved)

Brothers starts at 2 birds :)

(family jewels isla coded wait hold on just a minute there)

(When the day met the night Rae and Caspian as well as the fable isla marriage to —> Isla/Enderian to —> alone.)

S1 starts at Fine

Corruption I think starts mainly at Laplace’s Angel

SECOND HALF OF I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE BEING COWORKERS I CARE

WhisperDuo is secret and Hawk in the night

PLAY WITH FIRE CENTROSS AND ENDERIAN

When the world caves in as the finale

Start of s2 as new life

Next section starts at Brutus and it’s the prison

NOT WELCOME BEING CENTROSS

Ends prison arc in Rock in gods shoe

S2 —>3 break starts as is there anybody here (Icarus in the worldport)

S3 starts with Maybe man

Chasing you - The emptiness of not knowing what to do after Haley’s been brought back, it having been their main goal before (very Ic + Haley coded song)

The garden - getting sick of quixis changes. I cannot get the changes to stop, I don’t know what to do, nothing is helping. (whenever talking about crows is talking about chat)

New eyes - Stream where sherb goes to Ulysses and finding out there eyes not their own and then the raft :)

(Two samples I think it’s called?)

The tornado - UNLOCKED THE BELOVED ITS PERFECT (THE END BEING ICARUS BECOMING QUIXIS I LOVE IT SM)

Birds - “I just want to sit here and feed my birds” energy

Look who’s inside again - father isolation

Let me make you proud - self explanatory Icarus wanting to make him proud and earn their fathers love

The fruits - Part of them isn’t them so they can’t be what their father wants them to be

Down the river - Athena and Icarus making potions and they argue about corruption a lil but I care “the dust never settles when you’re around” WHACK

Hero - them spiraling about Centross’s death before fable starts talking I’ll sob

When Centross saves them. Me when. I’ll cry about it.

Can’t catch me now - oh it’s me hallucinating wait he’s actually there rarararara they aren’t coping well but violets watching them

Do what you gotta do - HELP ITS SELF EXPLANATORY ALSO BANGER SONG AND SO FUNNY

Paid in exposure - Coworkers

Natural - also coworkers

Burning pile - CMV

Can’t go back - EVERYTHING IS GOING WRONG

Try to change - Icarus spiraling by themself - I can only do what I’m told I can only repeat history

Lima bean man - killing momboo :d

Shots - why do I kill everything I love?

Prodigal ^^ spiraling and I’m really his son

Solitary confinement - I LOVE THIS SONG FIRST OF ALL

No longer you - (EPIC THE BELOVED) Up to interpretation????

Monster - Penelope Centross - Telemachus (idk spelling) momboo

No children - singing about fable - Rae coming with Vanda

Mr author - Icarus to quixis other half Sherbert to rina

Icarus by luvbug - Fables death I EAT THIS UP (ITS SO GOOD I THOUGHT ABOUT THIS SO MUCH AFTER THE FINALE YOU DONT EVEN KNOWWW)

The bad guy + in my blood - OH MY GOD I WAS SO WRONG (the lyrics in in my blood I yell I rarara)

Daniel in the den - Fable is dead we did it we can move on!

Ruin - female voice is Icarus male voice is Midas (ME WHEN THIS SONG AND THE AMAZING DEVIL) getting ready to jump and die (mainly talking to quixis or the things)

“Nothing quite prepares you for when they don’t come back-“ AGH I LOVE THAT SONG ITS SO THEM AND I CARE SO MUCH ABOUT ICARUS AND MIDAS

Icarus and Apollo - ME WHEN ICARUS AND MIDAS

Show yourself - ASCENTION and Midas welcoming them

Who you are - Midas welcoming Icarus

The last goodbye - Him thinking he’s gonna die then SIKE NOPE WORLDPORT TIME ICARUS AND MIDAS TIME THEM HELPING EACHOTHER AND THEN THE PART WITH CHAT

Still feel - If fable had a bow this is the song when bowing I love it

epilogue things then Icarus

Back to black - WETBIRDS??? ILL UPDATE AFTER WATCHING THE VEN FINALE I GUESS???

SPRING AND A STORM STORYBOARD

Then the next section is specifically Icarixus times

Today today being years of time passing in the worldport I yell

Last section (after today today) is group songs :)

LOSER BABY AS THE DRINKING STREAM

The cave below hero

Ahhhh I love that playlist sm I had THOGUGHTS I was yelling in chat

#fable smp #i have so many thoughts #I’m so hype for the Ven epilogue you don’t eVEN know guys #you don’t understand how much I love Ven #I don’t talk about him as much as I really should

12 notes · View notes

idrisofficial · 6 months ago

Note

Which characters/character do you feel most personally/emotionally involved with and why?

oh this is a very difficult question and i appreciate it very much. as any creator would, i’m inclined to say all of them in different ways…but that’s kind of a cop-out.

i think i’ll say brinne and lennox. they’re not the characters i relate to the most, but i do think i feel the most emotional connection towards them. a lot of what draws me to them is their silent suffering—both of them live in glass prisons of their own making. a lot of this is mental illness related, but their natural dispositions are also of great influence (although lennox’s natural disposition is extremely debatable when you consider nature vs nurture).

brinne was the first of any of my idris characters to exist, and the depth of her development definitely follows suit. her transition from a manic but deeply idealistic teenager to a reticent and self-interested monarch through the buildup of her childhood trauma and the final straw of her near death experience is so deliciously heartbreaking. her loneliness, her codependency with adrian, her sexual and alcoholic coping mechanisms, her deep uncertainty in the religion that gives meaning to her entire life…poor girl can’t catch a break. brinne has always been the focus of idris, and i’ve had fun and i’ve had pain hurting her like i do. most of the actual writing that i’ve accomplished revolves around her, and for good reason. she is at the core of the conflicts plaguing idris’s centuries-old culture and still just a twenty two year old girl who never really got to grow up. sometimes i act as though her teenage self and her adult self are two separate people, but the truth is that they are painfully intertwined. brinne’s suppression of her idealism and desire for change in service to her desperate attempts at self-preservation is what drives her motivations throughout every iteration of this story. she cannot escape who she is, try as she might. and i think there’s something so, so compelling about that for someone in a position of such horrible power like she is.

lennox is layer upon layer upon layer. the fact that he was originally inspired by byakuya togami? we’re not gonna talk about that. lennox has also come a long way as a character, the third to exist after brinne and adrian. he’s an og. lennox was a nice kid up until about age six, where the kindness was quite literally shattered in him to make room for solid perfection. a machine with style. he grew into the role almost too perfectly. the pinnacle of competence, a voice of absolute reason and logic amidst his generally wild and dysfunctional generation of nobles. here is why i feel such connection to lennox. he is ice on the outside, ice on the inside, speaks only when necessary but controls the conversation, and casually usurps the throne from time to time. he has studied these same people for sixteen years, understands most of them sickeningly well, and appears virtually flawless aside from his mansplainer bullshit. but my god is he grumpy, bitchy, flamboyant, perfectionistic to the point of petulance, and baselessly sadistic. he’s the second most powerful person in the country and he has constant migraines from dealing with others’ bullshit. he loves his siblings. he’s one of only two characters to understand his sexuality and he’s deeply afraid of it. he gets no bitches. he’s still mourning the death of the cousin whose death he was responsible for and who he was boyishly in love with. he’s sensible as all hell, but my god, he is fucking losing it. nobody gets that. even the people who hate him don’t get that. they hate him for his pretentious swag but don’t understand how much of a loser he actually is. anyways. i’m on a tangent now. he’s flawless. he’s horrible. there is no changing who he is, but would he ever have turned out like this naturally? lennox is a product of both what others have made him into and what he has forced himself to embody. there is no lennox that isn’t a diamond formed under absolute pressure.

#thanks for the ask <3 #my apologies angel if this isn’t very coherent #oc: brinne alistair #oc: lennox warryn #they are very very very important to me.#these are only the beginnings of my true rants honestly i could go for hours #i tried to cut myself off for a reasonable point at both of them #brinne was easier to stop because her problems all relate to a few core things #lennox was hard to stop because his issues come from all sorts of directions.#plight of the only child vs plight of the eldest #🤭

7 notes · View notes

odara · 2 years ago

Text

Little Orphaned Girl

I’ve been feeling extremely lonely. And it’s to the point where I’m afraid of myself. I’m disappointed in my actions. I’ve done things out of desperation just to feel connected to something, anything. I’m embarrassed, I’m sad. And the worst of it all I feel like I can’t stop the self sabotage.

While 2020 wasn’t the year all of my troubles began, it was the hole in the ship that shook up the trajectory of my life. The passing of my father, my ongoing strained relationship with my mother and me running from confronting my grief have had me on an emotional rollercoaster.

The reoccurring theme that’s been haunting me is the feeling of abandonment. I think this was awakened after the loss of my dad. He was truly my best friend. And grief has really brought to the forefront how much I truly relied on his presence. Although I’d been both my parents sole caretaker for the past decade, I’d say I needed them just as much as they needed me. My dad specifically is what kept breathing life into me. I had to be here because of him. He’s the person who always encouraged me, always had my back, always held me accountable even if it hurt my feelings. I was his stubborn baby girl.

One of our last conversations when he was coherent between his episodes of dementia, I remember him being fussy telling me he could take care of himself and to leave him alone lol. He told me to live my own life and go find my own way. Those words have echoed in my heart ever since. Because he truly wanted me to be happy. On my own, outside of him. But I realize now that I was never truly prepared for that. I was terrified, actually. Because it meant confronting the very things I’ve been running from my whole life. Which I now believe is finding and loving myself.

Shortly after his passing in 2020 I brought my mother who’d been in and out of assisted care homes back home to live with me. It was something I’d never planned on doing for a number of reasons. Our toxic relationship and because I just could no longer care for her in the physical condition she was in, she needed and deserved professional care. But in the height of the pandemic she’d been hospitalized with Covid and almost didn’t make it herself. So I brought her home completely bed ridden and cared for her by myself for 2 years before finding a stable place for her to go.

It’s been a few months since she’s moved out now, and while not having to care for her 24/7 has been a relief, it’s also shined a light on how alone I really am. And I’ve been really trying to find a sense of purpose. Dedicating a huge fragment of my life to care for ill parents has taken a toll on me in every way. The biggest and most centering thing right now is realizing I don’t have community. I literally have no one. While I have distanced myself from the majority of family because of toxic relationships, I’ve also lost a few close friendships along the way.

I have about 4 consistent friendships with some really amazing people. But none of them live here. While that’s never mattered in the decade we’ve known one another, it just feels even more in my face right now. Of course my ongoing depression doesn’t help. The loneliness feels crippling. I think about my friends lives and they all have community. They all have people in their lives who care for them, and most importantly who they can reach out and touch. I long for that. I long for connections that I can feel beyond distance.

I take accountability in not being very proactive in doing my part to establish and build new relationships. It’s hard. Building community at my age….is work. And with crippling anxiety and depression to ice the cake I’ve been less likely to even leave my house for days at a time. All of which leads to my habits of unhealthy coping and unhealthy attachment issues.

I don’t know why, but since the loss of my dad I’ve had this strong desire to be around masculine energy. I wasn’t dating and had no time for a lot of personal things while I was caretaking. But now my desire and interest in romantic relationships is overwhelmingly high. I want to feel cared for, desired and safe. Which is something I’ve never had before in an intimate relationship.

Right in the midst of my dad passing, I developed a closer relationship with someone I’ve known via social media for over 10 years. In the past 2 years we’d got really close. He doesn’t live here, but the distance never came between my fondness for him. And he was what I desperately needed during that time. There’s a lot of depth to his story which I’ll save for another time. But I later realized he felt so good to me because he was a distraction from my pain. With him, I could focus on just our relationship. And none of the heavy things were on the front of my mind anymore. It was a very toxic and tumultuous relationship but none of that ever outweighed the fact that he just made me feel like I was cared for and thought about. And that someone desired me in a way I’ve never experienced before. It felt like intimacy. And I wanted and needed it badly.

Sadly, as much as I wanted the idea of him to be my reality. It wasn’t. He had a side that was mean, and manipulative and abusive. I don’t think he’s capable of empathy. And as many times as he showed me he was incapable of being someone safe. I continued to engage and want more of him. For the sole reason that he was all I had. And all I felt I deserved. My self esteem is nonexistent. And no matter what was happening in my life or who walked away, he was always there. And now I realize that’s because there was something he desired or needed from the connection too. I knew the day would come where we would eventually part ways but I honestly thought I would’ve been the one to make that decision. And I’m so disappointed in myself for not. But I’m also thankful that he did it for me. Because I don’t know when or if I would have. We were bad for each other. I had a lot of insecurities and needed reassurance. I wasn’t the most emotionally mature and I’m still working on how to communicate my needs. I lacked enforcing boundaries and he was very good at crossing them. My feelings never mattered to him. But his had to be on a pedestal or he’d throw me away. That’s how much I “meant” to him. I gave in and gave him what he wanted most times. But the times I didn’t he made it clear how he’d dispose of me and never look back. I was too scared to lose him, bc without him what else did I have? I was too afraid to be alone. That was dangerous. But the day of reckoning finally came and here I am, alone.

I’ve made desperate attempts of trying to reconnect with him. But he ignored. There was no grand finale to our ending just a deafening silence. No conversation. No goodbye. Just silence. Ghosted. Though we hadn’t spoken in months, he sent me money on my birthday with a short note. “Do something you wouldn’t usually do”. It was odd and confusing, and manipulative as fuck. I thanked him but no response.

There was another connection I had over the summer with someone else. Someone I’d grown to like. It was very surface level and I knew he only wanted to fuck me. He was never intentional about anything outside of that. So I knew. I talked to him a lot about my insecurities and how nervous I was to be with him. He didn’t care. It took 5 years of discourse before I even got the nerve. There was nothing significant or special about him. But I liked him, and I enjoyed talking to him. And for some reason I felt safe. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me in the way I’d been hurt. He felt safe enough to let my guard down and overcome my fear and battle with feeling undesirable. So I said fuck it. And fucked.

It’s funny how intuitive we are but choose to ignore things that have always been obvious. As inconsistent as he always was and his lack of effort had always been…I still chose to believe there was some level of care involved. Ha.Ha. Twice I’ve been a fool I guess. He got distant after he got what he wanted. I initially was ok with that because I kind of got what I wanted too. He served a purpose for me. And that was to let my guard down and get past my insecurities. While how he chose to handle me after didn’t do anything for my insecurities…hell it probably made them worse. I’m still proud of myself for just saying fuck it. He was the vessel I needed to get through that. And I keep trying to remind myself he served his purpose. His job is done.

But of course Miss Anxiety girl couldn’t let it go. I tried to get clarity from him as to what changed. Because after all, things didn’t have to. This was surface level. We were just cool. But being disposed of back to back triggered the fuck out of me. I made attempts. Multiple attempts. While I believe his very vague reasoning and reassurance that it was solely due to whatever he had going on and nothing to do with me…my anxious brain tells me that can’t be true. Whatever the case I’ll never truly know. And I have to be fine with that. But damn, nigga. We can’t even be cordial? It’s just unsettling. Especially when there was no rift.

I’m embarrassed. I’m ashamed. I’m offended. I’m embarrassed of myself because I still wanted to make these connections work. After being disposed of like garbage I still wanted their attention. I was desperate to have something. Even though they made it very clear they want nothing to do with me and whatever their need was had been fulfilled. I still in a way wanted to believe that not to be reality. But it is. And here I am. Facing myself and my aloneness. And trying to let go. Why is it so fucking hard to let go of what’s already let go of me. I’m stronger than this. I know I deserve better. I know these are people who have no significance in my life. Hell, I know neither of them were ever deserving of me in their wildest dreams. But why am I still holding on to these feelings so tightly. I feel so broken.

#personal #dealing with grief #griefandloss #grief #relationships #heartbreak #depression #community #sadgirl #sad #feelings #anxiety #ghosting #emotional abuse #depressing life

8 notes · View notes

doitinanotherlanguage · 2 years ago

Text

April 2023 Wrap-up: 1930s

(You can read more about the challenge on my post introducing the challenge. Basically, Reading Through the Decades is a year-long reading challenge where we read books - and explore other media - from the 1900s to the 2020s, decade-by-decade.)

Another month gone by! I really appreciated going through the 1930s, learning so much. The more I read and learn about the 30s, the more I keep drawing (worrying) parallels to it and the present day. (idk i’m just feeling pessimistic and shitty bc we’re going to have a more right-wing government in Finland than we have had since the 1930s and we’re seriously gonna be so fucked 🙃)

Anyway.

What I Enjoyed This Month

📖 Lumikadun kertoja (2017; “The Storyteller of Snow Street”), Katja Kaukonen -> Lumikadun kertoja is a novel taking place from 1937 to 1942 in Poland. Bajek, the eponymous story-teller, arrives in a small Polish city, where he has been sent on a mission to observe and record the upcoming events (i.e. Nazi-Germany invading and occupying Poland). He is under strict orders not to get involved in things, but this soon proves to be difficult as he finds himself surrounded by the lively community living in Snow Street. -> This novel has a very intriguing premise since it’s made apparent in the beginning that Bajek is no ordinary man, but instead seems to be some kind of an angel. This novel made me think a lot about the choices we make, especially in difficult situations, and to question passive observation in politically effed up situations.

📖 It Can’t Happen Here (1935), Sinclair Lewis --> This is a novel originally written and published in the 1930s as fascism was taking over all around, particularly in Europe, and the book also gained a sudden upsurge in popularity in the 2010s when Donald Trump became president of the US. The novel is a cautionary tale about the fragility of democracy and an alarming look at how fascism could take hold in the US. It juxtaposes sharp political satire with the chillingly realistic rise of a fear-mongering, anti-immigrant president who promises to make America proud and prosperous once more. --> This novel is very much of its own time yet it also gives so much to today’s reader. The back cover of my edition describes it as “a cautionary tale of liberal complacency,” which is a very apt description.

🎬 Als Hitler das rosa Kaninchen stahl (2019; When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit), dir. Caroline Link -> A Jewish family has to flee from 1933 Berlin, navigating unfamiliar lands and coping with the challenges of being refugees. The story tackles prejudice, exile, displacement, and adaptation, as told from the perspective of a nine-year-old child. -> This was a very touching film about being a refugee, based on a book about the author’s real-life experience.

🎬 Cradle Will Rock (1999), dir. Tom Robbins -> This historical drama film fictionalises the true events that surrounded the development of the 1937 musical The Cradle Will Rock by Marc Blitzstein. It’s a social commentary on the role of art and power in the 1930s, particularly amidst the struggles of the labour movement at the time. -> I love love love stories about people making subversive art and taking a stand. Labour activism and socialism is my jam, and this is also a fun ensemble movie.

📖 Huhtikuu (1932; “April”), Saima Harmaja -> This is a poetry collection by the young Finnish female poet Saima Harmaja, who died of tuberculosis at only 22 years of age. The poems are about world-weariness, the frenzy of youth, illness, loneliness, love, nature, and death. -> This was an impulse-loan from the library, and I’m so glad I stumbled upon it! Harmaja’s poems are so very touching and lovely. I particularly adore the poem “Syysilta” (”Autumn Evening”), which is a pretty, nostalgia-tinged poem about regretting not having kissed someone in the past.

🎬 The Group (1966), dir. Sidney Lumet -> Based on a novel of the same name by Mary McCarthy, this movie is about the lives of a group of eight female graduates from Vassar from 1933 to 1940. It is a social satire that touches upon controversial topics such as free love, contraception, abortion, lesbianism, and mental illness. -> I really want to read the book now! This film was super interesting; although I found the group of upper-class women endlessly snooty and a bit boring, but the topics addressed are nevertheless fascinating. And it’s always fun to find older movies that centre women!

#reading through the decades #booklr #litblr #bookblr

3 notes · View notes

realityhop · 11 months ago

Photo

"The dysregulation caused by loneliness consigns us to the extremes of either suffering passively (responding too little) or being “difficult” (responding too intensely)."

— Cacioppo & Patrick, Loneliness (2008)

"When cognitive control is lost, the ability to inhibit the drive to seek pleasure is lost."

— Robert Lustig, The Hacking of the American Mind: The Science Behind the Corporate Takeover of Our Bodies and Brains (2017)

"Personal responsibility, if it wasn't so horribly co-opted by the right, is I think actually very important in my day-to-day life. However, personal responsibility is only as good as the environment in which it exists. And our environment is shit."

— Leslie Fluette, Capitalist Realism, Mental Illness and Societies of Control (2019)

"Unfortunately, not all young children who are maltreated in harsh and unpredictable environments have additional resources to help them cope with the stress—a reality that has deep implications for the long-term consequences of early adversity. In general, when people experience persistent fear and anxiety, the amygdala and hippocampus work together to associate that fear with the context that elicited the fear response. In children or adults, the resulting “fear conditioning” can have lasting effects. As a result of physical abuse, a child tends to become fearful of both the person and the context in which the abuse occurred. Over time, the cues to context can become generalized, and the fear response can be activated by people and places bearing only a small resemblance to the original context of the maltreatment. The processes occur automatically, below the level of conscious awareness; the reflective mind does not participate in or even realize what is happening. As a result, early childhood perceptions that the world is a dangerous place can affect social interactions that occur later in life under far less threatening conditions."

— Scott Barry Kaufman, Transcend: The New Science of Self-Actualization (2020)

"..understanding how patterns of stress can influence regulation, or balance, is the key to understanding how what happened to you is connected to your health—in all domains, mental, physical, and social. It has been estimated that childhood adversity plays a major role in 45 percent of all childhood mental health disorders and 30 percent of mental health disorders among adults. These estimates are consistent with other studies that show increased risk for major depression, anxiety, schizophrenia, and other psychotic disorders following childhood trauma or adverse childhood experiences."

— Bruce D. Perry, What Happened To You?: Conversations on Trauma, Resilience, and Healing (2021)

"Your brain predicts and prepares your actions using your past experiences. If you could magically reach back in time and change your past, your brain would predict differently today, and you might act differently and experience the world differently as a result. It’s impossible to change your past, but right now, with some effort, you can change how your brain will predict in the future. […] More control also means more responsibility. If your brain doesn’t merely react to the world but actively predicts the world and even sculpts its own wiring, then who bears responsibility when you behave badly? You do. Now, when I say responsibility, I’m not saying people are to blame for the tragedies in their lives or the hardships they experience as a result. We can’t choose everything that we’re exposed to. I’m also not saying that people with depression, anxiety, or other serious illnesses are to blame for their suffering. I’m saying something else: Sometimes we’re responsible for things not because they’re our fault, but because we’re the only ones who can change them. […] There is a real biological benefit when people treat one another with basic human dignity. And if we don’t, there is also a real biological consequence, and it eventually trickles down to a financial and social cost for everyone. The price of personal freedom is personal responsibility for your impact on others. The wiring of all of our brains guarantees it."

— Lisa Feldman Barrett, Seven and a Half Lessons About the Brain (2020)

#psychotic #depression #anxiety #pleasure #action #environment #future #loneliness #fear #freedom #schizophrenia #human animal #mental illness #brains #responsibility

39K notes · View notes

slyth3rinbab3 · 3 months ago

Text

When You Feel Like Giving Up… (Suicide Ideation)

“I give up!” , “I’m a total failure!”, “I just can’t love myself anymore and no one will!” , “I just want to be gone from this world already”

These phrases or lines sound familiar to you? You’re not alone! I’ve been through that and I’m going through it again. But why do people reach this point where they want to or feel like giving up on life?

Some circumstances such as experiencing certain health conditions, unexpected events, longtime hardships or things just didnt turn out the way you wanted them to be can really make people feel like giving up on life itself. (Source: “I Give Up: What to Do When You Feel Like Giving Up on Life” from Nadra Nittle”; https://www.verywellmind.com/what-to-do-when-you-feel-like-giving-up-on-life-5186949)

It’s only normal when people go through these phase where they want to give up on life esp when they go through various life circumstances – stress, burnout, fear and mental illness and it can even be exhausting to try navigating these complexities where they have negative thoughts, depressive symptoms, or even suicidal ideation. (Source: “Giving Up On Life: What It Signifies And How To Receive Support by Better Help Editorial Team; https://www.betterhelp.com/advice/general/giving-up-on-life-it-could-be-a-sign-you-need-help/)

Suicidal ideation occurs when people reach this point where they are not worth it anymore or when their life is no longer worth living. This ideation refers to thoughts of suicide or taking of one’s own life . Suicide ideation has two kinds: passive and active. A passive suicideal ideation is where one wishes he or she was dead or could die but they have no plans or don’t formulate a plan to die by suicide whereas an active suicide ideation is where one doesnt only think of wanting to die but also plans on how to take his or her own life. It is one of the symptoms of both major depression and the depression found in bipolar disorder, but it may also occur in people with other mental illnesses or no mental illness at all.

When Do You Know If Someone Has A Suicide Ideation

A suicide ideation can be really alarming. Here are warning signs when you or a friend/loved one is having one:

Isolation from loved ones

A feeling of hopelessness or being trapped

Talking about death or suicide

Giving away possessions

An increase of substance use or misuse

Increased mood swings/anger/rage/irritability

Engagement in risk taking behavior

Accessing means to kill oneself

Acting as if saying goodbye to people

Feeling extremely anxious

You can hear these familiar thoughts from people wanting to give up on themselves:

“Why should I live?”

“I have nothing to live for anymore”

“I’m tired of life”

“I don’t care about anything”

“What’s the point?”

Why People Give Up On Life

Financial insecurity

Relationship conflict

Death of a loved one

Loneliness

Mental health conditions

The sense of not fitting in

What Causes People To Have Suicide Ideation

A lot of factors can lead or contribute to suicide ideation and these often strike when someone is feeling hopeless and out of control in life or feels like their life is meaningless or has no purpose at all. (Source: “Understanding Suicidal Ideation and How to Cope” by Marcia Purse from Very Well Mind; https://www.verywellmind.com/suicidal-ideation-380609)

Previous suicide attempt in the past

Mental health disorder

Feeling hopeless , isolated or lonely

Not being married

Being gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender

Having served in military

A chronic illness (e.g. cancer , diabetes or terminal disease)

Chronic pain

Traumatic brain injury

A family history of suicide

Drug or alcohol use disorder

Living in a rural area

Having access to firearms

Sources:

I Give Up: What to Do When You Feel Like Giving Up on Life” from Nadra Nittle”; https://www.verywellmind.com/what-to-do-when-you-feel-like-giving-up-on-life-5186949

“Giving Up On Life: What It Signifies And How To Receive Support by Better Help Editorial Team; https://www.betterhelp.com/advice/general/giving-up-on-life-it-could-be-a-sign-you-need-help/

“Understanding Suicidal Ideation and How to Cope” by Marcia Purse from Very Well Mind; https://www.verywellmind.com/suicidal-ideation-380609

#mental health #suicide ideation #giving up

1 note · View note

jjwho · 11 months ago

Note

Hi! I saw your post about the exchange thingy and before I answer I would like advice for 2024 :) my initials are JCH

What is actually the truth?

There are so many truths. Lately, I've realized one truth is that nothing in this world is exempt from the pain that life brings. Humans, animals, even plants and trees. I used to think when I was younger “why me?” when bad things happened but I never once thought, “everyone goes through these situations in some form or another”. Just when I think something “bad” or “unfortunate” happens to me, there’s something else that follows that puts it in perspective. For example; not long ago I broke up with my long term boyfriend and was obviously upset. Then, a few days later I found out my grandmother’s lung cancer came back and she is going to die soon, then poof its like my break up didn’t even matter anymore. I’m not saying this as a “poor me” type of thing, it’s actually comforting to know that I’m not alone and that everyone else in the world can/will experience heartache, loss, grief, loneliness, mental illness, etc. If other people can get through it, why can’t I? How could I ever be self centered enough to think “why me?”. Why NOT me? And unfortunate/bad situations are so relative. I’m thankful I got the chance to even have had a long term relationship whether it was mostly positive or not, I loved. I was lucky enough to love and be loved at one point. I could’ve never seen today, I could’ve died as a child like some people do. I could be in the middle of a war zone right now just trying to survive. Of course that doesn’t diminish my struggles but doesn’t it? My “pain” is someone else’s glory. Another truth is that, “the probability of being alive right now is the same as if you handed out 2 million dice, each dice with one trillion sides… then rolled those 2 million dice and had them all land on 439,505,270,846”. That’s your chance of being alive today right now in this moment in time. Yes, humans (and every other living thing) have struggles and those struggles are real but if you zoom out, even having those struggles are lucky. I’m not speaking on the people’s experience in Israel or Ukraine or anything drastic and horrible like that because then you’d have to think if being alive is even worth it, I mean, life like that is horrible and inhumane and even worse than I can put into words. I’m talking about me, right now, in America, educated, and yeah I struggle, but in the grand scheme of things… I am so lucky.

Hiii thank you so much for participating, wow that's a lot so I tried to summarize that so basically your truth is "Instead of looking at situations in such a negative way think of other people and realize that your situations is the better option while looking at others situations as theirs might be worse"

I see.

Here's your advices for 2024:

"One life, one chance, a world that doesn't care"

"The bee gets honey taken away and nothing given back"

I see in 2024 you need tk do what you are feeling called to do whether it's a project or voicing out your opinions or beliefs, because really you only live once in this lifetime and it's a world that doesn't care, you don't want to die with regrets right likeee

And I see you need to stop letting people take advantage of you, stealing your work or coping your work with nothing in return, you have to put an end to that, because who would even listen to your truth if you can't even stand up for yourself

You've got this girl!!

1 note · View note

sa4phire · 1 year ago

Text

i’m so upset. vent.

I’m talk texting so if there’s typos get over it

the thing about me is

i’m the toxic one. i’m the problem. in everyone’s life.

everyone i know has distanced themselves from me except my family. even my own mom is sick of me and my mental illness.

i can’t smoke weed anymore, so even my artificial happiness is just fucking out of reach.

depression is setting in— granted it’s my seasonal depression time but it’s also my PMS week so it’s even worse.

The only person that I want is out of reach. Rightfully so. Like I understand that people need to set boundaries for themselves to be functioning human beings but you know like not being a normal human being is hard.

Other people feel feelings, other people, feel feelings normally for their entire life. Their development is not based around obsession compulsion, or whether or not, they’re in mania or depression.

Imagine walking through your entire life and developing wrong. Of course, no one knows that you were psychotic and mental because school keeps you stable on a steady schedule. The only thing that would tell someone that anything is wrong is the extended up periods of time that you were depressed that doesn’t really go away.

what absolutely blows me is that I was so terrified of being committed to a ward and rightfully so after what happened to me that I did not seek help when I was in high school and it got so bad. I knew that my depression was worse than ever, and I should have sought help then. But I didn’t.

Instead, I tracked it out because that’s what you do you just keep on keeping on. I had been living with my depression since I was 12 years old that’s when depression really started getting bad for me. Don’t get me wrong though because I have been living with this mental illness my entire life is genetic meaning I have always swung between mania and depression, looking back going to my dads house made me so depressed as a child that I did not know how to cope. I remember my hair being so matted one time, his gf at the time took hours to help me.

My father was not really around when I was there because of work. It was just me and my brother, so literally just I don’t know it just bothers me because I’m looking at my life from a rational point of you for the first time due to being on these amazing medication’s that I am blessed to be on by the way.

I don’t know sometimes it just gets hard. Sometimes it’s just fucking hard to live for me. I am in shambles because of personal shit that I cannot fix. There is nowhere to go but up like literally if you want to talk about rock-bottom I am there my dude.

I live with my mom for fucks sake. Granted, I’m working my ass off to get on my feet but following your dreams is hard when you lose everything. all because you literally lost your fucking mind in loneliness that you fucking created because of depression and mania.

I need to go back to college, but I need scholarships to do so. There’s just so much to do.

I get lost a lot. Now that my depression is trying it’s best to settle in, I am struggling really bad mentally. And I’m not used to being on my own granted my husband is a major support and he does an amazing job, but he is only one person.

My friends have distance themselves from me because of me being in my psychotic state. Don’t get me wrong, they haven’t turned their back on me or anything but I only have three friends four actually but I don’t talk to her that much.

It’s just fucking twisted and dark and twisted and dark just like me and just like I have always been.

I have hope now because I am on medication but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t all feels hopeless still.

i am struggling in the depths of despair.

0 notes

greyfacade · 1 year ago

Text

ajahjahg I’m gunna reply to this because lotta people say this....

BUT I HAVE NO IDEA WHY EVERYONE FINDS HIM CREEPY????

Like what about him is scary? He’s a little in your face and the dialogue is a bit rude asking you to run away, but apart from that he seems pretty normal to me (at least for someone who has been whats hes been through.) I mean apart from the NEO fight, the only red flag is when he asks to speak to you alone, like I wouldn’t do that if I just met someone... but other than that? He seems nice enough. He censors himself for Kris, and even heals them when they ask! He gave money to charity during the Sweepstakes, and gave Noelle a pet Pipis.

I dunno, just there’s a lot of Darkners that have all sorts of different appearances and quirks, and somehow, Spamton is where everyone freaks out? I don’t get it?

He does I guess do things that might be unusual to those whove never seen it before, like infodumping about his trauma, having glitches/tremors, muttering to himself, shouting, and whatnot. But as a disabled and mentally ill person, Ive either been like that myself, or met others like that in real life, so its pretty normal to me and doesnt really bother me. People say it makes him insane, but nah, more like stressed out.

But this isnt to say Im having a go at you OP. Just I saw an entire discussion on Twitter of people saying theyre scared of him too, and I was so confused. Do people really see him as some kind of horror character? Is that why everyone hurts him, because theyre afraid of him? Why are people scared of him anyway?

As for NEO, that is actually intense. Your basically dragged in to the hell he’s been living through and see him when he’s basically having a breakdown about everything he’s been through. I can’t condone his actions there, he was totally acting like a jerk. But considering he was literally thrown in acid, abandoned, isolated and abused, I also get it takes a lot to keep it together mentally after all that, especially when you meet your worlds God who happens to have the only thing that will set you free, a soul. I cant imagine how he must have felt meeting one of the people who could have saved him, but didnt even know he existed, so didnt even try. Doesnt make it right on Kris though, not at all, and it was scary how he acted. But its also not as simple as him always being some evil asshole. He's just as he says, hella desperate to be free. Probably been living in fear and loneliness for a very long time and overwhelmed by it all. Somehow I think Kris knew that too.

Sorry for the long post... I guess I have a lot of thoughts. Its nothing against you, just reflecting I guess. Its just odd to me how a lot of the fandom react to him. I think despite all the pain hes going through, he really is a charming guy. Im surprised people dont find him more relatable, either because they get what its like to be going through stress, or because of his funny sense of humor.

I guess to be fair, seeing an adult flip out would be stressful to younger people who arent quite as equipped to cope with it. So there is that. I can understand that at least.

Why does anybody even like Spamton?

Like, don’t get me wrong, love the guy. But why do I? He’s weird and creepy and I don’t understand him at all. When I first had my friend play Deltarune I had them go to the basement and all that crap, and the entire time they were getting to the fight the were like “IM UNCOMFORTABLE.” “GET AWAY FROM ME” all that. And that kinda got. me thinking abt why any of us like him. he’s real odd. maybe i just like him because he lives in a trash can and i go “me too buddy, me too.”

10 notes · View notes

bibbykins · 4 years ago

Text

Insufferable

A/N: The long-awaited flashback is here! It's short, but it is here! I hope this can really show the turning point in Jungkook's and MC's relationship and I would love to hear everyone's thoughts. As usual, tips are not required but greatly appreciate. Hope you all enjoy and have a wonderful day/night!

Note: This is a part (specifically a flashback) of The Household's Bunny series, so I recommend reading at least the Prologue before this one

Word count: 3.6k

Pairing: Soft Yandere! Jungkook x Chubby! Reader

Summary: Roommates are bound to have arguments, especially when one of them is as temperamental as Jungkook, but you didn't expect the first argument to get so unbelievably personal.

Warnings: abandonment issues, mommy issues, allusions to past abuse, family issues, crying, yelling, vomiting, panic attack, exhaustion, some soft yandere thoughts, some possessiveness, jungkook is mean and the MC gets a little mean too

There was something so constricting about memories of a shitty childhood. There were times when looking in the mirror felt like searching for the child in you so you could give her the hug she desperately needed. There were times when waking up felt like a check to make sure you were no longer in the home you had to grow up in far too quickly. However, the comfort of being in a different home only came so far when you didn't have anyone beside you or even emotionally available enough to talk to.

You stayed in bed for hours before it felt like a good idea to move, almost waiting for the mirage of change to fade before it brought you back to the gym with your mom or your uncle's apartment littered with whiskey bottles and leaky tear ducts.

Sometimes putting your best foot forward each day felt so hard with all-consuming loneliness clinging to your heels.

You had started your day going through your memory box. Hindsight said that was a poor idea. The box was a sure way to get you into a bad mood. You liked to think you breezed past all the stages of grief, but just because you accepted reality didn't make it hurt any less. The box was a strong reminder of that much as it sat with a melancholic aura. The creme color faded and the thorned vines connected to roses only added to the malicious undertones of its existence to your mental health. It was full of childhood photos, your birth certificate, school achievements, and the last known address your mom had.

Ah, your mom. What a way to bring clouds to your sunny day. You don’t know why you put yourself through the turmoil of the memory box. Maybe you were hoping it would be easier by now. You were always wrong. Looking through childhood photos and finding no love in the eyes of your mother when she looked at you and watching the love in your uncle’s eyes fade with your mother’s presence. You got to the fated birthday card, thumb rubbing over the defunct address longingly. You held the envelope in your hand, inspecting the birthday card she sent you. Three words in the repetitive note written on the inside caught your eye, and not the ones you so desperately wanted from her.

Feeling a familiar pressure behind your eyes, you tossed the card aside and stood. It was time to eat, go on a walk, do anything other than this. You found your way to the kitchen and came across a silent and solemn Jungkook. His jaw was clenched, but it felt like it always was around you.

Your relationship with Jungkook so far was not very complicated, in the way it was nonexistent. He either didn’t care about talking to you or he actively didn’t want to, you really couldn’t tell. This didn’t stop you from trying, though. Like an idiot.

“I’m making food, did you want any?” You asked from your place seated on the couch, and the silence that was his response for deafening, “Okaaaay.” You sang awkwardly, “I just know that you usually don’t eat throughout the day and-”

“And what do you know?!” He snapped, blinded by his pure and unbridled, but most important unprovoked, rage of you. Your eyes widened and your body jumped. Holy shit, you had never heard him yell like this, “You don’t know anything about me, or in general, so just stop trying so fucking hard!” He was harsh in his tone and it lit your whole nervous system on fire. What the hell did you do to him?

You shook your head, not sure why he was yelling about, but it made your throat feel like it was going to close, “Look, I was just trying to be polite, but you don’t need to talk about me like you understand-”

“Understand?! What’s there to understand?” He challenged, eyes wide like he was expecting you to say something but he continued, “You’re some spoiled girl living here rent-free because your precious dad doesn’t want to take care of you.”

Your heart caught in your throat as it shattered. He was right, your dad didn't want to take care of you, but not in the way he thought. Why was he doing this? Has he genuinely felt this way all along? Was he just holding in his anger until you poked the bear a little too hard? “You don’t need to yell at me.” You stated firmly and it seemed to only make things worse.

“And you don’t need to fucking be here in the first place!” He spoke, temper long lost and you could hear his voice mix in with Jungyoon’s, all he needed was a bottle of whisky and a set of calloused hands, “You didn’t need to fucking live here-”

“You don’t know anything about me.” You spat out. Now, you were losing your temper. You could take a beating, but for only so long, especially as an adult, "And it's not like you're paying rent either, so what do you know about me or my living arrangements?" You hissed and you watched his eyes flare, making you nearly regret your provocation.

“No, but I know how you look naked-”

“Fuck you.” You spit the word out at him, something you haven’t done to another person for a while “Don’t weaponize my work or play a game that you absolutely will lose.” You warned, “I know all about you, and I can use that, because you’ve been a star since you were 15, and that sucks, that makes you mad, doesn’t it?” Your temper effectively lost as you ripped into the rage-filled man before you, “Yet you don’t know anything about me, and that must piss you the fuck off, huh?” You stood from the couch, tears building in your eyes before you could stop it.

“I know enough, spoiled rich girl.” He seethed and you laughed humorlessly at this worldwide pop star calling you spoiled and rich.

“Not only are you wrong, but you’re also a poor listener.” You shot back, “I’ve told you all before Jungyoon isn’t my fucking dad, he’s my uncle.” His mouth opened but you cut him off before he could start, “He can’t stand the sight of me so he travels for work.” Your tears are undoubtedly falling, but you can’t stop, “And you’re talking to me like this because what? You had a scandal or something?” You gave him his chance to talk and boy, he took it.

“Mona told me you know your mom.” His voice was like venom, “So, why the fuck are you here? You have your blood relatives.” He exaggerated the word like it meant anything to you, “Why are you here, disrupting our lives, acting like an innocent orphan girl around actual fucking orphans-”

“I never said I was or acted like an orphan!” You exclaimed incredulously before scoffing, “That’s why you’re mad? Because you never knew your mom and I did? Because I know who my blood family is?” You could laugh at how ridiculous that was, “I know them, so what? Where does that get me?” You looked at him expectantly but he didn’t talk, “I knew my mom, and guess what? She just didn’t fucking want me.” He was silent, but you still couldn’t stop, “I’m sure if your mom could’ve got to know you, she would’ve kept you, because you’re not insufferable to be around, you’re just a fucking asshole.” You wiped at your cheeks furiously, “But me? I had 15 years to prove myself and it still wasn’t enough. I still wasn’t enough. Jungyoon never wanted me either, he got stuck with me and had to cope.” Your voice began to break and you had to take a breath, “I was the insufferable one, so-” You stopped, finally as you regained your sense of reality and watched Jungkook who had an unreadable expression and the realization of the word vomit you spilled out to him hit you like a train as you exhaled quickly, rage in your voice quickly replaced with soft melancholy “I am the insufferable one here, so there.” You shrugged, face a wet mess, “Hope that brings you peace.” Your stomach was churning as you turned on your heel, unable to hold in your sobs. You couldn’t bear the awkwardness of waiting for the elevator so you opted to take the stairs.

You sobbed louder as the door slammed shut behind you, but you didn’t want to linger so you bolted down the stairs, the bile in your stomach signaling that you needed to find the nearest trashcan and quickly. You made it to the ground floor and spilled your guts into the small trashcan. Yelling always made you unbelievably ill, whether it was getting yelled at or yelling, the sickness it made you feel overflowed. The yelling only reminded you of-

You vomited again at the mere thought. You cried harder when you finally finished, breathing becoming staggered as you began to panic.

Fuck, they’re gonna kick you out, and then you’ll be alone again. You lost your temper, people don’t like other people who lose their temper. Why couldn’t you just mind your own fucking business and leave him be? You’re stupid. Why do you think you’ve been alone all your life? It’s because people don’t want to be near you. You’re-

“Insufferable.” You mumbled, numb, even if for only a moment.

Sure, Jungkook provoked you, but you knew better. You didn't go to therapist after therapist throughout your adolescence for nothing. You felt as if you set yourself back eons after that outburst. He didn't need to know all that about you, ever. He probably didn't even care to know, and you said it anyway, like you were gunning for gold in the trauma Olympics. You didn't want to minimize his struggles, you just wanted him to shut up and stop yelling at you. You let your eyes flutter closed as you cried. How can you complain about being alone when you're like this?

You don’t know how long you stayed there, sitting next to a trash can full of your vomit as you wallowed in your self-hatred. The all-consuming loneliness the boisterous house subdued returning with full force. Jungkook was right. You didn’t need to be here. You were only disrupting their routine.

You blew out a sigh as you staggered to the elevator, fully set on going up to your room and crying yourself to sleep after you clean up. You brought the trashcan with you, not having the heart to just leave your puke down there. You thanked your lucky stars when Jungkook was no longer on the second floor as you went to the kitchen and rinsed your mouth before going to take out the trash and take out your burnt oven pizza. Finally, you were headed back up to your floor. You watched the numbers tick by with tired eyes. You glared at the empty trashcan, electing to take it with you instead of making the trip back down to put it back. Surely, they wouldn’t need it for a few hours.

The elevator dinged as you grabbed the black plastic bin and then you were met with Jungkook. Relief flashed across his face before irritation settled on it, “Where the fuck were you?!” He asked hurriedly as you trudged past him, too exhausted to fight. You were running on autopilot the whole way up here, and you couldn’t bear another spat.

“I was on the first floor.” Your voice was low, trying to communicate you were done arguing as you lifted the bin as proof. You then set it down and went to your bathroom and began brushing your teeth.

He scoffed, “You were on the first floor for 30 minutes?” He asked as if he caught you in a lie but you nodded as you rinsed your mouth.

You were down there for thirty minutes? No wonder you felt so tired.

“Yep.” You popped the last letter before correcting yourself, “Well, I spent like 10 minutes cleaning up that bin, so not exactly.”

“Why?” He asked as if you were being ridiculous, as if he wasn’t the one on your floor demanding answers.

“I vomited.” You spoke simply and before he could ask, “Yelling makes me puke.” You were so blase about it he sighed in frustration.

You walked to your room and froze when you saw your memory box strewn about, and it was like a dam broke all over again. You looked at the photos, at the eager little girl looking for love in places she would never find it.

Old habits die hard.

Before you could even stop yourself, you sunk to your knees in garbled sobs and broken cries, “Hey, hey, wait.” Jungkook’s shaky voice did nothing to bring you back to reality as you cried. His hands placed themselves on your shoulder, making you flinch violently, much to his horror.

Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know why you were crying, but he knew it was his fault, at least in part. Even if at this moment it wasn’t, his outburst surely didn’t help. Fuck, he’s so dumb. Fuck, he shouldn’t have talked to Mona just moments before seeing you.

The envy of even seeing your own mother’s face ate up at him and he took it out on you. Not to mention that he made you vomit from the yelling. He suddenly felt more like an arrogant asshole than he did before as his hands now hovered over your form and he took a moment to look at your room.

Scattered on the floor were childhood photos and ribbons from competitions. Things Mona kept in her own house, having a whole wall filled with every one of their achievements. Even Jin had a photo album of their things. And you, you kept all these for yourself. You were the only one who cared enough to save these things and he wondered how much you threw away to maintain space in the small empty box. Fuck, he didn’t know how to do this.

You sighed shakily, “You can just go.” You cried, “You don’t have to be here.” You don’t know what he could possibly gain from watching you cry.

“I know.” His voice was calm, even, “Can I help you up?” He asked and you wanted to look up at him in confusion but you didn't want him to see your tears.

You both had just ripped into each other, and here he was, wanting to help you. Why would he do that? Why would he stay when he doesn't have to? Why would he want to help you up after a fight?

Too tired to even think about questioning him and no longer angry at him, you simply scoffed, “Can you?” You sighed, not having the energy to stroke his ego and stand up without his help.

You never let people bear your dead weight, not wanting the awkwardness if they couldn’t carry you, but right now, you just wanted to lay down.

He snorted lightly, happy to hear anything other than a sob for you, “Don’t worry about me, you just cry and mind your business.” He spoke lightly, and the comment made you fight a smile. Then, he lifted you with so much ease, you figured he was trying to show off as he placed you on the bed. He looked at you after he sat on the floor before his eyes caught onto the gold foil of a 16th birthday card. You were wiping at your face as he read the card against his better judgment.

I know you must be confused, and I can’t help that. I wish I could pretend to be a mom, but I can’t. I can’t be your mom, and I never should have tried. It would be best if we forgot each other. I just can’t keep pretending, and I know you can see it, even if you don’t want to.

I’m so tired.

-Mom

Now, he felt even more like an asshole. He also felt a little bit angry that your mother could just leave you behind without so much as saying sorry. She wrote like she was a teenager and you were her mother. She obviously didn't put much thought into the seemingly last message to her daughter and it made his heartbreak for you, “That was the last I heard of her.” You snapped him from his thoughts and he looked at your puffy face, “She had left months earlier, and then I got that, but she moved before I could try to see her one more time.” There was a distant ache in your words as you looked at Jungkook sitting amongst your memories.

“Is she… still alive?” He asked, not sure why he felt the need to know.

“Not sure, but it doesn’t make much of a difference, I guess.” You blew out a sigh, before looking at your papers and folded posterboards, “I was cleaning out my memory box, and I’m not sure why I do it when I know it just upsets me.” You could still feel tears leaking from your eyes as Jungkook picked up a photo of you on your 14th birthday, posed between Jungyoon and your mom. You had a bright smile on your face and they looked at the camera with a tight expression, “You can really see how much they didn’t want to be there, but that's the happiest they look in all of the photos.”

He wanted to say you were wrong, but he could see it. He could see the happy little girl trying to make up for the unhappy adults around her. He knew he should’ve asked Mona why Jungyoon didn’t try to call or visit or why she was so eager to take you in if you knew your family. He should’ve just known better. Yeah, he understood how it felt to be alone growing up, they all did, but by the time they were all 17 they had a home that wanted them. You were going to graduate from college soon and you still felt unwanted.

No thanks to him.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted and you looked at him with wide eyes, “For being an asshole, I’m sorry- and for making you cry. I just…” He shrugged, “You’re right. I was jealous you knew your mom and I already was suspicious of you and I- I’m dumb, and I’m sorry.” He looked at you, eyes a bit glossy and you wondered when was the last time someone apologized for making you cry.

“It’s okay.” You smiled weakly, “You are dumb, but that’s okay.” You chuckled when he frowned, but eventually, he also broke into a short laugh, “I think… we’ve felt a lot of the same things in different ways, so I can’t blame you.” He wondered how you could be so forgiving, and he was scared of how many times that has gotten you hurt, “I like living here and I like all of you, so I hope I can get you all to like me too, even if just a little.”

“Don’t accept less than you deserve.” He spoke firmly before he started picking up your memory box, putting things neatly back in.

“Wh-”

He waved his hands nonchalantly, “You, sleep, I’ll clean this up and order some food.” He didn’t look at you as he said this, mostly to hide his blush, "If...If you want, I can give this to Jin. He has a whole place he keeps our stuff like this… he's really sentimental." He stumbled, still refusing to look at you.

However, he jumped when he heard you hiccup a cry. Ready to apologize, Jungkook was just about to turn to look at you until he heard you speak, "That… That sounds very sweet of you to do." You wiped a sentimental tear away as the blushing boy remained frozen.

"It's Jin's hobby, not mine." He deflected before waving his hand at you, "Sleep, I said." He frantically demanded.

You could see his ears getting red and you smiled, “Yes, sir.” You mocked in your work voice and made him freeze for a moment as you erupted into giggles while he whined, “Okay, okay, I’ll sleep.”

Eventually, you surrendered to your exhaustion as he delicately put away your papers and photos. He hummed lightly, smiling as he came across your debate team awards. No wonder he lost the fight before it even started. He turned around after lifting the box and sighed almost dreamily as he watched your sleeping face. You were beautiful, delicate, and puffy from the tears. He had the urge to keep apologizing for being such an asshole, but after looking through your achievements and your photos, he resolved to just keep proving it.

He wouldn’t let you get hurt again. Not by him or anyone, especially your mother, even Jungyoon was on thin ice.

His blood boiled at the thought of your mother for a reason he couldn’t understand. His hand extended shakily as he pulled the covers up to your shoulder and you hummed contently, making his heart melt a bit at the little smile you had. He wouldn’t fuck up with you again, not like this. He would be nice, at least a little, and first and foremost, he would order food you liked.

He froze.

Fuck, what food do you like?

He relaxed. Well, he could just ask the guys.

Fuck, they’re gonna ask questions.

Fuck, they’re gonna kill him when they found out he made you cry.

He looked back at your sleeping form, not having the heart to wake you up. He sighed, looks like he’ll just have to bite the bullet. He dreaded each moment as he quickly made an untitled group chat with the guys since you were added to their original one. He could only hope Taehyung wouldn’t change the group chat name to something stupid.

Tip Jar

#yandere bts #soft yandere bts #bts fanfic #bts series #yandere jungkook #bts angst #bts fluff #poly bts au

431 notes · View notes