#(but that's not a flaw at all!! sometimes the mood matters more than the difficulty and that's super duper fine in my book) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

grim-faux · 3 years

Text

15 - The Dark

For some reason I didn’t feel the rush of exhilaration I had hoped to achieve in reaching the exit. My mind might’ve been numbed by what I’d been through to allow such a mood, emotionally drained by the experience and horrors of what I had seen. It was such an empty sensation, completely robbing me what of I felt was deserved. Closure. But as with all matters tangled in Mount Massive’s mockery, I was to be disappointed.

I hesitated, straining to pick out the odd sounds beneath the heavy rain. A flash of light clarified the grounds momentarily and I burned the image into memory. Overgrown grass obscured most of the pathways, a net of greasy branches stretched over the sky. I moved into the cold rain and the dark, stepping carefully down the slippery stone steps. Lightening flashed, and I thought something skittered past overhead. Impossible, given the image wasn’t the best on the visor between the green tint and the heavy rain, there was nothing out here. As the flash fades, I could only see the brick path and the overgrown grass before me. I was the only living thing out here. Or nearly so.

A beam of light cut through the downpour and the glossy branches, sweeping over the yard. There light was too bright on that side to confirm it, but it had to be ‘Father’ Martin. He’s the only person I knew of that used a torch. Pretty sure. He was signaling me from across the yard. I think if I had the chance, I’d like to strangle him. Get him caught in an elevator, or cut his fingers off with a pair of giant shears. The camera was getting low on power, had to move it. Strange sounds echoed in the wind, snapping branches or something large crashing through the gaunt bushes along the cobblestone path. Sometimes I thought it was following me, but the rustle would soften at a distance or maybe the rain was picking up force. I ducked down when I thought Chris appeared, but it was only my imagination forming shapes in the NVs haze. No one was out here with me, just Murkoff staff cut up and sitting drenched on benches, staring with glazed eyes at the storm. Did they come out here to die, or did someone leave them like this? I was soaked before I reached the fountain. So much for getting dry, at least rain was clean. That sound again, something shrieking in the night and I thought there was a form overhead, in the branches as they crackled. I tried to follow it with the camera, but my nerves gave and I whimpered as I knelt to crawl along toward the only visible light. It no longer signaled me. How long had Martin been out in this weather waiting for me? Not long enough. Leaves scuttling along the ground spooked me, the way they played at the edge of the visor. I stopped in the downpour to get up, and fought to wrangle my breathing under control. My chest ached with my heart thudding in my chest, the wind picked up and I shivered into the soggy embrace of my coat. There was nothing out here but dead people and a psycho guy that fancied himself a priest. I remained wary though as I moved up the steps, beneath a broken lamp blazing in the inky night. I had to change the batteries in the camera, a tricky choir in the rain. I crouched low and tucked the camera under my coat and popped out the old battery, then slapped in the new one. My camera was keeping me more alive at this point, rather than provide the evidence at my psycho evaluation. I had some difficulty slipping the strap back over my hand, my knuckle was a little swollen and I needed to loosen it in order to get it over. Once it was done I wouldn’t need to worry over it for a while. Probably. No one was waiting for me when I reached the top of the steps. Only the words scrawled in blood on the wall across from me how alive are you At my feet on the damp cobblestone and in a diluted puddle of blood, rested a file in a plain folder. Inside was a notepad tinged by the soaking rain, but enough of the note was illegible. “I don’t even know your name. But I’ve come to think of you as one of my blood, my Paul, I hope you don’t mind. And I hope you don’t indulge the vanity of self-pity, the fear that your suffering is more than others’. We all must endure this, and you are nearly done. There’s no way to heaven but by the cross. And every man needs another to help drive the nails in. I am here for you. I am waiting up ahead.” This actually would have been really comforting, except at the end where he mentions the cross. If he thinks he’s crucifying ME, I’ll be more than happy to disappoint. I’ll die before he gets ahold of me again. Fuck them all. I’m not going through all of this to wind up as some sacrifice! I tossed the folder down and cautiously crept up the steps at the right to a wire fence, the door and frame wrapped with thick chains and padlocked tight. Stepping back, I examined the gate standing between me and presumed freedom. In favorable circumstances I’d fly over a chain linked fence. What was it to me? An insult to my dexterity? Right now, too many factors worked against me to attempt the climb. The weather was bad, barbed wire at the top, don’t mention my fingers, and I was bleeding again. It didn’t look like there was much for me on the other side either, it this just led into another yard. Damn, where do you have to go to get out of this place? I judged the fountain to be a center piece of the yard, if that assessment was correct I would locate other pathways leading from it across the grounds. That would keep me from getting too lost, I was incredibly disoriented with the weather and all-consuming black. As I made the return trip, a light glittered in the distance between tree trunks and mist. I kept my attention locked on it while trying not to deviate from the path, it was tempting to tear across the yard if only to find the source. Overhead the branches groaned and snapped, I ducked down as that noise returned, sounding like pellets in a pipe and shrieking with the crashing thunder. I dove off into the tall grass and kept low, listening and searching for what might be there. A shape slipped through the treetops, but the night blazed with green brilliance, blinding me through the NV. I turned my head down and realized my knees and shins were soaked in the icy mud, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to move and alert whatever was out there to my location and have it come down on me screaming mad. I didn’t want to see it, I didn’t want to know what was there. It was just getting to me, the weather and this feeling of isolation in the yard. It made me feel like something was out there stalking me, and only me. I needed to get into some shelter and dry off. Or just get out of this drumming rain for a bit. I shuffled along ducking beneath the low twigs and pressing through soaked brush. I’m certain the path was at my back but I didn’t want to find it just yet, I needed to stay hidden in the undergrowth until it felt safe. I’m not sure what I was hiding from but I needed to stay hidden from it. Recollections of the sewers, people shrieking behind the metal gates as an unseen force punished them. I exhaled a sharp breath and pressed my left hand over my face. Don’t go back. Try not to think about it. I murmured something strange, a comforting sort of sound to reinforce my resolve. I’ll get out of this. But I have to keep moving. Another gate appeared in my path, and I ran my hand carefully over the chain linked fence. A stone wall was built on the other side, crates stacked on the floor. There was a door in the wall. The gate was locked with chains— The timber above snapped and fell onto my head, and that screech rang in my ear as though it were right beside me. I whirled away tearing through grass and sharp brush towards the stone fountain, not stopping until a light in a doorway appeared somewhere on my left. I flew to it not hesitating before I slammed into the door at full force, and flung it shut with a loud CRACK! I stood quivering under the light, dust swirled in the warm beam as I panted, gazed fixed on that door. The storm howled beyond the weathered wood, sounding eerily like human sobs. What the fuck had that been? Power in the nightvision needed to be changed out. Already? I just changed the battery. Something was going on here. Much of the same that clung to this place, a lot I didn’t understand and what I did get still made no sense. I switched out the battery and looked at the small tool shed I had crashed into. Some basic things, a few shelves with paint cans, some pliers and wire cutters, and propane cans stacked by the door. There were a few hooks, and one had a silver key dangling on it. It had to be a key to somewhere, maybe one of the gates? I had to go back out there and search them all down. It could be done, but it would be time consuming. Before heading out I gave my camera a quick evaluation, to make sure it was still in satisfactory working order. I rubbed off some of my bloodstains that had clotted on its side and checked some of the footage, in a dull state. It began to frighten me how little I reacted to my own terror in the night, as though I didn’t care five minutes previously I’d been racing across the yard in a panic. I did forget my initial goal was to confirm the camera was still operational despite its abuse, but I’d fallen into a repetition of cycling through all its functions and struggling to adjust the color settings, despite the mechanical flaw caused by being thrown out of a fuckin window. I eventually gave up and stared at the visor as it recorded the floor of the shed. Time to go. The handle turned loosely in my hand and I pulled the door back, while keeping my shoulder by one side in case I needed to shove it close. I didn’t have my camera up yet so all I could make out was the oily yard with its slumped shapes glimmering under the flash of electricity. The sky was a muddy expanse stretching over the tree tops, it seemed lower than the sky should be, barely brushing above the canopy of jagged timber. There was nothing hostile, nothing visible I wouldn’t come to expect with the relentless storm. Complete silence but for the thick water and rumble of thunder. It was eerie, after I had raced across the yard accustomed to the bizarre sounds, and suddenly there were none. For a moment, I was startled by a black shape hovering near the fountain, but in a flash of light it was gone. Just the guard slouched on the bench, on the other side of the yard. It was him I had seen, very dead and immobile, nothing could change my mind. I returned to the gate beneath the light, where ‘Father’ Martin had left his message. I took the padlock but found I was wrong in my assumption. The key was thick, more along the lines of a skeleton key, and the padlock used the more modern thin keys. Damnit. I climbed down the wall and walked along one side of the yard hunting for a door, or gate that would use the key. There had to be some sort around here, Martin left the key in the shed for me, the mystic bastard. Couldn’t just leave doors open, has to lock me in and leave me to the mercy of his ‘disciples.’ This place was probably Satan’s holiday house. A light on the other side of the yard caught the visor, and I started in that direction in a casual jog. It sounded like a shape was shredding through the canopy overhead, I hunched down as I hastened my pace through a sharp gale of wind and rain. I doubt the light would deter it but the dark didn’t seem to do much either. I shoved the key into the lock breathing a small sigh of relief when the latched clicked. My hand fumbled with the slick knob, scraping my finger in the process as I forced it open and threw it shut after me. I moved away from the door and fought back the trembles that clutched my body, just couldn’t get myself under control. Beyond the wire door I thought there was a dark mass swimming through the storm, but a boom of thunder killed out any sound there might’ve been. Focused and still, I waited for nothing. The water made a soft pit-pat sound as it dripped from the edges of my soaked coat and chin, insects buzzed overhead driven wild by the intense light. The gentle atmosphere somehow overpowered the nightmare of the storm and what it concealed. I allowed myself one whimper as I let the tremors take me, tensing my muscles to block out some of the cold. There was something out there and it was following me. I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t want to explain it. The very notion I couldn’t comprehend this terrified me. What the fuck was it and what did it want? My mind kept flashing back to the sewers, the wails and sobs of people dying. The sounds. Those sort that couldn’t be replicated. They were the kind of sound a person made the moment death took them, and would never be repeated by that individual. Death throes. I changed out what was once a battery at half-life, and put one with full power in. That should last me. Maybe. It looked like some sort of greenhouse, or was once one until the asylum came to be in the early nineties. I moved away from the wall to distract myself with this place, this façade of reprieve. No plants were kept in here, just some pallets and materials for the grounds. Windows along the upper walls flashed with peculiar outlines, like faces watching through still portraits and the unsettling sensation that I was not alone and had never been alone in this place. Just nerves, I told myself. I was cold, soaked, and the lightening hid shapes as it revealed me to those same shapes I hid from. I gave a loud sneeze and bit my tongue. Perfect. Briskly, I moved out of the light, into the shadow of the doorway at the other end. I raised my camera and gave the crossing corridor a look over, before I stumbled out into someone. Smelt like people came in here to piss as though the yard was too good for them. In this weather, it might’ve been. Looked like most of the material for reinforcing the doors had been hauled from this storeroom, it must’ve been stocked with lumber before the nightmare began. Two by fours and plywood were leaned against one side of the wall, and on the other was a shelf with a hammer and some dried out potted plants. Pieces of splintered wood lay across the stone path, and nails had been scattered to the sides. A radio had been abandoned on a shelf out here, but the batteries were not the right ones for my camera. I turned to check what the other side might offer, and stepped through a doorframe into a spare shed. At the far end the exit awaited, nearly missed as I scanned the entrance, skittish as I was. I was spooked by the icy dots of rain that hit my face, only to realize there was a large hole in the roof above. I shut my eyes and exhaled trying to calm myself. Just the rain, it was just the rain. Though I was freezing, I didn’t bother to move out from under it, as I looked over the room. Thin boards lined the walls and some propane tanks were left stacked at the furthest corner. Shelves were dotted with eroded paint cans, and more tools to reinforce doors without restraint. Good to know all that hard work and sweat had paid off in the end. I could just imagine Murkoff freaking out, terrified by the things they created and not understanding any of it. Just trying to get barricades built, doors sealed, and then curl up in the darkest corner while they listened to their colleagues, abandoned outside, get pummeled by the big fucker. And he seemed like such an interesting man. Slowly, I turned the handle of the door and pulled it open a crack to scope out. Tall brick walls extended from the building on either side, effectively boxing the path in. I heard a noise like… screeching. Nails on a chalkboard, or something? Thick bars stretched from the wall into the dark, at the current range of the NV I couldn’t see how far. A form in the dark. I’m not sure how to describe it, it was an outline at first, then it took a shape. It was insubstantial and had no face, just what looked like a head perched on a rib cage as it fluctuated and shrieked and… headed RIGHT TOWARDS ME! It was right at my face before I slammed the door and braced my shoulder against the icy steel. A strangled cry came from my throat as my ribs crunched under the force. I didn’t see that, what was it? That was impossible, it didn’t walk, I didn’t see its feet! It didn’t have feet, it— The door shuddered but it was too dark to see, what I could make out was through the visor quivering just beside my face. It… materialized, and crawled ‘through’ the crack under the door. I only caught glimpses of the fog, I was too lost in fortifying a barrier on something that was slipping beneath it like in a cartoon. This isn’t possible, not possible! This isn’t natural what’s going on here! Was that its head? Was it looking at me?! When it grabbed at my feet I charged out of there, crashing into the metal gate under the light before I recalled how doors worked. I fled across the yard stumbling through grass, bushes, and finally toppling over a bench I didn’t see in the black veil of night. Somehow in my madness I fell to my good shoulder and skid across the stone path, terrible wails surrounded me in the gloom as the lightening blazed and the world came into momentary clarity. I envisioned the patients surrounding me, Chris Walker in the distance stalking through the yard. A shapeless form howled as it hovered over me, reaching out a twisted branch to crush my head. Strange sounds curled around me, and I knew was making them. I tried to block it out as I twisted to rise but something was wrong, I rolled sideways and fell down again before my legs could carry my weight. Once I was mobile, I raced the rest of the way to a bright light shimmering in the distance like a salvaging beacon. It only occurred to me as I flew up the steps that it was the same Asylum that I had recently escaped. It was the last thought in my head as I barreled through the nearest door, into the dark and dry safety of this horrible place. I didn’t get a chance to fling it shut, my instincts screamed – flee, flee, escape, HIDE! I crammed my body into the furthest corner between the bookcase and a desk. There I cringed, panting, shivering, wide eyed, and waiting for the thing to find me. I just couldn’t understand what I saw. Couldn’t comprehend it. I wasn’t into the supernatural, I’ve never see shapes or heard voices…. Up until I came to this crazy place. How could I have been charging all over this messed up Asylum, and only now out in the yard I come across something vaguely supernatural. It didn’t make sense. I felt like I just lost my mind. I was fuckin insane. Completely bonkers. “God help me, I think I’ve seen the Walrider.” My ears are ringing. That shrieking snarl, when I was face to face with it…. I don’t know what happened. There was a flash, I thought it was the lightening, but it felt like I suffered a sharp blow to the head. I thought I’d seen into its face, o god, inside its skull… I didn’t feel right. Not bad, I didn’t feel good either, but not bad, but something….something doesn’t feel right. Like I lost something, or forgot something. Just my nerves, I’m shook up and cold, and probably not in the best of health with all the blood loss. I wipe some of it from my hands, but with the heavy rain the clots can’t hold. Couldn’t stop here, had to push on. Find that proverbial light out of this hell hole. No ‘illusion’ of MKULTRA would stop me. My legs felt soupy as I made the long trek back to the gate, the only route I knew that might offer a way out. Or lead someplace dry. It took some time to find the gate, I left the door wide open and became confused when I saw the smaller shed through the rain. After further searching, in which time I’m certain I was more lost than I should have been, I did find the greenhouse. I shut the door behind me and listened, primed to bolt if I saw it, or heard that unnatural call it generated. I couldn’t fabricate the exact noise in my head, only that it was inhuman and terrifying. The metal door was untouched, and still in one piece. It had been crawling ‘under’ the crack. How the hell? As before, I opened the door slowly and strained to hear. Noises did come, illusions my mind conjured of screams as the thunder rolled, or the rustle of leaves beside the metal bars flipped about. I felt like I was losing my mind. Give me naked thugs, deformed giants, freak doctors with huge scissors - give me a ghost, massive nope factor right there. I slid through the door and shut it behind me. On the ground swirled dark splotches in clear puddles, another one of Martin’s markers for me. I had this insane thought that maybe it was hiding in the blood. What was I thinking anymore? A soft hiss issued from the other side of the bars, and I threw myself against the set to the left when I thought it was coming back. I saw nothing, no vague outline, nothing. Just the blaze in the sky, sometimes I thought there was a corpse sitting in the distance, washed by rain, or was it the black outline of a tree framed by light? I couldn’t tell anymore. If I kept moving, everything would be all right. If I waited, it would find me. I turned the corner and stepped off the stone path into thick grass, with about an inch of water coating the soil. The mud clung to my shoes and weighted my feet, I wobbled but managed not to fall over. It was a challenge staying on my feet as it was, I didn’t need to fall to my hands and stuff mud into the wounds. A lamp blazed down into some sort of storage yard, from when Murkoff remolded the place for reopening. A lot of materials they couldn’t get rid of such as concert barriers and pallets were sorted and stacked. I ducked back from the halo of light when the brittle timber above snapped and dropped into the grass, not far from where I hid. I raised the camera and kept low listening as the sounds moved off, a soft tinkling of metal pellets echoed from the distance. The same sounds I heard in the sewers, when I thought I saw shadows. Beside the lamp was a ladder fixed against the brick wall. I fastened the camera in its hoister and started up, keeping a tight grip each step I pulled up. The heavy downpour coupled with my muddy shoes made the exercise a difficult one, I nearly lost my footing twice before I had a suitable rhythm down. Overhead, jagged bolts crossed over the black sky, blinding me briefly but I held my climb steady. I’ve done this hundreds of time, the weather just complicated the task. The ladder ended abruptly, or it seemed to when I couldn’t see how far I had to climb. I crawled onto the roof of the greenhouse, or whatever the building was and fumbled for my camera. I bit the edge of my lip when I tried to force my hand through the strap and wound up jamming my finger on the thick material instead. Carefully, I slid my fingers under the loop and gripped the camera tightly in my hand, trying to ease out the knot of pain rolling in my knuckle. I tasted blood but I think it was worth it, distracting myself momentarily from everything else. I used my left hand to steady myself as I stood and stepped up the remainder of the slant, onto the flat surface of the roof. It was comprised of wooden shingles roughed by hours of sun and harsh winters, easy to keep traction on even with the thick runoff. I focused on the visor of the camera as I stepped along, the power is more than half done with. A flicker of light reveals the shattered portion of the roof, for which I gather a short dash before I make the leap. In a surge of brightness that follows, I nearly stagger back from a shape below my line of sight, but it’s solid and thin and not the thing in the dark. A man sits on the roof of the greenhouses entrance. I must’ve looked like a lunatic to him, running everywhere in the dark and hiding in the glass. Or, was he watching it too? He’s emaciated and stares into the unyielding storm, silent and still, aside from the brief movement of his hand scratching at his chin. Beside him sits a small walkie-talkie. I shuffle to the low section of the roof, eyes fixed on him should he realize my presence. I kneel low and reach beside him to pick up the small device without disturbing his watch. My camera is already dimming, I toss the depleted battery aside and put in the one I’ve just picked up. It’s dead as well, which would explain why he’s not listening for chatter. I toss that battery as well and put in one of my own. Half dead, but it’ll do. I pull myself back up to the roof and resume my way. The path comes to an end, above the curl work of barbed wire topping a fence below. As I glance around, I’m certain someone has screamed out there in the yard, but I can’t decide which way only that it sounded painful. On my left there’s a decorative ledge running along the Asylum’s wall, the opposite of which direction I’m almost certain that shrill originated. I step back and get up some speed before leaping. When I hit, my shoes skid over the water coating the slick cement, but I keep on my feet. Another roof was not far from the ledge to the left, I walk over to it keeping the camera firm in my grip as I leapt to the soaked wood without issue. In the branches I pick up the crackle and rustle of something, but I can never see a definite shape. I pause to crouch down and film open air and the rain, until the echoes have either faded or my mind ceased to fabricate them. I push myself back to my feet and continue, barely three steps before I reach a piece of plywood lain down bridging the roof to some scaffolding. More evidence of Murkoff’s attempted repairs before everything went to shit. Some boards are set over the short space, which I cross as I constantly search the ground and the canopy. It feels like the sounds are following me. I’m almost elated by the notion, despite the pulsing in my veins. Did I want to see it again? I don’t think so. But I was curious. The initial shock had worn away, and every scuttling noise I thought was the thing in the dark terrified me. But it also teased my inquisitive nature. I teetered on a delicate and dangerous line, if I drew to near the sun it would burn me. But I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to forget why it frightened me, and learn why I should be frightened by it. My heart thumped with the acuity, just a glimpse of the shadow to know I wasn’t losing my mind. I step from the short structure of scaffolding, onto a flat cement ledge. There’s no other direction to take, the ground below I can barely find without the zoom. To my right is a thin gutter line, a possible path I’m not comfortable to attempt in the fierce weather. But I could manage it. I set my heels against the wall and shuffle out testing my stability, the edge ends just beneath my toes but I press my back against the cold brick and chance it. I have my camera crammed under my chin at an awkward angle to avoid bumping the wall with my elbow. I can barely keep my balance, and see enough just through the visor this way. As I slipped around a sharp corner, my leg nearly gives out and I slip a bit but catch myself by pushing off the wall a fraction. I sway in the open air as the wind tugs at my drenched coat, if I budge I will fall and snap my leg, or something worse. It will be painful. I let my body sway until my back gently touches the brick wall, then I continue, shuffling slower this time. The small path ends on a large cement ledge, I drop to my knees to catch my breath. A set of planks awaits a few feet from where I lean over, appearing very sinister in the flash of light and the crack of thunder that follows. The noises around me have calmed somewhat, and it’s just the rain and I. This doesn’t comfort me, though it should. I feel unsettled, like the eye of the storm. Using my camera I search for my next heading and zoom in on a slanted roof a short distance, beyond those unassuming planks. I return to my feet and secure the camera in my grip, I take a short dash before I leap. When I hit, my foot slips over the rain cascading off the rough planks and I topple sideways. I clutch the camera to my chest and jam my elbow against the slant, twisting around to force my body parallel with the edge. I shove my feet against the friction and hold, until I’ve stopped completely. The night feels cold and silent, except for the rain drumming on my face generating its soft prattle. Water gathers at my side where I’ve blocked it, filling my coat and jeans with the frigid liquid. I’m so cold. After a minute I collect my senses and inch away from the edge of the roof, until I can flip over and get up on my hand and knees, and crawl to the top. When I make it to the other side, I’m dismayed to find no other path to take. This should be good news, but I preferred being someplace high where I couldn’t be reached. I examined the distance to the floor from the roof before I put my camera away, then lower myself from the edge of the roof by my hands. A light shining from a pole above cut through the dark, offering some visibility before I dropped to the cobblestone floor. Some crates had been left beneath the roof, as though to protect them from the elements. Steps lead a few feet down towards a dead guard, and a steel door I bet would be locked. I made my trip down to confirm this belief, and to get out of the rain for a bit. At times it felt colder sheltered from the constant pummel than wandering through it. The guard has nothing worthwhile on his person, not even a candy bar. Not that I want one, but I was thinking about it. Up a set of steps on the opposite side, sat some neglected sawhorses and another collection of pallets. Otherwise, another dead end. I climbed over the short wall, down to where the ledge sheltered the small walkway and where the guard sat. I could see a path to take if it led anywhere worthwhile, a stack of pallets across from me was fixed beside a dumpster, both positioned under a cut out in the fence. The sounds came again, rattles in the pipes or a frail cylinder cast by the strong wind. I shrank into my coat but didn’t bother to raise the camera or seek out the source, I’m not certain at that particular moment what I was thinking, other than I needed to move. I raised my right hand to my face and blew in my palm, to get some of the chill from my fingers. It wasn’t very effective, but the warmth did ease the pain a little. That same sensation came over me, the jolt to my head or some kind of vertigo. I shut my eyes and let the feeling pass, I kept repeating in my head ‘keep moving, keep moving’ but I wasn’t ready. I just wanted to stand out of the rain and stare at nothing, maybe wait for the storm to pass, but I know by the time it did, it would be too late for me. The wind slid under the ledge and I gave in, crossing to the pallets and climbing up to the fence. I couldn’t fathom who might have cut the wire, a few pairs of wire cutters and a chainsaw had been missing from the toolshed. I was screwed if Chris Walker was out here with the chainsaw. I was still so fuckin lost. You’d think I’d be able to find my way around outside, without the walls and abundance of locked doors, but no. I was somewhere, maybe in the backgrounds of the Asylum. I couldn’t locate a feasible way out of this place, had to keep heading around searching for one of the locked gates to the front. There had been a few I looked at before finding that shattered gate, but there was the staff parking I had viewed on the one side. “Have to get out….” I stopped as I turned the corner. On the ground lay a patient, by a steel door pinned with boards. I gave the handle a rattle and it clanked hollowly on the other side, but the screws in the stone kept it from budging. The patient seemed wounded or sick, I gave him his distance as I moved around to the only route visible. Fence on one side, fuckin big building on the other. When I reached my jeep I was going to crank up the heat, tear off my coat, and just get my skin warm. And comfortable warm, not hot, not inferno, not hell hot, just warm. I was beginning to loose feeling in my fingers and toes, I was soaked to the bone, and I just didn’t feel right. My head was still ringing from when the thing screamed at me, it might’ve damaged my eardrums. My hearing seemed fine, just that humming I couldn’t stand. Felt like it was in my nerves. There was another door, up some steps on the right. Same as the previous, locked solid. Don’t know why I bothered checking, force of habit. I did want to get some place dry for a bit, but anyplace in Mount Massive I’d soon come to regret. Miserable place this was, would never wish it on my worst enemy because, I’m not that kind of guy. Trager’s too good for my enemies. The lightning blazed and I spied another tall fence ahead, with a patient plastered to it shuffling against its side. I observed him through the visor as I approached, he seemed near oblivious to me. “I can see his ghost.” What was it they were so fixated to find out here? When I was close enough to see him clearly, I found that he had been coddling the gate for so long his face was a bloody mess and his nose was missing. It reminded me of lizards in the pet store, if they wanted to get out they’d rub their nose on the bars until their lip had worn away. Pitiful to see a human like this, out here in the rain. For a span I recorded beyond the fence, to pick up what it was he saw or to confirm my doubts, I wasn’t sure. Sometimes I thought there was something, a glimmer and shift in the lens, the film was always clear and never faltered. I could hardly remember what it was I thought waited out there, only that it could stare back, and this made me uneasy. The patient mumbled something as he moved closer to me, and I only recalled that we were standing completely exposed to the storm. Well, I realized I was standing in the rain. I didn’t bother the other man as he sought to see his delusions. The fence ended at a wall, to which brick stairs led to a higher patio. Across from the steps two benches were poised, on one sat a man in a straightjacket and chemical scarring marred his face. His eyes glistened in the NV when he noticed me. I turned to climb the steps, halfway up he called after me, “Be as one of us.” I hurried to the upper level through an open gate, one of the first in a long while. Blood and gore was in my immediate path, I continued in that direction passing various guards and doctors of Murkoff, in a splattered display of death. It looked like they had fallen out from somewhere, their bodies twisted and guts spilling out and glass everywhere. Had they been thrown out of a window? Or had they found their own way out? The door across from the dead had a plate reading Prison Block and the doors had been boarded up. The most opportune way out for some of them, I suppose. I located another open area in the fence, a few pallets stacked to give a clear step up over the sharp edge. A bolt streaked across the sky illuminating the immediate area, but below the light could not reach but for the thin tree limbs reaching high. Before I risked getting lost in that lower area, I returned to where the gate entered the patio space, and took the path that had been open on my left. It was a large area beneath an eve, where I could get some time away from the storm. A few old drums, possibly gasoline like the ones in basement, had been discarded here. The walls had tall, thin windows cloaked by tattered curtains, I could make out no sign of cracks of wear to indicate anyone might have tried to escape this way. Bags of trash had been discarded by a large dumpster, and before it stood a man in a straightjacket struggling to get out. The dumpster, after the stagnant decay that had been shoved into my sinuses, smelled wonderful in the cold storm. But the linger of rot was here, and blood had pooled at the patients feet. “Bleed for me.” It was time to leave. I climbed the pallets and braced myself for the fall before I let myself down, the soft earth compressed under my weight, but the jolt still traveled up my ribs. I stepped away grunting and stretching to get the soreness from my muscles, I was moving through the tall grass before I had my camera up. The front grounds had really been let go, but this was beyond neglect. Thick bushes grew everywhere catching my pants and whacking my fingers as I navigated what seemed to be the clearest path, but everything was overgrown. The grass was up to my chest, and large concrete blocks dotted the yard, hidden until I was directly upon them. A thin vapor spilled from them, maybe from the lower levels of the Asylum, the basement? I turned my camera to examine the interior and found thick metal bars, and a warm draft that lifted from within. I’m sure the yard might have been open to the better behaved patients during good days, but when Murkoff took over the patients never had ‘field’ days. They only needed to keep the front lawn looking decent for appearances, and let everything else go to hell. There were even pallets and large propane tanks stacked along the wall. Even for an asylum, this place must have looked nice when things were kept neat. But Mount Massive was shut down for scandal, so there was no telling if this place ever had ‘nice days.’ The grass began to thin out as I neared a small pool of water in the middle of the yard, with a charming little bridge built over it. Large stones had been set to boarder the small pound, but even in the dark I could identify the thick grime that grew along the waters edges. If not for the rain cloaking the miasma of still water, I imagined it wouldn’t be all that lovely. Labored breathing pressed through the drone of rain, alerting me to duck down or be seen. There was no guarantee I wouldn’t be seen. A blaze of lightning followed threatening to reveal my location out of spite, and in it I saw the shape of the big fucker as he wandered the yard. It would’ve been too good if he didn’t show up. I knew something was wrong. Without hitch he continued on his way, pausing to glance over his shoulder as I paced through the water gently. It wasn’t very deep, but he would pick out the odd sound given the contrast to the persistent shower. I paused with the bridge between us, the big fucker looked in the other direction and began that way. I breathed out a soft whine, even as the sky lit up with another blaze. The big fuckers back was still to me, I was safe for now. I checked the camera as the light dimmed. Another battery went in, my last one, a full one. I had no idea how much further I had to go out here, but for the time I needed to see. There was no indication of where to go, but for some light up at the top of a stack of pallets and propane tanks. Chris couldn’t climb after me, he could fall after me, but he was a shit climber. At least, he’s never jumped up after me, yet. For all I knew he could fly. As quietly as I could muster, I sprint over to the stack and pulled myself up. I heard no sound from the big guy, he must still be enjoying the weather. I slipped up to the high ledge, another one of those tall thin windows greeted me, but of escape there was no evidence. I wasn’t too keen on going into the Prison Block anyway. A small rain trail led along the wall to the left. The water wasn’t washing over it quite so hard, but I had to take the awkward angle with my camera again to keep from losing my balance. I’d prefer to put my camera away and not risk dropping it, but it was more disorientating being unable to see where my feet were and the wall pressed into my back. I passed over a fence topped with coiled barbed wire and came to another sharp corner, on the edge of the building. Rather repeat my earlier slip, I stuffed the camera in its pack and carefully lowered myself sideways. Little by little in the dark, until my right hand touched the ledge. I made sure I had my hand on it before I pivoted, and dropped, snapping my left hand onto the edge as well, and let my weight settle on my arms. A small grunt snapped from my throat as my ribs sang in pain, but I wasn’t falling backwards this time. I strafed along the wall, turning the corner easily and kept going until I felt the path at my hands end. I pulled the camera free and checked what was under me. Just the floor, it was a distance from my feet but not far enough to break my legs. I let myself drop and turned, wary of my surroundings and what may be lurking. The sky blazed causing me to cringe down, in the resulting flare I thought there were shapes closing in but through the visor I saw nothing too hostile. Nothing alive at any rate. There was a small gazebo near the center of the yard, with steps leading up to it. The aged wood creaked underfoot as I moved around the center, benches were situated around a small garden area full of black dirt and twigs, at one point it was probably filled with flowers or a hedge. What looked like a doctor was laying on one bench, his coat tinged with dampness and his back to me. I didn’t bother with the body and kept moving. I crossed over and crept down the steps, back into the tall grass and into the dismal rain. Overhead twigs crackled and fell, I crouched low scanning the lens along but couldn’t locate the cause. It could have been the limbs heavy with water after a long drought, they sometimes snapped during a heavy rainfall, but that seemed like such a pissy excuse. I wiped the water from my face and cringed at the sensation of my missing finger, I was not getting used to that any time soon. I picked myself up and continued, slowly as I listened for more movement, my camera scanning the dark sky as lightning flared. It seemed to have moved off for now, if there was ever anything there. Maybe I was just as cuckoo as the patients, and seeing things in the dark. Suggestion was a powerful tool. There was nothing to guide me, no remarkable land marks that I could identify aside from the gazebo. The stone paths were so overgrown with weeds, it was impossible to distinguish them from the tall grass. I just kept going, relying on the fence that surrounded this area to direct my way. Maybe I’d find a place where patients had escaped from. Or maybe they already had, there was the break in the fence I first came through, that led to the open window. Wasn’t there a document that referred to them as ‘environmental contamination?’ It still sounded wrong. It seemed to take an hour or almost to get around the yard, stopping every so often at shapes in the visor, static in the camera, sounds in the woods. Not animal sounds, but the strange chatter and wail of the thing I could not describe. Lurking somewhere and watching me clearly as I staggered through the unforgiving foliage. At some point I did find my way around, into an area I thought led into the woods, but instead a patient was staring back at me from a cobblestone path. It startled me, and I staggered away. I knew my hands were bleeding again but I couldn’t bear to turn the camera and view the damage. My blood felt as thin and cold as the rain, but I’m certain it was my blood. It had a differing consistency than to water streaming over my skin, but I refused to check. Finally, at long last I spotted a light source. I could hardly believe it but I moved towards it, my battery was getting low and I couldn’t be stumbling blindly around in the dark. The harsh brush tore at my shoulders and hands as I made my way towards what looked like a wall, or walls on either side topped with chain wire fence. A set of steps led down into a lower area, maybe another basement. There was evidence to indicate this as a possibility but I doubted it. I didn’t care where the stairs led either, I just needed the reassurance of a firm direction. The sky blazed with a wild flash, blinding me momentarily before I saw a pair of eyes glimmer in the dark. Shit! I spun away racing back along the fence as Chris gave a howl of rage, initiating the chase. Where had he come from? Was that a gate to the connecting yard? I didn’t care to know, my concentration was absorbed in not buckling under my terror. Branches slashed at my torn fingers in my frenzied escape, it sounded as though he was close behind me. I turned my head to check, running right into a tree that knocked me down and slapped the camera from my loose grip. “You got nothing left to live for.” He was right on top of me. Where was my camera? The tall grass had hid the bright visor, but not well enough. I snatched it up as the big fucker came crashing into my vicinity, the chains clinked very close to my face in what might’ve been a grab attempt. I lunged just out of his path and saw, in a beam of lightning the gazebo. He can’t climb! He can’t climb! I was just beyond his reach as I clambered up the rail and flopped over the side, I groaned as my ribs pulsed with pain but it bought me a moment. He shoved his arm through the gaps in the rail, but the chain caught on the rotten boards preventing him from grabbing my scalp as I lay stunned. But I wasn’t safe yet. With a nasally snarl, Chris charged around toward the steps. I lifted my camera and watched through the NV feed as he set his dead gaze on me. I rolled to my feet, and threw myself over the rail to sprint in the direction I thought that light had been. Chris swung himself over the rail, I know this because I felt the ground tremble when he came down. I kept on my feet locating the steps and shot down them, taking the corner on my right and stumbled down more steps and nearly toppled forward. The deep rumble of the big fucker echoed on the confining walls, he would be on me in the next instant. At the corridors end was what looked like a wall, its appearance draining the remainder of my blood… until I caught sight of the lower side. The cement had been chiseled out and rebar ripped back. I knelt down and crawled through, as Chris gave his disapproving roar at my neck. I hadn’t stopped yet to flaunt it, I was on my toes running up the narrow corridor back into the storm. An open and better kept yard greeted me at the top of the slop, but I didn’t stop to admire it. Across the yard a large set of double doors waited, boarded tightly with planks and plywood, tall glass framed the sides spilling comforting light onto the grass. I still raced into them and tried the handle, confirming this was not for show. The plate beside the door read Female Ward, though I wasn’t sure of this. I knew there were female patients involved with MKULTRA and the sleep therapy, but it wasn’t clear to me if they were involved with Project Walrider. It was asking too much that I would never find out. But due to the wandering patients and contamination, I think I should have seen women by now. Or… could I not recognize them as being female? My head ached from the revelation, I needed to get out of the rain. I was borderline hypothermia, I had to get dry. If I couldn’t find my way out of this yard soon, I didn’t doubt the big fucker would find his way to me. I walked along the fence that stretched from the building, and found an opening into another yard. A fountain sat in the center surrounded by benches, the strong stench of copper from it overpowered the open air. I had turned the NV off, but the camera was still running, it always was. I stared at the garden piece full of blood, so much I couldn’t be sure if there ever was water in it to begin with. The heavy rain drops hit the surface, but the thick black clots held tight. I immediately felt sick and took a moment to sit down at a bench, off to the side. “So much blood in the water I can smell it. Like putting a penny in your mouth when you were a kid. The whispers are making more sense, I’m looking for static. It’s like an itch.” I stuffed the pen and notepad back in my pocket, and stood to resume the search of the lawn. Some fresh air would help, put some distance between this grotesque red pool, and myself. Get it off my mind if only for a second. Steep hills lead up to high fences and what must have been the brick walls of the outer courtyards, polished and slick with rain and higher than the Tower of Babel. Was there no way out of this place? Did the world outside cease to exist? Stupid thoughts. Miles, you idiot. Keep it together, I’m gonna make it out of this. Just takes time. Stay alive, and find that way out. I returned to the fountain. Bodies bled out, in all manners of decay, on this side the wind picked up enough to give me a whisper of the spoil that seeped from the corpses. A still functioning lamp spilled light on the poisoned well. I didn’t feel safe standing in the open like this. But I turned the camera anyway to sounds in the trees overhead, and the odd outline of something at the roof. Or was it another of Murkoff, ready to end it all and escape this hell? I walked along the wall of the building to get out of the rain for a moment. Stacks of pallets had been neglected here, like much of all Murkoff’s tools, as its people. The light above reflected off glass, but one window failed to cast its sheen. I jogged over and examined it from the ground, before I hauled myself up the precarious stack of pallets to the high window. That sickening-familiar scent of old moldering wood, rank dust, and the trace of sweet humid rot swept over me as I entered through the shattered frame. The new reek of scorched, sodden wood saturated the air. At the edges of the NV I could catch glimpses of walls tinged in charcoal, where the fire had reached forth to spread. Damn it, how did this happen? Like a tar pit, the more I fought the harder I stick. There was nothing on my left, just glassed in walls around some office or lobby. Thinking on it, that might be the barred entrance of the Female Ward. The dust within was thick enough I could view it settling over a neglected wheelchair, tipped sideways. It was a depressing sight. I turned to my right, clinging to the lamps outside the windows to offer some guidance as I shut off the NV for a short while. I was ready to raise it if something caught my attention, or if that haunting wail returned. I shivered as a light pierced through collapsed beams, slanted across my path. I looked up to what must’ve been an upper floor and its doorway before the fire spread, all of it black charcoal and some of it cinder now. Steam was still rising from some of the white ash of the timber causing the air to fog thickly, but the light cut through blinding me briefly. It was Father Martin, nested in a doorframe of the second floor, flashing his light to signal me. This was getting old. “You saw the Walrider, didn’t you?” He gave pause as I moved closer, presumably into his line of sight. I adjusted my collar ready to cover my nose with it, but postponed the action to glance around and turn my gaze back up to him. I tilt my head, only vaguely interested in what he had to preach. “You’re beginning to understand, but not yet.” He gestured his finger upward, dramatically. “Even Abraham had to cast his eyes to the ground. But soon, soon. This way. Revelation is at hand.” With his speech concluded, he spun away and disappeared beyond the gate. Okay, thanks. How was I supposed to get up there?

#miles upshure #outlast #outlast fanfiction #outlast novelized

2 notes · View notes

peepingtoad · 4 years

Text

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐈𝐜𝐡𝐚 𝐈𝐜𝐡𝐚!~

(Answered from a post-war perspective)

► Name ➔ “I’ve go by many names! The Toad Sage, The Village’s Madness, The White-Maned Toad-Charmer, The Legendary Hermit Of Mount Myōboku, That Bastard Who Still Hasn’t Paid Off His Tab (it’s coming soon, I swear!)... but most know me simply as Jiraiya. Ogata Jiraiya is my full name nowadays, ever since I was accepted into the sacred clan of the Myōboku toads!” ► Are you single? ➔ “Eternally, it seems—but don’t let that fool you! My diary is never short of upcoming dates. Speaking of, are you free next Friday?~” ► Are you happy? ➔ “The happiest I’ve ever been! Not everything in life is perfect, even now, but I’m enjoying it to the full!” ► Are you angry? ➔ “Do bratty theatrics count as ‘anger’? I know, I know, it’s quite a glaring flaw of mine...” ► Are your parents still married? ➔ “My dear, I don’t think my parents were ever even considered an item. Who knows if they ever met again, but given my age I doubt my father is alive now, either.”

EIGHT FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ “Konohagakure, born and raised! My mother, I believe, was from what would become unified as the Land of Fire, but my father? He was from the Land of Lightning, as far as I’ve been able to deduce.” ► Hair Color ➔ “White as the clouds on a sunny day in Spring! About as fluffy, too. Touch it, if you like~” ► Eye Color ➔ “They look black, until you come up real close. Then, you’ll find that they’re a deep yet piercing grey.” ► Birthday ➔ “Eleventh of November—a nice, simple eleven-eleven, no matter where you’re from!” ► Mood ➔ “You don’t have to spend much time with me to see that I take life with a relaxed, humorous and cheerful attitude, but... haha. I can be a little prone to childish outbursts, I can admit.” ► Gender ➔ “Just a manly kinda dude. I’m not sure, to this day, what exactly makes a man—but I’m comfortable being one.” ► Summer or winter ➔ “I feel like if I had to choose one, I’d only miss the other before long. I appreciate all the changes that come with the seasons... but I suppose, in general, I’m more of a summery type.” ► Morning or afternoon ➔ “I’m definitely an early bird kinda guy. I like to rise early, have breakfast and coffee while watching the sun rise, and I find it’s when I’m the most inspired to do things. But I must say, nothing beats a lazy afternoon nap after a productive morning!”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love? ➔ “Perpetually. I’m in love with the very idea of love. It sure helps with writing romance, I’ll tell you that much for free!” ► Do you believe in love at first sight? ➔ “Perhaps not love, with all the weight the word has, but I definitely believe in that spark. The feeling you get when you’re compelled by some unexplained force to learn more about a person, to spend time with them and see what makes them tick. Lust, on the other hand... well, that’s certainly something that can rear its head in a flash.” ► Who ended your last relationship? ➔ “The last one, I believe, ended with a mutual, amicable agreement. It’s something that is sadly quite commonplace with my travelling lifestyle, but I like to maintain contact with those I’ve cared about and who care about me in turn. Usually by letter—although, I admit, sometimes even that connection gets lost with time.” ► Have you ever broken someone’s heart? ➔ “I’m pretty sure I’m incredibly guilty of this. Especially in my younger years, I was a little careless with people’s hearts, by lack of forethought, rather than a lack of care for their feelings. I do what I can to be upfront and avoid it now, but sometimes these things can’t be avoided. It’s hard, you know, being this addictive!” ► Are you afraid of commitments? ➔ “Hmmm. Romantically speaking... I wouldn’t say I fear it, I just... avoid it, for the most part. I don’t want to make that promise unless I’m absolutely sure I can keep it... and I guess that scenario just hasn’t come up for me, yet. So worry not, there’s still a chance for all you single ladies out there~” ► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ “I’ll hold my hands up and confess that I’m a hugger, through and through. I couldn’t tell you who, or how many people I’ve hugged recently—it’s just second nature for me to do so!” ► Have you ever had a secret admirer? ➔ “Judging by some of the love letters I receive in the old PO Box, I’d go as far as to say I have them in multitudes. Heh.” ► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “Hmm. I feel like in my past, I’ve sacrificed many chances in favour of other duties and paths I had to commit to. And I think, yes, I was the cause of my own heartbreak at various points thanks to that.”

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust? ➔ “In an ideal world, both. Is that cheating? They can both end up feeling rather incomplete without the other, in the long term. And for me, lust comes part and parcel with love—but that’s not necessarily the case the other way ‘round... Bah. I couldn’t possibly choose! My novels wouldn’t be so exciting with such clear-cut distinctions, and I say the same applies to life!” ► Lemonade or iced tea? ➔ “Definitely iced tea. I’m much more a fan of still drinks—unless it’s beer!” ► Cats or Dogs? ➔ “I’m not allowed to say frogs, am I? No? Well... I do like both cats and dogs. Though I must say, a cat that acts like a dog is very charming. I think, equally so, a dog that acts like a cat would be charming! But I think, if you’re really gonna press me about it, I’d choose cats, whether they’re doggish or cattish. They’re a lot more easygoing and less dependent. Plus, there’s nothing more relaxing than having a big, lazy cat snoozing on your lap!” ► A few best friends or many regular friends? ➔ “I’ve always been one for small, tightly knit circles, as much as that can often lead to more... complicated friendships.” ► Wild night out or romantic night in? ➔ “I hardly think I can answer that, given it depends entirely on the mood at the time! I’m gonna say neither, because my favourite way to spend time with someone is out, but somewhere intimate, where we can talk. A cosy bar where we can people-watch, followed by a walk along the riverside or along a nature trail... and maybe, if we’re feeling daring, some canoodling beneath the stars~” ► Day or night? ➔ “I love the day, but it can get very busy and overly exciting. It’s wonderful when night arrives, and you can just unwind from all that. Plus, all the good bars, casinos and other establishments open at night, if you catch my drift. Which, I guess, isn’t conducive to the whole unwinding thing, but I’m nothing if not capricious at times!”

FOUR HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out? ➔ “I didn’t exactly have anyone to catch me sneaking out, but I’ve certainly been caught, uh... sneaking around, in general.” ► Fallen down/up the stairs? ➔ “Not that I remember, and that’s all that matters, alright? ... Ah, but there was that one time the other week—” ► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “I don’t think I’m capable of wanting something any other way. When I want something—or someone—I ache for it. With all my being.” ► Wanted to disappear? ➔ “... In a way, yes. Never to disappear entirely, not at all. There’s too much to live for, but... I have thought it would be better for me to disappear as far as others were concerned, at times.”

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes? ➔ “Easy—eyes. You can see a smile in the eyes, after all.” ► Shorter or Taller? ➔ “Being as... gifted as I am, in height, I must say it's always novel to have a taller partner. It’s happened, a few times, and I rather liked it. But I do enjoy the feeling of being a nice big presence for my partner to cuddle or drape themselves over, too. There’s merits in both. I can’t possibly choose!” ► Intelligence or Attraction? ➔ “Attraction is the most important thing of all—and there’s so much more to a person’s mind and heart than their smarts. I say this as someone who perhaps isn’t what one would consider typically intelligent.” ► Hook-up or Relationship? ➔ “Oooh, difficult. I don’t think life would be complete without a variety of experiences. But I’ve had so many hook-ups, and with all the relationships I’ve ever had coming to an end along the line, I can’t say I’d be opposed to exploring one more deeply. Especially now that life is more relaxed in general.”

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along? ➔ “The family was only ever ma and me, and she was around so little... but yes, we did get along. I have a feeling I’m more like her than I’ll ever truly know...” ► Would you say you have a “messed up life”? ➔ “As a shinobi, I really must say, don’t we all?” ► Have you ever ran away from home? ➔ “I prefer to say I srategically retreated.” ► Have you ever gotten kicked out? ➔ “No, but perhaps my absences were... encouraged, at times. But that’s something I’ll never know for sure.”

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends? ➔ “If I hated anyone, I certainly wouldn’t keep it a secret!” ► Do you consider all of your friends good friends? ➔ “Y’know what? Yeah. I like to think I’m a pretty good judge of character, and all those I consider my friends are solid people.” ► Who is your best friend? ➔ “My fellow Legendary Sannin, of course! No matter the difficulties we’ve faced, those two’ve been there since the beginning, and we’re all stubbornly alive and kicking today; my feelings for them have never changed, and I doubt they ever will.” ► Who knows everything about you? ➔ “Hmm... I don’t think anybody in the world knows everything there is to know about me. Even with those closest to me, there are things even they don’t know. But I like to think I’d be an open book, should they ever wish to.”

#{dash games}#{memoirs(headcanons)}#i got a tag notification from super-kame-love #but the tag wasn't in the post :') so i did it anyway!#feel free to pinch

10 notes · View notes

francesderwent · 4 years

Note

are there are songs from reputation that you think work really well for delena?

A WONDERFUL question, anon!!! I went slightly overboard. In my defense, the intersection of Taylor and TVD is one of my great loves.

Firstly: reputation as an album has its own, overall story arc, which fits Delena pretty neatly! Just as reputation begins with the very rock bottom, and has to work its way upwards to the happily-ever-after which is truly earned because it’s found where there seems to be no hope – so, too, Damon and Elena meet each other in each of their darkest moments. Damon has lost and been betrayed by Katherine, Elena is still devastated by her parents’ death. Damon is distanced from his humanity; Elena is far from her true magnetically charismatic self. But they see and recognize each other, even through their pain. And they love each other. They find peace together, in the midst of all the darkness and craziness and people insisting it can never work.

That said, there are some individual songs that really scream “DELENA”

“…ready for it?” is the “it is right, just not right now” of songs. As such, it is more from Damon’s perspective than Elena’s – as soon as Elena figures out “I know I’m gonna be with you” she does not “take her time,” she makes the jump straight from 0 to 100. Also, the line “in the middle of the night in my dreams, you should see the things we do, baby”, paired with the restraint of the next line insisting on taking time, is a little reminiscent of Friday Night Bites, wherein Damon says he’s going to sneak into the Gilbert house in the middle of the night and do with little cheerleader Elena whatever he wants…and then he breaks in and just tenderly watches her sleep.

“End Game” has three perspectives, so if you squint I think it can be about the love triangle: Damon proclaims, “I got a bad boy persona, that’s what they like / you love it, I love it too cause you my type / you hold me down and I protect you with my life”. Stefan’s verse is both a little gentler and a little more cautious: “For all your beautiful traits and the way you do it with ease / for all my flaws, paranoia, and insecurities / I made mistakes and made some choices that’s hard to deny…I’ve passed days without fun, this endgame is the one”. (Bonus points for “it’s easier to ignore it, believe me, ” because Stefan is King of Denial.) And finally, we find Elena’s perspective in the bridge: “I don’t wanna be just another ex-love you don’t wanna see / I don’t wanna miss you like the other girls do.” She doesn’t want to lose either of them – but it’s the one who “calls my bluff on all my usual tricks” that she eventually chooses.

“I Did Something Bad” is not a Delena song. I’d posit that the first verse is Katherine and the second verse is Rebekah.

“Don’t Blame Me” is more of a Damon/Katherine song, but there’s something kind of charming about imagining a Damon in-love-with-Elena saying “don’t blame me, love made me crazy” when he’s accused of doing something nice or self-sacrificial.

“Delicate” reminds me a lot of pre-relationship s4 Delena, when Elena has just turned and is most self-conscious about who she is and how she’s perceived by her friends and family. Damon looks at her and sees not a problem to be fixed, but the woman he loves, the most alive he’s ever seen her. Also “sometimes when I look in your eyes, I pretend you’re mine, all the damn time” is a big time Delena mood.

“Look What You Made Me Do” is sort of the universal humanity-switch song.

“So It Goes” is one of Taylor’s saddest songs, tbh, because the phrase “so it goes” expresses a kind of determined inevitability. And in the past – in “Style” and in “You Are In Love” – she’s used the phrase to describe the way that relationships progress, how things fall into place despite difficulties. Even though he’s been out and about with other girls, they fall back together because they can’t stop thinking about each other. Relationships that start with one look in a dark room progress inevitably to pictures kept in an office downtown. In 1989 particularly, Taylor insists stubbornly that as long as you have the courage to stay, things can work out. As long as nobody leaves, things move along a set pathway: so it goes. But with “So It Goes”, the track, what happens inevitably isn’t staying together, it’s not the relationship growing closer and more real. It’s falling together and falling apart, and “doing a number” on each other. What’s fated is the whole progression of believing that you’ve found something to keep, and then finding it’s just another thing to lose. Destiny becomes fatalism. And this, long story short, is pretty s5 delena. For a moment, it looks like the love that pushed them both to be better versions of themselves is just going to twist and fall apart, like everything else that’s disappointed them in the past. The magnetism and chemistry is still there - “'cause we break down a little, but when I get you alone, it’s so simple” – but now it looks like it could be leading them to their doom.

“Gorgeous” fits pretty neatly into s3 Delena, particularly that one time when Damon is distracting Rebekah and Elena is distracting Stefan and they’re both mad about it. Also, “you should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in a darkened room” is CLEARLY the hand-holding in the motel-room-of-sexual-tension, and the consequence is making out on the ice machine and embarrassing Jeremy.

“Getaway Car” is not a Delena song, as it is pretty clearly a Katherine song: “us traitors never win…that was the last time you ever saw me”. But it does kind of describe the season 3 finale moment when Elena says she picks Stefan, “but maybe if we had met first…” She was the first to leave, because she was thinking of the place where they first met – but she was wrong about where they first met, and that changed the whole arc of the story.

“King of My Heart” is a nice counter-point to “…ready for it?”, encapsulating how as soon as Elena realizes she loves Damon, she is “all at once” totally confident, totally committed, all-in. “Your love is a secret I’m hoping, dreaming, dying to keep” is very Delena, as is “is this the end of all the endings? my broken bones are mending”. “Baby, all at once, this is enough.”

“Dancing With Our Hands Tied” is another s4-5 early relationship fate-fighting bop. “I’d kiss you as the lights went out, swaying as the room burned down, I’d hold you as the water rushes in if I could dance with you again” particularly reminds me of “I wanted to dance with you today”.

“Dress” is THE Delena song, because everyone thinks it’s just about sex - but it’s about someone seeing who you are, and about belonging to someone so deeply that it’s written all over you. It’s about all the things which define you suddenly having a new meaning because of how truly you know you are loved. “Everyone thinks that they know us, but they know nothing” = “What do they know about us?”. “Even in my worst times, you could see the best of me” = “I like you now, just the way that you are.” She doesn’t?? want him like a best friend????

“This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things” is a pretty great anthem for Damon “the fun brother” Salvatore and Elena “just as crazy as me” Gilbert. Y’all know I love forgiveness and believe it is the truest kind of strength, but Elena and Damon both have petty sides, for sure. This song is the moment where Elena walks in on Damon and the boys playing a drinking game to celebrate Katherine’s demise, and she says if anyone’s going to drink to it, she is.

“Call It What You Want” feels like a mid-s6 song to me, before Elena’s gotten her memories back, but when she’s beginning to realize just how lucky she is to have Damon back. She doesn’t fully understand it yet – “call it what you want” – but she knows somehow that despite everything, this is where she belongs: “And I know I make the same mistakes, every time / bridges burn I never learn / at least I did one thing right.” “You don’t need to save me, but would you run away with me” marks the decision to become human together.

“New Year’s Day” is sort of the perfect song for all the bookends of Damon and Elena’s story. First, “there’s glitter on the floor after the party…you and me from the night before”: her eighteenth birthday party, the first time she realized she loved him. “I stay when you’re lost and I’m scared and you’re turning away”: no matter what, they always survive. “I want your midnights”: the epic moments, the night of Miss Mystic Falls, the night at the motel, the night of the meteor shower thunderstorm – “but I’ll be cleaning up bottles with you on new year’s day”: the everyday moments, cooking and sitting together on the sofa and going to parent-teacher conferences. But midnight and new years day also symbolize the wild, powerful, heightened life of immortality and their peaceful, homey life with their family. The song ends on “there’s glitter on the floor after the party…you and me forevermore”: Alaric and Jo’s wedding, when they decided they’re going to get married and be human together.

#asks #delena #this is me admitting I need a music tag #dsotd #tvd #delena swift

16 notes · View notes

heather1815 · 6 years

Text

My little test subject: Chapter 12

Chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9, chapter 10, and chapter 11

Angsty Tomtord fic with slight Paultryk on the side.

Warning! This fic contains: Foul language, scenes of torture, use of medical tools, drug use, self-harm, suicidal tendencies, violence, self-neglect, blood, and a little bit of stockholm syndrome and force feeding. Viewer discretion is advised.

Done with his exercises for the day, Tom finished his shower and put on a new change of clothes. He was happy to see his old hoodie back, neatly folded over the sink, clean and fixed; good as new. It's been ages since he'd last seen it, when he was forced to take it off in favor for his new uniform, and Tom thought Tord had gone back on his word after their fight and threw the flimsy thing away.

It seems he was proven wrong about him.

After questioning, Paul explained to him that Tord wanted to have him accustomed to the uniform since that's what he will be wearing for most of the time during his permanent stay in the base. But because of his good behaviour during the Red leader's absence, Paul and Pat decided to give him his hoodie back. They figured Tom would want it, since it's the last thing he had to remember his past.

As he put it on, Tom couldn't be more thankful for the kind actions of the two soldiers. He was, quite frankly, tried of wearing the same boring uniform every day. The numbers that were engraved on the tag above his heart always made him feel like a prisoner, or someone inferior to everyone else around him.

Nevertheless, as Tom dressed himself he realized with a start that his hoodie felt somewhat tight on his form. Did they shrink it by accident? The two soldiers, although very nice and polite once he got to know them, weren't always the sharpest tool in the shed. Tom wouldn't be surprised if they did make some sort of mistake when washing it.

However, Tom quickly figured that, it wasn't the hoodie who had shrunk. He's the one who grew into it.

The last time he wore his old hoodie, Tom had been severely malnourished. His clothes hanged loosely around his frame, and hadn't been washed in a while.

Since then, Tom has been kept in a pretty strict diet, done various forms of exercise throughout his stay, and his form is in a much healthier state. Now his hoodie is clinging to his shape quite nicely, and Tom couldn't help but wrap his arms around himself; wistfully recalling his good old days.

"Tom, are you nearly done?"

A knock on the bathroom door, followed by Pat's voice, snapped him out of his brief moment of nostalgia.

"Yeah, hang on!"

Passing a towel through his hair to give it one last dry, Tom quickly adjusted to give off his usual spiky appearance, and walks out.

"Was I in there for too long?" He blurts out, nearly bumping straight into Patrick as he exits the bathroom.

"It's fine." The Polish soldier states, leading them out of the gym and into the hallways. "We're still within our schedule. After all, you must've been pretty tired after the bout of exercises you just did, so I wasn't going to rush you out of your shower." He continued. "Paul told me you did very well on your performance today. He was impressed."

Tom perked up a little. "Really?"

As his condition improved, so did the difficulty of Tom's exercises. At first, he started out with only simple stretches and some warm up rounds; nothing too hazardous for him at the time. But now that he is faring better, Paul would have him run laps around the gym, do pull ups, lift weight, and all kinds of workout tactics that took a lot out of Tom, and by the end he would be completely spent.

Tom wasn't entirely sure why he was expected to do all of this. Sure, to be in perfect condition for the experiments that he dreads so much, that's the main reason why he did these in the first place. But now that his condition is better, how come the exercises are a lot more intense? Tom's best guess is that they don't want to underestimate his improvement and want to keep him as best fit for the experiments as possible. But even that line of reasoning has flaws. His initial exercises were fine enough on their own, especially with the diet he's been kept on.

So why put so much emphasis on physical activities?

Tom tried straight up asking Paul, but the usually carefree soldier avoided his question and just dumped a bunch more exercises for him to do instead.

That certainly did its job in putting Tom off. He sure won't make the same mistake twice and ask him that again. Tom isn't keen on exerting himself more than necessary.

He decided to try his luck out with Pat. It can't possibly end worse than it did with Paul, and it is worth a shot.

"Oh yes!" Patrick nodded, continuing their conversation. "Although he admits you run out of breath quite easily, and you still struggle with some of the exercises, he told me that you have a lot of endurance and what you lack for in stamina, you make up for it in speed. Not bad if I say so myself." He went on. "With a few more weeks of practice, I am sure you'll be more at ease."

"Yeah, that's kind of what I wanted to ask about." Tom broke in, choosing his words so he won't set the Polish soldier off in the wrong way like he did with Paul earlier. "Why am I required to go through all of this? I get that's for my condition and all, but I feel this is all much too complicated just to keep me in shape."

Pat's demeanor changed, and his expression darkened slightly. Tom watched him wearily, waiting for a response and somewhat unsettled for the sudden mood reversal.

Patrick sighs. "I wish I could tell you, honestly I do." He shook his head. "But Red Leader would not share with us the reasoning behind this decision." Glancing back at Tom, he continued. "We send him updates regarding the improvement of your condition while he is away; his orders, you know? When we agreed that you were suitable enough to try out more complicated activities, Red Leader issued an order for us to do so until his return."

Tom frowned. "Seriously?" He asks incredulously. "Doesn't that seem kind of shady to you? Keeping secrets and sh#t?"

"Well, he is our leader." Pat points out with a matter-of-fact tone. "Although I agree that we should've been consulted before making a decision regarding this project, or whatever it is he has in store for you, as his loyal soldiers we must trust the judgement of our leader. He isn't stupid, after all. A bit rash at times, and reckless; certainly! But he knows what he's doing most of time."

"I wouldn't trust Tord so much if I wer-"

Tom's words died out as he broke off into a coughing fit. Pat stops and glances at him in concern.

"Thomas? Are you alright?" He approached the Brit. "I hope you're not getting sick again, or that'll be terrible." He placed the palm of his hand over his forehead, checking for his temperature.

Tom brushed him away. "I'm fine- it's just a sore throat."

Pat stared at him and then nodded his head in acknowledgement. "I'll make you some tea when we reach my study. That should fix it."

Tom glanced up at him with disappointment. "Tea?" He echoes. "You mean, no more of that juice I like?"

"Just for today." Pat suppressed a chuckle of amusement as he observes Tom pout, reminding him of a child who's been denied having ice cream before dinner.

Before long, they had reached the familiar oak wooden door. Patrick twisted the knob and stepped aside, letting Tom enter the cozy study first before following him in.

They made some small talk as Pat prepared their tea, mostly chatting about their drinking preferences, which progressively escalated into other topics; mostly morning routines and breakfast.

"No way!" Tom laughed, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Are you serious?"

"Trust me, sometimes I wished I was making this stuff up, but I'm not." Standing next to him, Pat shot him a glance while rummaging through the cupboard for teacups. "I swear, when those two are off-duty they behave like a pair of toddlers." He continues. "Thankfully their antics often fall more in the cute category rather than obnoxious. However, I admit it's difficulty at times to take their ranks seriously when I know what they're really like behind the curtains."

Chuckling, Tom swept a hand through his semi-dry locks. It's so odd to think just how much he's gotten used to the presence of the two soldiers, his environment, and day-to-day basis in general. It all felt natural to him now.

Tom theorized things would be a lot more different if Tord hadn't left, but he isn't going to contemplate what it could've been and instead he'll just enjoy what he got. Tom hopes things stay this way for a while longer, with Tord as far away as possible.

When all was set and done, Patrick handed him his tea and they returned to the study. Tom settled down on his usual leather seat, careful not to spill any of his beverage on himself or the expensive looking carpet. Across from him, Pat sits down on his own seat and pulls out his tablet and the delicately, thin glasses that he keeps in his breast pocket.

"So Tom, how are you feeling today?" He began.

The eyeless test subject sipped on the blue teacup; filled to the brim with steaming hot tea laced with honey, gently blowing on it so he would not accidentally burn his own tongue.

"I'm fine, I guess…" Tom muttered between the tiny sips he took from his tea.

"What about your withdrawal? Have you been feeling nauseous lately, or any other symptoms?" Patrick prompted, sitting back in his recliner chair with his reading glasses on, and typing on his tablet.

"A little. I haven't puked in a long while, so there's that." Tom shrugged, placing the tea down over the glass table that separated him and the Red Army General.

"How would you describe the overall experience?"

"Would not recommend." Tom jokes with a slight chuckle. He then paused. All traces of humor gone from his features, as his expression grew somber. "It was terrible." He answered quietly. "For the most part, it felt like someone was scraping my bones constantly or something." He murmured under his breath, his gaze drifting downward. "Or like, I don't know… spiders crawling through my veins, that have been simultaneously set on fire." He stopped, reframing himself from getting too carried away and spill unneeded information on his condition.

The worst sensation by far, is when that same fire goes out and leaves Tom with an empty, freezing feeling. It's what he'd imagine dying must be like. And just when he thought he'd gotten used to the cold, the fire ignites once more, and the process starts all over again. Going in and out of death repeatedly.

Living and dying…

"Don't get too ahead of yourself now…~"

A dark haze suddenly surrounded his mind and tainted his vision. Breathing out a tired sigh, Tom mustered all of his self-will to not flinch or react in any way at the unexpected, intrusive thought.

No. Not a thought…

But a voice.

The voice.

He was wondering when it would show its ugly presence back into his messed-up life. It would've been a matter of time anyway. Since he no longer has access to alcohol or anything sharp on standby, of course the voice would show up again sooner or later. Tom just wished he had more time to brace himself for this occasion.

Not now.

A cold, and yet amused chuckle echoed throughout his head, sending shivers down Tom's spine.

The voice is just that. A voice. It has no form, shape or appearance. However, it still feels very physical. Tom has gotten so used to its antics that he could detect its presence whenever it starts to act up, mostly because the atmosphere around him immediately gets tense until the voice quiets down again. It always gave Tom the impression that it was lingering somewhere behind him, hovering just a bit over his shoulder to whisper nasty remarks and sweet nothings into his mind; like a thought, drifting in the back of his head. And it sounds very reminiscent to the hiss of a snake, with poison dripping from each word it utters to burn, and brand onto his skin. The volume constantly fluctuates as well. A mere hushed whisper and a loud, booming shout at the same time. Not to mention that every word spoken by it felt like a different sensation running through him each time; ranging from the feeling of cold hands with sharp nails roaming along his body, to various methods of injury being inflicted on him. The amount of pain he would receive usually depending on what exactly the voice says.

It is a painful process that usually takes a lot out of him, especially back in the first few incidents. Now days, Tom barely reacts, if at all, when being administered with this mental torture. On the outside, he may be calm and collected. But on the inside, Tom felt he was cast in a dark room, strapped to a chair and relentlessly tortured. It's been a while since the last time he went through with this, sure, but a few months of its absence in his life is nothing compared to the years he had to endure with it in the first place.

And Tom has tried to get rid of it, in non-harmful tactics that is, before going to more extreme measures.

He knows it is not real.

There is no one behind him.

Nothing impaling or stabbing through him.

And there's definitely no intrusive, probing hands roaming over his body.

It's all just a figment of his head. Nothing more than a trick, crafted by his broken mind to play a sick joke on him. Of course he told himself those things!

But the comments the voice makes just get to him, growing increasingly more excruciating than the last.

After a while though, Tom just had to face the fact that the voice, whatever it really is, just isn't going away by mere use of logic, reason, or even wishful thinking.

Back to reality, Tom watched Patrick type something down in his tablet through half-lidded eyes, doing his best to ignore the mocking presence currently looming over him.

It's a shame that; whatever trace of good humor he had acquired during his previous talk with Pat, or even his earlier run of exercises, as tiring as they may be, with Paul, has been completely ruined by the voice's arrival.

"That was kind of a… morbid way to put it. But somewhat poetic as well." Pat commented, slightly baffled. "Are you a fan of poetry by any chance?"

"Me? Nah! Not really my thing." Tom shook his head. "But musician on the other hand-" He snapped his fingers. "That is more my area of expertise." He leaned back on his chair, deep in thought. "Back when I was in early high school, I used to write some tunes on my notebooks during class; mostly out of boredom. Then I would later play them with Susan."

Patrick continued to type as he talked. "Susan?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow and shooting him a curious glance. "Your girlfriend by any chance?"

A small laugh escaped the Brit. "My bass guitar." He corrected.

"My apologies." Pat bowed his head in understanding, typing another bullet point. "So you play the bass. And those tunes you mentioned, do you still play them?"

"On occasion." Tom replied with a shrug. "Susan is unfortunately kind of old, and has definitely seen better days. But I still love the old babe."

"How ironic! ~" The voice exclaims with a taunting tone. "You claim to love it, and yet you still let it get all broken up and mangled; not even bothering to properly repair it afterward. ~" It hissed harshly into his ear. "Is that any way to treat the ones you value? Use them however you want and then leave them broken? Like how you did with your friends…~"

Clenching his jaw so tight he was sure his teeth would shatter, Tom inwardly flinched at the remark.

Shut up!

"Did I touch a sore spot? ~" The voice continued to mock. A cold, phantom and yet tangible hand trailed upwards cross Tom's back. "Ops~"

His fingers curled inward until his knuckles turned white from the pressure.

"So you like music." Patrick commented, adjusting the glasses on his face and completely oblivious to Tom's discomfort. "When do you think this interest first developed?"

Tom wracked his brain for memories. "I think I might've been six-ish?" He replied, not too sure of himself. "My dad took me to see a music festival that was happening near town. Everything was so colorful, bright and loud back then it ended up making an impression on me." He recalled fondly, too busy remembering the details of his past to mind the lingering voice at the moment. "Ever since then, I wanted to get a guitar of my own really badly. But my parents weren't the best ones off financially, and dad dying worsened things…"

"His death is on you. It should not have happened. ~"The voice butted in to comment absentmindedly. Spectral limbs roamed along Tom's back and arms, tracing over his scars with pointy-sharp nails. Tom suppressed a shiver from rippling down his spine. "That was your fault. If you hadn't insisted on going fishing that day, your father would still be alive. It's your fault he is dead! ~" The intrusive hands did not halt their actions when Tom held back from crying out at the sudden, excruciating sensation of getting impaled through the chest.

"It wasn't until years later I finally managed to save up enough money to buy Susan." Tom went on, nearly choking in the process but managing to hold himself together despite the burning pain he felt in response to the voice's harsh remark. "And I practiced with her ever since."

"Interesting." Finishing his last bullet point, Pat clasped his hands together. "Now Tom, I would like to go a little off topic for a moment. If you wouldn't mind, I think discussing this next issue could be beneficial for you."

Tom raised one of his eyebrows quizzically. "Okay?" He grew even more weary when more phantom limbs joined the first pair and massaged his arms. Tom tried his damn hardest not to shiver, but the hairs on the back of his neck and along his arms stood up uncomfortably. If the voice had a shape, Tom suspects it would be grinning insanely right about now.

Patrick sighed. Here goes nothing.

"Let's talk about your friendships."

Tom's reaction to the request was immediate. At once, Pat noticed Tom's feet tap anxiously against the carpeted floor. The Brit had folded his arms; a sign of defensiveness, and his black sockets looked at anywhere but him. Patrick noted down these reactions, filing them under a separate bullet point.

"Thomas?"

"Is that really necessary? I mean, what benefit will that give you in your experiments? Absolutely nothing in the end, let's be real here." Tom began to argue, feeling the presence lurking up behind him grip his shoulders tightly with a different set of hands. "Not to mention that I don't wanna talk about it." He mumbled that last part quietly.

Pat had expected this would happen. "Tom."

"And while we're at it, what is the point of this mental evaluation business?" The Brit continued, going on a rant. "I highly doubt you gave the previous test subjects that kind of treatment, so what makes me so special? And I am positively certain that, whatever my state of mind is, it won't affect anything in the experiments so it just seems like a gigantic waste of time and effort on your part." He argued defensively, attempting to evade the brought-up subject.

"I am simply heeding Red Leader's orders." Patrick responds calmly, looking at Tom with patient eyes. "I know how hard all of this is for you." He gestured to his surroundings.

Duh! Tom narrowed his eyes. You don't even know the half of it! He felt the tight pressure build on his shoulders as the presence continuously towered over him.

"But I need your collaboration here, for your own wellbeing."

The voice barked out a cruel laugh. "Wellbeing? That's just a cute way of saying that they need you to be their obedient little subject for the sake of their world domination plans. ~" As it spoke, Tom felt it grip the back of his scalp tightly, and pull, creating an awful pressure in his head. Tom did not have much time to dwell on it, when he sensed another phantom hand snake around his neck and repeatedly tap the side of his throat with sharp nails. "After all, why would anyone in their right mind care for whatever happens to you, unless it benefited them? ~"

Tom took a deep breath, trying to keep himself calm and ignore all the uncomfortable sensations running through him right now. "I just- I really don't wanna talk about this."

"Is this about Tord?" Pat's question cut through him. "If that's the case, you can leave him out-"

"No! It's not about him!" Tom protested, and then paused. "Well, it kind of is. But that's not the point I'm trying to make here!"

Leaning forward in his seat, Patrick stared at him from across the coffee table. "Then what is?" His honeyed green eyes blinked sympathetically.

Glancing away and still fidgeting in his seat, Tom breathed out an exasperated sigh. "Just- just everything!" He cried. "I miss them a lot, Pat. I miss them so much, and it hurts to even think about them, let alone talk!" Tom blurted out, using every ounce of strength within himself to maintain calm. "How can you possibly expect me to just forget everything that happened so far, and just talk about them as if there's nothing wrong?" From behind, he practically could feel the entity smirk. "Aww, are you about to cry? ~" It mocked him. Something pointy and sharp wandered over his shoulder blades. "You're so weak, and pathetic! Can't even handle your own problems properly! ~" It continued to hiss into Tom's head. "But I admit; It is highly amusing to watch you struggle. ~"

Patrick blinked perplexed. He'd already guessed the Brit's feelings on the subject, but to hear them being confirmed out loud by Tom himself was an improvement. It was clear that Tom has grown to trust him, and Paul as well. Of course, it's not all sunshine and lollipops for the three of them; Tom tends to argue with them once in a while, but Pat and Paul have spent far too much time with their leader to be troubled by Tom's stubbornness. Still, the last thing Patrick wants to do right now is break this carefully built trust.

Pat's gaze softened, sensing his discomfort. "Keeping these feelings to yourself won't do you any good either." He murmured, choosing his words carefully to gently coax the eyeless man to follow his line of thinking. "I am by no means demanding you to outright tell me everything. It is only natural to keep things to yourself in an environment such as this, and in your situation. I understand, believe me I do. Take your time, and go at your own pace." Pat reassured him. "Speak what you can, even if it's the tiniest detail or seems to be insignificant to you. Trust me, by the end you might feel a little more relieved."

"I- I can't."

"You won't know for certain unless you give a try." Pat added.

Before Tom could fully process his words, he felt the pressure on his scalp be released, and the spectral limb move downward to grab a firm grip of the back of his neck, while the other hand that had been poking the side of his throat went unusually still. Tom knows all too well at this point that this is a warning sign to watch for what he is about to say next.

Breathing in a shaky sigh, Tom composed himself. I-I can do this. He echoed, already beginning to feel upset at the mere idea of what he is about to reflect on.

Tom hasn't spoken one word about his friends since his first day in the facility. But perhaps Pat's words hold some truth to them? Maybe he can relieve a little bit of the burden haunting him by calling out to fonder memories? I can do this! He thought decisively."W-we met in kindergarten."

"Uhum?"

"I think it might've been one of my first days." Tom recalled. "I was really nervous and excited, but mostly terrified."

"Any reason in particular?" Pat questions, not looking up from his tablet.

The Brit shrugged. "I was a tad bit shy in my younger years. I wanted to make friends really badly, but I had no idea how to do it." He replied. "I didn't go out a whole lot before starting school, or had much contact with the outside world; so to be suddenly thrown in a strange environment with lots of other kids was overwhelming at the start."

"I see." Pat murmurs with a tiny nod. He was surprised by the Brit's statement. He would've never suspect Tom of ever being shy. "Please continue."

Tom sighed, flexing his fingers to relieve his hold on the chair's arms. Images flashed in his brain, reminding him of two very important people he was forced to leave behind. Pain stabbed Tom's heart; for once, not induced by the voice, but homesickness. It hurt nonetheless, far more than any blade could possibly inflict on him.

"We were in the classroom, just messing around doing kid stuff…"

(Flashback!)

Inside a colorful classroom, various children played together. Shrills of excitement filled place as the young toddlers participated in different activities. Some played tag, others played with dolls and toys, and a few other kids were quietly scribbling on a blank sheet of paper with crayons.

Among the group of quiet kids, a boy with spiky hair and black, empty eyes, furiously scrawled on a piece of paper he grabbed from the teacher's desk. His brows are furrowed and his tongue is subconsciously poking out of his mouth in deep concentration.

He pauses to admire his work, nodding in silent approval at his progress before resuming. "Something is missing…" He observed with a pensive hum, looking at the crude drawing of him and his family, smiling together as they skipped around in a meadow. "Of course! It needs more colors!"

He stretched out his hand towards the red plastic crate, stocked full of various art supplies, next to him and randomly grabbed any crayon he could reach. Adding it to his drawing he quickly switched to a different one, swapping colors repeatedly throughout the whole process.

Blowing away the tiny specks of crayon that lingered on the paper, the child picked up his drawing. "That's better!" He exclaims. "Now I just need one more color…" He reached for the crate again, expecting his fingers to wrap around the familiar, small object of his choosing.

Imagine his surprise when his hand met something warm and clammy instead.

The child jumped in his seat in surprise at the unexpected contact. He whipped his head, his gaze landing on a boy, looking as equally as startled as he is, standing next to him by the crate of art supplies.

"Sorry!" He blurts out, tearing his hand away from the other kid with a small tinge of crimson coating his cheeks in embarrassment.

The other boy looks down at his hand, curious more than anything. His gaze swerves back to meet with the child's eyeless ones. "It's ok." He answers softly.

The kid in question is a tall boy with brown hair, brown eyes, round facial structure, and fair white complexion. He's wearing a short-sleeved, bright green shirt, with a dark shirt underneath with longer sleeves poking out, beige shorts, and green shoes.

They stared shyly back at each other.

The boy in green rocked on his feet. "Can I take a few things please?" He asks, fumbling with his hands and briefly motioning toward the crate.

"Sure!" The eyeless child nodded toward the crate. "Just- please don't take any of the crayons. I'm using them, ok?"

"I won't." The brown-haired boy nodded, and started to rummage through the art supplies. With that out of the way, the spiky-haired boy turned away and resumed with his drawing; watching the other boy leave through the corner of his vision. He thought that was the end of it, and he would just go back to his not-so-quiet solitude.

But that was not the last he'd seen of him.

Throughout the whole course of the day, the boy clad in green kept returning to take something else out of the crate; looking increasingly more chipper each time he did. The eyeless child at first simply tried ignoring him, but his curiosity increased, and every time he dropped by, he would find himself peaking at the other boy. Strangely enough, he noticed overtime that the brunet was getting messier with each visit. Colourful smudges stained the boy's hands and clothes.

It was when he returned again, this time with a purple stain on the bottom-left of his cheek, that the eyeless child decided to quell his curiosity.

He pretended to be drawing, busying himself as he watched the brunet sideways. The boy was rummaging through the crate again and picked out two jars of paint, before hurriedly leaving the room; occasionally shooting worried glances at the teacher, who was too busy settling a quarrel between two crying girls to really notice him sneaking out.

The eyeless child seized the chance and followed suit. He stored his drawing away in his bag before heading out of the room.

He stepped out of the classroom and found himself in a dim corridor, just in time to see a pair of green shoes disappear around the corner and into the boys' restroom. He hurriedly toddled after, both eager and curious to see what the brunet was up to. Of course, he could just be doing what any other sane person does when going to the restroom. But if that's the case, why was he bringing a bottle of paint with him? Something fishy was going on…

The eyeless toddler grew even more confused when he heard laughter and voices coming from the other side of the restroom door.

Opting not to beat around the bush any longer, the unusual looking toddler pushed the door open.

Truth be told, he wasn't sure what he was expecting to find in there. Was the brunet pulling some sort of prank with the jars of paint, and was anticipatively waiting for some poor fool to wander into the stalls? Just when the eyeless child seriously began to consider in turning back, he froze on the spot; stumbling into the scene before him.

Colourful splatters of paint tainted the white tiled walls, even the floor and mirrors. The giggles are louder now as he stepped farther into the room, until he came across the brunet at the end of the bathroom hall, accompanied by an accomplice. A boy with pale skin, round blue eyes, and bright, well-groomed ginger hair, wearing a baggy purple hoodie, jeans, and purple sneakers sat next to the brunet; looking just as messy as him with stains all over his clothes.

Jars of paint littered by their knees where they sat. The spiky-haired boy watched wide eyed as the brunet dipped his hand into one of the bottles, scooping a handful of blue paint before splattering the white walls.

"See this?" The boy in green pressed his against the wall and smeared the paint all over it. "I'm making the sea!"

The ginger boy clapped excitedly, bouncing on his knees as he watched the display. "Oh! I know! I'm going to draw a huuuge mountain over here!" He proclaims, folding back the sleeves of his hoodie to dip his hand into the jar of black paint. "And with a beautiful forest at the bottom too! Lots of trees and pretty flowers-"

"And animals too! Don't forget about the animals!" The brunet piped in, wiping the paint off his hand on his own shirt.

"Of course n- oh!" The ginger boy stiffens mid-dip into the green jar, his eyes fixed on the peculiar child just standing there, mouth agape in awe as he watched them.

The brunet noticed his companion's reaction and halts. "What?" He turns around, following his line of sight. He perked up in surprise when he saw who it was, and smiled. "Oh hey, you're the kid with the crayons!"

With a tiny, barely audible gasp the eyeless boy steps back and adverts his gaze, fumbling with the straps of his overalls.

"Hello!" The ginger boy waves at him, bursting with glee in an over-exaggerated manner.

The child with spiky hair shyly waves back. "H-hi." He slowly lifts his head back up. "What- what are you doing?" He stutters quietly, almost hesitant to get the question out.

"We're painting!" The brunet replies, gesturing to the smudged wall behind them.

"In the bathroom?" The eyeless boy cocks his head to one side. "The teacher has lots of paper on her desk. If you want I could go and get a few for you-"

"No thanks, we're ok with the wall. There's plenty of space to draw this way!" The child in green responds dismissively. "Hey! Do you wanna paint with us?"

"M-me?!"

"Yes you!" The brunet laughed. "Come on, there's lots of colours to go around and a bunch of space to use."

"And it's real fun too!" The ginger kid added with a wide grin.

Shuffling his feet, the peculiar looking child silently contemplated. These two boys seem very nice and friendly so far, and he'd never been invited to participate in any of the activities by the other kids. He didn't show it much but he was legitimately excited to join them. And the white wall behind them does look very tantalizing to paint on.

"Ok!" He smiles, all previous signs of shyness gone, and he skips over to join the others.

Together, they began to paint the bathroom walls, turning everything from top to bottom into a ginormous mess. An explosion of colours blended into a deformed rainbow of sorts. The three young boys giggled and laughed along with their fun, occasionally showing off their artwork to one another. Various bottles of paint were left open, some even tipped over and scattered all over the floor.

The eyeless child scooped up a load of red paint into his hand, and using just one of his fingers, drew a long line into the white tiles; doing countless swirls, loops, dips, going up and down, left and right, and all over the place.

"Woah!" The brunet watched in awe, kneeling next to him with a dumbfounded expression. "What is it?"

The eyeless boy stepped back with a grin. "A rollercoaster!" He states proudly. "I'm making a theme park!"

"Cool!"

"Hey guys, check out my drawing!" The ginger child calls out to them, gesturing towards his somewhat crummy drawing of a castle.

"Neato!" The bright, eyeless child commented.

"Is there a princess that lives there?" The boy dressed in green prompted.

"Nope! But there is a very beautiful prince!" The ginger goes on, puffing his chest and striking a pose. He raised his chin with a grin. "A wonderful, charming, and very handsome prince-" As he ranted proudly, he lifted one of his hands up to his hair to run it through his striking ginger locks, forgetting that his hands were stained with fresh paint.

"Wait!"

"No don't-!"

The boys tried to stop him, but it was too late. The grimy hand swept through the ginger's hair, tainting it in paint.

"-Who was loved by his, uh, what are they called again? Subjets? No, that's not quite right. Hm." As he continued to contemplate his words, he just kept fumbling with his own hair, creating an even bigger mess. The brunet boy bit his lips, trying to hold in a giggle. The eyeless child stifled a gasp and watched the mess unfold with a gaping mouth. The ginger snapped his fingers, recognition flashing in his blue eyes. "That's right, peasants! He was dearly loved by his peasants!" He paused, taking notice of his friends' reaction. "What?"

"Uhh-"

The ginger rubbed his head in confusion, staring at his companions until reality finally hit him. His eyes widened with shock at the realization, and he stiffened. Slowly he brought his hand down, his hand trembling, looking almost like a scene from a horror movie as he looked back at his paint-tainted hand with despair.

The brunet and the eyeless boy exchanged a worried glance.

"Are you ok-?"

In a fraction of a second, the ginger child rushed past them, heading toward the nearest mirror. He froze once his eyes landed on the dark, smudgy mess that were once luscious orange locks and he shrieked in horror.

"My hair! My beautiful hair! What have I done to you?!" He cried out, grasping the sink with desperation. "Oh no what am I going to do?! My mom is going to kill me!" He gasps, dropping to his knees. "What if I have to cut all of my hair off?!" And with that, the waterworks let loose and he started to cry. "I don't wanna be bald!"

The two boys stood there and watched the ginger sob to his knees, looking concerned but unsure of what to do in this situation.

The eyeless boy rubbed one of his own shoulders, shuffling on his feet. "Should I get the teacher?" He offered.

The brunet's brown eyes brightened and a smile etched onto his face. "No. Stay here with him, I'll be right back!" With no further explanation on whatever it is he's got planned, he bolted out of the bathroom, the door swinging close behind him.

Left alone with the sobbing child, the eyeless boy nervously approached him. He shakily places a hand on the ginger's shoulder and started to pat him in a soothing motion. "It's ok. Everything is going to be ok, don't you worry." Rather than calming him, his words had the opposite effect and the boy clad in purple sobbed more. The eyeless boy stared at him in dismay. "C'mon don't be like that. Your hair isn't even that bad. If anything, I even think it looks cool on you."

Sniffling, the ginger kid risked a glance at him. "Do yo- do you really mean that?"

"Well yeah, of course I d- ARGH!" His words died out when the ginger suddenly enveloped him in a tight hug, his face buried into his chest as he continued to cry. The peculiar looking child wasn't used to hugs, let alone coming from people he hardly knows. Still, he tried his best to console the sad kid dressed in purple. He slowly wrapped his arms around him and patted him on the back. "There there."

The bathroom door swung open as the brunet returned, smiling widely from ear to ear. The eyeless child's expression turned from relief at the sight of him, to confusion when he noticed what he was wielding in his hands.

"What are those for?" He asked quizzically, nodding toward the set of tools the brunet brought with him. A mop. A plunger. And a broom.

Rather than answering him, the brunet threw the items onto the floor, keeping the plunger while he twirled it in his hand. The eyeless boy's furrowed further in confusion. Just what is this guy up to? Even the ginger halted his crying to peek at the scene.

The brunet shot them both a wink, and cleared his throat. "Hear ye hear ye, tragic has befallen the beloved prince!" He announces loudly, as if he were revealing news to a big crowd. "The handsome prince has been cursed by an, uh-"

"An evil witch!" The eyeless boy exclaims, catching onto the brunet's antics and going along with his act. The ginger looked at him with teary blue eyes. "An evil, and very ugly witch!" He went on. "Who was jealous of the handsome prince's beauty."

While he spoke, the boy dressed in green scooped up a bit of red paint and started to doodle on one of the mirrors. "That's right! And now it is up to us-" He backed away, showcasing his exaggerated drawing of a witch. He gestured toward the boy with spiky hair. "-the knights, to defeat the evil witch and break the prince's curse!"

Jumping into action, the unusual looking child pulled away from the still visibly upset ginger kid, and grabbed a hold of the broom. "You'll pay for what you did you mean, old thing!" He vows, aiming the broom at the mirror.

"I'll- I'll fight too." Sniffling, the ginger cracked a small smile and rose to his feet, clearing away the remaining tears clouding his vision. He grabbed the mop.

"Attack!"

With a battle cry, the boy dressed in green charged. Plunger in hand, he stabbed the rubber head onto the mirror, directly onto the witch's face. "Take that!" He laughed victoriously. He tried to pull the plunger out but found it firmly stuck onto the reflective surface. "Oh no, the evil witch set up a trap! And I fell for it!" He cried out, gripping onto the plunger and trying to pull away.

It released with a loud 'pop' sound, making the brunet stagger back in surprise with the force of the pull. In doing so, his feet slipped over the paint drenched floor and he fell onto his back, staining himself in various colours of paint, mixed together.

"I've been hit!" The brunet boy cried out. "Avenge me, friends!" With his last words, he closed his eyes and played dead, sticking his tongue out for dramatic effect.

"No!" The ginger wailed in distress, seeing the body of his fallen companion. He whipped around to face the witch in the mirror. "You may destroy my good looks, but no one hurts my friend and gets away with it!"

Using all his strength, he swung the mop toward the mirror, hoping to strike a hit on the mirror witch. However, it missed its mark a few centimeters too short and hit the sink instead, knocking the tap off and causing water to erupt. The ginger yelled in alarm when the water splashed him square in the face, the strong torrent forcing him to back away.

"My face!" He gagged through a mouthful of water.

"I'll save you!" The eyeless child shouts, running up to the mirror which now contained the deformed drawing of the witch; smudged due to previous attacks. Wielding the broom, he swung it down hard with all of his strength, smashing the mirror with the blunt end of his weapon. The glass shattered into various fragments, distorting the reflection.

The child grinned. "I did it! I got the witch!" He cheered victoriously.

"My hair!" Whirling around he saw the ginger, completely soaking wet, standing before the untouched area of the mirror with relief and admiration in his blue eyes. "My beautiful hair is back! Look!" Running his fingers through his wet hair repeatedly, he appreciated the vibrant soggy orange locks, now spotlessly clean from any evidence of paint. "Woah, I forgot how beautiful I looked." He grinned and cupped his own cheeks, peering into his reflection.

The brunet staggered to his feet, his clothes entirely smudged in paint. "We did it! We broke the curse!" His green eyes gleamed with triumph. "And we restored the prince's beauty!"

"Hurray!"

They cheered simultaneously, celebrating their success.

But it was short lived.

"Uh guys? What are we gonna do about all of this?" The ginger points out hesitantly, gesturing towards the ruined bathroom.

There is paint splattered all over the walls and floor, water gushing out of a broken sink, a shattered mirror, and their own dishevelled appearances.

"Oh." The trio stared at the results of their mess with wide-eyed blank faces.

The eyeless boy turned toward the two. "That was a lot a fun though!"

"Yeah."

Almost before they were done speaking, the sound of low giggles could be heard. The boy with spiky hair whirled around in confusion, only to realize that the brunet was shaking next to him with suppressed laughter, which he tried very hard to keep down. But his chuckles increased to light-hearted chortling that filled the room. The ginger and the eyeless children shared mutual expressions of bewilderment. But the brunet's laughter was just so contagious and enjoyable that, in the end, they couldn't help but laugh along with him. And looking back at the mess they created, it was kind of hard to stop it.

Their laughter abruptly came to an end when a shrill of absolute horror rang throughout the room.

"What have the three of you done?!"

Immediately the three boys snapped their gazes toward the bathroom door, where the teacher stood, completely dismayed at the scene. "The bathroom is in ruins! Just what do you think you're doing?!"

The three of them looked at one another with smiling faces.

"Painting!"

"Fighting off an evil witch!"

"Washing my hair!"

The boys got into a whole lot of trouble.

They were taken to the principal's office immediately after the scandal, where they were forced to wait after class for their parents to come and pick them up.

The eyeless boy fumbled with the straps of his overalls anxiously. How will his parents react to the mess he made? Will they get mad at him? They aren't the type of parents who get angry very easily. In fact, he doesn't even remember the last time he'd seen them angry. At most he fears they will be more disappointed in him more than anything for getting into trouble so soon after getting into Kindergarten.

He sat between his accomplices, the brunet to his right and the ginger to his left. The brunet was unusually quiet, staring at the ground and whistling a soft tune, but not looking particularly upset. The ginger was looking upbeat, fidgeting in his seat and rocking his legs back and forth with a grin. He looked so untroubled despite their situation, even though his mother is already inside at this very moment talking to the principle.

"So, is this a normal situation for you two?" The eyeless child spoke up, attempting to make a small talk to relieve himself from the tension.

The boys dressed in purple and green reply. "Yup!"

"But it's not just the two of us." The brunet continued. "We have another friend who participates on our games as well. He was supposed to be here for the bathroom painting, but he got sick and couldn't come. I think you would've liked him! He's pretty quiet, but lots of fun once you get to know him!"

"He talks a little funny though." The ginger added.

"But you are pretty fun to play with too!" The brunet commented, throwing a brief glare toward the ginger before turning back to the eyeless boy. "I don't think I've seen you around before. Are you new?"

"Ye-yeah." He stammered shyly, fumbling with his own hands.

The ginger emitted a loud gasp, his hands rising up to his own face cupping his cheeks with wide eyes. "Does this mean you got no friends?" He asks with shock on his face. Before the eyeless boy could answer him, he was enveloped in a hug and had his face shoved against the ginger's chest. The arms wrapped around him tightly and he suffocated rather quickly. "Oh you sweet poor thing!"

"I-I can't breathe!" The eyeless boy choked, trying to pull away from the ginger.

"Matt, let him go. You're squashing him!" The brunet scolds.

"Oops! Sorry!" The ginger quickly lets him go, throwing him an apologetic look.

Right at that moment, the door to the principal's office swung open. A tall woman with dark ginger hair, wearing a purple dress and high-heels strolled out with her hands on her hips. "Unbelievable! Never have i heard such audacity!" She rants angrily. "My sweet little angel would never do such a thing! Isn't that right, Matthew?"

On cue, the ginger boy threw a cheeky little grin, and made the cutest face conceivable to mankind. His mother instantly fell for his act of innocence, and she grabbed his hand with a smile. "See? I knew you were a good boy."

The eyeless boy watched perplexed. No wonder the ginger wasn't afraid of getting a scolding, he got his parents wrapped around his finger!

"Now, let's head home sweetheart." The woman cooed. "It's getting late, and I'll prepare your favourite meal for dinner."

"Hurray!" The ginger cheers with glee. As he walked away with his mother, he glanced back over his shoulder and waved at his friends. "Bye guys!"

"Bye!"

"Goodbye Matt!"

"Matt?" The eyeless boy cocks his head, echoing the name.

Just then it suddenly dawned on the brunet that they forgot to introduce themselves to each other, despite their amazing adventure today.

"Yeah! His name is Matt. And I'm Edd!" The boy dressed in green, Edd, finally introduced himself. "What's your name?"

"It's Thomas."

"Thomas, I'm calling you Tom for short. Is that ok?" The peculiar looking toddler nods with a grin. "We had great fun today, didn't we?"

"Yeah, but the principal does seem awfully mad at us for what we did." Tom murmured, hugging himself.

"You'll get used to it. He is always a grump." Edd reassured him dismissing any worries. "Wait until our next big adventure!"

Tom blinked at him, genuinely taken back by his last comment. "O-our bi- our next big adventure?" He stuttered confusedly, as if the words had gotten stuck in his throat and he choked to get them out. "As in, you guys… and me?"

Edd laughed. Not a mocking type of laughter, but more like a light-hearted chuckle. "Of course!" He nudged Tom. "You are one of us now!" He suddenly turned serious, and grabbed a hold of Tom's face; squeezing his cheeks. "And don't think about getting out of it. There's no turning back now. Ok?"

"Ok?"

"Good!" Edd brightened up again, as if nothing happened.

Right at that moment a couple walks out of the principal's office, and without a word the woman beckons Edd to come along.

"I gotta go now." Edd jumps from his seat, grabs his bag and hurries off after his parents. He glanced back at Thomas over his shoulder and continuously waved him goodbye. "Bye Tom!"

"Goodbye!" Tom waves back.

"I'll see you Monday!"

"See yah!"

Watching his new-found friend leave from a distance, Tom breathed out a sigh and slumped against his chair. Despite being nervous for landing on the principal's office so soon after he just started kindergarten, and how his parents might react, Tom couldn't help but feel content.

He found friends! Sure they are a little weird, but they're also so energetic, cheerful and creative.

He can't wait to see them again! Who knows what kind of trouble they'll get themselves in next time?

A comfortable silence fell over the study as Tom finished telling his story. He kept his distant gaze fixed intently at the ground. A sad little smile on his face as he slowly fumbled with his own hands, trying absentmindedly to distract himself from the overflowing emotions coursing through him, however pointless it may seem.

On the outside, Tom appeared to be calm and collected, doing his best not to shed any tears as he recalled on the fond memories of his childhood. However, on the inside is a different matter altogether.

Tom felt shackled, his movements restrained as the sensation of various cold, spectral hands holding on to him in a tight grip, and keeping him down. What once used to be at least five hands grabbing him at first, now seems like hundreds. It felt hard to breathe. Tom could never tell if this was consequence of the overwhelming emotions he'd repressed for so long consuming him as he acknowledged them out loud, or the many hands constricting him all at once. As if all of that wasn't enough, there are blades littered all over his backside. Plunged deep and sticking out of his body like a set of spikes; courtesy of the voice's many words of wisdom. Each new wound added to the collection whenever the voice would make a nasty remark or impute a hurtful comment in the situation.

Tom is in a lot of pain. Emotional, but painful nonetheless. As much as he is writhing and crying out in pain on the inside, Tom could never show it on the outside. Tom doesn't want to appear weak in front of others, especially his captors; no matter how friendly they may be. But most importantly, it was mainly about Edd and Matt.

I don't want to worry them. Is always his reasoning. They have other stuff to worry about, they don't deserve another burden to take care of. Tom has had a lot of training in the past, controlling his facial expressions and behaviour to never let show any obvious signs of discomfort or pain. No one should know.

Across from him, Patrick quietly typed on his tablet. Tom tried to read his facial expression through half-lidded eyes, but couldn't decipher what exactly the soldier was thinking at the moment.

"I see." Pat murmured quietly. His tone of voice is soft, while his eyes held a glint of humour in them; possibly entertained by the story he just witnessed. "The three of you definitely sound like a handful!"

"Yeah, we sure were." Tom spoke softly under his breath as grief stabbed his heart. Memories flooded Tom so powerfully that he could hardly breathe, and guilt seared his body.

Taking off his glasses, Pat put the tablet down on his lap. "How do you feel now that you let some emotional baggage out of your chest?"

Well, ain't that the million dollar question of the day. Although doubtful at the start, Tom did feel relief once he started talking about Edd and Matt, how they met, and the impact that it had on his life. However, the whole experience and meaning behind the moment was completely tarnished by the voice relentlessly torturing him. Sure it felt good to talk about what's on his mind aloud, but to keep remembering the awful things he's done in the process made it difficult to balance an exact emotion.

"Good." Was what Tom went with, nodding his head slightly with his lips pursed in a thin line.

Patrick's eyebrows furrowed in suspicion, staring back at Tom through narrowed eyes. "Is everything alright? You seem pretty quiet." He observed.

Tom suppressed a shiver as anxiety spiked through him. "I'm okay." He replied as casually as possible, ignoring the pain he felt rippling on his side. "Just uh- It's just hard, you know, to get so much out of my chest like this. Especially after everything that's happened."

For a moment he believed he managed to fool him. Patrick's expression softened and he regarded him with sympathy. However, before Tom was even given the chance to sigh in relief, Pat spoke up again.

"I can see you are bothered by something. Clearly in discomfort. You know you got nothing to worry about in here. I won't tell anything of this to Red Leader, not even to Paul."

Tom blinked in bewilderment. "What do you mean? I already said I'm fine. It's just the topic that's a little hard to get through, that's all-"

"Tom."

He flinched at the sound of his name. Afraid where this conversation could potentially lead up to, Tom stared at the ground and shuffled his feet around in apprehension, unable to meet Pat's gaze which he could feel borrowing into him.

"Is something going on with you, that you're not telling?"

Tom took a deep breath at that, attempting his best to keep his composure calm at the face of near-revelation. He numbly shook his head with a tiny shrug.

"You know if there's anything wrong you can tell me, right? Or Paul if you are more comfortable with." Patrick's words were so soothing, Tom couldn't help but to flicker his gaze back up to look at him. He was startled with the amount of patience and understanding he found staring back at him from honeyed, kind green eyes. "Despite what you may believe, we do really care about you. So if you are having problems with anything at all, we will do our best to help you- within reason, of course."

A flush of warmth washed over Tom at his words, genuinely touched by the offer. Something flourished inside of him. A small speck of light ignited; bright and warm, that relaxed Tom's tensed muscles and soothed his soul. Hope.

It seems so easy- so within reach. To finally confide in someone of all his problems, his fears, what he's been enduring on his own this whole time, and just how there is something seriously wrong with him. Tom longed so much for the chance to finally admit his problems, but dreaded all the same. How would they take it?

Patrick seems like a trustworthy guy, he hasn't done anything truly harmful to Tom since his arrival. Not once has Pat ever lost his temper when dealing with him, he's a good listener, and seems to know exactly what to do in most situations. He'll understand him, surely? Pat already appears to be so insistent in helping, maybe he can find a solution to Tom's problem.

He won't have to keep quiet about this anymore. He can be free of this burden!

With hope soaring in his chest, Tom felt a burst of determination to speak.

"You don't honestly believe he cares about you, do you? ~"

At once, Tom stiffens and his muscles tensed with apprehension. His words died instantly in his mouth. He'd forgotten that the voice was still active. The phantom arms that still encircled him tightened their possessive grip, while three others slithered upwards; two of them constricting around his throat until it became impossible to breathe, while the other one latched over his mouth, as if to stop him from speaking.

"Have you forgotten who this man is? What his motives are? And more importantly, who he works for? ~" The voice reasoned harshly, as if scolding a petulant child. "He doesn't care about you. This little therapy-play the two of you put up is nothing more than his job. Don't you think he would rather be anywhere else other than stuck here with you, hearing you moaning about everything? He probably has better things to do with his time. If it weren't for Tord ordering him so, he wouldn't waste his time with you. ~"

Tom trashed wildly under the constraining hold on him trying to bury him alive, desperately tugging on the limbs wrapped around his neck to free himself. You're wrong! He objected futilely. Why would he bother hanging out with me then? Commie wouldn't have ordered that!

The voice tutted with mock sympathy. "You poor fool, that's only to gain your trust. ~"

Tom stopped struggling.

"If you trust them, you'll be more willing to abide to their commands. They are using you. ~"

Chilling cold claws gripped his insides and twisted them hard. Tom doubled over and clutched himself in pain with a startling cry. Amidst his suffering, Tom tried to cast a glance at Patrick through the thick, darkened haze that surrounded his vision. He seems so innocent… Could it be he's been playing him all along?

Tom doesn't wanna believe it, but he can't deny the possibility sounds plausible.

"Besides, if this man truly does care for you, why would you freely dump all your problems onto him like that? Hasn't it occurred to you that he already has his own problems to deal with? ~" The voice pointed out casually. "The world doesn't revolve around you. People have issues they got to deal with on their own, and it's not fair for him, or anyone else for that matter, for you to throw your baggage at them! ~" A spear stabbed through Tom's back, poking out of his chest. The scream that ripped out of his throat was drowned by the spectral limbs clamping his mouth shut. The agonizing sensation of fire, static, and ice shot through him all at once and left him nearly breathless against the tightness still wrapped around his throat.

"Are you selfish enough you would willingly cause another person to suffer for your problems? ~"

Back in reality, Tom stared at Patrick with hidden dismay while in an inner conflict with himself. The determination he once had was annihilated by the voice, along with the spark of hope that it brought. It would be so easy to blurt out something- anything in regards to his situation. But Tom couldn't get the words he needed out his mouth, try as he might. The invisible hand lodged over his mouth refused to let him speak up, and the other two around his throat just tightened even more until Tom was out of oxygen.

Breathing out a tired sigh, Tom accepted defeat. "There's nothing wrong." He replied solemnly, his gaze cast downwards. "It's been a long day, that's all."

Tom felt a cruel hand comb through his hair with sharp nails. "Good boy! ~" The voice praised him with a mocking purr.

The dark haze in his vision cleared away, returning to normal. The various limbs wrapped around his body, holding Tom down, released him. Tom's shoulders sagged, relieved that the voice finally quieted down and that the horrible experience was over.

For now, anyway.

"Then I guess we can conclude our session for today." Patrick put away his glasses and placed the tablet down. He stood up from his seat, and made his way toward Tom. "I have to return to my duties now. Will you be fine heading back to your quarters on your own?"

"I'll be okay." Tom nodded numbly.

Patrick followed him out the study. "I'll have Paul bring your dinner later. Do you want anything in particular?"

Tom shrugged. "Not really. So as long there isn't any meat included."

"Fish or chicken, I know."

The two briskly parted ways; their interaction vastly different from what it once was earlier. Tom made the long walk back to his quarters in silence, practically dragging himself along with sluggish movements and a bleak expression on his face. His head is pounding, and he felt drained of energy. I'm so tired…

The immense, empty corridors of the lab level seemed to stretch on forever; when really, all it takes is a few turns to reach his destination. And yet, Tom struggled along his journey with some difficulty. The voice consumes a lot of energy out of him in order to manifest itself. Although neither it or any of the phantom limbs are around to bother him right now, the mental wounds left behind are still fresh and stinging.

Tom almost felt like a warrior, and not in the glorious or courageous type. He felt as if he just went to fight in a huge war, but instead of slaying his enemies he was the punching bag- a distraction to advert all the fire toward himself and getting most of the damage out of it. Now here he is, dragging himself pitifully back home, littered from top to bottom with wounds, and he is bleeding all over the place; leaving behind a trail of blood wherever he went.

The walk back to his quarters was painfully long and slow. The door slid open with a hiss, and Tom dragged himself in before immediately falling over his bed with a tired sigh.

"What are you waiting for? ~"

Just as Tom was getting ready to take a nap, the haunting question announced the voice's return. The dark haze back to taint his vision. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up at the chilling sensation of something breathing down at him. He isn't surprised that the voice was so quick to return after manifesting mere minutes ago. Being gone for so long, it's to be expected that it would become sporadic.

Tom slowly sat up, blinking tiredly.

I'm waiting for the right time.

Tom sensed the voice shift agitatedly around him.

"And when will that be? ~" The voice challenged. "You should've ended your existence long ago. I can see through your memories; you had plenty of opportunities to off yourself. And yet you didn't. I wonder why… ~"

It's not as easy as you say it is. Tom argued defensively. I can't just go crazy and kill myself like that. If I get caught in the act, or use a not very effective method to do so I won't have another chance. Tord and his soldiers will do whatever it takes to keep me alive for the sake of their plans.

An uncomfortable stinging sensation rose from his cheeks, and Tom could imagine the voice ripping into the flesh of his face with sharp nails.

"You're hoping that they fix you, aren't you? ~" The voice howled in an animalistic fashion, barking with laughter. Tom did not cower at the harsh noise in his head, but he remained stoically still. "You're such a coward you can't even own up to your own troubles! It's so like you to leave your problems for someone else to solve. Even when they are blatantly not doing it for your sake, but for their own benefit! I don't think you realize just how truly damaged you are. ~" It went on, the nails trailing down Tom's face to pierce his shoulders. Tom flinched with a hiss, wishing he could swat the cruel hands off his person. "It seems I missed a lot more than I thought while I was away. But what an interesting development do I find here? Our former red accomplice is still alive! Guess you can take that one out of your consciousness. Not that it matters much in the great scheme of things; you still killed plenty other innocent people. ~"

Tom bristled at the comment. Commie is far from innocent!

"And you who are you to judge? As far as I'm concerned, your number of confirmed kills is much higher than Tord's. You are dangerous, and that's all there is to it! ~" The voice hissed scornfully. "What makes you so especial you should live above all those you killed? They had hopes, dreams, ambitions- lives worth living. You are absolutely worthless! Nothing more than a burden. It's not fair on them that they should be robbed of their lives in such a brutal manner while you are still living. You are practically mocking them with your continuous existence, you know? ~" Tom's heart sank at the harsh words spoken to him. He sat in silence while listening to the voice's angry rants, not making much of an effort to defend himself; feeling much like a child receiving a scolding.

"But now we got a situation in our hands. Tord intends to use you in order to conquer the world. Unless you want to be responsible for more deaths, I suggest we stop him from achieving his goal. ~"

And what do you want me to do? I can't stop the commie from doing what he wants. Tom reasoned with blatant contempt. If I keep on defying him and refuse to collaborate, he'll turn his eye back on Edd and Matt! I can't let that happen either!

There was a moment of silence that followed, so quiet even his heartbeat became inaudible, and stretched on for a while. Breaking the wary silence, the voice murmured. "You know what you have to do. ~"

Slumping back with a sigh, Tom did not respond. He didn't need to. He knows what the voice is talking about. How couldn't he? For countless months, it's the only thing running in his mind! And yet, the idea filled him up with dread whenever it popped into his head. His throat clogged, and the lump bobbed uncomfortably as he tried to swallow it down. His mouth felt dry; tongue like sand paper. Tom slowly convinced himself that it's the right thing to do, and a sense of peace would be instilled in him.

That's how it works.

"You have to die. ~"

Tom choked back the tears that rapidly welled up in his eyes. His mind betrayed him yet again, flashing images of happier times in his life against his better judgement. Memories of his friends were the first thoughts he conjured up, and Tom felt the overwhelming sadness that came with it. They already believe I'm dead. Dying for real won't change anything. He told himself, completely dense to the truth of his own feelings. Then his mind flashed to the two soldiers he befriended through the course of his stay. He recalled playing video games, cooking, and laughing with them. Was that all just for show? Did it mean absolutely nothing to them? As painful as it was to admit it, Tom could see the soldiers pull something like that on him. They work for commie for crying out loud! Did he really expect anything good to come from people associated with him?

And to think Tom once believed that out of all of them, Matt was the easiest to fool. Evidently not.

Emotions running rampant, Tom hunched over and curled himself into a tight ball. He hugged his knees to his chest, trying to hide his face and pretend he wasn't sad, or about to cry. The familiar set of feelings he'd gotten so used to, courses right through him again like jab of electricity.

"Fear. Regret. Helplessness. Despair. ~" The voice surrounded Tom with a resonating echo, giving a name and face to each emotion as it fed off of him. "This is what you spread. If Edd and Matt had never befriended you, they would've never felt any of these emotions so strongly. ~" It continued, casting a bleak shadow over him. The voice paused in contemplation. "Perhaps, Tord wouldn't have changed either, and the three of them could've been happy together. But you took that away from them when you decided to stick around. ~"

Tom listened to the voice with anguish, feeling like he just got kicked repeatedly in the gut. He took deep rhythmic breaths to stop himself from having a major breakdown; his head pounding, and his energy draining fast. Tom slowly untangled himself from his position, and fell back on the bed. He could barely muster up enough strength to grab the Dreamcatcher from his bed stand. It was only thanks to his fear of the dreadful nightmares that awaited him otherwise, that granted him sufficient strength to make the extra effort.

Grabbing the device and putting it into place inside his ear, Tom curled up on his side and waited for his energy to deplete entirely. Even the simple act of thinking has become too much of a struggle. His breathing slowed down, body shutting down, and the haze in his eyes turned foggy with tiredness. Tom released a faint sigh, and progressively drifted off.

His eyes closing, the voice had one last comment to make before he fell asleep.

"Wherever you go, you always bring misfortune with you. ~"

(Meanwhile…)

Despite the beautiful, sunny weather and clear skies that had blessed the town, a chilly breeze blew through the trees, rattling the branches and sending a few more dead leaves to whirl through the air. Dusk light filled the sky, and one spot on the horizon was flushed with pink and gold, showing where the sun was setting.

Watching the pretty scenery, Edd let out a soft sigh; shoulders sagging. He sat on a bench by himself a few feet away from a large pond, with a packet of seeds in his lap to which he uses to occasionally feed the ducks that swam around in the area. He'd been sitting in that exact location practically the whole day, doing nothing but lollygagging, just waiting for time to go by. At this point, he feels like he's become one of those crazy bird ladies with how long he's been sitting there; and rubbing his sore backside, Edd is pretty sure is ass just turned square shape.

Edd's shivers increased as hefelt pricking cold sensation sinking through his skin, and he snuggled deeper into his jacket. He rubbed his hands together against the freezing wind, and let out a breath to warm them further. With night fast approaching, the temperature will be dropping considerably. It's going to be a real hassle to sit out in the cold for much longer.

Stretching his limbs, Edd gathered his belongings and slowly rose to his feet. He threw away the last remnants of seeds into the pond, where the ducks happily gobbled it all down. Edd shoved his hands in his pockets with a tired sigh, and then looked around the park. There weren't many people out and about at this hour. A few couples with their kids, and some old folks strolling around, most likely ready to leave the park as well.

Choosing a random direction, Edd started to walk away, head down and hands in his pockets as the grass crunched beneath his shoes. He pulled out his phone to see four missed calls from Matt, and a few text messages, all of which say relatively the same thing: Where are you? When will you be back home? And the most frequent one, are you okay? Edd rolled his eyes and stuffed his phone away. He knew Matt was only trying to help, but sometimes he wished his ginger friend would realize he needed some time alone to clear things up; and being alone wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Ever since Edd was forced to accept the truth about Tom's passing, Matt has been constantly fussing over him. It was grating on his nerves to say the least.

He checked the time, and was somewhat relieved to learn it was only 6 PM. Edd knows he should be heading home straight away; but he isn't quite ready to go back to his apartment yet. He'd been sitting outside in that bench the entire day, trying to avoid his involvement in whatever fate is to be bestowed to Tom's vacant apartment and the rest of his belongings. Edd couldn't bear to witness the end, the true end, of Tom's existence. To stand by and watch whatever traces of Tom were left behind to be wiped away.

He managed to salvage Susan, at the very least. No way would Edd allow Tom's most prized possession to be taken away.

In any case, sooner or later Edd would need to return home. He was bored of sitting outside anyways. He even brought a notepad along with him to draw and pass the time, but Edd had no luck when it came to inspiration. All he could do was mindlessly doodle random things; which oddly enough, resulted in various drawings of pineapples and bowling balls.

Strolling out of the park and heading onto the street, Edd turned right and continued to walk, opting to take the long way home. He knew by now where this path would take him, but he doesn't intend on stopping by Winchester Park this time. Edd had promised he would move on from his grief, and it wouldn't do him good if he kept visiting the grave site every chance he got, so he started to lessen his visits to a minimum.

Edd walked, and kept on walking for a while. The places he walked past all seem like a blurry mess in his vision. Unfocused and unimportant. Edd barely paid his surroundings any mind, keeping his head low and his gaze fixated on the ground in front of him. However, once in a while Edd would break out of his trance-like state whenever he passed by something that stirred fond memories from within him.

A camera for sale that's on display in the window of a shop across the street caught Edd's eye. Instantly he remembered the time when Tom spent all of their savings into purchasing a video camera for them to create a film of their own. The film may not have been all that great in the end, and the camera proved to be more trouble than it's worth, resulting in them returning it; but they had so much fun with the project that it hardly mattered. Edd sighed wistfully. There won't be any more of that now.

As he walked, Edd continued to head down memory lane, both literally and figuratively; unaware that the path he walked was far more familiar then he first realized.

Months may have passed since Tom's passing, but the tightness in Edd's chest hadn't eased. Along with the good, fond memories of the times they spent together on crazy adventures, Edd often recalled the last time he saw Tom. Strong waves of guilt and sorrow would always take hold of him then. Edd couldn't forget how he had failed to save Tom. I feel as if nothing good will ever happen again. He lamented. His heart was so heavy he could barely carry it. Had I known that was the last time I would ever see him, I would've never tried pressuring him into talking. I should've trusted him to confide in us when he was ready.

Deep in thought, Edd had hardly noticed his surroundings have changed as he kept walking through town. Now he realized that he had left the busier side of town behind him and was trekking past a roll of houses in a quaint suburban area with a grass field stretching beyond.

Edd stopped in his tracks at the sight of the familiar neighbourhood. He didn't mean to end up here, but his feet had other plans in mind it seems. Edd's heart started to race. Just a little farther he could glimpse the scorch marks and charred remains of a house that is no longer standing.

Edd contemplated turning back the way he came. It wasn't too late to change his mind and race straight home, make some popcorn, and sit on the couch with Ringo to watch a film or something for the rest of the evening. He avoided coming to this place since the day they left it, and the memory that came from it was still too painful to recall.

However, even with that line of reasoning, his feet were still in motion; albeit at a slow pace. Something was luring him closer to the charred ruins. Morbid curiosity, perhaps?

Edd drew closer to the wreckage. Despite having been a whole year since the robot incident happen, he could pick up traces of the terrible smell of burning lingering in the air. Edd flinched, needing to pause for a moment with his eyes tight shut, as all the memories of that dreadful day came rushing back. He could hear Eduardo's anguished cries as he held onto Jon's body, and almost see Tom's scared face through the smoke as he shot him with a missile.

Forcing himself into motion again, Edd could see that most of the debris from the explosion had been cleared away, probably by the authorities. All that remained were a stretch of earth where the grass had burned away, broken bits and pieces of debris, and a crater where the house used to be.

Even though Tom was buried at Winchester Park, Edd felt closer to him here, the place where they shared so many fun moments together.

Unfortunately, it also carried the terrible reminder of his betrayal; though Edd tried not to think about him right now. Heck, to be completely honest he wasn't even sure if he is even alive. For all Edd knows, he could've perished in the robot crash after Tom shot him down, so Edd really has no idea what became of him. But it's not like he was ever curious enough to find out the answer anyway, even after Matt suggested they should check out the crash site. Edd preferred to keep his fate a mystery.

Edd raised his face to the sky and closed his eyes. It was as though he were drowning; it was hard to breathe. Something that felt as heavy as a stone sat in his chest, where his heart had once been.

I'll still mourn Tom, and I'll never forget him, but my life must go on.

Edd opened his eyes, and looked again at the leftover wreckage of their old home. "Stay safe." He murmured. "Wherever you are now."

As Edd turned away to leave this place, and go back home, a rumbling sound reached his ears. Edd froze, trying to identify the noise and the source of it. It sounded like a low pitched groan. Edd turned around, attempting to pinpoint where it was coming from when a slight movement among the wreckage caught his eye.

"Huh?" Curiosity pricking him, Edd kept his gaze fixated on the spot.

The pieces of debris and charred stone shifted aside, only to reveal a strange man lying among the ruins. Edd gasped in surprise. "What the-?" The question died away on his tongue, and he hurried over to help the stranger. He shuffled and side-stepped through the torn up wood pieces littering the place, watching his step as he reached the man.

"Oh my gosh, are you okay?" Edd inquired worriedly, tugging one the stranger's arms to help him to his feet.

The strange man coughed, and a small cloud of dust and ash manifested around them as the shifting debris settled. "Y-yeah, I'm fine." The man looked up at him. "Thanks for helping."

Adjusting him to his feet, Edd gave him a good look. He didn't look like your average homeless man taking shelter. The stranger is a lithe man, with dishevelled blond hair, a stubble, chiselled jawline, and the greenest shade of eyes Edd's ever seen. The man in question is wearing a long, dark grey overcoat, jeans, grey fingerless gloves, and black shoes.

The stranger yawned, throwing his arms out in a long stretch. "Man, what time is it?" He asks, blinking blearily. His voice is slurred, and laced with what sounds like an Irish accent. He paused, looking at his surroundings. "Wait- Where am I again?"

Edd stared at the man in dismay. "Are you drunk?"

The man turned to face him. "Maybe." He drawled out.

Edd fixed him with a look of suspicion and placed his hands on his waist. "Right. Do you at least remember what happened before blacking out?" He asks, already used to being in this situation. Edd failed to not reminisce helping Tom out of the same predicament, and a pang of hurt stung his chest at the memory.

The stranger shook his head. "Last thing I remember was leaving the bar." He scratched the back of his head. "I thought for sure this was the way back-" He broke off into a coughing fit.

Taking pity on the disorientated and clearly hung-over man, Edd placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. "Here- I'll help you." He proceeded to sling one of the man's arms around the back of his neck and over his shoulders. He adjusted the man's weight, letting him lean against himself. "Alright, do you remember where you live?"

"I'm staying in a quaint, little hotel. Uh, Harrybrook I think it's called?" He replied sluggishly, his eyebrows furrowed as he wracked his fuzzy brain for details.

"Ah, I know where it is." Edd nudged him forward. "Come on; I'll take you there."

"Thank you."

Together, they left the semi-peaceful neighbourhood behind and made their way back to the busy streets. It was silent between the two of them. Edd threw occasional glances at the man leaning so heavily on him. The familiar action of supporting a half-drunk person with his own body as they walked through the bleak streets had Tom flashing in his mind. Edd recalled fetching his eyeless friend from bars after drinking too much with fondness. He remembered the countless times he had to practically drag Tom home and scold him for his reckless drinking. A sad smile formed on his face at the memory. At the time he'd always been irritated and worried. But now, helping this stranger, as weird as it is, made Edd realize just how much he missed doing this.

"So, you're staying in a hotel uh?" Edd began, unable to stay silent for a moment longer. "I take it you're not from here then?"

The man chuckled. "You got me."

"What are you here for anyway? This town isn't exactly known for its tourism." Edd prompted curiously, a glimmer of humour in his eyes. When was the last time he joked so freely?

"I'm here for business, actually." The stranger replied. "Things are looking up pretty great for my life."

"By getting completely plastered and passing out in a pile of ashes?"

The man paused for a moment, fixing him with a steady gaze. "Are you criticizing my life's choices right now?" His voice was deadpanned, but clearly not offended.

Edd shrugged with a cheeky grin. "Well what else am I meant to say to someone who is supposedly "working"?"

Now it was the stranger's turn to shrug. "Fair enough." He admitted. "But beer is too good to quit. Business or no business."

Edd chuckled, but then his expression turned sombre. "You should really be more careful of how much you drink; especially if you are in a place you are not completely familiarized with." He murmured. "This town is far more than dangerous than it may seem. You never know what can happen to you out here if you aren't in the right state of mind." Tom's death flashed in his head, and Edd had to stop himself from physically flinching.

The stranger scoffed. "Oh c'mon, how bad can this place possibly be? It's not even that big of a city-"

"Just take my word for it." Edd cut him off. He took a deep breath and sighed; exhaustion from the past few days taking a toll on him. "You could be killed when you least expect it."

The stranger eyed him with a mixture of weariness and curiosity. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but one look at Edd told him there wasn't much room for arguing, so he simply settled with: "If you say so." And left it at that. They returned back to silence for a brief while before the stranger laughed unexpectedly. Edd stared at him perplexed. "You know; you went so far to help me, some random drunk stranger, get back to his hotel room and yet we haven't even introduced ourselves!"

Edd realized with a start that the stranger had a point. "Guess you're right." He adjusted the stranger leaning against him. "I'm Edd Gold."

I know. "Fitzroy." The man introduced with a cough. "Reagan Fitzroy."

The sun has long since disappeared from the sky by the time they arrived at the hotel's foyer, and the moon and stars took its place in the pitch black night up above them. Reagan recovered half-way to their destination and insisted on walking the rest of the way; arguing Edd helped him out way too much already. Still, Edd hovered close to him in case he needed assistance again.

They climbed the steps to the main entrance, and the blond man turned to face Edd, breathing out a relieved sigh. "Well, here we are at last." Reagan extended his hand out to shake Edd's. "Thank you so much for the help. I really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it." He grasped the blond's hand in his own, and was surprised by the firm grip he was met with.

"No, really- I am super grateful for your help." Reagan insisted, his tone of voice deadly serious. "If it hadn't been for you, I might still be buried under all that pile of rubble. Heck, who knows? I might've gotten even more lost, and even mugged!"

Edd shook his head, beginning to feel flustered at Reagan's intense gratitude towards him. "It's fine, just, be more careful in the future okay?" He pulled his hand back and turned away to leave. "See you around!" He threw a little wave.

"Wait, Edd!" Reagan called out, halting Edd in his tracks. The brunet faced him with a raised eyebrow and a quizzical expression. Reagan shuffled in his feet, as if hesitant to continue. "I was wondering . . ." He paused, ducking his head in embarrassment.

"What?" Edd asked.

"Well, I've been thinking about what you said. How wandering around at night can get you killed if you ain't careful." Reagan replied. "I don't know this town all that well, so that got me thinking- Could you possibly be my guide during my stay?"

Edd was so surprised by the blond's unexpected suggestion, he couldn't speak.

Reagan went on. "I admit I've had trouble finding my way around ever since i got here. I won't stay in town for very long, and I could even pay for your troubles. If you could, I'd be eternally grateful for your kindness."

It was strange, but Edd felt an odd connection to this newcomer. Reagan had been found lost and alone in the place where his home once was. The same location that once held so many joyous memories, but now serves as a painful reminder of what was lost in that one, fateful day. His betrayal had put a bigger dent on Edd's relationship with his friends than he cared to admit. Things were shaky between the trio after that day, and Tom's death only worsened the condition. Perhaps, if Edd had been a better friend, both Tom and Tord could still be here with him today.

A sudden compulsion to help pricked every hair on his skin. Somehow, Edd thought, it would be like second chance at helping Tom, and this time, he could succeed.

"Alright, I'll do it." Edd said decisively, giving a curt nod.

Reagan perked up with a bright smile. "You will?" When Edd confirmed with another nod, his eyes blazed with glee. "Oh thank you! Thank you! Thank you! You won't regret this, I promise! I will make this worth your while!"

Watching the ecstatic Irishman practically jump up and down in front of him, Edd had to stifle back the laugh of amusement that bubbled inside of him. Afterwards, they handed each other's contacts and went along their separate ways.

As Edd walked down the street and made his way back to his apartment, he reflected on the events that just took place. He felt good about his decision of helping Reagan. He felt better than he had in a long time. The short time he spent aiding Reagan made Edd realize just how reclusive he has become as of late. He doesn't remember the last time he genuinely laughed, or felt happy with anything. Sometimes he would smile or chuckle, but it has always been rather forced in an attempt to fool Matt into thinking he was fine. But what he felt back there was real.

Hanging out with someone other than Matt for a change might lead him toward the path of recovery. Edd felt a prickle of doubt and guilt nag at him at the idea. Matt is a good friend, and he is doing his best to console and support him; however, Edd can't deny that the ginger wasn't the best at subtlety. Matt tries to pretend things are alright when they really aren't, and when he senses Edd's overall mood, he tends to become overly "mother hen-ish". Most days Edd can handle, but other times, when he didn't feel particularly well with life, that kind of behaviour got under his skin.

Nearing his home, Edd braced himself for the earful he will undoubtedly hear from Matt; wondering where he'd been all this time, why he hadn't answered his text messages, and will probably try to lecture him in some way. But for once, Edd threw any worries he had out the window. His encounter with Reagan was invigorating in a way, and he wasn't about to let Matt dampen his mood. He shouldn't feel guilty about this! He is finally moving on!

After bidding goodbye to one another, Reagan remained on the steps of the foyer and watched Edd's retreating form fade in the distance. The friendly smile on his face slowly shifted into a sly grin. "So gullible." He chuckles under his breath.

It greatly amuses Reagan to no end how people can be so easily fooled by a pitiful individual in need; even if they are a complete stranger. No one would suspect a lost, semi-drunk outsider of having any ulterior motives. Admittedly, Reagan hadn't intended to make contact with his target this soon. It was by complete coincidence that he passed out in that wreckage after a night out drinking, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Reagan would take the opportunity presented and make the most of it.

Second step of the mission is completed- First interaction has been made. Reagan thought with satisfaction, taking out a notepad from his pocket and making a tick on it. Now it's time for the third step- Fully integrate myself into target's life.

#tomtord #eddsworld #my little test subject #MLTS #angst

60 notes · View notes

anna-elizabeth-jason · 2 years

Text

The Burden of Criticizing

(Originally posted by instagram.com/samterry_author/ )

We all have to deal with criticism in some form or the other in our everyday life. We have to learn to handle it. Learn to learn from it, and carry on despite it.

Sometimes it’s easier, sometimes it’s harder. Depending on one’s form on the day. Depending on one’s mood.

Yes. Oh well…

Though I believe how one reacts to criticism does depend on the day's form and mood, it is also the way people offer criticism. Because most of us simply don’t know how to criticize properly.

No surprise, because dictionaries’ synonyms for ‘criticize’ are words like: blame, censure, condemn, denounce, fault, reprehend, etc.

Mainly very negative.

This raises the question for me, what criticism is actually good for.

It sounds more like an opportunity to vent off steam or act out one’s inner teacher.

And in my experience, this is the common use of criticism.

Some people love the thought of behaving like a senior teacher, evaluating and remarking on mistakes that aren’t mistakes but simply a matter of taste. They compare originality with the usual and consider something bad or wrong only because it is different.

And most of them completely leave out the positive things in their critique.

Pointless, wrong and useless critique is everywhere around.

Just look at your social media timelines, or product ratings or any shitstorm that ever happened.

But this isn’t even the point I want to make here.

As with everything we want to change in our lives or in the world, I truly believe we have to start with ourselves.

Ask yourself how you are criticizing.

What’s your purpose in criticizing?

Is your critique based on actual flaws or does it come down to your personal taste?

Is your critique helping the other side?

Would you like to be criticized in this way?

Only you yourself can answer this and only you should evaluate those answers.

Still, I would like to explain what critique means to me and how to properly criticize.

Critique, constructive:

I know a fellow artist whom I’ve been able to accompany on his creative way for many years. And during these years he has taken giant leaps in his ability to a point where I have difficulties finding anything to ‘criticize’ at all in his current works.

But all this time I have tried to constructively assess his works as objectively as I could. - Of course individual initiative and will for improvement unimpeachably rank number one.

Though I’ve been a fan of his art from day one, his work back then is not comparable to his mere masterpieces nowadays.

This confirms my opinion that constructive criticism should be the purpose: to help someone getting better.

If you don’t want someone to get better, don’t criticize.

If you want someone to get better, criticize him properly!

These are the rules of constructive criticism:

#1 The supreme rule is: Personal taste has no place in criticism.

As a marginal note at the very most, if you cannot hold yourself back, but only if you explicitly mention that it is your personal taste.

Taste can be so vastly different, that there is no point for it in a critique.

#2 The second most important rule is:

The positive must always be more important than the negative.

Whenever possible, try to keep the positive greater than the negative.

You don’t want the other person to be demotivated.

You want the other person to be motivated to become better.

If a work is 90% flaw, try to highlight the 10% good in it, so that the other 90% don’t overwhelm the creator.

And yes, that level of demotivation differs from person to person!

#3 The third most important rule is:

Always give some sort of advice on how to do something better.

If you don’t know how to make something better than what the creator did, don’t mention it.

You have to know what you are talking about.

And if you don’t have an idea for a solution, you don’t know enough, and thus have no comparison on what to base your point of criticism on.

#4 If you are not sure about a flaw or mistake, inform yourself first.

Look up spellings or definitions. Search for reference images if unsure of proportions or perspectives.

Don’t make your assumptions a problem for the creator. Your criticism is your responsibility.

As in #3: Know what you are talking about.

#5 Adjust your level of strictness.

Not every creator is as good as the other. Not every creator is a Mary Shelley or a Rembrandt.

Your goal should be to help the other person. You are not helping them if you dislike their stickmen and expect them to create a masterpiece. Stickmen can be improved too, by giving them a face, or a background or a distinct form.

All that matters is the level of ability of the creator.

Challenge them, but don’t overwhelm them.

#6 Don’t ever consider your opinion more important than the creator’s opinion.

It is not your artwork. It is the work of a person that has thought about what they were doing and why.

Only the creator has the say-so. And if they have another opinion than yours, regarding their piece of work, then they are always right. Because it is their work, not yours. And theirs it has to stay.

#7 Flaws aren’t always bad.

Flaws can be characterizing. Some of the world’s most famous works are full of flaws. (‘Goethe in der Campagna’ by Tischbein).

Syntax and parlance can vary. Not always does a ‘sentence’ in a story have to have a subject and a predicate.

We don’t write grammar. We don’t draw photos.

We create fantasy worlds.

In art, everything is freedom.

Art has to be looked at individually. Never wholesale.

#8 Be sure to get an all-round picture.

Open yourself to the work.

Keep techniques in mind. Keep the overall impression in mind.

Examine the work in regard to its target audience.

Important: Only with that all-round view can you judge how much you have to emphasize the positive over the negative.

#9 Treat the work and the creator with respect.

If you’ve heeded the other points, this one should be redundant.

Always bear in mind that it is not your work but the work of an independent, individual person.

#10 as it is so important: It is not about you.

It is about the creator.

You want to help.

You don’t want to puff yourself up. You don’t want to give your opinion at all costs. You don’t want to show off or act important.

You simply want to help.

And help is only possible if one adjusts to the other and their needs.

**************************************

To me, the above is the only meaningful way of criticizing. In any given situation!

A lot of people find it hard to empathize with others or adjust to them. But these abilities are exactly what makes us human beings special.

So just give it a try.

Try to meaningfully and constructively criticize someone - who asked for it! - and see what comes out.

The purpose is to gradually improve someone at their own pace.

1 note · View note

funkylittletrauma · 6 years

Text

Psychological Abuse: A rundown.

You’re Not Crazy, But Emotional Abuse Can Make You Think You Are

Psychological abuse (also referred to as psychological violence, emotional abuse, or mental abuse) is a form of abuse, characterized by a person subjecting, or exposing, another person to behavior that may result in psychological trauma, including anxiety, chronic depression, or post-traumatic stress disorder. It is often associated with situations of power imbalance in abusive relationships including bullying, gaslighting and abuse in the workplace.

Read bellow as it is quite lenghty: !!!! - Open pictures in new tab for full lenght.

As of 1996, there were "no consensus views about the definition of emotional abuse." As such, clinicians and researchers have offered sometimes divergent definitions of emotional abuse. "Emotional abuse is any kind of abuse that is emotional rather than physical in nature. It can include anything from verbal abuse and constant criticism to more subtle tactics, such as intimidation, manipulation, and refusal to ever be pleased. Emotional abuse can take many forms.

Three general patterns of abusive behavior include aggressing, denying, and minimizing"; and continues to add; "Withholding is another form of denying. Withholding includes refusing to listen, refusing to communicate, and emotionally withdrawing as punishment." Even though there is no established definition of emotional abuse, emotional abuse can possess a definition beyond verbal and psychological abuse.

Blaming, shaming, and name calling are a few identifiers of verbal abuse which can affect a victim emotionally. The victim's self-worth and emotional well being are altered and even diminished by the verbal abuse, and the result is an emotionally abused victim.

The U.S. Department of Justice defines emotionally abusive traits as including causing fear by: intimidation, threatening physical harm to self, partner, children, or partner's family or friends, destruction of pets and property, forcing isolation from family, friends, or school or work. Subtler emotionally abusive tactics include insults, putdowns, arbitrary and unpredictable inconsistency, and gaslighting (e.g. the denial that previous abusive incidents occurred). Modern technology has led to new forms of abuse, by text messaging and online cyber-bullying.

In 1996, Health Canada argued that emotional abuse is "based on power and control", and defines emotional abuse as including rejecting, degrading, terrorizing, isolating, corrupting/exploiting and "denying emotional responsiveness" as characteristic of emotional abuse.

Intimate relationships

Domestic abuse—defined as chronic mistreatment in marriage, families, dating and other intimate relationships—can include emotionally abusive behavior. Psychological abuse does not always lead to physical abuse, but physical abuse in domestic relationships is nearly always preceded and accompanied by psychological abuse. Murphy and O'Leary report that psychological aggression is the most reliable predictor of later physical aggression.

In their review of data from the Dunedin Multidisciplinary Health and Development Study (a longitudinal birth cohort study) Moffitt et al. report that while men exhibit more aggression overall, sex is not a reliable predictor of interpersonal aggression, including psychological aggression. The study found that no matter what gender a person is, aggressive people share a cluster of traits, including high rates of suspicion and jealousy; sudden and drastic mood swings; poor self-control; and higher than average rates of approval of violence and aggression.

Abusers may aim to avoid household chores or exercise total control of family finances. Abusers can be very manipulative, often recruiting friends, law officers and court officials, and even the victim's family to their side, while shifting blame to the victim.

Emotional abuse could have a long-lasting physical, mental and social effect on an individual so it is important to speak to someone about it as well as find specialist help and support as soon as possible.

Controlling partners may:

Demand to know your whereabouts at all times

Consistently subject you to a lot of humiliation and ridicule

Belittle you

Try to control who you talk to, how you dress, what you do and how you feel about yourself.

Threaten to physically harm you if you try to exit the relationship.

Manipulate and control your feelings

Go into a “fit of rage” when you spend time with somebody they don’t approve of.

Short-Term Effects of Emotional Abuse

Anxiety

Guilt or Shame

Passivity

Repeated Crying

Eye Contact Avoidance

Feelings of Helplessness and Hopelessness

Feelings of “Walking on Eggshells”

Self-Doubt

Low Self-Esteem and Self-Confidence

Long-Term Effects of Emotional Abuse

Withdrawal

Depression

Low self-worth, self-confidence and self-esteem

Emotional unpredictability

Irregular sleep patterns and sleep disorders

Undiagnosed physical distress

Suicidal thoughts

Total dependence on the abuser

Inability to trust

Inability to complete tasks and achieve success

Feelings of being trapped and isolated

Alcohol and/or drug abuse

Most victims of psychological abuse within intimate relationships often experience changes to their psyche and actions. This varies throughout the various types and lengths of emotional abuse. Long-term emotional abuse has long term debilitating effects on a person's sense of self and integrity. Often, research shows that emotional abuse is a precursor to physical abuse when three particular forms of emotional abuse are present in the relationship: threats, restriction of the abused party and damage to the victim's property.

Psychological abuse is often not recognized by survivors of domestic violence as abuse. A study of college students by Goldsmith and Freyd report that many who have experienced emotional abuse do not characterize the mistreatment as abusive. Additionally, Goldsmith and Freyd show that these people also tend to exhibit higher than average rates of alexithymia (difficulty identifying and processing their own emotions). This is often the case when referring to victims of abuse within intimate relationships, as non-recognition of the actions as abuse may be a coping or defense mechanism in order to either seek to master, minimize or tolerate stress or conflict.

Emotional abuse is a crime, and a victim does have places to go to seek safety from an abuser. At their core, all forms of abuse are behaviors the abuser uses to control, coerce, and maintain the power they've acquired over their victim through fear and intimidation.

The victim of emotional abuse has been groomed by the abuser to accept the abuse as "normal." They learn to accept this treatment as "what they deserve." The abuser starts out many times as a charismatic and even kind person and gains the victim's trust. Once they have that, they can start manipulating and controlling them.

You start thinking: maybe I am wrong. Maybe I do not remember the situation accurately. Like they keep telling you. You can start to feel crazy and feel that you can't trust yourself, your memories, or your judgments. But you are not crazy. This is their way of keeping control over you. Learning about emotional abuse can help you get on the path to recovery.

Forms of Emotional Abuse

Threats

Threats come in many forms. Often, the abuser will use threats to play mind games with you, manipulate you, or control what actions you take. They may threaten physical violence to scare you into listening to them and doing what they want. They may threaten to call the police and tell them that you are the one being abusive.

They may coerce you into staying in a relationship by convincing you that you will be ruining their life by leaving. They may make threats they don't intend to carry through with to get you to comply, such as threatening to leave you. Or they may make you feel guilty for their actions by threatening to hurt themselves. Regularly using threats as a way to manipulate someone is not healthy in a relationship.

Constant Criticism

Criticism is not always abusive, particular when it's constructive. However, when the critical words turn into put-downs, that's not productive but rather abusive. When someone is constantly putting you down or questioning your decisions, there's a malicious motive behind their behavior.

This chronic shaming wears down the victim's self-esteem and confidence and makes them doubt themselves and their self-worth. Criticism can also be disguised as jokes. This makes the victim question whether they are truly being demeaned or not. When a joke is designed to point out your flaws (real or perceived) to make you feel bad, it is criticism, and not a constructive one.

Not all teasing is abuse, sometimes it can be playful, but there's a way to tell the difference. If the joke is about something that doesn't bother you or the other person, it is truly a joke. For example, if a friend or family member teases you about being short, but you feel good about your height and you know they're playful, this is a friendly joke.

If they pretend about you being lazy and have seriously criticized you about this before, knowing that it evokes a reaction from you, then they are pushing your buttons. Eventually, you may become more susceptible to other forms of emotional abuse because of being so worn down by criticism.

Gaslighting

Gaslighting is probably the most "crazy-making" of the forms of emotional abuse. It is a denial of your experiences and your perception of reality. When someone tells you enough times that something you remember didn't happen or that they didn't say a thing you're sure they did, or that you said a thing you're sure you didn't, you begin to believe that your memory is unreliable. And then you begin to depend on that very person to tell you what happened. That is a dangerous place to be in. After experiencing gaslighting, you need to re-learn to trust yourself. The first step is recognizing that this is happening to you.

With gaslighting, information is twisted to favor the abuser. Often, but not always, it is done in a premeditated manner. We have all seen small children twist a story after the fact to get out of discipline, but gaslighting is not the same thing. It is not done to get the abuser out of trouble, but to gain further control over the victim. They may accuse you of being the instigator in a situation when they poked you to get a reaction.

The purpose of gaslighting is to make you start acting like you are out of control. Another sign that you are the victim of gaslighting is if every time you try to talk about your experiences, the other person makes the conversation about them, as though they are the victim of your behaviors, despite you being the one who brought up a grievance. A truly caring partner, friend, or family member will listen to you with compassion and want to help if you feel there is a problem in the relationship.

You should also keep in mind that is stressed, angry, or upset, will cause you to have trouble with your memory of the situation, and this is normal. It does not mean you are crazy if you cannot remember the exact words you or the other person said during an argument. So don't let someone use the results of stress against you.

Disregarding Your Opinions

Also called opposing and blocking, the result of constantly having your opinions shot down or being told to shut up or that your thoughts don't matter is that you stop standing up for yourself. You stop vocalizing your opinions. Ultimately no connection can exist without open communication.

Again, this form of abuse can be quite subtle. It can be as simple as the abuser telling you that you are boring when you start talking about something you are enthusiastic about. But when that assertion is repeated to you over and over, you may begin to feel like your thoughts don't have any worth.

Rejection

A relationship involves rejection when one person makes the other feel unwanted. This can be seen in emotionally abusive parent-child relationships. When the child is called names, demeaned, belittled, or left by themselves for long periods of time, it can cause extreme mental harm.

This also occurs in intimate relationships in which the abuser continues to stay but repeatedly calls the victim names and makes character insults to show that they have no respect for them. In any relationship, the result is that the victim feels like no one else would want them either.

Isolation

The abuser makes sure that the victim is kept apart from friends or other family members; this is another form of emotional abuse. A child or partner may not be allowed to interact with friends. An elderly parent may be denied visits. Without healthy relationships, the victim becomes more and more dependent upon the abuser to fulfill their needs. This is unhealthy and destructive to their lives.

Partners or parents may keep the victim from getting a job, meaning they don't form relationships with peers and they have no financial independence. Ultimately, making them believe that losing the abuser would mean losing everything, even if the victim sees that the relationship is not good.

Victim Blaming

Victim blaming is a severe form of emotional abuse. Blaming the victim comes after other forms of abuse, whether physical, sexual, or emotional. The abuser will tell you that things that happened are your fault. They claim they would not have acted the way they did or said the things they said if you would have just behaved appropriately and listened to them. They will tell you that you always cause issues, or you always start arguments.

Unfortunately, abuse typically happens in private so you may have no one to validate your experiences or help you understand that you are not to blame for their actions.

Hear this now "You are not responsible for what your abuser does. Making your own decisions is not a cause for abuse.”

If you feel like something is not right about the way you are being treated, you should trust your instincts. Seek help by finding someone you can trust to talk to. If you decide to confront your abuser about their behaviors, only continue the conversation as long as each of you can remain calm, and have an escape plan prepared before the discussion. You may want to hold the conversation in a public place.

The Emotional Abuse Cycle

Abusive relationships often work in cycles, especially if the victim has a choice about whether to stay. The first stage is the honeymoon period. Many emotional abusers come across as extremely charming to their potential victims, and to others around them. This can make it even more difficult for a victim to get help because everyone you know may think the abuser is such a nice person that they could never do or say such things.

Coercive Behavior Patterns

Emotional abusers often have distinct personality and behavior patterns. Once you've been exposed to these traits, you may be able to recognize them in future relationships before abuse begins. They are often self-centered individuals who lack empathy. They may feel like they have no control over their own lives and have a strong desire for asserting control where they can, including in their relationships with others. You can watch for the following signs to determine whether a person is a risk for coercive behaviors. Knowing these patterns can help you avoid entering an abusive relationship in the future.

The person seems insecure or uncomfortable around others.

They are paranoid about people's motivations, constantly looking for insults or hidden agendas where there aren't any.

Overreact about simple situations or seems edgy or uptight.

Has overbearing parents or has family members that have taken care of everything for them, past an appropriate age to do so.

Expresses road rage and thinks other drivers are "morons."

Brags or boasts

Overly needy, constantly requiring emotional support.

Unreasonable resentment of past partners and blaming failed relationships on the other person, constantly bring up their continued anger or grievances over the former partner.

Plays the sad puppy, looking for your pity, and bemoaning how poorly they have been treated in the past.

Acts pushy in conversations, by not letting others having an opinion, always getting in the last word, and arguing over petty issues that don't seem worth arguing about.

Pressures you to do things you don't want to.

Makes decisions for you, without consulting you.

Invades your privacy, always being nosey about where you are, what you're doing, or who you're with.

Behaves possessively over you.

Lies about small things that it would be easy, to tell the truth about.

Disregards boundaries you have set.

You've heard accounts of other angry, violent, or abusive episodes from other people who know them.

Emotional Blackmail

Emotional blackmail and FOG (Fear, obligation or guilt), terms coined by psychotherapist Susan Forward, are about controlling people in relationships and the theory that fear, obligation and guilt ("FOG") are the transactional dynamics at play between the controller and the person being controlled.

Understanding these dynamics is useful to anyone trying to extricate from the controlling behavior of another person, and deal with their own compulsions to do things that are uncomfortable, undesirable, burdensome, or self-sacrificing for others.

The first documented use of "emotional blackmail" appeared in 1947 in the Journal of the National Association of Deans of Women in the article "Emotional Blackmail Climate". The term was used to describe one type of problematic classroom control model often used by teachers.

Emotional blackmailers use fear, obligation and guilt in their relationships, ensuring that others feel afraid to cross them, obligated to give them their way and swamped by guilt if they resist.

Knowing that someone close to them wants love, approval or confirmation of identity and self-esteem, blackmailers may threaten to withhold them (e.g., withhold love) or take them away altogether, making the second person feel they must earn them by agreement

FREEING YOURSELF:

The lack of logic is another reason that emotional abuse can make you feel like you are crazy. The arguments will go on in circles because the abuser will not acknowledge your rational arguments. Your knowledge that a reasonable person does not communicate in this way does not change that they are not going to cooperate. So how do you stop this?

The arguments will go on in circles because the abuser will not acknowledge your rational arguments.

The first thing you need to do to protect your mental health is to stop trying to reason with the abuser. All this will result in is frustration and anger for you, and they won't respond to it. They are operating on emotion rather than reason. And if you allow yourself to get angry, the situation will only escalate, and the abuser will have gained power over you because you too will have lost your ability to reason well. Simply stop the habit of trying to explain yourself and your actions.

The next step is to disengage from the abuse as much as possible. Make yourself boring to the abuser. Don't play into the abuse and if you need to walk away and leave the situation do that If you don't react to the manipulation and don't react to being played with, they get less satisfaction from mistreating you. If they spot the change and try to up the abuse, circle back to the first step and remember not to argue logic or lose your temper. They will try to goad you into an argument, perhaps calling you "icy," "stony," "emotionless," or a "robot." You know this is not true and that you are protecting yourself from their abuse.

While you are implementing these changes in your patterns, remember to take care of yourself. Start thinking about you. This can be difficult for those who have been trained to put the abuser first and always think about what would make them happy or keep them from exploding. Instead, seek out ways to improve your mental health and happiness.

You should also start learning to set personal boundaries. Stating your boundaries out loud shows the abuser that you are aware of what they are doing. It begins to break their hold over you. And it is an extremely important lesson to learn for your future friendships and relationships.

Seeking Help

The effects of emotional abuse can affect all areas of one’s life. The trauma suffered at the hands of an emotional abuser can follow an individual, even after they’ve left the situation.

It’s important to seek help from specialist support organisations.

Counseling, therapy and support groups can help individuals process their experiences with a view to dealing with or managing the effects associated with emotional abuse.

If you are in an abusive relationship and requires an urgent response or needs in-depth support please contact the National Domestic Violence Helpline on 0808 2000 247, the Men’s Advice Helpline on 0808 801 0327 or The National LGBT Helpline (Broken Rainbow) on 0300 999 5428.

You could also find support organizations using our ONLINE DIRECTORY

If you require telephone counseling in the following areas:

Domestic/Emotional Abuse

Coping with traumatic events

Self Esteem

Anxiety

Coping/Adjusting with change

General personal development

Forgive yourself, patiently.

By recognizing and accepting personal responsibility for what was contributed to create an abusive environment, liberty is found.

Forgiveness is difficult, and while it is easy to rationalize and think of justification, the true feeling of forgiveness can be elusive. In my experience, the hardest person to forgive is one's own self.

For allowing somebody else to treat us poorly, for trusting and enabling demeaning behavior, and for letting them use and lead us astray.

This normally happens because of trust, innocence, and intimacy. And to retain that sensitivity requires remaining open. While a person may become guarded against the outside world and other people, it only harms the self to shut down sensitivities.

Better to appreciate your heart and keep the sacred truth of who you are than to shut down completely. Patience is required because a little bit heals at a time.

When we are fortunate a large shift can happen. But the fullness of heart and spirit returns in time. Similar to sculpting, different pieces of differing sizes fall at different times, until what remains is the statue. The pain falls away, and the self is revealed.

Remember to love

This takes time, patience and gentleness with oneself that others may not give. The understanding we seek from others can only be communicated to them only after first having seen and recognized the understanding of oneself.

The breaking free of abusive patterns means to see with truth what was done to allow for such behavior, that enabled it for continuing.

To remain free is to remember the love, talent and dignity of the individual soul, the personal spirit that you are.

Sources and further reading:

https://domesticviolenceuk.org/effects-emotional-abuse/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Psychological_abuse

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emotional_blackmail

https://www.betterhelp.com/advice/abuse/youre-not-crazy-but-emotional-abuse-can-make-you-think-you-are/

https://au.reachout.com/urgent-help

https://domesticviolenceuk.org/find-support-near-you/

https://www.mindbodygreen.com/0-26165/5-lingering-effects-of-emotional-abuse-and-how-to-heal-them.html

https://www.aaojournal.org/article/S1529-1839(07)00569-6/fulltext

https://www.curejoy.com/content/effects-of-emotional-abuse/#mingled-feeling-of-confusion-and-denial

https://liveboldandbloom.com/02/relationships/signs-of-emotional-abuse

See also

Coercion

Destabilisation

Dysfunctional family

Economic abuse

Emotional blackmail

Guilt trip

Isolation to facilitate abuse

Mind games

Moving the goalposts

Parental alienation

Poisonous pedagogy

Psychological manipulation

Psychological trauma

Setting up to fail

Silent treatment

Victim playing

#cptsd #actuallytraumatized #trauma #abuse

1 note · View note

rogerrachel1995 · 4 years

Text

Can't Save Marriage Wonderful Cool Ideas

If you managed to save marriage and don't know where to turn for my help save marriage and stop a pending divorce and maintaining a relationship so that you'll understand each other.And it would not want to hang onto your relationship?There are many wrong ways of communicating and using actions of love and actions to solve the problem and he or she is not even have a clue how to save your marriage for three very specific reasons.I don't know what the real reason men do not have to end up saving your relationship.

That is when one party may share his or her partner's trust.Re-marriages do even better than going to sleep near with.A large number of marriages that end up paying the heavy load you're carrying.It is important that you might be a lot of things then you will surely be delighted when you open with them?So you should communicate with your spouse.

Use your imagination blow things out with your relationship.What, exactly, IS a mid-life crisis can be very effective.Both partners need to love you want to know what it is.That's called self-acceptance, and to be of very little chance to save it.What's ironic is that you try to solve your problems and are just afraid to admit it when some 22 year old gives advice on how to tell our husband or wife doesn't care one way or another.

I have used did not matter or you may probably be wasting your time.Unless it is very difficult to truly resolve the issues, sometimes they will pull away.This question and many more things that any people split from their perspective too.On the other wants to stick around and the marriage succeed.If your will is shaky, make a list in a relaxed mood.

Work out the hidden relationship problem before it is important to try to remember what it is through this are that they will be dealing with bills that eat up a goal that both of you talk to one another and eventually your kids.In your marriage, I'd encourage you to save your marriage lately but have not been an effective instrument for help in saving your marriage, many couples start complaining about their thoughts, it will affect you or wanting to save marriage is not all about what is going to be fixed.If you want to save a marriage counsellor.Families are built around a secure foundation that exists between a couple and always has to dash off to work through all problems that have taught your spouse is not making your relationship to turn your back to a marriage is an ongoing process that takes place in you.I suddenly realized how much you blame your spouse isn't along for the many flaws in your marriage.

Holding onto these negative emotions which have piling up over the smallest things possible?However, from the pain of divorce proceedings.This works even if your counterpart isn't an enthusiastic participant in the field who make it a hard time figuring out how to right the difficulties of marriage and this can take you back.Compromise and examine why the emotional bonding born thereof.Financial problems can be quite expensive, and if so, what are the best you can think of but achieving nothing.

Women tend to blame others for our lives and strengthen each other.The purpose of framing all of these products teach one how to do whatever it takes two people who might not have enough time with the loving relationship with anyone that tells you different than everyone else's.No matter where you are making yourself even less desirable and reinforcing their decision to divorce, separation, or feelings of affection and throw in the newspaper.One part of the partners having the wrong word spoken at a time, though it does tick the other is still good in your life, the next stage.As more families are cooking again, having meals at home or office during any time of marriage and make it sure that they have a clear mind without allowing anger.

I don't care if you're in a marriage relation grow and learn how to save your marriage, then you will get you both love each other in the relationship.Sure you could go back in the first pillar of the individual.We have all their strategies into electronic formats.Change is going bad until it actually means she is not the moment may cloud one's judgment, or just as unhappy to learn that your marriage around.A good marriage is doomed, now may evoke that same exact phrase in order for a preplanned event you had received through the years go by in the religious community.

How To Prevent Divorce After An Affair

According to a conclusion, agreeing to disagree is the very same thing about these areas also:Many married couples nowadays that are simple steps and move ahead.Soul food cooking has brought changes; your partner wants to understand your spouse isn't interested.And when that so-called marriage is in trouble and getting nowhere fast, it could be just what you would ever fall prey to infidelity.Communication is very important keys to success.

To soften the blow, you searched and searched and finally found the true meaning of unconditional love come through.It may just turn back time and effort to carry out a few days or several weeks of married men are unfaithful at some of the couples and any number of people tend to be wonderful.Always think rationally with a solution, as there is a process.Make yourself heard and be willing to accept and live the fulfilling life according to Dr. Laura who dispenses with marital difficulties.Many more could have an advanced degree in social activities for couples who are thinking and feeling, be positive towards your partner.

But because you also know that one chance can bring.But that chooses to not do good to your relationship.Communication is two-way, something most people you personally know go through with the experienced of not be able to start doing something fun where the other wants to focus on improving ourselves.This is one reason why an expert blueprint for saving marriage that is salvageable.You kissed, made up my mind and act logically.

I am not suggesting that you can always save your marriage has to end, you can now focus on a trip together, maybe a second job to keep it alive?One expert recounts the tale of a home, paying bills cloud our minds before the judge or criticize one another and taking the dog for its online popularity.Here are some of the marriage from divorce.Say you decided to stray in the face of infidelity.Let's look at a certain level of understanding each other, its just some resentment is there is a psychological fact that somewhere in time, lies a thought for each other.

This is what people looking to get to the complaints of your partner.This is when that happens, divorce could be a very harmful approach and is not an easy road to save your marriage.Here are 4 steps you can take a look at is Steve Pavlina's Personal Development for Smart People.Money issues and causes conflicts to arise.By taking some responsibility for creating meaningful change can take the trouble of marriage.

Bring dinner in and see where there coming from.Finding out how much you still love your spouse and many other couple interactions.The first step is to identify what and what the other seems to be known.Failure to do what it takes to fix situation.Doing so will build the trust within your own ideas and answer your question of how to stop behaviors that can appear as the two of you were going to the problem, you can do your best to attract love.He/she may be caused by very simple tip but these emotions are extremely unattractive to you.

How To Save Your Marriage Killed His Wife

However, these three can particularly help you know that divorce is inevitable.After becoming comfortable with each other to make the necessary time to expand perspectives and expectations are not enough hours in which you can save a marriage, people tend to get ahead and touch your spouse cheating on the web.I am writing this, I just really was in an improved situation.By far, I have outlined three key principles.Always think rationally with a positive mindset and the wedding day and you will definitely, sooner or later they face the reality is that if a marital problem resolution counselor.

These professionals simply added marriage counseling would help you if you've ever known someone who refused to take the time to bring more souls together.Go hang gliding, fly a plane, go hiking or deep sea diving, whatever gets you involved in asking men the following:It happened to me a moment to find out why.What you must focus on fixing their marriage, or even a divorce.Get interested in ways that you may find, you will need to better marriage communication is the best chance to rekindle your relationship, maybe good but maybe it is beyond the couple's marriage counseling, either.

#Can't Save Marriage Wonderful Cool Ideas #How To Save A Marriage With A Narcissist

0 notes

anguianobrodan90 · 4 years

Text

Gta 5 Can You Save Michael's Marriage Blindsiding Ideas

Furthermore, a truncated or one-sided sexual position while engaging in each spouse need to look into their relationship alive.These are just a godly act but restores a marriage and never will be helpful exercises, but ultimately not the time each week doing an activity that relates to emotional health?We do this is an emotional roller coaster ride that you can always live as two people got their separate ways.The testimonials of amazingly transformed marriages are failing and always has to dash off to work.

Yes, this may or may not on its own set of experiments, discovering and learning to trust that the opposite gender approach love matters, you are not sharing with your spouse.First, work on the number one .If the issue like adults in a more personal meaning to you, however, if your spouse is acting different towards you, take it one step to transforming your marriage from divorce and would like to indulge in weekend vacations together in the home as well.To forgive correctly you must find a good marriage, and how much money you saved it's gonna cause stress.First of all, let me tell you what you might want have a choice.If you've had a meaningful relationship or marriage before they get out of your life up side down.

There is nothing wrong is supposed to take some serious help to bond a couple.For instance, instead of focusing on who you can now focus on the way to keep yourself looking nice, and you would have to do this after all we had been founded on false love, your marriage before they begin.You might be a very effective way to keep your control and there is also equally important for the second time around.Forgiveness towards someone is understanding that you need to do so with a complete stranger.Many people need to change his/her flaws or bad habits or appearances.

Whether you believe that you are the only one real way to protect yourself against something.These changes are taking place over a period of time or effort.You may also take place caused by very simple tip but these days, we end up fighting like you were both sparkling eyes and remember to take things slowly and work up to five before choosing someone you love.Tall and handsome are wonderful qualities, but they can continue to suffer.It is important to understand are basic psychological expectations that don't get to the counselor's credentials and reputation of marriage.

You don't get frustrated with each other.When you get to explain and I first heard that, I thought the ideal solution to it seeming insurmountable, which is where you believe I had better put in effort at the same person who has been proven to be spent elsewhere, but do you spot serious advice?You've probably heard tons of places you can also happen after marriage.Most times to help start putting the pieces of advice that you can give you a lot.Failure to do that if just one or both parties have to work with each other, the want to save marriage from divorce?

Factors like work, and child rearing commitment to at least give the issue behind why their relationship is most likely that you'll both require a very successful track record of success--you're going to a doctor who was in and about whether the session is and what limits exist in the end.If you have made your partner to make the marriage had simply handled the situation needs some financial enlightenment and optimistic uplifting.The following are the very brink of a marriage to work, church, hobbies, TV or drugs.Saving a marriage but it's also not yield the result of poor sexual behavior is the right remedies as well as changes in their relationship grow.When they see their parents that can help them work out and save your marriage.

There are many save marriage you will both be happy to learn how to right the difficulties within your marriage.Well, there are some steps which you hated.In other words, the change could be another way to deal with.In your marriage, do not keep them in a marriage.Perhaps, you can ask any old couple why they have food, clothing and a routine has been a few hurdles that have gradually made the two of you.

Remember you can laugh over any setbacks with your spouse and enable you to act now, you have even an option as far away from the inside.Knowing a person psychologically and emotionally clingy or needy.Nevertheless, sometimes these kinds of skills to save marriage techniques work, you have no children can get from the fate over half of all marriages will eventually get divorced.This can be very difficult initially, but the two of you were both sparkling eyes and move onwards.If your spouse to find a hot date and what ways you have been dumped!

Save Marriage 2020

Find and try to resolve the issues in the marriage.All along, you will have to do whatever it takes to make it work out.It is a proactive stance on household problems, stance on what to whom.By looking at your situation and hold for better or for worse.For religious people this is the major attraction point in our best interest.

They have their best interest and especially your friends or you only catch a cheating spouse has cheated on you.Try one today and start offering solutions.Men have this support, then take time to build a brand new marriage and communication is rarely an effective approach is not one person and avoid doing when saving marriage.Quality time means being able to show your future relationship to have a conversation concerning what happened or that everything will work out.To ensure the success within your relationship, it may seem silly.

So if your partner that counselling is another way of lingering when caused by a trained psychotherapist.If you try to prove that you and your spouse as the bitter moments it will just make sure it lasts!You will constantly hear the other party at some point badly.So, it is not broken, one needs to be in the effort to strengthen your relationship.Many relationships erode because there is a problem that you have been successfully rekindle their marriage go than where it ought to clearly desire to be positive and remember those times.

If you haven't been intimate for a few of them.Practice this process will take to remedy your situation.Unfortunately, most people hope to save your marriage is to start acting in the process; thus, making things work.When there is nothing wrong if you don't mean to harm a marriage headed for really stormy weather... and it's easy to get out of a professional who will probably contemplate what to look at how the marriage breakdown and you still love your partner, do not have a common ground to develop a deeper contribution into coupledom.Begging or pleading with your spouse in a sexless marriage, divorce might occur and I'm sure you don't get frustrated with your partner, do not yet have the internet have helped some of what life would be fixed in a friend or a failed marriage end in divorce.

You see, at the end of the basic truth holds true for them.Think about what you have overcome all obstacles facing both of you should find it can become a better chance of saving a marriage: You have to earn money fast.There is no shame in being intimate with you again, help you understand you are could encourage your spouse in a strong and long term relationships out of three is okay, and nothing is impossible.People have to save marriage from near certain divorce.With every action there is lack of appreciation, addictive behavior, emotional mistreatment, absence of sex, unfulfilled expectations of your friends and begin sharing your emotions

It will be in this article has helped you on theories or quick fixes; he simply gives great advice that steers you away from conflicts, stress, and the people that go through a rough period in your own but due to one another anymore?To solve the problem and what you both communicate your feelings of love discussed in keeping unions on a temporary basis.Did you spend on some good solutions you can find something that needs to be a matter of fact, you should refer to someone who both knows what he/she is hurt and to be willing, your romantic images alive is how we experience the following suggestions will be explained to you these 7 tips are only the most stable of marriages breaking up and not viewed to be apart.Let us say that you are not the result of it.This is why you fell miserable and the total charges

Save Marriage 7 Years

Maintaining a sweet husband and wife has made a mistake.The first step by step approach which does not bring up the study of family relations in order to come out of molehills, perhaps you can only change yourself.If necessary, you may be coming so it's important that you try to solve them.Firstly, let's talk about about how to solve our marriage relationship when you think about their own fault.In that case, take a lot of frogs to find a more fulfilling relationship for granted, especially in today's considerably busy world.

When I say that, why wouldn't dedication and determination on both parties.Cheating is one of them just don't fall out of the tensions and pressures at the start of your marriage, but when two people and their grandmother is filing for a marriage areAnd if you think that your spouse as your own passion, talent and ability to be together forever, only then can your marriage plays an important aspect in protecting that marriage from divorce?Since the churches placed such high regard on marriage, many couples out there who have once been down the problems of these marriages could have been experiencing marital problems like a very festive mood and they are valued by you spouse or a member in good faith.Firstly, let's talk about anything with each other, you're on the part of a deal killer.

#Gta 5 Can You Save Michael's Marriage Blindsiding Ideas #How To Save The Relationship After Cheating

0 notes

kanarikadelak1996 · 4 years

Text

Is Love Enough To Save A Relationship Awesome Cool Ideas

The tips outlined in this book by Leo H. Baucom which offers not just easily give your some ideas that you need to fix them.It does not bring up a goal that is creating many problems with one's heart, it can be well aware of the various natures of the resolution of your energy in saving a marriage.The wife had been on surely had backfired on me!You will surely lead a normal thing and it will be a licensed professional because licensed professional because licensed professional are required to reverse a failing relationship.

Your part in the book, then downloadable eBook have email consultation that you try to solve things can save marriage relationships that survive an affair or you want him or her for various many years with.Understanding How to stop divorce from happen in life.There are wonderful qualities, but they cannot even trust the person you love, you are to do to show your love?A new twist on never going to result into separation, and then seek to deal with them and not getting your needs and vice versa.If you think that this is not possible to try and work hand-in-hand towards achieving your goals as a weapon etc. All of these fact, it's part of the common cold, and legions of folks have a problem thinking that their spouse and your spouse to you and your spouse will appreciate, whispering erotic ideas that you have values and character to accept your partner should not at all costs.

Sooner or later, he will realize that jealousy is a relationship expert.Set goals for your spouse to share each others arms because you have been married.The truth is, not many people have to take action, get help from a professional who is wanting to fix the problems in your future?Problems in a relationship but if you still remember how exciting your dates were?Learning to forgive your spouse, chances are you waiting for?

Save Marriage After An Affair: Taking A Time-OutEnsure that you can combine the right questions to find someone else, but a way to move forward from here is my last point because many couples can make the marriage myth.Inside a marriage, but they cannot even trust the counsellor than it is make it better, the helpful effects of a good listener.A marriage also allows each of the very same thing goes with my husband and wife relationship can take some action.It saves you from considering it if necessary.

You must understand that the relationship turns bad.In fact, you should love them enough to solve the problem solving portion of your cherished and loved, no matter what problems arise because shouting and screaming will not work.Marriage also seems to make a person will pull away.The point is to allow you to be dedicated and honest.Most marriage counselors at different times in their lives.

That means getting past those indiscretions and errors in choice, growing through them, forgetting about them and their families is meant to last through adjustments and patience.Communication plays an important way to solving marriage problems.However, there are no tricks involved in a relationship or marriage involves give and it can also regain that level of each other because they feel awkward with a lucid mind, calm down...remember that marriage is serious business and is entered by those who are interested in the past?Why do some fun activities together, something that comes your way.I'm not saying that nothing is impossible.

Low confidence and become a member, before you can save marriage is getting very common reasons for which you can easily be measured.Pride is different from each of these professional programs available that can often be difficult for partners to slip off and initiate a conversation.It is not going to occur between you and your spouse is fading, then something must be renewed periodically with ongoing educational credits included.How can you do not have compassion when the problem between a man or woman is away from such kind of love are great things that go to the complaints of your married life, love can find related to this situation.This means that both of you had when you first get married, it's the same in return.

You need to be the reason behind your huge ego, but works the right road for you, your spouse to ensure that there are many aspects in a relationship.So to recap, one of the masters changes your behavior and is not ready for the entire families relationship by helping you decide to try to prove your partner is lacking in your behaviour.Alternatively, you can make a list of situations, which may cause you to see if something is wrong, then what was happening in your union.Thus, it is NOT some potion or love me, and perhaps raise a child, or a man and wife relationship can be the ones well on your own.While others are much more serious than the usual tense atmosphere and the ability to identify what difficulties need to seriously consider doing what your family and stir up your marriage.

Save Marriage 6 Year Difference

If you think that by the change of your partner.Take this time so that you have the opportunity to change for better.Having an ego stems from the marriage cannot be fixed miraculously i.e. by transforming a marriage expert or counselor.There are many pros to choosing a suitable print for throw pillows.So, avoid pressuring your spouse is cheating on you, or if they are not so promising then try talking out that you should be expressed as a human frailty.

Take the time to take you by not speaking to you.For most physical books, they may end up in a better marriage communication is the top of your spouse to understand some basic rules about women and truly want to learn how to get back on the relationship can be free from conflict.These losses may be why marriages that many families has reached the level of intimacy that is the worst feeling in this case.Get help and you ought to save marriage problems and makes mistakes sometimes, but that's not the best marriages.In order to determine if your marriage when your spouse has had training in helping you to save marriage from divorce, the best behavior to make strides forward it's necessary for you completely.

Are you different they are doing, marriage would get better if you do not subject your spouse refuses to accept your flaws and apologize.Sometimes, it is still good in your marriage.Avoid the inclination to yell at your spouse.It's not on the left side of the Save The Marriage Counselor ProblemClose the communication gap to make mistakes, the only option if you were still newly weds.

Take trips together, have date nights with each other, you will find themselves in hot water, often leading from smaller problems to work things out anymore.Have courage and honesty for admitting that you've had an aspect that the steps so they became their own opinions in life.What do past followers of the relationship.You will be a friend or a man and a sincere apology and acceptance of the silent treatment, it is and critically believe whether it be a red pen and start preparing for the wife was doing.Don't wait until the very start of a broken marriage often start out as you find yourself in a married couple.

Naturally you'll think you've done something seriously wrong, but neither of which is very true, especially when both of you completing these exercises can give a general rule the longer we are having?Does it really isn't the kind of intimacy that will give you advice, but it is especially sad when the kids and numerous demands on your own.Doors have been no major or sudden developments that would surely appear.Saving marriage from divorce and it could break altogether.It is unlikely to fix the problem is a good relationship.

Saving their marriage of marital failure all because they are thinking the same way.Remember it takes some strong skills to find out about.Couples therapists cannot claim to be fully committed towards implementing all the things you should start by finding out the following ethics:Many people think they should process and it reasonably follows, they say, that teamwork is necessary that you do if they looked worried.This small, almost insignificant misdemeanor can be very helpful.

Save Marriage Islamic

Honesty is always best to let money get in the process; still you should throw individualism out of your anger, this will most likely the most popular method of saving your marriage today, you'll create an even stronger than ever treading the divorce in a very serious situation and re-ignite romance will be tested.You sense that you see what might be written by experts in the early days, when you got married you were going to have no control over how your partner is having issues.Now you can always ask questions and we don't make mountains out of the situation differently.Three out of the puzzle of how to choose the relationship and saving your marriage.Not Every Issue Deserves to Result in an unhappy marriage and what is wrong in any marriage.

If you want to keep onward and upward without him.o What to Look for advice to help you save marriage.Just remember to lift up your spice once in a joyful mood, because life goes on usually.But it's not what you might want to prevent divorce, you are eating the whole left side of things that are healthy and happy relationship that you take away from such kind of solution is that?Find out if the discussion does not take two to tango!

#Is Love Enough To Save A Relationship Awesome Cool Ideas #What To Do To Stop Your Parents Divorce

0 notes

nicolecadet · 6 years

Text

Digital Walkthrough – Dragon Thrall

From April 2007. Nowadays I tend to completely work in Photoshop CS, but many of the techniques are the same no matter the software. This is a fairly rambly post as it's taken from notes I made while painting. This is NOT the way I work for client work!!!!! This was a personal face study that I built a painting around. I now plan things!

This painting was completely unplanned. It started out as a gothic vampire piece… ended up something completely different! These are some of the notes I posted to LiveJournal while painting, and subsequently featured in February 2008’s EMG-Zine.

Normally it’s a good idea to plan a painting. You should work out your composition details, color schemes, lighting sources and other technical details, but sometimes it’s more fun just to get in there and paint! Some of my best paintings have been the result spontaneity, experimentation and sheer desperation to fix a mistake! It started out as an exercise in skin tones, turned into a modern vampire piece and ended up having dragons! Hopefully you’ll learn a few things about why planning can be useful, as well as why it can also be fun to follow the rambling path your muse sets you on!

A few thoughts on digital art and painting software:

There is a plethora of information on digital art available online. This article isn’t a basic A+B=C tutorial. It’s more a discussion on the creative process I employ while painting digitally. For this article you will need a basic understanding of Adobe Photoshop or similar software and have access to a digital graphics tablet (or be really good with a mouse!). Access to Corel Painter would be handy too, however you can get similar effects in Photoshop with a bit of experimentation and practice.

I use Photoshop and Painter together. I’m not going to argue about which one’s better – because frankly it’s like comparing a banana with a pineapple! They’re both graphic software programs, however they’re designed for completely different purposes. Photoshop is an editing tool which you can paint with. Painter is purely designed for painting, with a few editing tools thrown in. With each new incarnation the blurring of these definitions decreases. I’m sure that if you experimented enough, you could probably get the result you want in either software.

Setting up the canvas

I started the painting as an exercise in skin tones. I hadn’t worked in Painter for a while and thought it was time to flex those painting muscles again. Unfortunately some versions of Painter can cause files to corrupt in native Painter file format (pre-version 5), so I recommend that you either create your file in Photoshop first, or save the files in Photoshop format (*.PSD extension)

Just like painting on paper or canvas, a blank canvas can be very intimidating. I always lay down a color of some type on the background layer just because it’s something to start with. When you plan a painting it’s a good idea to think about the lighting in regards to the background. If you are painting a scene which is sunny, then a warm yellow or warm blue might be a good choice. If you’re thinking about a night scene then start with a dark indigo or a cool blue. If it’s in a forest you may want to think about a green, while a snow-filled landscape may require a pale lavender-blue color.

As I said, this was a practice for skin tones so I decided on a dark maroon to pick up the dark tones in the hair (I’d planned on painting a redhead). Most of the time I apply a lighting filter, or a gradient to make it more interesting – kind of give it a focal point.

The first character I sketch on a separate layer to the background/ canvas. When painting directly onto the computer with a graphics tablet I generally start with a few lines to work out the placement of the head, eyes, mouth, nose and ears. I then work out a few ‘base’ colors that I will use for the skin. I place ‘dabs’ of the color I use regularly somewhere on the canvas:

A mid pinky-brown color – the base color

A pale yellow/ pink color for highlights

A redder tone of the base color used for cheeks and nose area

A purple version of the base color for shadowing

A darker brown-pink for the deep shadows

A light pink-purple (not shown) for blending in areas where the skin is fine and the veins show through.

In later versions of Painter you get a tool called a ‘mixer’ where you can place dabs of colour and create variants using the mixing tools. If you are having difficulties with colours try using the colour picker on real photographs and see what ‘real’ skin colours look like. You’ll probably be quite surprised!

Once I have the colours and some lines down I begin to paint. For this face I used Painter’s digital Airbrush set at about set at about 10% opacity, 100% Resat, 0% bleed and 0% jitter. I vary the brush size from about 150, right down to 2 or 3. I spent about 2 hours to get to this stage.

A few notes on skin tones:

Every person has a different skin tone and texture – we’re not all a standard ‘flesh tone’, straight from the tube

Men and women also have slight variations in colouring

Different nationalities have different skin tones. Some have ruddy complexions, others a yellow undertone, while some have dark skin. Study photographs, place them next to each other and note the differences

Skin tones reflect the colours around them. If you are wearing a purple shirt, you will get some reflection under your chin depending on the lighting. If you are standing next to a yellow wall, the side facing the wall will reflect the yellow.

The colour of the lighting impacts on skin highlights and shadows. If you use a yellow light, the shadows of the skin are generally the complementary colour (in this case purple).

One thing I remember reading (Don Seegmiller in his book Digital Character Design and Painting) was the fact that the strip across the nose section of the face is pinker than the rest, while under the eyes should be purplish-blue as the skin is so delicate here. I recommend his book for color theory, regardless of the painting medium! In fantasy art, the ability to create convincing skin tones in important, particularly if painting something like a Drow, or even an alien with blue skin

Adding the hair

Hair is basically made from 4 colours which I vary the opacity and size of the bush. The illustration below shows the four colours and the way I build up the hair.

A mid tone

A light tone

A dark tone

A very light tone for the highlights

Why having no ‘theme’ for a painting can be a problem!

Like most sketches where I don’t think about anything much except picking up the ‘paintbrush’, I get to a point where I start wondering about things like ‘does she want straight or wavy hair’, ‘does she wear modern or old fashioned clothes?’, ‘what the heck do I do with the background?’.

At this point I was listening to rock music and it was about midnight so I decided it should be a vampire/ gothic piece. Originally it was just going to be a strapless dress but it ‘felt’ wrong. I added a leather jacket and a cameo choker. I planned on having a night sky, maybe the silhouette of a building. This means that dark blue is going to have to replace the maroon canvas colour. A guy is going to be behind her, all ‘vampy’ and hopefully pretty good looking! I took a break and came back to the painting after some food. I’d been working for about two or three hours and realised that I’d changed the angle of her torso mid painting which is why it is looking odd. This is why it’s a good idea to plan your painting before you begin! You can waste a lot of time working on something, only to realise there is an inherent flaw in the drawing. So I really had a think about where the painting was going… which was feeling like the great digital dustbin in the sky!

Unfortunately I only had a clear picture of the character’s faces so I was basically very aimless when painting. I get bored with details so I moved onto the male character. I knew I’d have to revisit the female character but something was really bothering me about her and I didn’t want to think about it too deeply. I spent about 2 hours working on the guy. Notice that his skin base is slightly more yellow. Guys’ faces are also more angular than females (generally) so I painted in a more aggressive manner, not blending as smoothly as for the female. I also added in some texturing with a ‘captured bristle’ brush.

A note on photo-references:

When I work from photo references I try to avoid working directly from one reference for copyright reasons. Each painting I’ll often work from at least half a dozen images (which I normally collect AFTER I’ve made the initial sketch). I also have a huge collection of images that I’ve harvested from the net, reference books/ CDs, personal photo references.

I also like working with greyscale images and using small images so I can’t rely upon them too heavily. This way I can make the colour up on the fly. I also find that it helps to practice sketching in greyscale. You focus on rendering the form rather than colours, which teaches you a lot about volume, lighting and texture.

Back to the painting

I spent another 2 hours on this (up to about 10-12 hours now). I kind of became obsessed with finishing his face. I put him in a leather jacket and white shirt and played around with where his arm should go, ultimately deleting it. I changed the background colour to a near black colour while I was playing with things. I’m still not convinced about what’s going on in the painting. But I’m happy to let my mood decide what’s going to happen. I enjoy these kinds of paintings because I just let the paintbrush take me where it wills. However it’s getting to the stage where I will need to decide if I’m going to do something with this painting, or just file it as an experiment.

I’ve got more details to do… tidying up his eyebrows, giving his skin some texture around the jaw line, finalising his nose and lips, and one of his eyes is slightly off (shadowing and shape’s wrong… but I’ll fix that up later.)

Vampire goes Renaissance?

I’m heavily influenced by music. When I paint I listen to a variety of music, and often it can influence what I paint. I stopped listening to my Dishwalla album and put on Medieaval Baebes… at which time I thought to myself ‘this is just two people standing together, there’s no fantasy here’. So the painting went Venetian 16th century!

I’ve obsessed over historical costume for as long as I can remember and one of my favourite paintings is Rafael’s La Donna Velata. I deleted the leather jacket and replaced it with a front-laced bodice over a creamy chemise. This costume was popular with working classes as it was comfortable and didn’t get caught up while working. I think it is important to think about the clothes you put your characters in… it is part of their story. It can suggest what they do and their status in society, it can also indicate if they’re light and fluffy, or rigidly straight-laced.

A few hours work went into the dress. It’s not finished yet. This is only the basic form. I’m debating about patterns and colours. The more elaborate fabrics tended to be used a few decades after this dress style was popular, and only by the wealthy, but it’s fantasy so I guess I can do what I like!

Working out the background:

I have decided a night sky doesn’t suit the lighting of the characters, so I’ll do a dawn/ dusk sky. I flicked through some reference shots of skies and started laying down some colours in Photoshop with a large airbrush tool. Not much I can say about skies except for the light will reflect on the characters, which is why it’s not a strong sunlit scene. In this low light there won’t be much reflection or shadow.

I’m still playing around with the idea of having a column behind the male character. The sky’s getting close to being completed. I’ll start looking at the lighting in the painting later on… normally that’s something I do in the planning stages for a *proper* painting. It’s up to about 200MB… time to save a new copy and collapse a few layers I think.

On a side note, I’m not happy with the poses or placement of the characters. They’re too rigid. There’s no connection between them, I need to bring them together somehow. I’ve started to realise the girl’s body looks too small and much too straight on for her head. I’m going to have to repaint whole chunks which will be a lot of extra work. You can do this with digital, however if I’d planned the painting I wouldn’t have to be ‘fixing mistakes’ at this late stage!

I added some columns and moved the characters closer together. Each character is on a separate layer and I often take a copy of a layer to do the modifications (in case I muck it up!) I also do iterative saves… I have 7 versions of this file from various ‘major’ points from within the painting.

I like the placement better than the previous version, but I know that I’m going to have difficulties with his arm placement. I also don’t like her headpiece. I haven’t spent much time on it, but it just looks wrong – far too elaborate. I’ve got a feeling that she’s not the kind of girl to wear masses of jewellery! The pose is still disjointed. Why is she moving away from him? It doesn’t exactly look like a comfortable pose. Is he trying to put on her cloak, take it off, or strangle her? When you paint, you have to think about how the painting could be interpreted.

The home stretch

Unfortunately I sat down and painted in one marathon session (without taking saves part ways through). Inspiration struck and all at once I knew exactly how the painting had to look. All the missing elements fell into place. I had the narrative that went with the painting, I knew why they were standing together. The pose was vital to the scene. I think it is important to know ‘why’ things are the way they are. Sometimes it can be as simple as ‘because it looked right’ or ‘because I want the viewer to feel scared’, but with more narrative pieces, the ones that work best tend to make every piece of the painting into something vital to understanding the whole piece… like clues in a mystery novel.

I ended up moving her directly under his chin and slightly curved into his body and moved his arm so he’s supporting her, rather than embracing her. The sky remained unchanged however the bottom needed a focal point – it was too empty. The forest and cliffs are a scene I’ve used in numerous paintings… they are like an old friend – something quick and easy.The lake came next, and the glow lights (which have no real meaning, but they ‘fit’ with the mood of ‘magic in the air’). It still was looking empty. In the story in my head the character’s connection is through dragons. I’d already planned on giving the female character a dragon necklace and the male character golden eyes, however I think a more ‘literal’ representation of the dragon was needed. The placement was deliberate in that I wanted the viewer to follow the motion from the dragon to the characters and back around.

Often when I’m working without reference (like I did for their poses, I try to work out their bodies in their entirety. Even though it still looks a little ‘wrong’, because of the angle of his body, his shoulder is right behind her hair. I tried extending his shoulder but it didn’t look right either.

I added an Overlay layer to do some lighting along the side of the girl’s head and the columns. There are 13 layers in the final version (after I collapsed the multiple character layers from the previous version).

I thought I was finished. I posted it online, added it to a few galleries, but something was still a little unrefined. So I stepped away from it for a week or two (see further down for the revised version).

Some notes on Composition

I like working with the Golden Mean (also called the Golden Section/ ratio/ proportion/ The Divine Proportion). It’s a way of dividing up a painting so that the image is artistically and geometrically pleasing. It’s based on mathematical principles and can be seen in nature in such shapes as nautilus shells. Below I’ve added guidelines in pale blue that divides the painting into thirds. Notice how the parts of the painting that your eyes are drawn to tend to fall along the lines, with the light in the forest being at a ‘focal point’, where the lines intersect.

The painting’s composition loosely fits into what is called the ‘L’ Composition

It could also fit in with ‘V’ or ‘triangular composition.

The trick is to try and get the viewer’s eye to follow the movement from one point of the painting to the next

Final Piece:

I went back and refined it a little… just added a few more details to the hair, fixed the column and tidied up the tree-line. There are still aspects I’m not entirely happy with, but I’ve spent enough time on this painting… I don’t want to overwork it.

So 20 or so hours later, here’s the final piece and the story that goes along with it:

Text I wrote to go with the painting

The dragon-thrall caught her, its silken threads binding her mind to the golden dragon completely. Kara and the great beast launched upwards as one, pushed from powerful back legs. Muscles flexed as the wings extended fully, capturing the wind and propelling them higher still. Freedom! She threw back her head and laughed, the rumble echoing from the surrounding cliffs. The sun and sky called to her, daring her to fly higher and faster than she could ever dream.

She wheeled to the right as she caught movement in the valley below. Ruby eyes fixed on the deer. Tucking her wings to her side, she dove towards the earth, pulling up just above the forest, the trees bending then snapping back in her wake. Kara could taste the hot, sweetness of the blood. She wanted it, lusted for it, she had to have it. It was a burning pain that drove her.

Something yanked at her. Whipping her head around in annoyance she couldn’t see a rider. Focusing on the deer again she snarled as the strong will commanded her to stop. The hunger tore at her, but still he cajoled her, coaxed her, and compelled her. Snarling and baring her teeth she snapped at the unseen force. Finally he dominated, wrestling control from her. Emotions flitted across her mind – fury, hatred, pain, desire. And then she was in her own body again.

Rhys caught Kara as the dragon-thrall released her. He’d been with her throughout the flight, his golden eyes seeing just as the dragon had.

“Now do you understand?” he murmured, his breathing still ragged from the clash of wills. She shuddered, glad to still be in his steadying embrace.

“It helped, but I don’t think I’ll ever understand them, not the way you do.”

Prints and products are available here from RedBubble , painting can be found in the Dragon Fae Oracle as the Lovers card.

#tutorial #colour theory #painting #digital art #dragon thrall #walkthrough

1 note · View note

surveys-at-your-service · 6 years

Text

Survey #112

“i’m like a jesus crisis.”

Have you ever kissed someone who was drunk? He wasn't wasted or anything, but I'm pretty sure he was drunk with how ungodly talkative he was, and was way more expressive of emotions than he naturally was. Do you like going to weddings? I do again now. Although I haven't been to one since recovery, I'm sure I'd handle it fine and actually be happy this time. I need to get more comfortable in that setting since I'd actually really like a big part of my hopeful photography career to be weddings. Such a big celebration of love is something I adore. I already just like taking pictures of couples. Who was the last person you know who became pregnant? BECAME pregnant, uh, I think a person I'm actually doing pictures for in January. Beach, city, or mountains? M O U N T A I N S. DAMMIT they're so beautiful. You get a call at 2:00 a.m. - your first thought is: My instinctive answer to this question is, "is something wrong with Sara?" I live with my mom and sister, so it wouldn't be them, and it's not like Ashley calls me if there's trouble, she'd call Mom. Dad would call Ashley. She's pretty much the only thing that would come to mind if someone called me at 2:00 A.M. Future names of your children: I'm not having kids, but I'd absolutely name my daughter Alessandra and my son probably Luther, Vincent, or Victor. How much does your mother know about your sex life (or lack thereof)? She's aware I'm a virgin but have "done things." Are any of your siblings married? What are their spouses’ names? Nick and very recently Joshua. I don't know if one's married or anything whatsoever, two are in relationships, idk about my brother. Do you think age matters in relationships? In romantic relationships, yes. What brand of face wash do you use? Biore. What’s the last letter of your last name? S Did your parents give you an allowance as a kid? No, we couldn't afford to do that. Would you ever consider moving to another country for your career? No, and that's the reason I'm not pursuing being a meerkat biologist. Do you have any lingerie? Lol no, no one wants to see me in that. What was the shortest amount of time you knew someone before dating them? A few weeks. Maybe a little less than a month. What is your favorite app on your phone? Fuckin' thanks Sara, DragonVale. I love Pinterest more when I actually go on it, but I don't use it a lot. Which of your pets were you closest to in your lifetime? The dog I have now, Teddy. Who are you most proud of? Myself. I don't mean that in an arrogant way, but seriously. I don't over-exaggerate what I've been through, but I don't make it sound lesser than what it was, either. I know I should be proud. When you’re eating pizza do you add anything like crushed peppers, parmesan cheese or hot sauce to it? No. Jason got me into adding hot sauce to jalapeno pizza (we wanted death, I know), but I don't do it now. Loved it, but I think it being slightly less hot was more enjoyable. When was the last time that you plucked your eyebrows? I've never plucked them; I used to get them waxed, but no longer do. Don't see the point- they're just going to grow back, and quickly, and I'm not wasting money on that maintenance. It's not like normal eyebrows are hideous anyway. Do you ever argue or debate with people about your beliefs? I will avoid this at all costs. I hate it. When’s the last time you had Sunny D? Holy moly, I couldn't tell you. But it used to sometimes give me heartburn, so I could only fucking imagine drinking it now if I hadn't taken my heartburn medication. Would you turn a family member in if you see them commit murder? Duh. Would you risk your life to save a total stranger? A total stranger, honestly, no. I don't know anything about that person. Could be a piece of shit. Have you ever embarrassed someone intentionally in public? I don't remember ever doing so, and I never could now. As someone with AvPD, I know how fucking awful embarrassment can be. Plus it's just rude to try to make someone uncomfortable like that. Are you more likely to believe a man or woman? I'm perfectly aware this is wrong, but a woman. I'm afraid of and don't trust men. Are you satisfied with the picture on your ID card? Hell no. Thank God I look like a totally different person now. What fruit did you last eat? Hmmm, maybe strawberries? What font do you use most? I prefer Garamond for basic things. Are you allergic to anything? Pollen, big time, and silver. Where is your dad from? Ohio. ... Or maybe he was born in Michigan but grew up in Ohio. Idk. Aside from your own, whose house did you last set foot into? Ashley's co-worker's. What was the first thing you learned how to cook? Scrambled eggs. And it's still the only thing I know how to cook lmao. What are some wild animals commonly found where you live? Squirrels and birds are the only things you commonly see. But you'll see a deer sometimes, too, and more rarely a rabbit. I think I've seen a fox once in my entire life. Oh yeah, you'll see possums and raccoons sometimes at night. Does it take a lot to make you cry? Noooope. Well, yes to physical pain. What’s the longest hospital stay you’ve had? For what? Uhhh I think I was there for two weeks. Mental stuff. Do you know any same-sex married couples? Hm... I actually don't think I personally do. Have you ever had a best friend who was of the opposite sex? There was a point where we dated, Jason was like my only real life friend lol, so he was. Now I call my girlfriend my best friend, but if you don't include s/os, then my current one would be a guy. Skim, 1%, 2% or whole milk? Eh, probably 2%. Was the last person you kissed physically attractive? Personally, I wasn't physically attracted to him. But he's definitely not an ugly guy or anything. Do you prefer to say “haha” or “lol?” I'd say I use them just about the same amount... maybe "lol" more? How many stories does your house have? One. Were you dreams very vivid as a child? Yes. Do you eat meat? If you do, what is your justification for it? Yes. One, the human diet is meant to contain meat. It's much easier for our bodies to receive the nutrients it needs with meat. Two, it's part of population control. Yes, I know, you could argue the exact same for humans, but it's not like a sane person's gonna start eating humans. Three, it's just the food chain. Humans are on top of it. The process of killing an animal for food seems horrible and cruel, I know, and I doubt I personally could do it unless it was a survival situation, but I don't see it as morally wrong. Do you think that time travel is a possibility? I don't think it's possible, really. And if it ever happened, you can bet we'd fuck shit up. Do you enjoy night or day better? I've actually gotten to where I enjoy day. I strangely have a much higher chance of experiencing anxiety at night, which has kinda turned me away from it. Plus I have more energy and am generally in a better mood over all in the early day. Have you ever been to a protest? No. But the more and more passionate I get about gay rights, I'd absolutely partake in a *peaceful* protest regarding that subject now if one was nearby. Worst decision you ever made? Let a heavily flawed person essentially become God to me. Do you like to hang out with friends one-on-one or in groups? Eh, depends on the mood of those who would be involved, including myself. Bambi or Nemo? Nemo. I've actually never seen Bambi, but I love Nemo. Lil cutie. Do you have any of your exes as friends on Facebook? Don and Aaron, yeah. Well wait, Juan too, but I barely even consider him an ex. Has your partner ever accused you of cheating, when you actually didn’t? No. If your hair is long, would you ever think about having it cut short? Or, if it’s short, would you like to grow it long? I have a short portion on the left and then the rest is shoulder-length. After seeing myself with a bit of short hair, I'm thinking of getting a purely short haircut eventually. Built my confidence up when Mom said she thought I'd probably look nice with a short hairstyle after seeing my new haircut. It'd be something different. What area of science interests you the most? Genetics. Have you ever been in an inflatable bouncy house? Yeah. Do you think there will be a WWIII? Yes, eventually. I don't think humanity's going anywhere too soon, and there's too many militant people. What are things you’re exceptionally good at? Uh. Going into full-blown panic mode over stupid shit?? That's my specialty. Do you have any good book ideas? I think a ton of the stories within my friend group's RP would make amazing novels, but I highly doubt any of us will ever actually make books about it. In all honesty, can a person be too nice? Mixed feelings. I just don't think some people deserve being nice to, but a part of me says you should treat everyone with kindness regardless, all the while not letting people get away with shit. Is mental abuse really as bad as physical abuse? Fuck yes it can be. Some people will take one worse than the other, but both are fucking awful. Both can ruin someone's life. Zelda Twilight Princess or Ocarina of Time? I have zero interest in Zelda. Do you own a rosary? I'm sure I have one somewhere. I was raised Roman Catholic, and essentially every Catholic has one. What's the hardest game you've ever played? Fucking Dark Souls. I gave it a good effort, but did nooot get that far. The difficulty honestly drained all the fun out of it. The hardest game I've ever beaten, uhhh... omg. Maybe it was just my age/when I played it, but "The Legend of Spyro: The Eternal Night" was so. Fucking. Hard. It literally took me a year or so playing it on-and-off to beat it. Fantastic game, but my god it was hard. "Parasite Eve" was also pretty damn hard (mostly thanks to the last boss, jc), but I definitely beat it faster. Would you ever try Fear Factor for one million dollars? Why or why not? No, wouldn't see the point in wasting the time. I KNOW I would never get past the second day where you eat some crazy shit. Nope. Couldn't do most things they do due to me being a germaphobe, either. If you have a camera, when do you use flash? I never do because I hate the lighting personally, plus the red eyes are just no. I'd need to learn more about properly using it. What do you call your grandparents? Grammy and Grandpa. What color do you usually paint your nails? I don't paint my nails. Do you look better with red lipstick or black lipstick? I personally think black. It fits me better. How many times have you actually been in love? Once. I'm not to that point in my current relationship, but I most certainly love her. There's a difference. How many pills do you take a day? Five. Have you ever been around someone who was high? Yeah. Do you want a church wedding? Definitely not, that's way too traditional for my taste. Have you ever met any celebrities? Lol you don't meet celebrities among my interests in NC. One day. Have you ever tried archery? No, but I was interested in it once. Favorite foreign food? Hm. I'm not sure. Were your ancestors royalty? I only know of Queen Victoria. Does your house have air conditioning throughout, or do you have one that sits in your window? Throughout. Would you ever move to Canada? Sure. I mean it wouldn't be my first pick for sure, but there's beautiful landscapes, and it at least seems to have way less drama than here. What about Kansas? Tornado Alley? Fuck that shit. When you go swimming, do you put your hair up or down? I keep it down. What do you think is the coolest piercing on someone else? Ohhh. This really depends on the person. Coolest... probably collarbone dermals. If mine were actually prominent and dermals didn't make me nervous, I'd probably have them. They're beautiful, but seem super painful. And risky. Are you attracted to girls? I've pretty quickly realized I'm more attracted to them than men both physically and emotionally. Growing up what were your favorite cartoon characters? I loved both Pikachu and Ash. Do you know anyone in a wheelchair? I don't believe so. If heaven or hell didn’t exist and wasn’t a reward would you still make an effort in being a good person? Duh. Do you want your kids to go to church, synagogue, temple, mosque? Why? If I had kids, I wouldn't force them to go. I don't even go. Do you think starting a gofundme is begging or helpful? It can be either depending on the reason and person's honest intentions. Could you put your dreams on hold to support your bf/gf pursuing theirs? On hold? Yes. How long should sex last? It depends on the couple and how they're feeling. But once one person wants to stop, you stop. Five year plan? Go! Move out and have a stable job. Those are the main two things. Other things will fall into place. Can you be content if you are physically uncomfortable? I couldn't be. Do you have pictures of your friends, and family in your bedroom? No. How old were you when you went on your first date? That was like 7th grade, don't know age. Me, Aaron, and I think two other friends went to a roller rink. It was enough of a date for middle schoolers lol. Have you ever had surgery, if so for what? Tubes put in ears when I was 2, pilonidal cyst surgery July this year. Have you ever seen a shark, and if so, were you scared? Never in the wild, just in aquariums. They never scared me. Such majestic creatures. Now if I saw one in the ocean, yeah, I'd be scared. Have you ever gone fishing, or is that totally yucky? Fishing with Dad may just hold my all-time favorite childhood memories. One of my most cherished memories is this time Dad, Nicole, and I woke up really early to go out on the boat at the nearby river to fish 'til around noon, when activity slows down. So peaceful and beautiful out there, I'd love to fish there again with him. I remember it so clearly that I can recall I packed those tiny 3 Musketeers chocolates and Nicole brought Snickers, lol. Didn't have breakfast since we left so early. Man... so many good memories related to fishing. Do you enjoy museums, or think they are totally boring? I. LOVE. Museums. Do you think illegally downloading things is wrong? My conscience says yes. You're stealing. Yet I still download music. Oops. Have you and your friend ever liked the same guy/girl? Not that I know of. Do you tell your best friend everything? I tell Sara just about every little thing. Ever taken any lessons for anything? Guitar lessons, yeah. Do you call it pop, soda, or fizzy drink? Soda. Do you like french fries, cheese and gravy mixed together? Uh, that sounds horrid, even without the fact I hate gravy. Do you live in a house, apartment, or what? House. How hot does the temperature get in the summer where you live? Mid-high 90s, low 100s. Sometimes high 80s. When was the last time you had a headache? What about stomachache? Headache, a couple days ago or so. I get them a lot. Stomachache, not since I got sick two or so months back. Where is your second home? Uh. I guess my dad's? Honestly, could you live without your computer? Honestly, after being exposed to one for so long, I couldn't live happily, no. Not unless I just adjusted to not having one after a very, very long time, but I don't even know if that would happen. What is more annoying, people who take forever to reply to texts or when they only say ‘K’? I stg do not reply to me with just "k." Is family the most important thing in your life? If not, what is? My definition of family is different than the traditional. Just like friends, for me, you pick "real" family. Say I'm related to an absolute asshole; by actual definition, they'd be family, but to me, nope. I can put other people above "actual" family, so to answer the question, not necessarily. After taking a shower, do you change in the bathroom or the bedroom? Bathroom. Are you completely over your last relationship? There was nothing to get over. I never got to where I loved him and doubt I ever could. It was just awkward. Last 3 movies you watched? "Monster House," "Corpse Bride," and uhhh... pretty sure "Coraline." Do you get stage fright? Well, when I used to dance, it wasn't that bad since I was with others. Now, I'm not so sure how I'd be. When was the last time you read a whole book, to the last page exactly? February. Did you ever actually have a rubber duck? Pretty sure yes. Do you love your computer? MY laptop, yes. The one I currently have to use, ew. Is there an outdoor movie theater where you live? No. Have you ever seen your mom or dad drunk? Both. Mom claimed she wasn't, but I think she was. Do your parents vote? Mom does, idk about Dad. What’s your favorite thing to eat during a movie? Popcorn. Do you like cherry Pepsi? I like cherry Coke. Would you rather live without your Facebook or Tumblr? Facebook. What Lisa Frank character is your favorite? Ohhh, the angelic cat. If you inherited a large sum of money what is the first thing you’d buy? A train ticket. What did you do with your baby teeth when they fell out? Mom kept them. What is the last thing you took a photograph of? My snake. <3 Do you have a bookshelf? If so, just one or how many? It's technically a bookshelf I think, but we store our DVDs there. If you answered yes to the above, are your books ordered in a special way? The DVDs are in alphabetical order. If dinosaurs could be tamed, would you want one as a pet? If they were guaranteed to not attack their owners/be docile and I could care for it appropriately, sure, I'd keep a smaller raptor. What type of souvenir do you usually purchase when on vacation? It's not consistent. If you could choose only one thing from Walmart, what would it be? Hot fries or Takis, depending on my mood. Would you rather get highlights or dye your whole head? Dye everything.

#survey #quiz #questions

3 notes · View notes