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pzos-amiserableidiot · 4 months

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Vent? Self diagnosing? Something like that

I’ve often thought there’s something wrong with me. Something that makes me alien, robotic, or simply different from everyone around me. I know that is wrong. There are people who shame my experiences and understand my feelings and that I’m never truly alone and I take comfort in that. However, it’s still weird and isolating. I know there are others who feel things like I do and think like I do and understand on a fundamental level why I react (or don’t) a certain way because they do the same.

That isn’t to say that I understand myself all of the time. I notice patterns in my behavior and can recognize when I’m hurting myself, emotionally, physically, and/or mentally (all at various levels of awareness and apathy depending on the situation ofc). But I have trouble defining it and putting a name to emotions I feel. I know I’m feeling something. I may even know it’s a positive/negative/yearning/upset/righteously angry/etc. feeling. But because I’m very shit at recognizing other feelings in my body, such as hunger or stress or pain until it begins to grow and start to overwhelm, I have trouble recognizing when something is a problem more than a feeling.

All of this to say I think I’ve been feeling touch deprived. I think for years. Or maybe deprived of the feeling of safety??? Unsure. I crave affection and hugs and physical touch and words of affirmation from those I truly trust and care about and feel safe with. However, I’m only ever around my little sister often enough to get safe feeling hugs around once or twice a week since I’ve moved out for college. I rarely see the friends I feel safe enough to seek hugs and attention from (I think the last I saw them was to watch the Barbie movie). I have only two friends in college who I’d say I’d be okay hugging (one more than the other but still uncomfortable feeling) and we also rarely see each other (maybe once or twice a month). I like and get along with my roommate but she still triggers my fight or flight and I’m incredibly aware of where she is at all times (we live together fine and have talked and bonded a bit but still). All in all, I rarely receive touch from anyone outside of the weekends, and even then the hugs are brief (my sister isn’t too fond of touch and my parents hugs feel choking and I hate them)

The symptoms of being touch blend in a lot with everything I’ve ever felt. I’ve suffered from depression since third grade and anxiety probably longer. I’m doing better now but they still hit every now and then. Plus college raises your stress levels so no dice there. The thing that has brought it to my attention the most was my hyper awareness of every brush of the skin and touch someone gave me. An accidental shoulder bump to a stray hand hitting me while someone gesticulates. Even someone leaning over to grab something and being close enough to feel the heat from their skin sears itself into my memory. It’s not quite burning but the touch seems to linger and I can still feel it days later. I think I want to cry about it sometimes. I’ve gotten good enough at telling my emotions and thoughts apart to know I’m nothing thinking about it because of anxiety. I think it’s a yearning. I’ve gotten clingier to my sister and the family when I see them. It’s weird and off putting how much I crave to the attention and hugs from people I used to feel mostly anxious and vaguely happy with.

I think I used to suffer from this a lot when I was in elementary school. 4th and 5th grade, when my world was a rollercoaster of ending, being revived, and ending once more. And middle school I was weary and constantly felt wrong footed, slowly I grew to have friends and they were affectionate. I healed and know I think I’m recognizing I’m returning to a warped version of that state before. I know how to deal with my depression, anxiety, many chronic illnesses, stress and school now. I am in a better place mentally than I was before. I do not quite know how to deal with this.

I have a weighted blanket that was supposed to be for my anxiety but now helps chase away the chill of the absence of something (someone?). It’s heightening my anxiety and I think causing my hallucinations to start up again. It’s causing my back to feel colder and more vulnerable than ever (it’s reminding me of middle school and needing a heavy jacket or backpack on me nearly at all times to help chase away the chill despite the weather reaching the 90-100s. When it wasn’t one of those it was a wall or chair or couch against my back, pressing myself firmly against it until the chill/eyes watching/wings trying to break free went away). I’m unsure if there’s anything more I can be doing. I am socializing just fine (I am the treasurer of the Pride club so I can’t exactly escape a certain level of socialization even if I wanted to) and I am exercising regularly (the campus may be small but my classes have the luck in being on the opposite sides of campus) and I am sleeping regularly and showering and generally doing my best to take care of myself.

I tried once, a long time ago back in elementary and again in middle, to try and be more touchy. To get that touch I craved and achieve my goal of being (what I used to view) a very friendly person who people feel safe with. But, it always made my skin crawl, my anxiety spike, and feel so incredibly awkward and weird. I concluded that I’m simply not the kind of person who can pull off or be a touchy friendly person. (I then turned to trying to tell people how much I cared verbally, this I managed to learn and do). However, because of my weird reactions to touch (mostly freezing or flinching) and not being very good at reciprocating, my friends had the impression I didn’t like touch all that much. And I can exactly deny that.

I hate random adults touching me. I feel uncomfortable if a stranger or someone I barely know acts too friendly touch wise. I hate when my dad rubs my back or does his weird supposed-to-be-comforting/calming rub on my arm. I hate when mom cuddles me. (It’s not that I don’t crave their hugs and affection, it’s more 50/50. I just hate when they do it without my permission. Or for too long. Or touch a spot on my back or rub my back that my brain registers as wrong. I stop feeling safe and more trapped and suffocated. Like I’m being held my claws or chains. I also know it’s impossible to ask for them to know when it’s okay to touch me and when, so I put up with as much as I can.) So when it comes to me trying to figure out if I’m touch starved, I get even more unsure.

Yes, I crave touch, but only from those I trust and feel safe with. However, the amount of touch and affection I crave is immense. I drive myself into a spiral imagining receiving positive non sexual touch from my real friends to fictional characters. I imagine cuddling, holding hands, hugs, laying on top off each other, a head on a shoulder, a hand clapping a back, etc. And then I’m thrusted back into reality and my anxiety spikes at asking for any of that let alone actually trying. I feel like anything outside sitting next to each, a hug or handshake or high five or maybe holding hands would cause me to climb out of my skin. And I’m unsure if that’s a positive or negative response. The only person I’m completely comfortable with is my sister, but I know enough that relying on one person for emotional support is ill advised and as she isn’t big on touch it would probably be ill received. Plus, we only see each other on weekends right now.

I hesitate to say that I have no one to go to for help with this. I have friends and I know they’d be willing to help as they’re all very kind people. But I’m unsure if I’d calm down from being anxious enough to enjoy it, with a few of them I can barely handle sitting close enough to press shoulders.

I believe I’m managing fine (not great but not too bad) right now anyways. After writing this all out i think it’s safe to say I’m touch deprived. I’ll just have to be more aware of that when trying to figure out why I’m feeling bad/stressed/overwhelmed. I’ll also do my best to talk to my friends more (Google says that helps along with some other things).

#vent #vent post #it def turned into that #I’m chill and fine now that I got it all out I think #okay to read and reblog and stuff

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

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ain't it fun? | part 4

Summary: reader just needs an NA meeting before they have a meltdown, they end up with the best friend they could ever make.

Warnings: chronic illness, hurt/comfort, drug use**! spencer and reader smoke weed together; talks of relapse and recovery. Also, a case involving child abductions, getting engaged, love confessions

word count: 2.4k

a/n: not sure how long this is going to keep getting but I am enjoying adding to it

P1 P2 P3

Days like today suck.

She can’t get out of bed, she’s so hungry her stomach is swirling and screaming and there’s a pain in her intestines that feels like someone is eating her from the inside out but she can’t move… and she has to pee but her legs hurt and her head is pounding from the light. It’s 6 am according to the alarm clock, Spencer hasn’t left for work yet and she’s already missing him.

She manages to make it to the bathroom, sitting there for too long after because she can’t find the courage to stand back up.

“Why?” She whispers to herself before the tears start.

Covering her face as she cries, she’s still sitting on the toilet with her underwear around her ankles, sobbing as Spencer walks in.

He helps her up without asking, he’s seen too many bad mornings now to ask if she needs help, he just knows she wants to go back to bed, so he fixes her underwear and picks her up.

When he finally lays her down with all her pillows, he lowers the temperature in the room to relax her bones and gets her a ginger ale to help with the nausea from the pain she’s in. It is a regular occurrence for her to wake up and feel like she’s dying, but Spencer was wonderful when dealing with it.

He’s in the kitchen for a while, she’s worried he’s making something for her to eat that she’ll have to lovingly turn away because she can’t do it right now. Her throat is too tight and it hurts to swallow or talk.

She can hear him talking… he’s on the phone with someone.

When he comes back in, he cuddles into her the way he knows she likes. Soothing his hands over her back in a way that helps the pain while also helping her feel like she’s not alone in all of this. He’ll never understand; but he loves her, so a part of him feels it too.

“You called out?” She whispers against his chest.

He nods, his cheek resting on the top of her head as she feels the friction. “I don’t feel good when you don’t feel good.”

“I’m sorry you had to help.”

He’s told her time and time again that he doesn’t mind.

He would kill for her, he’d clean up the mess if she killed someone. He’d even dig the fucking grave if she needed him too… he wasn’t opposed to being there for her no matter what that entailed.

She just hated the fact he had to, he knew her apology came from her hatred of herself and not the fact she felt sorry for him. She loved the help, it made her feel loved until she felt disappointed in herself for needing it.

“Do you want your medicine?”

She smiles finally, “if you mean my secret joint stash— yes, but if you can’t handle being around me like that, then I don’t need it today.”

“I think I’d like to try it,” Spencer whispers. “If you can smoke weed and not relapse then I think I can too?”

“Probably, but if you can’t, I’ll support you however you need me to?” She smiles up at him, he kisses the tip of her nose as she kisses his chin.

Getting high with Spencer is… interesting to say the least. He doesn’t want a full hit, he just wants a taste and so she takes a drag and blows the smoke from her lungs to his. Sharing a part of themselves in a way they never expected before, this is his most vulnerable moment and he was trusting her with it.

The sunshine hits his face in such a perfect way that as they lay side by side, she can watch his pupil devour his iris as he gets high. Their breathing is steady and their fingers are interlocked. They’re content just blinking together, in the sunshine, quiet. In love.

Her body is so calm, and her mind is slow as she takes it all in and he looks so relaxed. He’s not jittery or caffeine-deprived like most mornings; he’s not anxious or stressed or trying to find a way to pretend he’s fine before leaving for work again, only to come home sad.

He’s okay.

She’s okay.

“It's nice,” he whispers, “but it’s not as good as you.”

She smiles, trying not to laugh at how his thoughts are going to be all jumbled for the next few hours. He’s going to be smart yet stupid at the same time and she couldn’t fucking wait to hear all the things he thinks of.

“I know what you mean,” she agrees.

“This is like a tidal wave..." his ramble starts and she is so excited to see where it takes them. "A tsunami that rushes and relieves just as quickly." His eyes are closed as he talks, visualizing his feelings and it makes her giddy.

"You’re like a volcano; there are so many stages before mass destruction, and even then there’s still the ash cloud and the debris and the lava dries like rocks… the destruction is total and the cleanup will be brutal.”

“I’m addicted to you," his eyes are closed as he talks, visualizing his feelings and it makes her giddy. "Drugs are boring and you’re not,” Simplifying his meaning as his eyes open again.

“I love you,” he says with the same certainty as the first time.

“I love you, too, Spencer,” she didn’t think they’d go down this path when she was blowing into his mouth, she expected him to panic or get horny.

“I don’t think I’ve ever really told you how much.”

He shakes his head lightly, “I wouldn’t be opposed to knowing.”

If she thinks it over, she’ll abandon ship before she can tell him, so she just jumps into it.

“I was a little scared to ask you to help me lock my door that first day because I thought you’d think I was just some junky who couldn’t get their shit together. But the second you asked if I had a local group and you helped me; that was the moment I knew I wanted you in my life for forever.”

He smiles, silent so she can keep going. He’ll take his turn when she’s really done.

“And then when we got to talking it was like I knew you already. Like I had your memories in my mind and as you told me things I was like well duh! Yeah, that’s my Spencer! I don’t know how it happened so fast. One minute you’re a stranger and the next you’re the only person I ever want to see for the rest of my entire fucking life,” it’s more passionate than she expected as she rambles on.

“I can’t get married on paper without losing my disability, but I don’t give a fuck about a piece of paper or someone officially giving us that title one day, I’m content just staying in this bed with you for the rest of time and never moving again.”

He looks like he’s about to explode with love as he presses his lips together in the softest smile. He can’t keep quiet any longer, “are you asking me to spend the rest of my life with you but not marry you?”

She laughs at the realization, “I think so?”

They’re trying to kiss but it ends up more like laughing with their mouths touching and teeth occasionally clashing. It’s hysterical because of the marijuana, sure, but they’re high on each other. It’s everything they’ve ever wanted.

To find something better than drugs; that little purpose in life comes back, that drive to see tomorrow because there are good memories to be made with their favourite person. She’s not afraid of the darkness or the unknowing anymore, Spencer’s her guiding light.

He's holding her close to his chest after a while, "are you feeling better?"

"Of course," she smiles, "I've got my weed and my reid."

His laugh is everything as it fills their space again. This was how the rest of her life was going to feel, and it made her excited for tomorrow.

—

She’s feeling a lot better later and they need Spencer to help Penelope back at work, but he doesn’t want to leave her. She’s in sweats with a blanket on her lap in the corner of Penelope’s office, a book in her hand and a coffee on the table beside her as she listens to them bicker back and forth.

“If you hack the NSA we can no longer use all this as evidence if he’s brought in alive, Penelope!” Spencer whisper shouts at her, afraid to raise his voice at her but wanting to get his point across.

“Hotch needs the aerial shots like yesterday, and the NSA won't get them to us in time for this kid!” She yells back.

“Call google…” Y/N suggests, flipping through her book.

“What?” Spencer looks at her like she just said the dumbest thing ever.

“They’re taking photos constantly for their maps program, my mom was saying our new roof is now on the updated map. They might have all the photos saved up, if the FBI asks nicely they might work with you…” she explains, pressing her lips together in a tight smile.

“You’re a genius!” Penelope shouts, dialling the phone and getting JJ to work his media magic for contact at google.

Spencer's smile is one she hasn’t seen before, he’s not only proud of her; he looks a little turned on. She just cracked the case by knowing all the little hacks about the internet as part of her day job. She lived online, and now she was saving lives because of it.

It was a good case to help on, she got to see 3 kids go home to their parents and know a terrible man was going to rot in prison for the rest of his sad and pathetic life. The hard part was seeing them go through months of footage of this guy's yard, seeing the child-sized holes he dug up. The disrupted earth and the knowledge of what happened when there wasn’t picture proof.

—

They go to a meeting after work.

They sit side by side, her leg is crossed and resting over his knee as their arms are linked and fingers interlocked. They really couldn’t be any closer if they tried. They just wanted to listen today, to know they were in a room of people who were trying, people who understood and battled every bad feeling they did.

“Y/N,” the group leader calls her out just before the end of the meeting, “it’s nice to see you back here with Spencer, we heard you found another group but it’s nice to see you here for the support.”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay, but as you can see he is distracting.” She gestured to how they were sitting with a small giggle. “I like coming here if you guys don’t mind me occasionally dropping by?”

“By all means,” another member, carol, spoke up. “Spencer is a great sponsor, it’s nice to see him happy.”

She didn’t know he was a sponsor but he thanks her for the compliment, it turns out almost everyone in his group turned to Spencer for support. It was comforting to everyone there to know the real, chemical and biological reasoning behind their addictions. Spencer provided a sense of calm for all of them, like a younger brother; they all loved him dearly.

They’re still holding hands as they walk home, the sun is still setting and it's barely even 7 pm. All the lights on the street are on, shops are closing and the sidewalks are bare. One store is still open however, across the street, she can see the big storefront window, illuminated with the brightest lights to show off a new collection of rings.

“Do you want one?” He notices her eyes darting to the light like a moth to a flame.

“What?” She zones back in when he stops walking.

“A ring, do you want to get one?” He clarifies with the softest voice.

She nods softly, “you should get one too though, seeing as I asked you and everything.”

He grips her hand tighter and they dart across the street. Giggling like children running to the playground, they’re almost out of breath from laughing as they open the shop door with a ding. Smiles on their faces, joy in their hearts, it makes the shop owner swoon as she sees them.

“Did you just get engaged?” She pries with a knowing smile.

They nod, “we just need some rings,” Y/N adds.

She waves them over, “well I’m going to need our sizes first, here try these on.” She hands them what looks like a thin ruler with holes spaces out.

Y/N attempts to find the right one, fitting the best into the 9 and a half. Spencer fits into the 11 on the first try like he knew already and the woman just laughs at the way Y/N glares at him with love.

“What kind of rings are we thinking? Do you have a preferred cut, style, size, or colour?”

It’s a lot all at once and she’s never really thought about it, “I love my grandma's ring, do you have any vintage styles?”

“I have vintage-style rings as well as some restored rings from the '20s and '30s,” she brings out a jewellery box from under the counter. “These are all appraised and unique.”

When she takes the lid off, Y/N’s eyes widen at the view. There are at least 50 rings in their velvet beds as they wait patiently to be tried on; all different shapes sizes and colours like she said. It feels a little overwhelming at first but then her eyes land on a green one. She takes it out slowly and slides it over her ring finger.

It’s perfect.

Spencer picks out a nice gold band to match, he pays and the lady is so happy to watch them leave hand in hand with their new rings. Dedicated to each other forever and ever, he was her person for the rest of time because he said so and that’s as good as a piece of paper.

She’s a completely different person from who she was when she woke up; twirling down the street with the love of her life, high on loving him as he makes her laugh and holds her hand. He stops in the middle of the street and places his hands on her cheeks, drawing her in closer.

“Loving you is so much fun.”

“Ain’t it fun?” She agrees with a smile before pressing their lips together.

taglist:

@g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @ssavanessa22 @spookyspence @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria@reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #aint it fun #drug tw

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ketchup-monthly · 3 years

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Sanders Sides D&D 2

Ooh fresh take: Jan is virge’s patron and that’s why there’s beef

Also: Jan is some sort of fae related being

Jan: i need you to do something for me Virgil: no Janus: that's not how this works!! Virgil: watch me :P

Okay so I was thinking of Patton as a cleric cuz ooh healer however, Patton as a Druid makes me so happy

I want logan to have Rage

(Also that could tie nicely in an arc about Logan learning to accept feelings)

but barbarian logan is going to be a scholar again and is gonna be smort

bc hes logan. he cant be not smart

Oh I figured he’d be the bbeg that eventually joins the party (hurt/comfort baybee!)(Remus)

he was the bbeg but then joined the party as a bardbarian or just a bard

plus, actual bard who accidentally casts vicious mockery instead of bardic inspiration

Side note: please include a scene where Remus attempts to seduce the dragon

also with this second au, i can start them at like level 5 so people can multiclass

Pat as cleric/druid

gasp logan as artificer/barbarian

janus sorcerer/rogue

because basically everything but alchemist would work well with barbarian, but alchemist feels very Logan

bc mad scientist being actually mad

alchemist logan making an experimental potion and going "here im not sure what this does but im sure its fine! someone drink it"

Remus does it voluntarily, but Logan usually tries to get Roman to drink it

Virgil will occasionally drink it when he's on his last legs and is just like.....100% done with the party

remus as a wild magic path barbarian and just fucking teleporting or doing something equally ridiculous whenever he rages

Oh my god Remus with rage would be a force to be reckoned with

You gotta describe the first time he goes into a rage really dramatically

obviously virgil is trying to "escape" his patron, Janus (really just do whatever he says to not do out of spite)

Eldritch knight roman

Feywild warlock virgil

hey so in the second d&d au, should roman and remus be actual full siblings but like remus went darkside and like romans just trying to get back at him for putting a dark stain on the family name

hey hey hey what about warforged Logan? (essentially a robot)(so like "i dont feel anything" becoming real)

okay hear me out. elf roman and elf base simic hybrid remus. so like maybe the reason remus went darkside was experimentation? so like. hes elf but special

FALLEN AASIMAR VIRGIL

virgil just transforming in the middle of a combat scenario and like his eyes turn into black pits and flightless skeletal wings appear on his back and like everyone near him has to make a charisma check and like he deals extra necrotic damage

Pat is the one human stuck in a band of misfits

so with it, roman would be a full elf, and remus would be an elf that has tentacles bc octopus

So robot logan

i meant literally he doesnt feel anything

like he has all the emotions, but he doesnt physically feel the need to like eat or sleep or stuff like that

he just.....he pretend he don't have the feelings.....but he do.....he feel so much and he hides it all in his littol mechanical heart <3

plus......if he warforged, then like.....AC huge

he stands in front of friends.....he protecc...."no, i don't have feelings, i am physically incapable of affection" but he do!! he do! he take hits for them because he do!! he care so much

Bro he spouts all this and then he uses a reaction to dive in front of someone and everyone’s just like oh

LIKE ROMAN STILL BEING MEAN TO LO BC HE THINKS HE DOESNT HAVE FEELINGS BECAUSE HE DOESNT HAVE A HEART BUT HE DOES

hey hey everyone needs to grow

and logan standing up for himself and other people stepping in and saying no stop thats not right

plus if canon wont give me roman facing the consequences of his actions towards Logan......

but also Roman learning how to properly handle his own emotions and how he interacts with others

logan who doesn't view himself as anything more than a machine to be useful to others

the party giving logan love and affection until he slowly learns his own worth as a person

Roman and Logan not getting along (maybe Roman has a Lore reason to distrust Warforged, maybe not) and slowly learning to trust each other

when Logan is feeling real down or having some issue, Roman actually comes through to help him, showing how far both characters have come

Okay yes but also can we please give Roman more confidence than canon? Like I’m sooooo sick of low self esteem being played for laughs or just being really really sad

this boy is going on a mission and will slap his brother upside the head and tell him to shut tf up remus youre not a monster just come back home and he will do it alone if need be

OKAY SO WHAT IF HE ORIGINALLY WENT ON THE QUEST JUST TO STOP REMUS ONCE AND FOR ALL BC ROMAN THOUGHT HE WAS A MONSTER, BUT ALONG THE WAY, AND AFTER LOGAN, HE CAME TO REALIZE THAT NO, JUST BECAUSE REMUS (AND LOGAN) ARE DIFFERENT, THEY ARENT MONSTERS, JUST DIFFERENT

AND LIKE IN THE FINAL PUSH TO MAKE REMUS JOIN BACK WITH HIS BROTHER, ROMAN IS PROJECTING HIS OWN FEELINGS ONTO REMUS AND EVERYONE IS LIKE WOW BRO YOU GOOD THERE, BUT ITS A BIG MOMENT FOR LOGAN, ROMAN, AND REMUS

im unsure as to how, but it happened when he was an older teen/young adult. a simic scientist either picked him (read: kidnapped), or remus volunteered (potentially to escape court life, unaware what exactly the experiment was going to do to him physically

bc also, remus and roman are royalty

so like. how best to get at the nobes/royalty/rich famous people than by turning their kid into a monster

wait, wait, wait, because i'm lowkey a sucker for this trope, but i'm not sure if it fits Remus: the experiments left him with some fairly significant physical pain/uncontrolled magical reactions. through some combo of trying to deal with that and trying find a cure for his pain, he keeps like....absolutely wrecking random towns on accident but also deliberately wrecking certain places looking for either a) vengeance on the guy(s) responsible or b) someone who can make the pain stop

SO LIKE. WILD MAGIC BARBARIAN DOING WEIRD SHIT TO HIM WHENEVER HE RAGES

AND LOGAN COULD MAYBE HELP WITH THE PAIN AND SHIT

BC ALCHEMY

Yknow, for simplification purposes, we could say the True Bbeg just gave Remus lycanthropy and Remus hasn’t managed to control it yet

lycanthropy but simic shit?

Mr. I-Don't-Have-Feelings sees the poor dude in pain and also Roman in emotional pain from seeing his brother in pain and is absolutely like "i must resolve this like right now, immediately" because he definitely doesn't hate seeing his friend suffering, or his friend's brother whom he's just met

he definitely doesn't relate at all to the idea of someone else shaping your body and absolutely does not sympathize with Remus's plight

i was thinking the grappling thing and either manta glide or the ability to breathe underwater for the simic stuff, but like he doesnt have control over the tentacles yet?

Manta glide seems like we could have fun battle scenes

he just jumps off a cliff to avoid mushy talk/dealing with his actions/roman

Roman: Remus just because you're a monster and though i wish i was an only child-- Remus, jumping off a cliff: byyeeeeee Patton: Roman, look what you did! Virgil: dammit jan what did you do? Janus: why do you think i had anything to do with that? im a fae, not a genie Logan, thinking: what an asshole. i wish i could do that

oh my god Logan always being tired mentally bc he cant sleep

Oh my gosh I love that. So Remus got kidnapped super young, (from royal family) they never found him, as a result Roman had to grow up super fast (side effect: lowkey inconsiderate and forgets to ask for others input). Meanwhile, Remus was experimented on by True Bbeg and came out with some trauma and super cool additives

yep! chronic pain and ptsd and all sorts of other shit!

so like, simic hybrids are usually created when they're adults. but what if the true bbeg decided to go younger to see what would happen, and thats why remus has chronic pain and stuff

he was still growing when his genes were spliced, so hes dealing with growth plates shifting and his body maturing and puberty and body changes and stuff

Pat is going to have a lighthearted story. Im saying that now. Hes the one without all the baggage

Sure, but his parents have to lowkey be the really kind people who are surprisingly always down for violence

everyone: multiple crises Pat: y'all need help Pat: love and affection in spades for his little band of misfits

Patton (which I think would be pretty simple, honestly he might just see danger and jump in and suddenly everyone in the party has Feelings)

Logan

Mhm. So how did he grow up? Was he just poof created? Wait

What if he was created by the king?

To make up for remuss disappearance

wait, wait....angst......he was created to fight (hence the barbarian stuff) but alchemy is his real passion

wait so like. a second son???

hes there to replace remus?

Yea! (But like in a sympathetic grief way) But that causes a bit of a complex in Roman and ergo Roman and Logan have a bit of a beef

okay so like. hes there to be a companion for roman, and like take remus' place, even though hes not actually in line for the throne?

LOGAN AS A KNIGHT

and just......the conflict of being created for a specific purpose (plus being, you know, robot and technically incapable of deviated from said purpose) vs the fact that he actually does have independent consciousness and like....wants to live life for himself

the parents made Logan a barbarian in hopes that him and Roman would be safe

okay. so logan was created by the king with the sole purpose to take remus' place as romans brother/companion, and to be his like guard? protector? and fight, but logan wants to be an alchemist and study shit

wait, wait, wait.....thinks about Asimov's Laws

he.....his first operative is protect (specifically protect Roman)

oh man. so hes literally just a shield

his second level operative is just like.....care for Roman's emotional well-being, but he doesn't really know emotions because he was kinda just spawned and nobody told him how

and he just....kind of....lets Roman treat him like garbage and take all his grief out on him because he's staunchly in denial of both having feelings or knowing how they work

Anyway Yea so Logan created by royal family in place of Remus which created angst between the two “brothers” and identity issues in Logan. Their arcs are learning how to healthily process emotions plus Roman apology and Logan commits to alchemy

So big question: why did virge make a deal?

Tricked

he gave janus his name

and instead of janus like killing him or whatever the fae do to people who break the rules of dealing with the fae, jan was like. hey. i'll give you magic, but do what i say

Janus is lawful neutral, but leans towards being selfish

hes self serving, but he has a strong set of morals and rules he follows

Tho I want to Virgil to also not be pushover so let’s say loophole happened and Jan has to stay with virge (hence why Jan is a part of the party)

okay so a couple of the rules are dont give a fae your true name and don't try to figure out their true name

what if virgil accidentally gave up part of his true name, and got stuck in the deal, but then figured out janus' true name

so in the same vein that janus had control over virgil, virgil now has more control over janus

he still gets his magic from janus, so he cant break free completely, but virgil has more freedom and can occasionally tell janus what to do or when to shove it

there should a running gag where virge can explain how he learned Jan’s true name but Jan can make something loudly censor him every time

(he learned his name bc once he heard janus practicing his evil genius voice and talking to himself in the mirror and janus said his true name)

so maybe janus sent virgil on the quest to protect a town or stop something related to remus, but virgil dragged him along

he might just be trying to protect a town thats close to a ley line, or something fae-related, and they just happen upon the whole thing

janus is selfish. but lawful vs chaotic is where he comes through, in morals vs doing whatever. janus has a strong set of loyalties to the fae, and to himself

so like....Remus is just too close to Jan's stuff and he wants to take him down

Virgil is just like....exhausted and said "fine, but if i gotta do this, you're coming, too"

or at least figure out a way to protect his place, even if it doesnt mean fully taking out remus. just moving him would work for jan

Janus: virgilllllllllll hes going to mess up my magic storage locker Virgil: Jan, its empty Janus: but its mine

Yea. Remus attacks a city away from the fae: Jan: Yknow I’m gonna sit this one out Virge: oh no you don’t, get up

Janus vs Janice

so his real name is Janus, but Virgil calls him Janice

Virgil: This is Janice Janice: with a “U-S” Virgil: mhm, sure Jan

I'm a big fan of just like any of the old theory name being various aliases for Jan

Damien, Dante, Ethan, Declan, etc, etc

#ss d&d 2

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furvillaconfessions · 3 years

Text

Here is my hot take on kids venting online that no one asked for

While I understand that it's important to vent -as someone who's had training in addressing issues instead of bottling them up- it is NOT safe or okay for kids to vent about very personal matters in an online PUBLIC space

I see genjiswife in the notes defending these kids and their right to vent on Furvilla just in case they can't do so elsewhere in case of snooping and/or abusive parents, and while I understand the sentiment, this does NOT mean they HAVE to post their vents PUBLICLY, nor does it guarantee that the parents won't see it since they could easily go on the kid's account and go through the kid's forum post history if they really want to

Venting means getting something out of your system, this can be done verbally or by writing it down, it does NOT mean they HAVE to tell someone or publish it somewhere if they're only looking to vent and not looking for replies to their vent, they can write it down in Word, or Notepad, or even in the Furvilla post reply box and then delete it, they do NOT have to save their vents, that way it is our of their system AND they don't expose strangers to personal matters

Posting very personal vents publicly can not only trigger strangers by accident who may have gone through something similar (inb4 "Just scroll past it! Don't read it!", assuming it's not put in spoilers, the brain will automatically read and register words if you look at a text even if you're not actively trying to read it, hence why it can accidentally trigger someone), posting very personal vents publicly is DANGEROUS because there is NO WAY to control who gets to see it, and there is no way to tell what the intentions of these strangers are who get their hands on this information, and while the chance of it happening on Furvilla is slim, these personal vents can be weaponized against these vulnerable kids by someone who has less than ideal intentions in mind

This however does not mean venting publicly should be banned completely, nor should people refrain completely from posting about their personal wellbeing, they just need to consider what is acceptable and not TOO personal to post depending on WHERE they want to post

Example of an okay public vent: "I failed my math test and my teacher said I have to study harder uuuuuggghhh I hate school so much!" or "I'm so fucking mad at myself I dropped my ice cream RIGHT after I bought it and I didn't even get to taste it!"

Why this public vent is okay: It's something a lot of people can relate to, it's a near universal experience that is not too personal, it doesn't reveal any info on the person's current personal situation nor does it reveal any personal information on the people in the person's life

Example of an okay public vent regarding the person's wellbeing: "I fell and broke my leg and also bruised my elbow super badly which hurts even more than the broken leg! The doctor said I can't do anything for at least 6 weeks :(" or "My chronic joint pains make it so much harder for me to draw, I got a new treatment but it doesn't help much"

Why this public vent on the person's wellbeing is okay: It's personal but it doesn't leave the person vulnerable, it can't be weaponized against them by strangers who find the vent, it's something that people may be able to relate to and doesn't have the probability of triggering someone

Example of a not okay public vent regarding the person's wellbeing: "I'm depressed as hell and my parents [REDACTED] me and it makes me want to [REDACTED] I hate living here" or "My friend just told me they [REDACTED] and I'm panicking I don't know what to do or how to help them!" (Putting [REDACTED] to avoid potentially triggering some people here as Tumblr doesn't have the option to spoiler text)

Why this public vent on the person's wellbeing is not okay: Reveals too much personal information on their life or the life of the people around them who did not consent to having that information revealed to the public, leaves them vulnerable and open to manipulation from strangers who come across the vent, has a big probability of triggering someone

Healthy alternatives to venting about very personal matters that isn't public: Talk about it to a willing friend you trust verbally in real life in a place where no one else can hear it, if it's online delete the messages afterwards if the parents are snoopy, write it down in a document or reply box somewhere and delete it (no saving the text, just straight up backspacing everything or just closing out of the document or tab), or write it on a paper and tear the paper apart afterwards if there's a fear of parents finding out, go to an anonymous vent site if possible so no one can tell who you are

And if a situation is REALLY serious for the love of god please contact professional help or authorities

TL;DR: Venting about very personal matters publicly online can not only trigger other people who did not consent to being exposed to such personal matters, but is also dangerous and leaves the person vulnerable and open to manipulation from strangers who want to take advantage of the situation, venting doesn't mean the vent always needs to be saved and/or published somewhere, there are alternatives to venting about very personal matters that isn't posting publicly to a forum that isn't suited for such vents

Kids should be allowed to vent, yes, but there are better ways and places to do that than doing it on a public forum that also 100% guarantees the parents won't find it, the Furvilla forums are most definitely not the best nor safest place for such vents

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project-ohagi · 4 years

Text

Dabi x Reader

Buy me a coffee!! <3

Greyromantic: Can experience romantic attraction, but weakly or infrequently; feeling alienated from romance; only feeling attraction in specific circumstances.

Asexual: Having little/no sexual attraction or interest in sexual activities.

Questioning: Process of exploration regarding gender, sexual orientation, sexual identity.

----

The phenomenon of love is a complex, chemical concoction that has long been weaved into the fabric of our society. It is presented as a requirement, with those who find the concept either too challenging to thoroughly comprehend, or lacking in appeal, branded as anomalies. In its pursuit of normality, it quickly alienated those whose hearts just couldn't conform. In a different society, one not quite so dominated by this 'normality' of romantic and sexual interests...you might be forgiven for your limited knowledge. But this one...it seems to blanch at the very idea that happiness can be attained in the absence of romantic attraction.

As such, those identifying along the Aromantic or Asexual spectrums are often overlooked - even shunned. But, the greatest truth of it all is a lot simpler than you may expect: an emotion as profound as joy cannot be induced solely by succumbing to carnal desires, or tasting the lips of another. No...it is through self-acceptance, and the acceptance from those for whom your heart beats - parents, siblings, friends...and perhaps in this manner, the meaning is amplified.

But...what happens when you are forced into complacency, into setting aside your own interests, to 'further evolution', or to 'finally be normal'?

You were still trying to figure this out.

Who were you...really? Why couldn't you summon an emotion as free and universal as love?...Romantic love? Why did it seem so incomprehensible, so...intangible? These were the thoughts you battled with, every waking moment. They burrowed deep into your mind, so that you could never pull them out. They were elusive, yet...constant, nagging.

Why am I so different? Everyone else has crushes...even Toga likes that one UA boy! Ah, yeah...she asked me if I have someone I love. I just said "No". Saying: "I don't even know what 'love' is" seems a bit...she'd definitely call me weird. Then the others would probably laugh at me...

You felt...incomplete, like a jigsaw puzzle with only half the pieces. You felt the isolation, suffocating you. It hadn't been a conscious decision. You didn't awaken one morning and think 'You know what? This whole 'love' thing? It just isn't for me! ' You craved a connection, a bond of some kind - holding hands...a hug at most. Anything more was frightening to imagine. What if someone...pressured you? Or stole a kiss, as an offhanded action? You couldn't bear it...not even the mere thought. It was likely the main contributor to your chronic anxiety and paranoia. Your treatment at the hands of society, the ridicule and the fear of phrases such as "It's just a phase!" or, "You need to find the right person!"...they fuelled the flickering spark of villainy in your eyes.

After all, outcasts and monsters are interchangeable to most common folk.

But you didn't want those labels. You were a lost lamb, wandering aimlessly - what you really needed was guidance...someone who would listen and advise, someone who would accept you and every burden you carried, without question or quandary. But you said nothing...so you got nothing in return. Dabi was the closest to a...a source of strength? Motivation?...Potential love interest? But...how would you ever truly know? How could you discern the romantic from the platonic? It seemed impossible - simply a waste of time. Still, you never fully resigned to this fate of...loneliness.

You wanted to cherish, and to be cherished.

You wanted to love, and to be loved.

Perhaps it was the unyielding voice of fear, of desperation and pain, but...you just didn't know! You didn't know...and, it was difficult. You studied Dabi's face, and while nothing immediately heated your cheeks, he wasn't...unattractive. Aha! Maybe that was love? Alas, you discovered it to be more aesthetic attraction. It was a little disappointing, but perseverance should've been the key, right...?

Why? Why do I feel so little? Dabi is there for me, right? So surely if anyone, I should love him!...Do I love him? How can I tell? Is there some sort of test? How would a test even be administered? What kind of questions would I have to answer? I don't think I could answer them, even with study. If I'm struggling so much now...

And anyway...Dabi was a dominant male, whose sexuality was unclear. Even if you managed to settle on a definition of 'love', and figure out what role it played in your life...there was no guarantee that Dabi would want you. The jury was still out, on your gender - 'questioning' was your placeholder for the moment. But, you usually dressed masculine...would he be okay with someone so indecisive? Someone who might be neither male nor female? And, what if...what if he wasn't the one?

Say I can find love, and I start to understand it...who's to say that the person I love will be Dabi? It could be anyone! Maybe they were right, and I just haven't met the right person...but, I kind of want it to be Dabi? Is that...bad? Oh god, it sounds so selfish! He'll just be tied down, and if we find out that I don't actually love him...what would he do? At the very least, he'd be angry...

Dabi...the more you recalled his honey-laced voice, all the flirting you failed to notice until it was pointed out (clearly, he was doing that in jest), and those blue eyes (steely from years on the run, that probably depleted the pools of guilt and regret often accompanying mass killings, thievery and other criminal acts), the more confusion festered. You just didn't understand! Was it love? Or was it conversion? Were you trying to become 'normal'? Well, as normal as a villain could be...? Or did Dabi really mean something...something greater than you believed? Something...beyond what you currently knew?

This journey of self-discovery had approached a torturous junction.

Why were relationships so sought after, so expected? Even you desired one. How else could you ever hope to form a deep bond, or receive that fabled 'feeling of ecstasy' from holding hands or hugging? If there was no romance, mainstream media would lead you to the conclusion that there isn't a 'proper' or 'deep enough' connection - there can't be. You wanted to experience these things with Dabi. No-one else. You couldn't explain why. He was...an unusual character, mysterious and with perhaps a similar level of complexity as the daunting questions you were asking yourself. But mentioning your plight to him simply wasn't an option. Villains were responsible for themselves; the League was nothing more than a safety net.

Besides, Dabi was heartless.

...Or so he liked to be portrayed.

Urghhh...why is this so complicated? How am I supposed to know if I love him? The signs are...increased heart rate and blood to the face, right...? That seems unhealthy...is that actually supposed to be a good thing??

"Hey, you stopped spacing out yet, (V/n)?"

Shit! No, no, no! I haven't finished spacing out!

Sheepishly, you turned in the direction of the voice. Why did Dabi always seem to materialise out of thin air, whenever you thought about him? Did you magic him here, by accident? Subconsciously? However you managed that...you hated it. Your existential crisis really didn't need a spectator. Break out the popcorn, why don't you?

Can't I have a break down in peace? Wait...am I even in my room?...Did I seriously question my entire existence right here in the bar? It's a good thing there's no-one else here...I don't need more people telling me that I'm crazy...

You sighed. "...Yeah."

His brows furrowed - this was unfamiliar territory. Helping people had never been his speciality, especially given his own trauma . But for you...it was certainly worth a shot. "What's up? You on your man-period or something?"

Off to a spectacularly dreadful start. "I - I don't know if I'm a man, though...how could I-"

"Relax, it was a joke. Your pronouns are they/them, right? I'm not gonna call you a man just for the sake of argument. Nah...Hey, scoot over." A for effort.

"You could sit literally anywhere else."

He smirked. "You gonna stop me, sweet-cheeks?"

Sweet...?

"Thought not. Anyway, what's going on? You've been all doom-and-gloom for the past...two hours." He motioned over to the clock.

Had you honestly spent so long in contemplation? Gods, you could've unlocked the secrets of the universe, but no. "I've...kinda been asking myself that."

"Oh?" It was obviously a prompt, but talk of your romantic inclination (or lack thereof) would likely be regarded in the realm of 'stupid' and 'childish', so...could really you trust him?

I've always been too nervous to take risks...Guess now's as good a time as any to change that.

You swallowed down the uncertainties, the anxiety and everything in-between. They didn't help - they only hindered. And...you did need to release this burden, that weighed you down so heavily.

"Um...it's - it's...confusing. Really...confusing. I guess, I simple terms: I don't know what 'love' is. I know it probably sounds really dumb to you, and I feel stupid for even saying it, but...I've never...never had a crush, never been in love. I don't...I don't feel anything romantic towards, well...anyone!"

"Not even a bit?" He asked, blank-faced.

"I - I don't know. I really want to, though. I'm just...I'm scared. There's always this underlying fear of...what if - what if someone forces me? Y'know? What if...I date someone, and they can't accept that I'm different...that I might never feel anything for them? I don't want to be lonely forever, Dabi! I want someone, I really do! I say I've never been in love, but...the truth is, I just don't know! I know that I don't need to kiss someone. That's what I...what I don't want, but...I - I still want to hold hands with someone! I'd still like a hug, every once in a while...I don't know what I'm doing, or really...who I am."

For a few moments, he was silent beside you, just drinking in the flood of information. He refrained from reaching out, or gazing too intently. It took time to settle on an appropriate response. "You're looking at it as an issue, though - something you've gotta resolve, before you can move on. I'm not the best with advice, trust me...but I can tell you that it's a journey. It'll continue and evolve, as long as it needs to. You'll...probably know when you're ready, or...something. All that sappy crap. You don't have to force yourself to understand it all now."

I'll know...?

"When I'm...ready?" You repeated, eyes tracing the lines on your palm.

"Yeah...probably."

Just before you lost all coherency, a single thought fluttered to the forefront of your mind: My heart...just...skipped a beat?!

[Word Count: 1775]

#bnha dabi #my hero academia x reader #mha dabi #dabi is a todoroki #dabi x reader #pride #greyromantic #asexual #questioning #honestly same #bnha x reader

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whump-tr0pes · 4 years

Text

Honor Bound 2 - 48

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound.

AO3

Cw: chronic pain, discussion of head injury and its symptoms, death mention, parental abuse mention

Isaac shifted on his cot, his shoulder aching against the stiff canvas under him. I wonder if that’s gonna hurt forever? He rolled onto his back, slowly moving his arm in a wide circle, staring at the ceiling that was almost invisible in the dark.

One day. One day, and they were more than halfway there. They weren’t even driving through the night. I guess that’s what happens when we know we can travel on highways going eighty miles an hour, instead of twenty down bumpy back roads.

They were making such good time that they could afford to stay with some of Tori’s contacts, the Silas’s, an older couple who worked for the Andersons as a hired maid and cook. The whole time they’d been working for the Andersons they’d been smuggling people out of the area, up north, out west, anywhere that was safer. Now they were retired, with generous pensions.

Working for the syndicates has to have its perks, I guess.

I’m sure that’s what Vera’s friend Ryan thought.

He could hear Sam’s slow, even breathing in the cot next to them. They can sleep anywhere, at any time, I swear to god.

He could barely hear Gavin’s breathing in the cot to his other side. Which probably meant Gavin was still awake. Staring at the ceiling, just like he was.

There was no way he was going to check if he was right.

The Coopers had been expecting six people, not seven. They had three rooms in the house that could be made into guest rooms with very little notice, and taken down with very little trace. The plan had been to put Finn and Ellis in one room, Isaac and Sam in another, and Vera and Gavin in the third. Isaac had resisted that suggestion up north, but Vera insisted. “I trust him as much as you do,” she’d said in a hushed tone. “If I’m worried about him attacking me in my sleep, we shouldn’t be bringing him south.” Isaac hadn’t argued.

Vera has a very different relationship with Gavin, though.

Not that Isaac had a relationship with Gavin at all. Gavin had been his enemy, and now he wasn’t. There was trust there, but trust that Gavin had earned over several months of proving himself, offering help, providing information. He’d killed the bounty hunters when it would’ve been ridiculously easy to take them all back to his mother. Hell, he could have taken them back to his own hideout to torture them all for himself. But he didn’t. He killed the bounty hunter, and saved them. Even though he knew he’d suffer, for seeing the blood. Even though it would sign his death warrant if he ever set foot in syndicate territory again. Now, he was coming south to risk his life like the rest of them.

I have so much reason to hate him. To distrust him. But I have so much reason to believe him now.

Isaac sighed, covering his face with his hands. How the fuck did we get here? How did we get to the point where Gavin Stormbeck—

He stopped himself. He’s Gavin Uriah now. He smiled in the dark.

“Are you awake?” came Gavin’s whisper.

Isaac froze. Of course Gavin was awake, of course he wanted to talk now. He cleared his throat softly. “Um. No.”

The room was silent for a moment. Then there was a rustling sound as Gavin rolled over. “Okay,” Gavin whispered.

Isaac rolled his eyes, biting his tongue against the question he could feel forming on his lips. I don’t have to talk to him. I don’t have to say anything at all. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but he suddenly thought of Gavin pushing him against the wall, kissing him softly, cradling his face in his hands with a gentleness that made Isaac’s chest ache to remember it. It doesn’t mean anything that I want to be touched like that again. It’s been a while, that’s all.

He drew in a deep breath, rolling his shoulder again in the socket. “What is it?” he whispered.

Another rustle, as Gavin turned over again. “Um…” A pause. “It sounds like you’re hurting.”

Isaac blew out a frustrated breath. “Yeah.”

“Um…” Another rustle. “What’s wrong?”

Why are we talking about this? “It’s my, um… my shoulder.”

Another pause. “What happened to your shoulder? Was it…? I don’t think…?”

Isaac knew the words that followed that. I don’t think I hurt your shoulder when I was torturing you.

Isaac bit his lip. “No,” he whispered. “When we, um… getting out of your warehouse, a door blew up and hit me. Dislocated my shoulder, tore it up.”

Isaac flushed at Gavin’s short intake of breath. “Oh,” Gavin whispered. “I’m sorry, I… I didn’t know.”

“It’s whatever. You didn’t do it.” The rest of the scars on my body are from you, but not this one.

“Um…” A long pause. “Did I… Did I shoot you?”

Isaac turned his head towards the sound of Gavin’s voice. “What?”

“Um… Did I shoot you? I think I… um…” A shaky breath. “I think I remember shooting you. When I almost k-killed Sam.” A pause. “The second time.”

“Uh, yeah.” Isaac’s fingers went to the scar on his forearm, to the graze where Gavin had shot him as Isaac forced the gun away from Sam’s head. “Yeah. The bullet hit me.”

“Yeah.” A long, slow exhale. “That’s what I thought.”

Isaac rolled to his side so he was facing Gavin, although he couldn’t see him in the dark. “What do you mean you think you remember?”

There was a pause so long Isaac thought Gavin had fallen asleep. Then, “I… it’s hard for me to remember things right from that day. That week, actually. Before and after. You, um… you broke my face in three places. I had a, um… I’m sorry. You don’t need to hear about this. It’s—”

“I want to know,” Isaac whispered gently. He wasn’t sure why, but it was the truth.

“Okay. Um…” A rustle. “You gave me such a bad concussion I was in a coma for a few days. Tube down the throat, everything. It took me weeks of PT before I could, um… walk again. And a few months until my memory started to work normally. I still have, um, attention problems sometimes. And I still can’t remember a lot of things.”

Isaac’s heart pounded in his chest. “Does that mean… you… don’t remember torturing me?”

“No, I… I remember almost everything. Leo helped me with that, came by and helped me remember. It’s not that I don’t remember, it’s that some things were a little out of order.”

“You had… Leo come back and… remind you how you tortured me?” Isaac’s mouth was dry.

“Um… yeah. I was… kinda pissed at you. And I didn’t like there being parts of my life I couldn’t remember right.” Gavin pulled in a slow breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you all that. I didn’t mean…”

“No, it’s okay,” Isaac murmured. He gently massaged the aching muscle in his shoulder. “I, um. I didn’t know all that.” I didn’t know I damaged him, too.

“Yeah, well, I only came out of that with a few scars. I didn’t exactly get the short end of the stick.” Gavin’s voice sounded strange, twisted with bitterness and… guilt. Isaac pressed his lips together, pushing against the knot in his shoulder that had never really gone away after the injury. The room was completely silent, save for Sam’s slow breathing. Isaac’s eyes drifted closed.

“We’re gonna reach Fort Meyers tomorrow,” Gavin whispered.

Isaac groaned quietly. “Yeah.”

“Um… I just want… in case… something happens, in case I don’t get to tell you—”

“Nope,” Isaac rasped. “Don’t do that. This is gonna work.”

“You probably know better than I do that that’s not a guarantee,” Gavin whispered back. “And I just… please, I just want you to know…”

Isaac rolled onto his back, his hands moving through his hair. Fuck it. I already know what he’s gonna say. “Fine. What?”

“Um…” Gavin’s breaths were coming faster now. “I just… wanted to tell you. That I… um… You already know I love you.”

Isaac swallowed hard. “Um. Yeah.”

“Well, I…” Gavin sighed. “Okay, just know that I’m not trying to make anything happen, alright? I’m just telling you this in case I fucking die tomorrow.”

Isaac laughed tightly, shaking his head. Fuck, dude, we might all die tomorrow. “Okay.”

“Well, I…” A deep, shaky breath. “I know that you could never want me, with what I’ve done. Even if I hadn’t hurt Sam. I know you could never want me, because you’re good. But… If there was ever a chance for me to grow up, um, normal, to have never been allowed to hurt people, if I’d never turned into a monster… I would’ve wanted a life with you. And… I’m gonna spend the rest of my life doing everything I can to keep you safe from the syndicates. Even if everything ends tomorrow.”

Isaac lay frozen, stunned. He could hear his pulse in his head, feel his heart beating against his chest. His brain buzzed with disbelief, with shock. Knowing Gavin loved him was one thing. Knowing Gavin loved him like that… was another thing entirely. He didn’t think he’d ever been loved like that before. And to be loved like that by Gavin…

“Sorry,” Gavin whispered, and rolled over again in the dark.

“No, no, I…” Isaac’s voice broke. “Sorry. Um…”

“That was a lot,” Gavin breathed.

“Yeah. But, um… I… I don’t…”

“I told you I wasn’t trying to start anything,” Gavin whispered. “I’m not trying to make anything happen. Okay? I know it won’t. I’m not trying to convince you.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Isaac murmured, his voice almost silent.

“Good,” Gavin huffed. “After everything I’ve done to you, I have no fucking right.”

You didn’t have to convince me to step in front of a bullet for you. “Um, Gavin?”

“Hmm?”

“Uh…” Isaac cleared his throat. “Um… thank you.”

“For what?” Isaac could hear the tremor in Gavin’s voice.

“For… for helping us. I know it’s been hard. I know you didn’t, um… have to.”

“This life is so much better than what I had before, Isaac,” Gavin whispered. “I have a family now. I’ve never had one before. Not really.”

“But—”

“I can’t express to you how much my parents just didn’t fucking care about me, Isaac. Here… yeah, Ellis hates me, and Vera gives me nightmares, but… this is a family. You care about each other. Sam cares about me. Gray cares. Finn cares.”

“I care,” Isaac whispered, the words fading into silence. He clenched his jaw shut. Why did I say that?

“Wh-what?” Gavin breathed.

“Um.” Isaac had to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “I care.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

There was a long moment when neither moved. Then Gavin rolled over in the dark, and didn’t say anything else.

The last time I had a conversation like this in the dark, Sam heard the whole thing.

Sam slumbered peacefully next to Isaac, breathing deep and slow.

Continued here

@untilthepainstarts, @womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @insomniacscoprio, @cursedscribbles, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @omega-em-z-02, @whumps-the-word, @slaintetowhump, @finder-of-rings, @cinnamonflavoredhugs, @thatsthewhump, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @orchidscript

#honor bound 2 #whump #emotional whump #Isaac/Gavin #Gavin is so fucking in love guys #chronic pain tw #death mention tw #Gavin Uriah #whispered conversation #one of my favorite tropes #touch starved Isaac #head injury #memory loss tw #gavin's scars #Isaac's scars #love confession #parental abuse tw #my oc: Isaac

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josietakesnash · 3 years

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Time to Live

Sit a spell. It’s time for a recap of Chapter 7 - 9 of The How of Happiness.

Alright, to be honest, my initial go-to when someone tells me, “live in the now” is:

It’s challenging to live in the present when you have generalized anxiety, PTSD, OCD and depression. However, I 100% agree that there are MAJOR benefits to channeling “the now” instead of worrying about what comes next. If anything, I’ve found that when I just do something, (not talk about it, not schedule it, just do it), I’m lightyears less stressed.

Also, hey! Harping on the future isn’t all bad. Sonja made it a point to say, (and I’m paraphrasing here), that when you think of the positive events in your future, you are more likely to be an optimistic person.

In Sonja’s opinion, reminiscing isn’t a crime either. Just do your best to reimagine the happy moments and accomplishments. One of my favorite memories is when I met my favorite musician. Girl, it’s been a decade, and I’m still sorry for crying in your arms outside of a public bathroom.

Another point, which triggered the lyric ‘Success is nothing if you have no one left to share it with’ written by the man, the myth, the legend-- Ed Sheeran. It’s true. At the end of the day, it feels good to know that the people you love are involved and excited about your goals.

Now, onto Chapter 8:

Goals! Woooo!

If you aren’t planning your daily life around conquering seemingly insignificant, small goals, what are you doing? Brushing your teeth? Done. Hydrating? Eating a few fruits or veggies? Showering? Arriving to class on time? Heck yeah, man. Who said goals have to be overwhelming?

As for life goals? We’ve all got ‘em. For me, my wildest dream is to be in A&R or own a publishing company. When I’m down, I remember why I’m here in Nash. I remember that little girl singing Al Green in the back of her Mom’s car. I remember that teenager who saw a mixing board for the first time in her life and nearly passed out from the beauty. I remember that girl who got her acceptance letter to her top choice university. I remember, and it gives me the spark to keep going.

It’s rad that goals can do that for us. They give us purpose, direction, hope, and control. They up our confidence, and help us to become masters of time management and structure. Goals guide us into healthy, supportive relationships.

Chapter 9:

TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF, FOOL.

Though I was raised Catholic, and thus taught to suffer--

I’m kidding.

.. Sort of.

I vibe with my homeboy Jesus, just not in a go to church every Sunday kind of way. When I was a teenager, I hated myself. It was ugly and dramatic-- I’m a Leo.. Because I was so low, I didn’t have it in myself to love God. I didn’t feel worthy of it.

We cool now, though.

He’s probably sick of me, tbh.

Spirituality, faith, whatever you want to call it, does help hundreds of thousands of people cope with their daily lives and past or current traumas. Want to hear a cuckoo story? The reason I believe? When I had cancer, I was given a drug that caused me to have a stroke. My parents were told that if I woke up from the coma my stroke put me into, I would never walk or talk again.

Below is an accurate representation of how one of my oncologists reacted when I walked out of my hospital room only a couple months later:

Anyways... God has our back, y’all.

Meditation was also mentioned. I used to do that at bedtime, but then I started having sleep paralysis. Who wants a demon tap dancing on their chest?

I digress.

Now, I choose to set ten minutes aside in the morning to just zone out and breathe. From the effects its had on me, (reduced chronic pain and anxiety, mainly), I trust that others receive positive effects as well.

One point I disagree on is the topic of SSRIs. To say that exercise is just as affective is, in my opinion, too bold of a statement. Some people really need to be medicated. Myself being one of them. Prior to Zoloft, I barely spoke. I didn’t take care of myself. I didn’t speak up in class. I didn’t have friends and was locked in abuse. I felt everything, all the time; I couldn’t have a rational thought. To be afraid of yourself 24/7 is not something I would wish on anybody. Zoloft saved me.

Don’t get it twisted, exercise does help. My favorite part of the day is going for walks around campus. But, for me personally, if I stopped my SSRI and put exercise in its place, I would lose my sanity. I would have to exercise CONSTANTLY.

Last but not least, the whole “fake it ‘til you make it”

I don’t know, dudes. I’m not flat out saying this doesn’t work. I’m sure it does for some. But for me? Not exactly. I don’t like lying to myself. I don’t like lying to others. If I’m sad, I’m sad. I’m allowed to be sad. If I’m happy, sick! I’m allowed to be happy. But hey, if it helps you, that’s lovely.

I don’t have a ton of complaints about these chapters. They were insightful, uplifting, and comforting.

.. Okay, byeeeeeeee.

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modern-oedipus · 4 years

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Update: I vented (both to my journal and a trusted friend), made a therapist appointment (I can get one per month but the time has come), cleaned my room and came up with some useful ideas to help me on the following semester. The recent days have been tough for me but I am overcoming slowly. I’m grateful for everyone who respected this and helped me the best they could. Tomorrow I’m leaving for a (delayed) vacation. I’ll watch out for social distancing and hygiene as always. I have been worried and nearly depressed at the thought of online-college even though I am fully aware of the risks in-person education would bring. I’m not one to decide what my university is going to do, but I will get precautions to protect my mental and physical health. Of course there are things I can’t control, things unfortunate and horrifying and perhaps inevitable, like catching the virus and/or losing someone I love, dying, or being given permanent damage. This reminds me of the times when I was around 17 and there’d be attacks on Paris and I’d freak out. Anyway, this is a different threat, but it still leaves a trace even if I am not directly facing it. But... There are things I can and cannot control. It’s important to focus on the parts I can control, right? So that I can be the most ready for the worst case without constantly worrying over it. Overdosed anxiety is really useless. (Fun fact: I never thought I had chronic anxiety, but my therapist low-key called me out once saying that I tend to have anxiety, even though she cannot fully diagnose me with it since my “symptoms” are not severe enough, but that they could become a problem if I didn’t keep them in check.) But well, how can’t you be anxious in this time and age? I think it’s humanly to be anxious, just... It’s just as humanly as being angry or bitter or salty. What matters is to acknowledge that anxiety and process it healthily without making it toxic for me or people around me. So let me just vent this: THIS IS SO FUCKED UP. I fucking hate this, I’m so tired of always trying to “protect” my mental health, like, the moment I got my personal problems together, covid19 started. My precious college experience, of whom I lost 1.5 years due depression, got cancelled. Outdoors got cancelled. We don’t know what this virus is or how long I can’t go to the events (congresses, stage plays, concerts, protests, everything... that makes me feel alive and connected and happy and hype) or whether this covid leaves a permanent damage. My parents fucking divorced, and even though the divorce itself hasn’t been traumatic for me I still... switch houses... it’s just... weird. I miss having my family together. I miss doing the things I love, going out, laying on the grasses in front of the faculty with my Starbucks cup and chatting to my two best friends about anything and everything, going to classes, leaving classes, my best friend dragging me to the music faculty so I can listen and record him playing piano, or that we can go out for partying, or we can hit to gym, or we can stay for a coffee chat with everyone, or go to our cheesy dining hall lunches, join to 6 pm events, stay in library to rush a homework together, run to the classroom as we repeat out the enzyme names loud because we just have a quiz, wearing our lab coats and taking silly pics, pretending we get the next Nobel prize as we go to lab, visiting the student’s office in my newspaper, standing on the line of orientation and welcoming the freshmen with giant pics and convincing them to join our club, dancing, petting campus dogs, buying even more Starbucks, I just... I miss everything so much. This is my final year and what if I can never get to experience such a beautiful experience again? What if it is ruthlessly stripped from me despite the crazy tuition fee I pay for online fucking classes? Who on their right mind wants to do online college? It’s the best college here too, like... It ain’t even a bad college, so I can confidently say that I’m missing out A LOT. I know it is like this worldwide but... It doesn’t make my pain any less. And I know this is not a “big” problem compared to getting the virus, but this is severely impacting my mental health so even if this is not a “big” problem, this is valid and serious enough to drive me miserable, which means I need to talk about it. I miss everything so much. It’s just. JUST when I’m out of depression and feeling alive... That I’m homestuck.

I had so many chances that I wasted half of it in my freshman year because I was suicidal. Now I am full of life, but home stuck, and it just hurts, okay? It fucking hurts. Even if I go study another major after this (I considered this since I studied a stem major but I really want some psychology/philosophy/media related things additionally) I will be, idk, 22? It won’t feel the same as being 21. No one can give me the 2020 back. I’m honestly just... so, so, so, so, SO sad. This is overwhelming. This much of online education is too much. And I know that even if we go to campus it’s not the same because we have to wear masks and stay split and cancel big events (which, believe me, I most religiously follow, the virus is no joke and I never let my guard down even for a second) so it won’t be the same. Just... why... why... why... If this virus really came because some guy ate a rat in China, then...

On the other side, as sad and horrified as I feel, I don’t want to “waste” my time just because it’s “online”. I want to make the most of my time. I want to enjoy whatever I have, I just need to stop obsessing over “why...” and “what if...”s. I need to accept... that life is like this. But god, I guess that’s something for therapy because I’m honestly bad at accepting things which are genuinely unfair to me. Worse since this unfairness is not something that can be just “solved”. It’s not like a friendship conflict. It’s a bloody pandemic, what can I do? Oh, right, speaking of what I can do, I’ve actually come up with a few solutions. They don’t “solve” the issue but they can decrease the damage enough that I can go on my day to day life at peace.

But I’ll not talk about the solutions here, I just wanted to vent. I normally don’t post this type of vent here (the miserable ones) but since I refuse to write anyone in dm-s right now, I thought you could read it if you’re worried. I’m sorry but I still don’t want to talk to anyone (except those who are excluded), so. Anyway, take care! 2020 is crazy but if we can get through this year we can probably get through many other challenges like they’re little snacks! Love you all!

#nila stuff #update #vent #tw #college #online college #online classes

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lonely-bored-writer · 4 years

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Casper High Ch. 7

Sam Winchester was always good at reading people, even when he was a little kid. Walking into a room, he could assess and categorize people and situations. Regardless of how bad that might sound, it has helped him survive the multitude of schools he went to over the years and it even saved his life a few times. Even if the trait didn't help find the monster, it did help with spotting when or hiding information. It came to help him more times than he could count.

Then there was Danny Fenton. He can't seem to read the other teen, no matter how hard he tried. He'd figure something out, just to have the smaller kid do something that completely threw off his assumptions, always sending him back to square one. The more he got to know him, the more confusing things got. It didn't bother him, he oddly liked the challenge, but this was something he wouldn't have expected. Sam resolutely didn't want this to be Danny's life, the too constant to be healthy changing, because the ramifications of such a fact could be harrowing and dangerous. And he was a hunter.

The youngest Winchester found himself working methodically with his older brother to patch up his friend. The two of them worked in sync, Dean doing the sewing, taping, and wound care while Sam mostly kept the area clean and gathered any soiled items such as gauze and tape from his brother's space. As they worked, Sam was able to block his emotions for the moment, focusing solely on helping his friend, and making sure Danny would be okay.

After quite some time, the patch job was finished. Sam's eyes glanced over his brother's stern stance before landing on Danny. Danny. The teen sat in one of Sam's shirts, too large for the smaller boy, but the only option for the moment seeing as Dean's wouldn't be much better. He was shrunk in on himself, shoulders hunched up to his ears, body folding in as to take up the least amount of space, and his eyes were glued to the ground. Now, without the distraction of patching up Danny's horrifically wounded back, Sam's mind could now race with all the possible things that could have happened to Danny. How did this seemingly okay teen end up with such harsh injuries? His eyes raked over the bruises visible along Danny's arms, places that were hidden with the teen's original jacket, the random collection of small scrapes on elbows and even on his shoulders, and the hint of fading bruising that the two brothers saw on the Danny's ribs gave Sam a sinking feeling in his stomach that this was deeper than he thought at first glance.

"Explain." Dean's voice broke the silence, voice gruff and to the point, the tension growing even more. Danny somehow shrunk back into himself even more, trying to hide from the stares of the Winchesters. Sam could hear Danny swallow in the still silence.

What could have happened? Did Danny get attacked? Was he in danger? Who could have done this in such a small sleepy town, where everyone knew everything?

It wasn't like Sam saw the other teen with many people, aside from himself and Dean; the smaller boy didn't seem to have friends, if anything he was excluded and bullied, the butt of the school's jokes. His mind flipped through memories to try and pinpoint the one person that could have done this. It clearly wasn't Danny's best friends, they were in other states- not that Sam could even imagine the two of them doing it, they obviously loved their best friend way too much to even do so. That leaves only really two people who could...

Then the pieces slowly fell into place. Sam's blood running cold with the realization; it was the only thing that made any sense. Small interactions that he originally ignored now coming into place; the small winces, the limping, chronic lateness, the excuses of his parents needing him for experiments yet being absent whenever they weren't 'conducting' one. His stomach drop at the full realization.

"Your parents." Sam uttered before he could stop himself, and wished he could take it back, seeing Danny tense immediately. The black haired head snapped up fast, wide eyes meeting his. Sam could very clearly read the emotions in those glassy eyes. Surprise, fear, pain. His heart stopped at the realization that he hit the nail on the head.

"Your parents did this?" Dean growled, anger dripping from his words. Sam watched Danny's panicked gaze falling on Dean. Danny's mouth flopped open and closed like a fish out of water as he tried to figure out what to say. "Don't. Lie." Dean growled, angry at the situation, but not at the struggling teen in front of him. Sam watched as all the resolve seemed to leave Danny at once, his body going limp as a deep sigh left him.

"I... yeah." He spoke, eyes falling back to the carpeted floor, the resolve, the fight going out of the teen. Sam felt his heart stop, while he knew he was right, it was different to have Danny confirm it. "I just...It's just... Don't tell anyone. Please." Danny begged, eyes flying back up to meet the brothers. Once again Sam could read the emotions in those blue eyes as clear as day.

"Danny, they are hurting you." Sam spoke, disbelief clear in his voice. He knows the challenges of having complicated family, he really does, but everything has a limit. If the people who were supposed to love was inflicting this much pain on you, it needs to stop. "It's bad, you can't stay there!"

"This is my last year here, guys please." Danny spoke, eyes burrowing into Sam's. "I only have one semester to go through, then I graduate and it's over. Just please... Don't tell anyone." Sam stared back in disbelief, he couldn't imagine leaving Danny alone to whatever his parents might do in the upcoming days.

"Danny-" Sam started, before his words were cut short by a glance from his brother. Sam might know what he wants, but he trusts Dean to know how to handle this better than he would. He might not admit it, but he knows that he'll more likely give into his anger then logically think this through seeing as he was much closer to the issue than Dean was.

"Plus," Danny cut in hurriedly, "I met some people- they are a pair of friends that live together in a house, and they are willing to take me in. My parents would absolutely freak out if they even offered to take custody of me. Charles and Pandora have been wanting to at least have one of them gain custody of me when I was fourteen, and have been willing to fight my parents for it. Trust me guys, I have some people in my corner." Since Danny wasn't exactly lying- just stretching the truth, neither Winchester sensed that the kid wasn't telling the full truth. Clockwork and Pandora were basically his parents at this point, the two Ancients of Time and Hope, respectively, staking their claim over him as his ghostly parents. And they were a damn sight better than Jack and Maddie, but that was another matter altogether.

Pandora offered rooms in her Grecian kingdom of a lair and Clockwork offered a room in his Clocktower. Hell, even Frostbite offered him a place within his tribe to stay. Now it was just a waiting game until he could get the hell out of dodge and into the Ghost Zone. "Seriously, please don't do anything. I'm just fine right now."

"Fine." Dean spoke, making sure to make eye contact with Danny. "But if you need somewhere to go, your first choice better be getting your ass here. And you'd better let us as long as we're in town." The reminder of leaving hit Sam hard. He forgot for a split second that their stay here was never guaranteed.

"Yeah okay... I promise." Danny responded with a nod, eyes flipping between the brothers before he offered a small smile. "Thanks for the help."

"Danny-" Sam was once more interrupted but this time from a loud ringtone cutting through the tension. Sam watched Danny jump before frantically scrambling to answer his phone.

"Hey mom... That was today? No sorry, I forgot..." Danny's eyebrows furrowed, but Sam couldn't help the heaviness he felt as Danny spoke, just knowing that Danny would be facing his parents when he got home. "No no, I can head back home... Yeah we got most of it done... Okay yea, I'll be home soon... Love you, bye." Danny sighed once he hung up and turned to the brothers.

"Promise that you will." Dean spoke, eyes trained on the nervous teen.

"I forgot I promised I'll help my dad clean out the Lab closet." Danny answered, nervously rubbing the back of his neck, the Winchester brothers catching it and sharing a saddened look. "I promised you guys, and I'll hold up to it." Danny said, gathering his things. Sam watched in shock as the teen just packed up as if nothing had happened.

"You better. We won't stay quiet if you don't." Dean threatened. Danny nodded vigorously in response, still pale at the thought of someone finding out.

"I'll see you at school Sam?" Danny offered, a nervous, shaky smile on his lips. Sam held back his feelings, offering his own smile, if only to comfort his friend.

"Yeah, Danny..." Sam paused, before added. "Stay safe." Danny grinned and nodded, tossing a 'bye!' to Dean before rushing out the door. Sam sighed, taking a seat on his bed.

"You okay?" Dean asked, settling next to his little brother, bumping their shoulders together.

"This is bullshit." Sam growled, shaking his head. "He's in danger and we're just letting him go back there. He says that his parents have him help with 'experiments!' We're supposed to save people Dean!" Dean froze before forcefully relaxing; he hadn't thought of the implications of having scientists for parents, much less Danny supposedly having to help his parents in their work. The elder Winchester brother hated thinking about what he allowed Danny to go back to- possibly being tested on his actual joke of parents, who just so happened to be the absolute craziest, most utterly inept people in town. Having immoral and frankly awful scientists who couldn't do the smallest of things right for parents only meant worse treatment for Danny, no matter how much the kid excused them.

"We can't save everyone, I'm not saying we don't try our damned best, but it is statistically impossible to save everyone." Dean said, glancing towards the door, already world weary with his much longer experience with hunting than his younger brother had. "Especially those that don't want to be saved. It's not our place to try if he doesn't want us to. Sometimes helping will just hurt a person more."

"I know..." Sam said, the anger and worry bubbling inside him. It had been so long since he felt this helpless, it felt like he was letting his friend walk towards his death sentence "It's just... Fuck." Sam dropped his head into his hands, mind racing to try and figure out how to word his thoughts and feelings.

"Does this have anything to do with what happened with Danny the other day?" Dean asked, eyebrow raised at his little brother. Sam sighed, turning to look at his brother. He knew Dean wasn't stupid- he knew that Dean was going to bring this up sooner or later.

"Yeah." Sam confirmed, shaking his head. "I just... I don't know how to explain it."

"How bout this." Dean turned facing his brother. "Just say the first thing that comes to mind."

"Dean, I don't think that'll help." Sam said, raising his own brow.

"Come on, humor me." Dean lightly shoved his brother's side. Sam shook his head, but he couldn't help but smile.

"Okay, okay. Fine." Sam paused, taking a breath before blurting out the first thing that came to mind when he thought about Danny. "I like him." Sam felt his face heat up, dropping his gaze to his hands.

"Like... Like like?" Dean asked, eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah..." Sam shrugged, turning to look at his brother to try and figure out what the older was thinking, nervous fingers twisting each other together.

"Does he know?" Dean asked.

"No..." Sam sighed. "I don't even know if he's gay." Sam spoke the words before he realized what he was saying.

"Are you?"

"No... I don't know." Sam swallowed, he hadn't thought of his own sexuality; this was all so new to him. "Danny's the first guy I've liked... If I was though, would that be a problem?" Sam added as an afterthought.

"Dude!" Dean spoke, looking shocked, as if he was insulted that Sam thought that he would even care about romantic or sexual orientation. He shoved his brother again, before continuing. "I don't care who you're into, besides Danny's a cool kid... But you know how you feel right?"

"Yeah, I know Dean." Sam sighed, before giving his brother a small smile. "Thanks."

"Okay, enough of the chick-flick moment." Dean shook his head, quickly ruffling Sam's hair before grabbing the long forgotten food he brought back. "Let's eat." Sam laughed, shaking his head while following his brother to the kitchen area.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

#I forgot to update you guys #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #SUPERNATURAL AU #casper high #Danny Phantom #danny #danny phantom fanfiction #phandom #phandoms #fanfiction #fanfiction.net #fanfic #Fandoms #fandom

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throtegote · 4 years

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Yung Waitloz (2012 me’s rapper name)

(If you’d like to read this off my wix blog here’s the link: https://erikatriesall.wixsite.com/tlhodia)

If you get triggered by topics concerning body image and weight loss then proceed with caution or don’t proceed at all.

I probably discuss way too much personal stuff online, but hey, who doesn’t appreciate a little oversharing every once in a while?

I have never been skinny or slim, let’s start there. Sure, I was a tiny baby, but that was about it. I have always been bigger than a lot of my classmates and even now I’m in no way built like a Victoria’s Secret model. Also, keep in mind that I’ve never been clinically obese or severely overweight. Got it? Cool.

Enter My Mom. She has been on my case to lose weight for as long as I remember. I admit, there were times when I was particularly chonky, but that’s beside the point. I remember being 8-9 years old when she spent over 15 minutes ridiculing and calling me out on how my spandex gym tights made noises as my thighs rubbed together during our uphill walk around the residential estate. She was also and still is, fond of pinching my “love-handles” (in quotes because if I remember “You can’t even call them love handles because you have nobody loving you.”), with her long-ass, sharp nails whenever they appeared over the waistband of my pants.

(I’m not bitter or anything)

Essentially, 8-year-old me was told to lose weight enough times to try. I ate the food they gave me, and only what they gave me, and went on walks occasionally with My Mom (which I despised because I really didn’t leave the comfort of my room to be berated by my birth giver). I even started taking netball more seriously and started athletics training. What I also started doing was paying close attention to the bodies of girls around me and playing spot the difference. Not too long afterwards I learned to hate clothes shopping and hide in group photos. When I look through photo albums and my parent’s phone galleries now, it’s plain to see that I was an Olympic grade camera dodger.

Fast forward a few years. Now I’m 11-12 years old. I’ve grown taller and older, so my weight distribution has changed, but I’m still not skinny. My Mom is still on me to lose weight, even more so now that I’m older and maturing into “womanhood” because apparently, it is a crime to wear pants only a few sizes smaller than your mother of similar body structure and lesser height. Now that I’m older and more educated, I’ve realized that even though I was playing a sport and jogging and going for aerobics with my mom occasionally, I won’t get skinny unless I change my diet. In fact, there was a time when some government nurses came to do regional health checks at school and some data included body weight (there was a crowd around me when it was my turn to hop on the scale. The boys laughed, I went to the bathroom and cried. But it’s all good). The nurses then asked me questions about stuff like the bread we had at home, if I ate junk food or added sugar, stuff like that. That’s when it clicked. It clicked real hard.

A typical school lunch packed by My Mom comprised a hotdog/ham sandwich/homemade burger, a packet of chips/crisps and a juice box or Tropica when she was feeling generous. Which is what my brothers and a lot of my friends were packing to school with no problems: but I’m not built like those people so I can’t eat like them, right? The lunch had to go. And go it did. And so did pretty much all my other regular meals.

If My Mom was distracted with getting ready for work, I’d ditch breakfast and lie about it, then hop onto the school bus. Getting rid of the stuff in my lunchbox wasn’t too difficult to do because I had friends who were happy to help. This meant that for the first 12 hours of the day all I had was a juice box or nothing at all. It worked. My Mom noticed and complimented my improved physique along with a handful of relatives. But was I skinny? Not even.

Then came the Google searches. “How to lose weight quickly” “How to get skinny” “How to get a thigh gap” “How to lose thigh fat fast” Just to name a few.

That’s when I discovered the infamous pro-anorexia community. Or should I say that’s when they found me? I’m not too sure.

Over the school holidays, I started with the so-called “K-pop” diets and did YouTube workouts every night with more consistency than my prayer life. Two boiled eggs for breakfast, some milk for lunch (which was disastrous because apparently, I’m lactose intolerant), and for dinner… water, with or without lemon or tea. It really depended on the day. Not that hard to get away with, really. When the fat girl says they’re not hungry, who are you to force them?

But I couldn’t lose weight fast enough. Sure, slowly killing myself was working, but was I skinny? Nah.

So, I turned to “thinspo” and “pretty girl diet” challenges and "pro-ana" coaches to guide me. (If you're somebody who thinks it's okay to coax children into dangerous eating disorders and potentially death, you deserve a chair. But make it electric. Periodt.) My stomach was flattening, and my pants came on a lot easier, but the truth was I was utterly miserable. Getting skinny was all I thought about. And I’m not talking about Victoria’s Secret model skinny, I got to a point where I was jealous of the science lab skeleton, no jokes. Food wasn’t food anymore; it was just numbers and macros. I was always dizzy and cranky and my hair was falling out and even though I had done it for long enough to overcome the hunger pangs, there was a new pain, one that manifested in my chest and couldn’t be treated with sleep or Panado. I was the only one on holiday for three months, so nobody noticed.

I was twelve when I first tried to off myself with prescription drugs. All because I couldn’t be skinny and in my head that meant I couldn’t be pretty, or loved, or befriended. I woke up after a 8-hour “nap” to find that nothing had changed.

Why am I exposing myself by telling this story?

If you’re a parent or sibling or anyone who cares for a child who you think needs to lose weight for whatever reason (hopefully for health-related reasons, not purely aesthetics), please do not leave them to their own devices. They will search for authoritative guidance elsewhere, and the wrong people may find them. People who prescribe oxygen as a meal plan and perpetuate the notion that if you can pinch at your flesh, then you are ugly and will remain ugly until you are feather-light. Despite being one of the smartest kids in my grade, I still fell for it. (Update: I’m still not skinny. I probably only fucked up my metabolism and lost hair. -100/10, would not recommend to my worst enemy.)

Good news is at some point I got sick and tired of feeling the way I did. My suicide attempt failed miserably but instead of trying again, I uninstalled all my calorie counter and fitness apps, tossed all my magazines in the trash and talked to my mom and made it a point to talk to friends more, especially those who understood in some way or another. The Body Positivity movement was rising, and that helped a lot. Big ups to all the lovely people on YouTube who post videos on #recovery.

But experiences like this don’t just go away. You don’t forget and move on. I still have relapses, I still feel insurmountable guilt after eating, I still feel like I would rather eat baked rat than gain weight, I still go through binge-restrict cycles. All stemming from events that happened over 8 years ago.

My Mom had some level of good intention, I won't disregard that. People on her side of the family suffer from chronic illnesses that can all be prevented if not managed better through proper diet and exercise and she doesn't want her kids developing high blood pressure at age 13. Fine, I get it. But damn.

If you can avoid doing this to yourself or someone impressionable in your life, please do. Model healthy behaviours for your kids to adopt and talk health; not snatched waistlines, not thigh gaps nor scale readings. Teach your kids not to base the entirety of their worth on their appearance. And do not, under any circumstances, body shame them.

Please?

Once again, a lot of what is here is based on personal experience and opinion (‘coz it’s my blog, duh’). If you have separate ideas or any disagreements, bring them up in the comments or email me. I love a good debate.

Also, if you currently relate to anything mentioned in this post, take this as your sign to get better. Trust me, you're worth it.

xoxo

Erika

#body positive #ed #weightloss #childhood trauma #true story #personal #tw #body image

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theskyeandsea · 4 years

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When the Levee Breaks || Remmy & Skylar

Location: Remmy, Blanche, and Nora’s home, specifically Remmy’s room.

Notes: Just friends hanging out, having a chat, coming to terms with the incomprehensibly painful and overwhelming reality of their lives.

Trigger Warning: Depression cw, suicide/suicidal thoughts tw, chronic illness mentions, abuse mentions

Skylar’s bag thumped against her back as she walked up the steps to Remmy’s place, her skin inside it weighing heavily on her shoulders. Her hands shook as she made her way to the door, trembling as she stared at the door knocker. All of this, it was too much. She couldn’t-- this was a mistake. She shouldn’t be burdening Remmy with this. They were just… too nice, too kind, too giving for their own good. But, she couldn’t be alone right now. Not after everything she’d realized. Knocking on the door, she quickly stepped back and shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans. Skylar hoped that Blanche didn’t open the door-- the last thing she wanted to do was bother another person with her problems. Hoping that her eyes didn’t look to puffy from all the crying she’d done, Skylar steadied her nerves as best she could when the door swung open. “Hi… I’m really sorry for bothering you so late.” She mumbled.

Even over the internet, Remmy could tell something big was wrong. Skylar had messaged them and the words alone had worried Remmy. And even though it would take Skylar a bit to get there, they had been waiting down by the front door the minute she’d said she was on the way. Remmy had already been through something like this with Morgan, and this time, they weren’t going to let their own feelings get in the way. Besides, they’d taken that reprieve once, and that was enough. Cry and leave it, as Lancer had always said. The second there was a knock on the door, Remmy was leaping across the foyer to pull the door open. “What? No! No, it’s totally fine! You’re not bothering me at all, I promise!” They ushered Skylar inside, the entryway already clear of loose snakes. Moose was laying by the stairs and lifted his head when he saw Skylar coming in. “I told you, anytime, I’m here for you. I don’t sleep so,” they shrugged, shut the door behind her. “Do you um, want anything? Tea? Water? Apple juice? I think we have apple juice, I bought some for Blanche when she was sick.”

When Remmy opened the door, Skylar could feel the tears start to well up in the corners of her eyes. Just looking at them-- she hadn’t seen them since that awful night at the beach, when she’d seen them get… stabbed by a lobster claw. And, even though they had reassured her that they were okay, that it was fine, she hadn’t been able to shake her worries. What if something happened? What if they weren’t as indestructible as they thought? But, here they were. Safe. And whole and fine. Everything was fine. Except that it wasn’t. Blinking away the tears, Skylar’s hands fidgeted at her side and she shook her head. She couldn’t… She didn’t want to speak right now. There was just too much going on in her mind. Too many emotions. Holding her hand up, Skylar got Remmy’s attention and signed, “I don’t need anything to drink right now. Is there somewhere we can be alone?” She asked, not meeting Remmy’s gaze as she signed. It was too much. All of this was too much. She couldn’t do this.

Oh, shit. Remmy should’ve thought of that. “Right, sorry,” they signed back. “We can go to my room.” They’d chosen more secluded rooms from each other, mostly for privacy, but also because the house had twelve of them. Remmy took Skylar’s hand gently and led her up the stairs to their room, giving Moose a pat and pointing him off to his own room. He slumped a little as he walked away, but Remmy wasn’t sure he was the most comforting to Skylar. They shut the door behind them and turned back to face Skylar. “Uh, sorry it’s pretty empty,” they signed again, “we can sit on the bed or the chairs.” The two plastic chairs from Remmy’s old dining table were in the corner of the room, but they weren’t exactly...the most inviting. “Beds more comfortable.”

Skylar trailed behind Remmy, letting them guide her through the house without a word. Most times, she would be incredibly uncomfortable letting someone else take her hand. They were how she communicated with the world for most of her life. But, she just… she couldn’t deal right now. There was too much pain, too much sadness, too much of the harsh reality bearing down on her shoulders, weighing her down. When Remmy led her to their room, she sank down onto the bed, too drained to think of anything else. She slipped the backpack from her shoulders and gently removed the skin, unfolding it so it draped over her legs like a blanket. Staring at the pelt for a moment, she looked up at Remmy before clearing her throat, “Ricky was right.”

Remmy felt immediately bad for the thought, but they were so glad to see Skylar had her pelt and that she was holding it so delicately. Had she changed on her own? Remmy came over, cautiously, kneeling on the floor in front of her, before sitting. Ricky was right. Remmy’s eyes fell. Of course he was, because denying who you were wasn’t going to help anything. But they couldn’t say that. They knew Skylar was hurting, because not accepting she was a selkie was about more than just not understanding the world of magic and monsters. Remmy shifted slightly. “I’m sorry,” they murmured, held out their hand as an offer. If Skylar wanted to take it, she would. If not, that was okay, too. “I...I know that’s hard for you to admit. I know it’s because of…” they looked down at the pelt. “We can talk, or we can just sit here. Whatever...whatever you need, I’m here.”

Shifting her gaze to the pelt on her lap, Skylar trailed her fingers across the fur. It was comforting, it was so… comforting, to have it here. Just touching it made her feel better, made the sadness wane, just a little. But, now she knew why it felt so familiar and right. Because it had always been with her. It had always been a part of who she was. “It’s not that he was right about me being a selkie. He’s always been right about that. He was right about,” Skylar swallowed thickly through the lump that had formed in her throat. Seeing Remmy’s offered hand, she clung to it, grasping them tightly, so tightly. Like they were a lifeboat and she was adrift, drowning in an ocean of deep and cutting truth. “My parents… aren’t good people. They were never good people. And I was too stupid to see that.” As she spoke, a droplet of water fell from her eyes, splattering against the fur of her pelt and rolling off the side. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for being mad at you, Rem. This was all my fault.”

Remmy just held onto Skylar when she grasped them, wrapping their arms around her. That familiar embrace, just like how they gathered Morgan up into their arms. Skylar was bigger than Morgan, but she still fit fine in their arms. “I’m sorry,” they muttered, “I...you’re not stupid, Skylar, and none of this is your fault. They were...your parents. You were supposed to be able to trust them. That’s not on you,” they said, shaking their head, “that’s never on you. And I know-- I know that doesn’t help the pain, but it’s the truth.” They sat back again, holding Skylar at arm’s length. “Hey, don’t-- don’t apologize. It’s okay. You-- you were allowed to be mad. What I did was...I know it hurt you, and we shouldn’t have forced you, I just…” they reached up to wipe a tear from her cheek. “I hate seeing you in pain.”

Leaning into the embrace, Skylar began to sob, the tears streaming down her face in full force. She burrowed her head into their shoulder and wrapped her arms around Remmy, hugging them tightly. Her body shook as she continued to cry, unable to form words as she sat there, absolutely emotionally drained. Her parents had done nothing for her. They’d hurt her, actively withheld the one thing that could make her better, and then forced her to turn when she’d been too weak and too delirious to even remember, let alone ask why. Eventually, her sobbing subsided and she was able to form words again. Mumbling quietly into Remmy’s shoulder, Skylar took in a shuddering breath. “Th-they let me suffer. They, they knew how to really help me and they never told me. They waited until I was too tired and in too much pain to do anything, and forced me to turn.” Sucking in a deep breath, she shook her head, “They did this my whole life. When I left home, they didn’t say anything. They would have been just fine if I had died.”

Remmy just held Skylar. They knew no words were going to make something like this right. Her words struck something deep inside of Remmy’s chest, inside of their memories. Hands tightening ever so slightly around her, as if the stronger the grip, the more they could protect her from all the horrible things her parents had done. Remmy’s head dipped and they placed their cheek on the top of Skylar’s head. “I’m so sorry, Skye,” they said, holding back the bite in their voice, “I’m so sorry they did that to you. But you...you know you have people here who wouldn’t be fine if you died. You have people here who...who love you. Who care about you so much.” That’s what had gotten Remmy through the pain of a lost mother and an abusive father. Knowing that other people cared. They slumped a little. “I’m so sorry. I wish they’d told you. You don’t deserve this.”

Resting her head against Remmy, Skylar just sat there for a long moment, letting the silence stretch on. The pelt was still draped against her legs but, even though she’d turned and even though it was here, a deep and profound weight had settled in the pit of her stomach. Dimly she was aware that, for one of the first times in her life, it wasn’t because of her biology. This was just true sadness and grief. Grief over the life and the family she’d lost. “I called my mom.” Skylar said. “She didn’t say anything. She just… told me to never call again. And that was it.” Swallowing, she pulled back slightly, eyes puffy and red as she looked at Remmy. “I know you care about me. And Winston. And Shiloh. I just,” Fresh tears began to spring to her eyes and she did her best to hold them in. “I pushed Ricky away so many times. I was so angry at him, Remmy. And now I don’t think he’s going to want anything to do with me any more.”

Remmy’s chest felt tight again, as they looked at Skylar and felt as if they could feel the weight of her pain, just from the way she held herself, and how small her voice had become. “I…” Remmy didn’t know what Skylar and Ricky had talked about or what had been said, but Remmy knew Ricky. “I think he might need time, but he’s-- Ricky doesn’t hate you, Skye. He might be hurt, but you were hurt, too. He...understands that. He was just as worried about you as I was.” They paused. The parents subject was...harder to breech. Remmy didn’t know how to handle that, entirely. They only had their own experience to pull from. “When, um-- when I first left for the military, my dad looked me straight in the eyes and said he was glad I was leaving. That I shouldn’t come back unless it was in a body bag. With a check.” Their brow furrowed. “What uh-- what I’m trying to say is, sometimes people...they’re supposed to mean something to you, but they don’t. And it hurts, I know it hurts, but it’s...it gets better eventually. I promise.”

Skylar blinked back the tears, forcing herself to compose herself, just a little. She’d been crying for what felt like hours and even though all of this hurt, she didn’t want Remmy to see her cry any more. They had gone through far worse than she had-- they’d… died. They had died. Her own experiences paled in comparison. But, here they were, still trying to help her. Humming at their words, she rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand. She would have to figure out how to talk to Ricky on her own, that wasn’t Remmy’s burden to bear. They’d already done so much. She would figure it out on her own. When she heard Remmy’s open up about their own parents, her heart broke a little for them. “He… he really said that to you? Remmy. I-- I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry.” She said, shaking her head. Her parents might have intended the same thing, but they’d never said it.

Remmy’s face contorted for a moment. “What? No, I-- I didn’t-- I didn’t tell you cause I wanted-- I just meant like…” They shook their head. “It’s fine. I just wanted you to know that it...it gets better. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. This is about-- I just want to help you. I know it’s gonna take more than just...you know, one talk, but I-- I’m glad you called me. That you came.” Because the truth was, Remmy hadn’t wanted to be alone tonight, either. Something was digging at their insides and they couldn’t outrun it anymore. They dropped their arms, still keeping their hands on Skylar’s arms, looking down. “What, what do you need? From me? I’m here for anything. Even if you just wanna cry more, that’s totally okay. I’m good for that. I don’t get tired so I can just...sit here with you.”

Shaking her head, Skylar wiped her eyes again, brushing away the tears. “No. It’s okay, I want-- I want to hear about it. Because, you’re helping me get through this and listening to me and supporting me and I, I wanna be there for you too. I’m sorry your dad was… an awful human being.” She said. How could anyone say something… so hateful and just cruel to someone as kind and sweet and good as Remmy? And their own father? Mulling over Remmy’s words, Skylar nodded slowly. She didn’t want to cry over herself anymore. Right now, she just wanted to do something to ease the sadness that threatened to push her over the edge. And the one way she’d always fixed that was simple enough. “Can we just… talk? Maybe not about me, or at least, not just about my stuff,” She let out a shaky sigh, “Are you… are you okay?”

“It-- it’s fine, he doesn’t matter anymore. He hasn’t for a long time,” Remmy said hurriedly, as if trying to sweep the subject away. “So it’s fine.” They scooted onto the mattress and ushered Skylar to follow them so that they could lean up against the walls, still facing each other, caddy corner. “Talk? Yeah, we can talk. I can do that. About what? Um-- I saw this really bad movie the other night. I forget it was called um...Killer Klowns From Outer Space?” They pressed their lips together, hoping Skylar didn’t notice them glaze over her question. They didn’t feel like doing this again. They didn’t need to break down on another person who didn’t need their sob story right now. Remmy was fine. Perfectly fine.

Shifting to follow Remmy so they sat facing each other, Skylar pulled the seal skin tight around her, fingers playing with the soft pelt. As Remmy tried to change the subject, she could see the pull in their lips, the change in their posture-- there was more to it. And, when they didn’t outright answer her question, it made her concern grow. She swallowed thickly, before reaching out to hold their hand. Like most people’s, their hand was cold to the touch, but unlike everyone else, Skylar knew why. They weren’t… fully alive. They were a zombie. And, as hard as learning that she was a seal was for her, she couldn’t even begin to imagine what Remmy was going through. “Remmy. Do you remember what I said? You said I can talk to you about anything, and it’s a two way street. How are you feeling?”

Remmy looked down when Skylar took their hand, their fingers loose in her grip. They didn’t move away, but they didn’t move to hold hers, either. “I remember,” they said, looking away. Knees curled up to their chest and they wrapped their free arm around their legs. “But I don’t need to talk. I’m fine,” they said, trying their best to look over at Skylar, but something in them made that almost impossible right now. Like a quiet shame, or a deep hurt that wasn’t ready to come out yet. “I talked to Morgan the other night, anyway. About...some stuff. Sort of. I mean, we talked. So it’s fine now. I just have to...wait and it’ll go away.”

Watching the way they kind of curled in on themselves, Skylar chewed the inside of her cheek, her fingers toying with the edge of the pelt. As much as they protested, she could tell that there was more under the surface. There was so much more that they weren’t saying with their words, but they screamed with their body language. Everything about Remmy, the pose, the way they weren’t looking at her… All Skylar wanted to do was help them. “Okay. Do you remember when I said that I’d just have to wait through something and it would go away?” Skylar asked. Without waiting for Remmy’s response, she continued, “And do you remember what happened?” Squeezing their hand tightly in hers, she looked at them directly, wishing they would look her in the eyes. “Please, Remmy. Talk to me.”

Skylar’s hands squeezed Remmy’s and it was just a reminder of how little they could feel. A dead hand, like a glove in warm water, longing to feel it, but never able to. Remmy’s hand jerked slightly. They looked over at Skylar, saw the worry on her face, the pain they were causing her and felt something lurch into their throat, like a stone sticking there. Blinked and looked away again. Something burning in their eyes. “That’s not-- that was different. You were sick and hurt and dying. I’m not--” they bit their tongue as something like a sob tried to pry its way out of their mouth, “-- I’m not sick. I can’t even get sick anymore. I’m just...this. Dead. Forever. Did you know I’m going to live forever if something doesn’t kill me? I don’t wanna live forever. Not like this. Not with these memories.” Suddenly, they couldn’t stop the words. Or the tears. “I should’ve died with them, Skylar. Why didn’t I just stay dead with them?”

When Remmy looked up at her, Skylar almost wished they hadn’t. The pain, the pain was so clear on their face. Even if they tried to pretend it didn’t exist, that they would be fine, she could see it as plain as day. There was just… so much hurt. And as they struggled to verbalize their feelings, Skylar wished there was something she could do. Anything she could do to help them. But, how could she possibly help someone who had to… live with the knowledge that they were dead, that they should be dead, that they shouldn’t even exist? As tears rolled down Remmy’s face, Skylar scooted closer to hug Remmy the way they’d held her, resting her chin on their shoulder and holding them close. “I don’t know. I don’t know the answers to your questions and I wish-- I wish that I did. I wish that I could tell you why this happened to you.” Skylar swallowed. She didn’t know who Remmy meant by “them” but she couldn’t imagine it was good. “But, you’re alive now. And I can’t lose you, Rem. There are people here who love you, so so much. We would have never known you and now that we do… We can’t lose you.”

Remmy’s whole body shook, screaming at them to keep it inside, to not let anymore out. But their heart ached and felt heavy like lead. And their head swirled, and felt like they were falling. Skylar’s body was warm pressed against them and the action made them crumple, completely, arms wrapping around Skylar, as they sobbed. So suddenly, so painfully. “I don’t wanna be here,” they sobbed, fingers curling into her shirt. “I don’t wanna be this. Everyone keeps telling me I’m not a monster, but I still feel like one. I want to go back, I want to go back and not wake up and not come here. I never got to say good-bye. Why me? Why did I have to wake up? I didn’t want to wake up. I don’t want to be alive.”

As Remmy collapsed into her, their hands gripping tightly onto her, Skylar did her best to bite back the tears that were welling up again. She couldn’t cry, she wouldn’t cry, she had to be strong. She had to be strong, even though it hurt so much to see how badly they were hurting. And it hurt even more to realize that they’d been hurting for so long. She’d been so wrapped up in her own… issues, that she hadn’t even seen how badly this hurt Remmy. And how could it not? They’d died. They’d been a normal human their whole life and now, they weren’t. And they never would be. “I’ve got you. Shhhh, I’ve got you.” Skylar mumbled into their shoulder, holding them tightly. “Maybe… maybe you’re a monster. Maybe we’re all monsters. But that doesn’t make us bad people. It doesn’t make you a bad person.” The way they said they didn’t want to be alive, Skylar couldn’t help the tears that overwhelmed her. “You can’t go, Remmy. You can’t, please. Please, I know. I know how much it hurts to be alive sometimes. I know. But we need you. We love you, so, so much.”

Remmy couldn’t form words anymore, but they could understand what Skylar was saying. She knew how it felt, to not want to be alive. To be around. Remmy buried their face in Skylar’s shoulder, tears staining her shirt. It wasn’t fair. To either of them. Why did they have to suffer like this? What greater power had decided they deserved this? Remmy wished they could take all of Skylar’s pain away. She didn’t deserve any of it. Maybe they did, maybe this was penance for everything they’d done before, for choosing to pick up the gun and fall in line. For not being better. But not Skylar, she didn’t deserve this pain. Remmy didn’t know how long they stayed in silence, only small hiccups of sobs to break it before they found the will to say words again. “I’m trying...I’m trying so hard--” a shuddering breath, “--to be okay with this. With myself. But I don’t...I don’t know how. Tell me how, Skylar. Tell me what to do.”

The silence between them lingered and Skylar did her best to hold herself together, to be the support that Remmy so desperately needed. But, this wasn’t something she’d ever prepared herself for, helping people like this. She barely knew how to keep herself together and… even then, she still didn’t have it all figured out. She could only be there for Remmy in the way she had always wanted someone to be there for her when she’d been going through one of her episodes. Rubbing her thumb against their back in soothing circles, Skylar swallowed, trying to come up with words. “I know, I know you’re trying so hard. Just… take it one day at a time. And please, be kind to yourself.” She said, doing her best to keep her voice calm and steady. “You’ve gone through so much, but you’re not alone any more. Talk to someone when you need to.” She hoped that this was what Remmy wanted, that this is what would help them. Because if it didn’t work, she had no idea what else to say.

Remmy drew in a shuddering breath, still holding desperately to Skylar, as if she were the only thing keeping them from falling into that darkness right now. And it wasn’t fair. This shouldn’t fall on her. Skylar had her own problems, real problems, problems that mattered in the here and now. But they couldn’t stop the sinking pain in their chest, even as they leaned back to and scrubbed desperately at their face, as if trying to rub the sadness out. “I’m sorry,” they said through a sniffle, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I’m not going to-- I just wish--” a stifled sob, swallowing it whole in their chest, “--I wanted it to be my choice. I thought it was the right thing to do. I didn’t get to decide. Either time. I don’t know how to-- I don’t how to make it stop.” They looked over at Skylar, tears still leaking down their face. “I can’t stop crying. I’m sorry. This is stupid. You came over here because you’re going through something, and I-- I’m sorry.”

As Remmy began to apologize, Skylar shook her head. No. No, there was no way that they should be apologizing right now. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I wish it’d been your choice too.” She mumbled, leaning her head into theirs, their soft shorn hair rubbing against the side of her cheek. When they pulled back and stared at her, their eyes shining with tears, Skylar couldn’t hold back the tears that fell from her own. Shaking her head more vigorously this time, Skylar wiped at her face. “Don’t apologize, it’s not stupid at all. We’re both--” She let out an exhausted watery laugh, “We’re both… just trying our hardest to get through this.” She said, with a tired, drained grin. “But we’re not alone.”

Remmy tried their best to smile through their tears. Everything inside still felt heavy and tired, but something felt lighter on their shoulders at Skylar’s words. Remmy just nodded, sniffling some more. “Yeah,” they murmured, “we’re not alone.” They felt wearied, suddenly, and shifted slightly. “Can we just...lay down for a little bit?” they asked, looking over at Skylar, feeling that ache in their arms to want to hold someone, something, and feel their physical weight like an anchor to the world that felt so distant now. “If that’s-- if that’s okay?”

When they repeated it back to her, relief washed over Skylar. At least for now, they knew. And, even if it took her telling them day after day that they mattered, that they weren’t alone... she would do it. Because they’d already done so much for her. At their question, Skylar nodded. Thoroughly cried out, all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and just… rest. She wanted to be held, to be comforted, to be reminded that she wasn’t just alone. “I’m okay with that.” She said, before lying down on the bed, arms curling into herself slightly. Even though her body felt better than it had in weeks, she was just so tired, so emotionally spent.

Remmy scooted around silently and laid on the bed next to Skylar, before coming in closer and nudging her softly. Held their arms open, closing them around her when she moved, and pulled her in close. She was warm and soft and Remmy felt a washing sense of relief, laying here with her. It was just two friends, worn and spent, and tired of the pain the world kept giving them, hoping that, for at least one night, they could be okay together. And if they weren’t, well, they still had each other. After a long moment, Remmy’s whole body relaxed, even though they still held tightly to Skylar.

When Remmy wrapped their arms around her, Skylar felt the tension ease from her body as she snuggled back into them. Her pelt, still draped over her legs, was warm and comforting against her legs. Wriggling slightly, she drew the skin up so it covered the two of them, hoping that it would provide some amount of relief to Remmy in the same way it did for her. Closing her eyes, Skylar let out a long sigh. She wasn’t alone, and neither was Remmy. They had each other.

#p: remmy mccallister #p: wtlb #depression cw #suicide tw #chronic illness cw #abuse cw

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baenxietydad · 4 years

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your heart is an empty room || merlot

@olaf-likeswarmhugs

Word Count: 2257

Date: July 11th, 2020

TL;DR: Olaf tries to talk to Marlin at work and it goes as well as expected

OLAF: Nemo had been living with Sindri and Olaf for three days.

Oh, this wasn’t a problem! Of course not! Olaf enjoyed having Nemo around. He was a polite guest with very few items he was keeping organized (this was actually concerning) and so far he woke up in a timely manner and folded his blankets and even offered to help with breakfast. If this were normal circumstances, Olaf would be thrilled to have Nemo stay for as long as he wanted.

This wasn’t normal circumstances though.

Everything inside Olaf itched. Nemo would never admit it, but mornings and evenings, he longed for his appa in a way that only a hugging-talent could sense. His hurt filled the room, almost like smoke. It made Olaf restless. He kept rearranging the dishes in the cupboard, but this didn’t do anything. Sindri just said they needed to wait and let Nemo heal. Maybe that was right. That was probably right. But how long, Olaf worried and worried. And what if the hurt just got worse?!

And today, he was going to see Marlin at Pixie’s and that worried him too.

Sure enough, as soon as Marlin came in for his shift, the sadness barreled in with him. It was just like Nemo’s. Thick and dark and everywhere. Olaf glanced down at the bar, frowning, shifting from foot to foot. He couldn’t ignore it.

Olaf moved down the bar. “Good evening, Mr. Bae,” he greeted, trying to keep most of the concern out of his voice for now. “It’s um, it’s good to see you. Can I give you a hug?”

Well. He had lasted about 2.5 seconds.

MARLIN:

Marlin was looking forward to working with Olaf because at least he could bother him for an update on his son. Was he sleeping okay? Was he eating? He didn’t even care if he still hated him (he did care, but assumed he did and couldn’t bear asking), he just wanted him taking care of himself. Funny, considering Marlin wasn’t even doing that himself.

When was the last time he’d eaten? Hell if he knew. He was sure he must have recently because he didn’t feel weak or anything, it was just that he didn’t have any memory of eating. Must not have been very good.

The part about working with Olaf he wasn’t looking forward to came first. The inevitable hug request.

“I…don’t really feel like bursting into tears.” A beat. “How’s Nemo?”

OLAF:

Olaf’s stomach twisted at his answer. If he were a better hugging talent, he knew there had to be a way to control that, right? His hugs were supposed to make people feel better after all (though sometimes, a person needed to cry, so he guessed that’s why it happened).

Still, he sucked in a breath and nodded, his lips pressed in a worried smile, but a smile nonetheless. It wasn’t his job to push.

He could definitely answer Marlin’s question at least!

“Oh, he’s--” Olaf started, and then stopped.

Wow, how should he answer this?

There were lots of things to consider here. He didn’t want to betray Nemo’s trust but he didn’t want to lie to Mr. Bae either. This wasn’t an easy, simple answer. There wasn’t an easy, simple, straightforward word for how Nemo was-- not fine, not okay, not even good.

“He’s… ummm, this is a complicated answer, I--” Olaf twisted his hands together, hating the guilt that ate at the edge of his conscience. “I think he’s... trying his best to be strong. He’s helping around the flat! Yesterday he asked if he could vacuum or something and I know he has dance today, he um, was talking about it this morning-- he wants to learn how to make eggs! He asked me to show him the secret to flipping an omelette. Heh.” Olaf finished lamely.

MARLIN:

Ah. As he thought, he didn’t get a very detailed answer, or rather, it was full of details he wasn’t exactly needing or asking for.

“Good.” He did say, though. “I didn’t raise a wild animal, you should always help clean up when you’re being hosted.”

Marlin turned from Olaf and went right to checking the beer cooler to count beers and see what he needed to stock. He knew he’d restocked before he left last night, Olaf didn’t.

“Is he sleeping okay?”

OLAF:

The answer was no.

The first night, Nemo had been in so much pain that it had woken Olaf up. He had scampered down his bunk and peeked out of his and Sindri’s room to see Nemo curled up, crying as quietly as he could. He woke up Sindri too and for an hour they’d sat up with Nemo, hugging and drinking tea, until Nemo finally asked in a warbly, weak voice if he could sleep with one of them.

It happened again the next night. Though...last night, Nemo had slept on the couch without waking either of them up. So maybe that was good.

Olaf still felt all that sadness though. It wasn’t going away.

“Not really,” Olaf admitted then, because he couldn’t lie to Mr. Bae. He glanced at him, biting his lip in worry. “I think...I mean, I know he-- he misses you.” A beat. “Mr. Bae, do you think you’re going to come by? Maybe if you come by and see him, it could-- since it’s been a few days…” he trailed off.

MARLIN:

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He said, pretending to count the beer. Maybe, he told himself, if he didn’t look Olaf in the eye, he could hide how sad he was.

Seeing Nemo was all he wanted to do but it was the one thing he couldn’t do right now. They’d never been apart for twenty-four hours before, let alone going on four whole days, but Nemo hadn't so much as texted him. (Of course, he hadn’t texted Nemo either but Nemo was the one who needed space, not him. He was giving him space.)

“I know my son, and he doesn’t want to see me. He didn’t even need to say it, that was clear enough before he even did. And I don’t blame him. I’m sure you and Sindri agree with him.”

Mu-yeol agreed too.

OLAF:

“That’s not true,” Olaf said quickly. His frown returned but this time it wasn’t for Nemo or even because of Olaf’s own confusion on how to act. He knew how to act right now-- as Mr. Bae’s friend.

He stepped closer to Mr. Bae and carefully put a hand on his arm. It was a gentle touch so Mr. Bae could move away if he needed to. Olaf hoped that his talent might be able to reach him anyway though, if he couldn’t reach him in words.

“I...don’t fully understand why you did what you did, but I know you’re a loving father, Mr. Bae. You’d never intentionally hurt Nemo. And we all make mistakes.” He lifted his shoulders in a heavy shrug. “I believe people deserve a chance to make up for those mistakes.”

MARLIN:

My biggest mistake, he wanted to say, was staying alive, twice. There was no making up for that one. Nemo should have had his fast-flying mother and instead got his father who couldn’t even at least keep his chronic pain away. He deserved his mother who would have coped with the trauma much better than he had but what he ended up with was his disaster of a father.

Maybe before Nemo knew it he’d be happier than he’d ever been.

“You would understand better if you knew his mother’s parents. They tried to take him after she died. Their love for him...would have been entirely conditional, relying on his ability to live up to what a fast-flying fairy should be.” Mu-yeol confessed, Olaf’s talent coaxing his tongue into a sliver of the truth.

“And even without telling him that we used to live in the city, he still thinks he can trust mundus. And-” he crinkled his nose. “-vampires. His mother wanted to save their world, and they thanked her by-”

He shut his mouth before he told Olaf about So-yeon’s pregnancy. Nemo did not need to know and Olaf would tell him and he just didn’t want his son to live with that sadness. Even if Nemo never spoke to him again he’d spare him that.

“I just wanted to keep him safe. But he hates me. And I don’t blame him. If anything I agree.”

OLAF:

Despite Mr. Bae’s explanation, Olaf still didn’t really understand.

Oh, he knew that Mr. Bae was telling the truth. Mr. Bae believed that all his lies would protect Nemo. There was a lot of hurt and fear that led to this belief, hurt and fear that Olaf had always sensed lingering under the older sparrow man’s skin. Still, it was a big jump from telling Nemo his in-laws were bad people (which Olaf couldn’t know-- neither could Nemo) to telling Nemo they were dead.

But that’s not what right now was about. And honestly, Olaf didn’t have to understand all the way. That was up to Nemo, whenever Nemo was ready...though Olaf feared that it might not be soon, or maybe not at all, if Mr. Bae didn’t do something. It was just so easy to avoid each other and let those wounds deepen. Olaf wanted to close the gap desperately, he just didn’t know how.

“Ah...Mr. Bae-- you shouldn’t hate yourself,” Olaf started gently. “I know that Nemo doesn’t. He loves you, that’s just why it hurts this much. He feels like his trust has been betrayed. But he definitely doesn’t hate you.”

MARLIN:

Mu-yeol chuckled mirthlessly and shook his head as he stood back up and shut the cooler door. He shouldn’t hate himself, ha! Then what was he supposed to do, love himself? Yeah right. Like he was capable of scraping up a good helping of love yourself.

“He doesn’t want anything to do with me, okay? He made that perfectly clear. Hating myself is like breathing, it’s automatic. So don’t worry about that.”

OLAF:

I know, Olaf could say.

He’d known almost since the moment they met. Of course the first moment-moment, Olaf had only felt his own overwhelming sense of relief at getting rescued and seeing Sindri again. But on the train ride back, while Nemo slept and Sindri dozed, Mr. Bae’s sadness had begun to seep into the air as he stared out at the window and opened and closed his fist. He’d been nervous...Olaf chalked it up to the whole train-full-of-humans thing. But moons later, Olaf knew all the different shades of Mr. Bae’s sadness-- and his self-loathing.

He also knew how much that hurt Nemo too. Nemo had cried on Sindri’s shoulder. Sindri had confided in him.

“Mr. Bae, we don’t want you to hate yourself,” Olaf said then. “I think-- I think all that Nemo wants is just an apology. If that helps him feel like he can come home, don’t you think giving him one is the right thing to do?”

MARLIN:

“We?” He said with a hollow chuckle, pulling the fruit tray from another cooler.

Nam-min can’t possibly know how deep his father’s self-loathing went. And anyway, his son didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. Surely in a few days one of them (Mu-yeol, always him) would break first and try to talk to the other. But for now, Nemo demanded space. He failed to see how bothering him too soon would do anything but make it worse.

“He won’t listen to me, Olaf.” Mu-yeol said gently. “He couldn’t wait to get away from me and I don’t fault him at all. Nemo doesn’t want to look at me, let alone hear anything from me.”

And Nemo, you know, was right. He was almost jealous that Nemo could escape him when he could never.

OLAF:

Olaf let out a frustrated sigh and ran his hand through his hair.

He didn’t know how to do this part. This was why he really needed to apprentice as a listening-talent! Or, um, take lessons at the University. He tried and tried, but he could feel his words melting in the air, like tiny, frail snowflakes. They never even touched Mr. Bae, so how could he absorb them? Olaf couldn’t even step close and wrap his arms around him because that’s not what Mr. Bae wanted (even though it was definitely what he needed-- at a minimum).

“I...okay,” he sighed a second time, shaking his head. “Just know that he really does miss you, Mr. Bae. You can miss someone and be mad at them at the same time, you know?”

MARLIN:

“You can also miss someone and have no desire to see them.” Marlin said with a sense of finality that only dads could use to clearly say without saying that this conversation was over.

Maybe Nam-min missed him, but if his son wanted to talk to him he would tell him so. Of course Mu-yeol knew he was the adult here, and that the onus was not on his son...but it had only been three days. Three days was not even a quarter of the punishment Marlin deserved for his lies of omission and half truths. He’d reach out soon but it felt like the best thing he could do to respect his son right now was allow him space.

“I need to cut more lemons.”

#olaf #the baes go through some shit

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ladyanatui · 4 years

Text

Ultimate Daiken Playlist, Pt. 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

This is the abridged version of my Spotify playlist for all things Daiken, mostly in order from the start of 02 to...eventually. Even so, this is still a pretty damn long list. My original aim was for 30 songs, but...uh, yeah, I surpassed that pretty quickly. It’s around 75 now. Yikes. So I split it up.

I have problems with self-control. Especially when it comes to my babies.

Part 1 specifically covers from the start of 02 to just after the defeat of the Digimon Kaiser.

TRIGGER WARNING: This post discusses depression, suicide, emotional abuse, and PTSD quite a lot. Take care of yourself, folks!

Spotify Playlist

Click the song titles for YouTube links (apparently you can’t have more than five videos in a post), and otherwise, enjoy me rambling about Daiken...as I am wont to do.

One final note: Within the lyrics, I’ve emphasized meaningful words, such as night/nightmare, dark/darkness, miracle(s), kind/kindness, courage/bravery, friend/friendship, sun/star/light, fire/burn/ignite, angel(s), and words related to water/drowning.

“I’m Just a Kid” by Simple Plan

I think I got a lot of friends But I don't hear from them What's another night all alone When you're spending every day on your own

I envision this as Daisuke’s life before becoming one of the Chosen, before meeting Ken. It’s pretty well established that Taichi and Hikari are the only legitimate friends he has during that time, aside from (possibly) his soccer teammates, but he’s not close with any of them. And worse, his home life is obviously not great: His parents ignore him, and his sister irritates him just to irritate him. That may seem like a normal brother/sister relationship, but a 17-year-old slapping her 11-year-old isn’t normal or healthy.

The truth is, Daisuke has no legitimate example of healthy family interactions, and in some ways, his home life is as emotionally abusive as Ken’s was. His parents insult him (his father calls him his “stupid son” when Ken first visits) and ignore him (Daisuke repeatedly says his parents wouldn’t notice if he didn’t come home and lies to them to avoid spending time at home), so he has no idea how to respond to compliments.

This also means that he latches on to the people he cares about, much the same way Jun latches on to attractive boys. He idolizes Taichi (calling him senpai when speaking with him directly), and he constantly seeks attention from Hikari. Since we don’t know what Daisuke and Hikari’s relationship was like before Takeru shows up, it’s all speculation, but Daisuke was probably way less aggressive and possessive of her before someone came to try to take his one friend away.

So Daisuke has no idea how to show affection (whether familial, platonic, or romantic) in a normal, healthy way. He’s never had a close friend (or any real friends probably), and he’s never been close with any of his family. He’s actually lived an incredibly lonely life.

“Dark Blue” by Jack’s Mannequin

This flood This flood is slowly rising up Swallowing the ground Beneath my feet Tell me how anybody thinks Under this condition So I'll swim, I'll swim As the water rises up Sun is sinking down

Similarly, this functions as Ken’s theme song for events prior to the start of 02. There are a lot of references to water--“flood,” “swim,” and I believe there’s talk about drowning as well--which is very fitting because of the Dark World (Ocean), but also because Ken obviously suffers from depression and the idea of drowning is one of the most used and most accurate descriptions of what chronic depression feels like (trust me, I know!).

But my favorite part of this is the last two lines from the quote. Let’s be real, the sun is a huge symbol when it comes to our goggle boys--they are bright, cheerful, energetic, and so fucking bright they could rival the sun itself. When Ken is so incredibly surrounded by darkness, Daisuke is the sun. There are so many things that support this, but most importantly:

The Crest of Courage is shaped like the sun. It doesn’t get more overt than that.

When V-mon evolves to Magnamon, it’s described as: “It was a miraculous evolution. As beautiful as the rising sun shining brightly on the world.”

Daisuke is the sun. Ken is the world. And Ken needs his sun to help him out of the darkness.

“Send Me an Angel” by Highly Suspect

Open fire on my burning heart I've never been lucky in love My defenses are down A kiss or a frown I can't survive on my own

Send me an angel Send me an angel Right now, right now

Before they met, before 02 actually starts, both Ken and Daisuke are effectively alone. Yeah, they’re surrounded by people (Daisuke more than Ken), but never of them have any real friends or close relationships.

This song is something I see Daisuke feeling in his more introspective moments (rare, I know), as what he needs more than anything is true love and companionship. When I say love here, I don’t necessarily mean romantic. While, yes, Daisuke has poor luck in romance (Hikari, hello!), he has poor luck with platonic love as well.

And I’m all for anything that references Ken as being an angel. Obviously, Ken would never agree to that sentiment, but a lot of the time, it feels like that’s how Daisuke views him. To Daisuke, [post-Kaiser] Ken is this amazing, beautiful, even verging perfect person, and you can see he feels that way just from the way he looks at Ken.

I also chose this song because it’s a small reference to something I drew not too long ago, which itself is based on a Lilo & Stitch meme.

“Duality” by Set It Off

I can't quite contain or explain my evil ways Or explain why I'm not sane All I can say is this is your warning

It's a cloak or disguise unleashed, gonna get it off No, I'll never get away Cause if I try to stray It only holds me closer No, I'll never get away I'll have it any way

Okay, this is very obviously a Kaiser song. But it’s also a Ken song. The whole thing about this song is that Ken is trapped as the Kaiser and doesn’t have full control over himself. And can he actually explain why he does the crazy evil shit he does? His explanation is that he thought the Digital World was a video game, but that’s obviously not the full picture. He can’t fully explain because the Dark Seed is what makes him evil as opposed to simply sad and lonely and traumatized.

“Numb Without You” by The Maine

You are my last, you are my first You kill me for the better You are the rising tide You're every fucking thing inside me now

You are the violence in my veins You are the war inside my brain You are my glitter and my gloom I am so numb without you

This is another Kaiser/Ken song. To an extent, this song has a sort of sadistic romantic aspect to it, but I’m choosing to ignore those undertones in favor of just the creepy sadistic part. This is sort of Ken singing to his Kaiser persona and also to depression in general. Because the Kaiser is the “rising tide” (oh, look another reference to water!) and the manifestation of his grief and trauma and mental illness.

But as the title of the song suggests, the Kaiser persona is also what allows him to still feel something. Without it, he’s in the complete numbness of his depression (which sucks, trust me), and he would rather have the Kaiser, who is violent and angry and bitter, instead of the absolute numbness of his grief and depression.

“Deer in the Headlights” by Owl City

Tell me again was it love at first sight When I walked by and you caught my eye Didn't you know love could shine this bright? Well, smile because you're the deer in the headlights

Met a girl boy with a graceful charm But when beauty met the beast, he froze Got the sense I was not her his type By a black eye and bloody nose But I guess that's the way it goes

Note: I (obviously) changed a few pronouns in the quote. It should be apparent what I altered based on formatting.

Here, we see the first time Daisuke and Ken meet. And I’m talking Ken (although evil Ken), not the Kaiser. Yes, this is referencing the soccer match they play against each other in episode eight.

It’s pretty damn obvious that eleven-year-old Daisuke is completely enamored when he meets the famous Ichijouji Ken. He blushes and stumbles over his words, and he is so overwhelmed and happy that Ken remembered his name after the match was over. He admires him, and when Ken tells him that he’s the first person to ever stop that move in the match, Daisuke just looks so pleased to hear the compliment.

Also, bonus points for any song that references the sun or light: “Didn’t you know love could shine this bright?”

“Love the Way You Hate Me” by Like a Storm

You say I'm insane I say You're afraid I get stronger from the pain I love the way you hate me

I'd rather be a sinner than a slave I'd rather be an outcast than just bow down and obey When it's all done there's only one Name upon my grave I'd rather be a freak than be a fake

Another Kaiser song. While the previous song could be placed pretty much any time during the first fifteen episodes or so, this one is distinctly set after they find out the Kaiser is Ichijouji Ken. The focus here is on the way the Kaiser (emotionally) gets off from how much the Chosen Children, Daisuke especially, fight against him and hate him. He enjoys watching them try so hard and keep failing because, while he desperately wants to have an opponent, he loves to win more--he does think it’s a game, after all.

“Lock Me Up” by The Cab

Why don't you Lock me up with joy and kisses? Lock me up with love? Chain me to your heart's desire

I don't want you to stop Lock me in and hold this moment Never get enough Ain't no way I'm ever breaking free Lock me up

This song is mostly in reference to the serious foe yay aspect to Daisuke and Kaiser Ken’s relationship for the first half of the series. The homoerotic subtext in their relationship is ridiculous, especially since they’re two eleven-year-old boys, one of whom (theoretically) has a huge crush on a female friend for the first half(ish) of the season. But you can bet that, if the Chosen Children had a second enemy during the Kaiser’s days, the Kaiser would be pissed and pull the whole “No! Motomiya’s my enemy. Only I can defeat him!” bit like he’s Kaiba Seto or something.

“Fallen Angel” by Three Days Grace

How can I take the pain away? How can I save...

A fallen angel in the dark Never thought you'd fall so far Fallen angel, close your eyes I won't let you fall tonight Fallen angel

But then there’s comes the very important part where Daisuke has a revelation. When he and V-mon meet Wormmon on the Kaiser’s base, Wormmon is determined and takes them to the Digimental of Miracles in an attempt to help them defeat the Kaiser and bring back his kind-hearted best friend. The moment Daisuke touches the Golden Digimental, something changes: It’s connected to Ken because it’s borne from his Crest of Kindness, and Daisuke is able to see that there’s more to Ken than his Kaiser persona. He knows that there’s good in him before they’ve even defeated him, and he wants to help him.

And seriously, bonus points for a song from Daisuke’s POV that refers to Ken as an angel. I’ll fight anyone who says he doesn’t see Ken that way. Legit.

“Breaking Down” by I Prevail

Lies, every time they ask me I just tell 'em that I'm fine Try to hide my demons, but they only multiply Keep me running from the voices on repeat inside my mind Everybody fucking hates you

I guess I never noticed how it came creeping in My enemy emotion but I can't sink or swim I say I'm feeling hopeless but no one's listening But no one's listening, but no one's listening

This song is in reference to the way Kaiser Ken’s psyche is falling apart. He’s having doubts. Creepy voices are talking to him. He’s confused about how the Chosen Children are actually defeating him. Chimairamon is a freaking nightmare and totally uncontrollable. And Ken is about to have a goddamn breakdown.

“Goner” by Twenty One Pilots

Though I'm weak Beaten down I'll slip away Into the sound

I've got two faces Blurry's the one I'm not I need your help to Take him out

Look how far we’ve come! We’re almost to the Kaiser’s defeat! (Dear god, this is a long playlist...)

Ken isn’t aware of how much he needs Daisuke to help him at this point. He’s too busy being the Kaiser and, you know, having a mental breakdown. But it’s important that Daisuke is the one there to help bring everything down. V-mon evolves to Magnamon and defeats Chimairamon with some badass moves (he is a Royal Knight after all), and Daisuke and the rest of the Chosen Children are finally able to get through to Ken.

“Not Gonna Die” by Skillet

Break their hold Cause I won't be controlled They can't keep their chains on me When the truth has set me free

Only when he realizes that the Digital World isn’t a game is Ken able to break through the hold that the Dark Seed (and Oikawa and BelialVamdemon, etc.) have on him. He tears off his Kaiser clothes and goes back to being just Ken. Just sweet, kind-hearted, adorable Ken.

Parts of this song, though, would be from Daisuke’s perspective. He’s determined, even though they have defeated their enemy, to help Ken, even that simply means sending him home to his family instead of letting Ken just waste away, which is frankly what it looks like he’s about to do during this scene.

“Tell Me Why” by Three Days Grace

Tell me why Does everything that I love get taken away From me? Why does everything that I love get taken away?

How come nothing ever lasts? It goes from good to bad to worse so fast All it takes is one and I'm gone, and you can't erase the past How come nothing ever lasts?

Obviously, this is a Ken-centric song, the focus being on his past when he saw his brother’s death, though Osamu’s death is nowhere near his fault. Yet again, Ken goes through a traumatic experience (Wormmon’s death), and for the first time, this is (somewhat) his fault.

While I linked the subs version, the English dub of this scene actually has a line almost exactly like this song: “Not again. Wormmon’s gone. Just like my brother. I was helpless to save him, and now I can’t save Wormmon either. Why do I keep losing people?”

Sorry, were you not wanting to cry today? ...Oops.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

#daiken #daisuke motomiya #ken ichijouji #digimon #digimon 02 #playlist #okay ultimate might be an exaggeration #but this is loooooong #and the actual spotify playlist is longer #i lack self-control #especially when it comes to daiken #welcome to my life #trigger warning #suicide #depression #ptsd #mental health #emotional abuse #anatui

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bulldagger-bait · 5 years

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Sometimes I really hate the fact I was born female.

I hate that fact that men don't take me seriously.

I hate that I'm seen as a harpy whenever I show slight passion about a topic.

I hate that I was raised in a school where the boys thought I was insane for being a feminist. Where boys took pictures of me after saying "women only belong in two places, the kitchen and the bedroom", and then posting them all over social media calling me the "angry man hating lesbian feminist". I hate that a boy negged me on in chemistry class, sexually harassed me, and then when I lost it at him my chemistry teacher told me to calm down, that I was overreacting. I hate that when i told him to fuck off, and got sent to the deputy principal to explain myself. Me. Not him. Not the boy who was harrassing me, or the teacher that allowed it in his classroom.

I hate that when I told my dad a boy had been sexually harassing me, he went behind my back, contacted his parents and my school administration. I hate that I was then called into my deputy principals office and told that this had all "been blown out of proportion" and that I was being unreasonable. But it wasn't unreasonable for that boy to say he couldnt wait until I was 18 to get me drunk and high so he could have sex with me. When I was an out lesbian.

I hate that one of my friends was raped by a boy in our school. I hate that when she told the school they didn't believe her. I hate that they made her continue to share classes with him. I hate that she was threatened with suspension for spreading lies about "such a serious topic" and that he was able to keep harassing her on school grounds, unchecked.

I hate that one of my friends thought it was okay to threaten to rape me in front of my entire social group as a joke. And then I was seen as a hysterical bitch for telling my most trusted teacher. She actually did something about the situation. I was then ostracised from that group of friends. I "couldnt take a joke" apparently.

I hate that when I was nine years old I was riding my bike around my neighbourhood, and a boy five years my senior cornered me in an alleyway and tried to rape me not twenty meters away from my front door.

I hate that when I was younger a boy would hit me, scratch me, pull my hair, twist my arm, dig his grubby little fingers into my pressure points, making me cry out with pain, only to be told it was because he liked me. I hate that I believed it. I hate that I let it continue for two years. For two years my "best friend" covered me in bruises, and I let him because it made me feel pretty and wanted. I was ten.

I hate that when I was fourteen and desperate to convince myself I wasn't gay, a boy who i thought was my friend tried to pressure me into dating him only to then tell me about his porn addiction—his words, not mine—and call me an insensitive cunt for getting as far away from him as possible. After he told me about the things he'd like to do to me. Not with me. To me. As fourteen year olds. As children.

I hate that I was forced into pink and shaved legs and make up and long hair.

I hate that my mother made me cut up boxer shorts I had bought because I was sick and tired of wearing panties. Because some guy had made some comment about my grammy-panties. Never mind the fact that they were comfortable. I bought boxers because they were closer to shorts and I thought boys would just leave me alone. I bought boxers because they were cool and had superheroes on them and were comfortable. I bought boxers because I was sick and tired of the neon pink panties my mother had been making me wear for my entire life.

I hate that I wore pigtails to school and a boy called them "ride-me handle-bars".

I hate that when I cut my hair off the first thing people assumed I was, was a man. As if its that easy to take my womanhood away from me. As if all that makes a woman is long hair. I hate that I was called "skank who was trying to hard" when I had long hair, an "art hoe" when I had short hair, and a "dyke", "failed woman", "wannabe man" when it was cropped.

I hate that at 8 years old I was being bullied for being ugly. Because I had unkempt eyebrows. Unshaven legs. Tangled hair. Sweaty skin. Scraped knees. A crooked smile. Because I wasn't a child model. Because I wasn't some pedophiles wet dream.

I hate that I'm considered incompetent for certain jobs because of my menstrual cycle. Because women are too over emotional when they're "pms-ing" or "on the rag"

I hate that a man's go to insult for me is "cunt". Something that dehumanises me to my genitals. How silly of me to think I was anything more than just a hole for someone to fuck.

I hate that someone took advantage of my sexuality. Because I was repressed. Because I was a woman who grew up in a christian environment. Because I was a lesbian who was still convinced I could be straight. Because there was a pretty woman who knew she could manipulate me. I hate how there are people who still think its my fault, or that lesbian sex isnt even real so how could I be raped? Or that women can't rape. I hate that I had been convinced that what happened to me was normal. Because women are frigid bitches that don't want sex, but their partners do, and its "inhumane" to not put out.

I hate that I am paid less. And that people don't believe women arent paid less. Despite the fact that their is mountains of evidence to support our argument.

I hate that I had to do twice the work to get half the recognition in school.

I hate that a boy with no experience and no drive was seen as a more suitable leader than I was. Because I was a "controlling bitch". I hate that I did an incredible amount of work on the student council and he got to take the credit for it. I hate that he was a worse student but was seen as more acedemically gifted than I was.

I hate the double standards.

I hate how every part of my body is sexualised. I hate how my disability is sexualised.

I hate how when I mentioned my chronic pain condition to my male classmates, they made comments about how I would make a fantastic masochist. I hate that I internalised it. I hate that I believed them. I hate that when I got into a sexual relationship I let her hurt me—even though i didn't like it—because I throught kinky sex was the bare minimum and "vanilla" was for frigid prudes.

I hate that my body is not mine, but rather belongs to the public. For the government to legislate. For strangers to ogle at. For my father to control. And when I speak up I'm an unreasonable bitch. When I demand agency, I'm insane.

I hate how the odds were stacked against me since birth all because of that second x chromosome. All because some doctor said "its a girl" and immediately half of my opportunities were removed because they "weren't for girls".

I hate that in order to keep a job I am supposed to adhere to femininity. That not wearing make up is seen as lazy and unhygienic. That I need to "fix my eyebrows". That I need to shave my "gross gorilla legs".

I hate all this bullshit bagage that comes with being female. I hate it. I hate it so much. I hate that I am my own voyeur. I hate that even in my most private moments I am focused on how an unseen gaze would percieve me.

I hate that the slightest devience from "purity" will be met with threats of violence. That if someone doesnt agree with my politics I can be told to "choke on a dick" and to "kill myself" and whoever said that is safe in the knowledge that their community supports their words and actions. That if I step a toe out of line or make a mistake I deserve the full force of misogyny that people have been waiting to dole out to an appropriate victim.

I hate that my own father sexualised me. I hate that he abused me. I hate that he got away with it all because "teen girls make up that kind of stuff for attention". Because he was an "upstanding man". I hate that believes he is guiltless. I hate that he has manipulated and gaslighted me into believing his version of events. I hate that when I speak up I need to be careful because "he's a good man" and "he doesnt seem like the kind to do that" and that "you're blowing things out of proportion, I'm sure it was never like that."

I hate that when women accuse men of violence its "he said, she said". But when men accuse women of the same they are instantly believed. I hate that my voice holds less weight than a man's.

I hate that the religion I was raised in told me not to speak in church. Not to ask questions. To submit to men. To cover my head before god. That braided hair was sinful and vain.

I hate that I was taught there was no such thing as a female orgasm in order to discourage me from having sex. That I was told sex would be painful. And yet I was also told that when I married a man I should freely give him sex because it was my duty to serve him and bear children.

I hate that I'm seen as a baby factory.

I hate that I'm seen as a collection of body parts. A uterus. A pair of tits. A vagina.

I'm not those things. I am made up of those things, but they do not define my worth. I am made of carbon, but you wouldn't call me "an arrangement of carbon atoms" or "a carbon storage system" or "a carbon factory"

I hate that when I talk about my experience with womanhood I need to twist myself into knots to not step on any toes or offend. I hate that I have to be palatable when I am upset and enraged.

I hate that my anger is demonised and sexualised.

I hate that my love is fetished by heterosexual men. I hate that they see lesbianism as this empty thing to get off to.

I hate that I don't feel safe holding my girlfriend's hand in public. I love her more than anything in the world and my skin burns when I don't get to touch her. I hate that sometimes I get scared and call her my "friend". Not girlfriend. I hate that in public I feel ashamed to love her.

I hate it that my homosexuality is debated. I hate that it is seen as disgusting.

I hate that I have been taught and socialised that every single part of who I am is fundamentally flawed in some way.

And yet, despite all this, there are days where I am grateful for who I am. There are days when this body is not my enemy. There are days when I love my womanhood, however that may appear. There are days when I am unbothered by the thoughts of others. There are days where I am unafraid to love who I love and to love proudly.

There are days where the pain and anger of the past drive me to be happy.

I know those days won't last. They never do. There's always a slur, or a misogynist, or an abuser, or a traumatic memory. There's always a right being infringed upon, or an aspect of my body made public property, and it takes me right back to the anger.

I could never stop being angry. There is too much pain in this body to forgive and forget.

But sometimes, I don't hate the fact that I was born female. Some days I'm proud.

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twentyonepilotsficlibrary · 5 years

Note

do any of you have any personal favorite you'd recommend?

These are all of our favorites - Christie

Madi -

Wicked Games by heyitsbabz & youngvolcahoes (19/19 | 145220 | Explicit)

Josh didn’t mean to be rude to Tyler. Sure Tyler abandoned him in high school when Josh told him one of his dirty little secrets, but Josh didn’t hold grudges. He didn’t.

OR, the one where Josh is an idiot, Tyler is a bigger idiot and they both end up fucking shit up.

In Clover by TheDyingSun (1/1 | 12242 | Mature)

Not everyone can afford to drop everything for a two-man band in it’s infancy. So for three weeks, across the belly of the country, Josh and Tyler are forced to tour alone. Just the two of them.

They do okay.

Tyler -

Bold & Fearless In The Risks We Take by marsakat (14/14 | 42176 | Mature)

The first time they met, Tyler made Josh bleed. But as blood brothers, the friendship endures all life’s growing pains.

//underage drinking //underage sex //homophobia

Mack -

Mustard by edy (1/1 | 14,827 | Explicit)

The one where Tyler sits on street corners and plays his ukulele for money and Josh hates his life.

Joy to the World by edy (12/12 | 95,906 | Explicit)

Summary

Fires will consume soon.

Leave while you can.

I heard Greenland is nice.

Everything will be okay.

This last message is sprawled across the front of the bakery, two suns for the dots of the i. Josh reads and believes the message

million dollar man. by fkeyouout (12/? | 28,087 | Mature)

josh just needs a good story to keep his less than thriving journalist job, and tyler probably has enough dirty laundry to break the news.

Another Western Vampire (Different Time, Same Place) by stalksoftly (11/11 | 37969 | Explicit)

Tyler Joseph is a mysterious cowboy. Cityslicker Josh Dun doesn’t know what he got himself into when he agreed to be his ranch hand for the summer.

Caitlyn -

From the Dining Table by chevycoop17 (16/?| 36631 | Mature)

Tyler and Josh broke up two years ago. Josh has moved on, but Tyler hasn’t. Things happen and Josh sees Tyler walking down the street. Josh wants to be friends with Tyler again. Will Tyler let Josh worm his way back into his life or tell him to go away?

Based off of Harry Styles’ song From the Dining Table. It’s cute, go listen.

Fuck You, Joshua Dun. by LoudandDangerous (1/1| 2041| Mature)

“Joshua Dun, you little motherfucker.” Tyler glares to the trash man beside Josh.“And you…Have you ever wondered how antifreeze tastes?” He smirks, holding up the drained empty bottle of blue liquid.

Sweet Creature by olgushka (17/?| 65187| General Audiences)

Apparently being a single parent and a drummer in one of the most popular bands in the world is not as easy as it seems.

Be careful sweetheart, there are wolves like me who will eat sweet things like you alive. by BlueNightShade (14/14| 24711| Explicit)

Tyler Joseph is a 16 year old Sophomore in high school. He’s running away from his home in Ohio, planning on traveling from Columbus, to Oak Hill. He desperately needs a ride. What’s the worse that could happen while hitch-hiking? That’s when he meets Josh. A man who’s older than him, has a mesmerizing warm smile, and bright yellow hair.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Tyler thought.

Christie -

heavydirty by personalized_radio (1/1 | 33,356 | Mature)

Josh and Tyler have just moved into a new neighborhood when Josh gets a big break and has to leave on tour. Home alone, Tyler begins to notice a few odd things.

Ft. Panic! at the coffee shop, Bob the well-meaning co-worker, Josh the long-distance-but-in-love boyfriend, and a very naive Tyler.

//animal abuse //harassment

Tell Me Now by edy (1/1 |11,929 | Explicit)

Tyler hasn’t left the house in almost ten years.

//self harm //anxiety //depression //suicidal thoughts

Webcam by Marasa (1/1 | 5,334 | Not Rated)

Tyler shouldn’t trust people he meets on the internet.

//major character death //suicide //violence

The Shopping Mall Survivors by tjstar (1/1 | 16,279 | Mature)

‘My neighbor has just killed a zombie,’ dings in Tyler’s head. ‘My neighbor has just killed a freaking zombie.’

How to call the police if you’ve just witnessed the murder of a person who was already dead?

//blood //violence

This Regional Love of Mine (I’m Gonna Let It Shine) by PastelMess (1/1 | 39,717 | Mature)

They meet at a house party.

//implied/referenced self-harm

Bar -

The Silver Screen Dream by AddictWithAUnicorn (14/? | 104,574 | Mature)

It’s not like Tyler was interested in him or anything like that. In fact, he was most, most definitely straight, he was sure of it, he had never even slightly felt attracted to another ma–“Hey,” the stranger whispered, nudging Tyler’s arm.“What?” Tyler responded, determinedly keeping his eyes glued to the screen.“Do you wanna make out?”

Someone Else’s Dreams by SpookySad (34/? | 149,615 | Mature)

Josh has a great life, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy. He spends all his time working at Guitar Center, being a loner at school, and pining for the unattainable Tyler Joseph who probably doesn’t even know Josh exists.Except that, unbeknownst to either of them, they’ve started sharing dreams.

Get the tissues. We’re going to face our issues.

(Work in progress)

//anxiety //violence //Implied/referenced self-harm //suicide attempt //

No Man Is An Island by kyewopen (1/1 | 5,722 | General)

Five times Tyler thinks about confessing his feelings for Josh and one times he actually does

Seeking a husband by TwoBoysInABand (14/17 | 43,927 | Mature)

A self-proclaimed commitment phobe and a lonely widower’s worlds are about to collide, and they find love in the most unconventional way.

Sydney-

Not For All Markets by SoManyRegrets (1/1 || 3,570 || Mature)

“Ok,” Josh said, dragging himself together. “I’m gonna go find Mark. You,” he said, prodding Tyler in the shoulder, “are going to stay here. And geez, do not offer to suck anyone else’s dick.”

So as it turns out, being propositioned by your drunk best friend really, really sucks.

Confidence Man by edy (1/1 || 5,000 || Explicit)

Tyler has somehow misplaced his swimming trunks and found a replacement in the form of a green rhinoceros inner tube. It’s stupid, stamped with “JUNGLE BUDDIES” on the side. Big blue eyes stare at Josh.

“No way you just blew that up.”

In Clover by TheDyingSun (1/1 || 12,242 || Mature)

Not everyone can afford to drop everything for a two-man band in it’s infancy. So for three weeks, across the belly of the country, Josh and Tyler are forced to tour alone. Just the two of them.

They do okay.

Hold Your Bones (and slowly die). by franticatlantic (1/1 || 26,690 || Explicit)

A chronically ill Tyler is trapped in his house, with nothing to do but spy on the new boy across the street.

and i meant everything i said that night (only for you) by SoloChaos (1/1 || 1,169 || Teen and Up Audiences)

“Um,” Josh says, licking his lips. “Whoops?”

holy roller, blow me over by orphan_account (1/1 || 3,546 || Explicit)

Tyler needs help washing the black paint off of his hands.

A Milano by flightlessnerds (1/1 || 2,397 || Mature)

After all the running he’s done today, Josh is eager to get back to his tent for some alone time.

Good thing Tyler’s only a phone call away.

Spin Cycle (dirty laundry) by marsakat (7/7 || 26,584 || Explicit)

There were many tweets warning others ‘don’t share the pics. You’re an asshole if you do. Be respectful!’ but it didn’t take Tyler too long to uncover the first of the photos.

Everything changed after that.

Cade-

teethmarks by peterandhispirate (1/1 | 8,958 | Mature)

Tyler is on house arrest.

// trauma, flashbacks, hallucinations, animal death/abuse

The Saltwater Game by chess_boxing (14/14 | 17,136 | Mature)

Tyler and Josh meet by chance when they each decide to bury a body in the exact same place on the exact same night.

// murder, self harm, anxiety, depression

Eaten by Birds by edy (1/1 | 19,877 | Explicit)

In which Josh loses his lower jaw and Tyler is the lucky paramedic who finds him.

// depression, disfigurement, past suicide attempt, self harm, suicidal thoughts

i’m not sentimental (this is a rental) by SoloChaos (2/2 | 31,601 | Mature)

“We look at our own bodies as a vessel of a message or an idea to transport as we live life. Hopefully, the message or what is inside can actually outlive the vessel itself.”

-Josh Dun

// implied/referenced suicide, cannibalism, character death, implied/referenced rape/non-con

#twenty one pilots #josh dun #tyler joseph #joshler #joshler fanfiction #admin favorites #anonymous #answered

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