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ghosts-bandwagon · 1 year

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Hi, your last post about reader not knowing that it was sa, I saw that and I wanted to request something. What if reader knows that she have been through it but she mentions this as a joke, she says it and just keep going like she said something silly. How would the boys (141 + konig) react?

(I do this sometimes and I don’t like it, but it feels like some kind of copying mechanism)

I’m sorry if this was too much, do not feel that u need to write this.

Anyway, thank u so much and take care

Honestly I make out of pocket jokes about my own trauma all the time, so I feel this

tw: mentions of trauma, brief mentions of sexual assault- nothing graphic or descriptive, humor as a coping mechanism, comfort

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

Whiplashed so hard his neck is broken

“You bein’ serious?”

You explain what happened but you’re a little too blasé about it, he understands humor as a coping mechanism but this is a little serious

And by ‘a little’ I mean very

“Love, you can’t just drop a bomb like that.” He tries to soften his tone but his rage at what you’ve just told him is starting to seep through

He doesn’t realize he’s being a little hypocritical, we’ve all heard his “army humor” so he really doesn’t have a lot of room to talk. But the fact that it happened to you has blinded him to that fact. It’s not that you can’t make jokes, it’s that you shouldn’t have to because it shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

He doesn’t even let you apologize before he’s pulling you into his arms, hands shaking, doing his best not to imagine what kind of sick fuck would do that to you

“Simon, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not.” His tone is firm and he’s refusing to let you go, so instead of arguing, you opted to melt into his embrace. Hands running up and down his back and as he’s kissing the crown of your head he’s wondering how worthwhile it’d be to give the fucker a visit. Maybe teach him a lesson or two.

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

Laughing with your joke at first but then it hits him like a ton of bricks

“Beg your pardon?”

You explain the joke and the context with a dismissive laugh before going back to what you were doing and he’s just frozen in place

Someone… hurt you… in one of the most awful ways imaginable, and you’re laughing it off?

He’s not sure if he should be in awe at your resilience or concerned at your choice of coping mechanism, so he takes a gentle approach

“Bonnie, you know you can talk to me, aye?”

“I know, I just… don’t want to burden you with it. I mean, it’s not like it’s your fault it happened.” He’s holding your hands in his, gently massaging the space between your thumb and your index finger,

“Aye that’s true, but it’s you. And I love you, good and bad included.” He gently held the back of your head and kissed your forehead,

“Anytime you feel like talkin’ I’m here. Copy?”

He doesn’t usually bring work jargon home but he knows it gets a laugh from you, and sure enough your little giggle proved him right

“Copy.”

John Price:

The whiplash also broke his neck

“Sorry, what?”

His heart broke when you explained yourself and whined that the explanation ruined the punchline

“Sweetheart, that’s no laughin’ matter.” His tone was gentle as he approached you, hands hesitantly coming to rest on your hips, suddenly unsure of himself

“Honey, I’m fine. It’s how I cope.”

“I know, and there’s nothin’ wrong with that. Just, maybe, talk to me about it instead, yeah?” One of his hands came up to cup your cheek and you closed your eyes and leaned into the warmth of his palm, trapping it between your cheek and your shoulder

“I don’t wanna be a downer, John.”

“Never. I’m more concerned for your well-being than bloody mood. Am I clear?” As you looked in his eyes, you saw nothing but honesty and genuine concern, so you nodded

You closed your eyes and kissed his palm before he pulled you in to a tight embrace.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

He heard you say it and weakly laughs before stopping as he chews on the words a little more

“Wait, what was that?”

And when you’re passively explaining it to him in the same way you’d talk about the weather he is in shock

He’s not sure if you’re trying to put on a brave face if you’re as nonchalant as you seem. He’s inclined to believe it’s the former.

“Babe that’s no joke. That’s kind of serious.”

“Don’t sweat it, Kyle. It’s how I’ve dealt with it. I’ve got it.”

He’s unsure but at the same time if it’s really worked for you so far then there’s no harm in letting it continue right? Wrong. He’s a little uncomfortable but it’s more so because it happened to you, someone he loves so deeply and he can’t fathom the idea

“Well yeah, I get that. But maybe we can talk about it when you feel like joking about it?” He shrugs, his words cautious and carefully chosen as he makes his suggestion

“I just want you to be alright. Ok?” His arms are rubbing yours before he’s pulling you into a hug, “I’ll always be here for you, babe.”

König:

Not a single chuckle from this man as he’s chewing over the words in his head

“Schatz, what’d you just say?”

When you explained what happened with a shrug and an all too casual tone, he’s tasting iron in his mouth from how hard he’s biting his cheek

He doesn’t want you to think he’s angry at you, never in a million years, but jesus christ schatz, surely there’s no way?

It’s not that he doesn’t believe you, he just can’t believe it happened to you, you’re the light of his life, his reason for existing, you’re the morning sun and the midnight moon, he’s truly in shock

“König?” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts and in two short steps he was in front of you, sinking to his knees and hugging your middle. He’s buried his face in your shoulder as your arms wrap around his shoulders and you run your fingers through his hair.

“Liebling, please don’t make those jokes anymore, ok?” His voice is so small and fragile, you almost felt like it was a child talking instead of the 6’ something behemoth at your feet, “I can’t stand to hear that you’ve been hurt like that.”

“König it’s ok, really. Humor is how I cope.” You kiss the crown of his head and your chin against it,

“I know, liebling, I know but I’d much rather you talk to me ok? Please? For me?”

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gennyanydots · 2 years

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I had to let go of you just to get a hold of myself part 5

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x f!reader

I had to let go of you just to get a hold of myself masterlist

Jake finds himself the next day in the waiting room at Dr. Jackson’s office. He can’t stop his leg from bouncing. He’s never felt this anxious before going into a session. He’s also never had to do a recap of the previous day’s couples session before.

Jake looks up when his name is called and follows Tim into his office and sits down in the chair across from Tim’s.

“How do you think yesterday went?” Tim asks him once he’s seated.

How the hell should Jake know? He’s not a psychiatrist. He has no idea about any of this stuff. Isn’t that why he’s here?

Jake shrugs, “I guess it went okay. She didn’t cry or yell at me. I kinda expected both.”

“Why did you expect that?” Tim asks.

“Well for all intents and purposes I left her. I left my wife. I know I did. I didn’t mean to leave her but it was the easiest choice and so that’s the one I took.”

Tim jots something down in his notes and looks back up at Jake, “Okay so you left her. Why did you expect her to scream and cry though?”

“Isn’t that what women do when their man leaves them?” Jake asks.

“You wanna play stereotypes now?” Tim asks jokingly. “If you want to play that game then who did you leave your wife for? Because that’s what everyone probably thinks happened.”

Jake grumbles, “I get your point.”

“Your wife showed incredible restraint yesterday and you should be proud of her. I am. I could tell when the video first started she looked like she was going to cry.”

“She’s not a crier. Never has been. Usually if she cries then something is really, really wrong,” Jake explains.

“Says the man who expected his wife to cry,” Tim snickers.

“Ya know what?” Jake says with a laugh.

“Okay, okay. Back on topic. How are you feeling after the session?” Tim asks.

“Okay I guess. Seeing her hurt. Really bad. Pretending she didn’t exist was the way I think I coped with it all and seeing her made it real. Like I know I left her but if I just pretended she wasn’t real then I didn’t hurt anybody but I did. I know I did. Seeing her made it real and I am so fucking sorry I ever did that.”

“Good.”

“What?” Jake asks confused.

“You should feel sorry. I’m not going to sugar coat this for you. You messed up, Jake. You messed up big time and you can’t take it back. That’s not how it works. You can only move on and do better. Remember how sorry you feel right now and use it to do better. Really hone in on that feeling and keep it in the back of your mind all the time. You’re making a conscious effort to do better and the only way you can do that is by acknowledging that you did a shitty job before,” Tim explains.

Jake nods, “Okay so now what happens?”

“Now you continue to put in the work.”

“Then that’s it? I’m cured or whatever?” Jake asks.

“Not sure what you think you needed cured from,” Tim says shaking his head. “There was never anything wrong with you. You weren’t handling your emotions appropriately. Now you work on what you can do to change that. You learn appropriate coping mechanisms. You learn communication techniques. That’s what this is all for. So you can be a functioning adult, Jake.”

“I thought I was?” Jake says confused.

“Functioning adults don’t run away from their wives for years at a time and then don’t pretend to be themselves,” Tim says raising an eyebrow at Jake.

“You didn’t have to point it out like that,” Jake grumbles.

“I did. Gotta get it through your thick skull somehow.”

“It’s a normal skull thank you very much!” Jake says laughing.

“I’m not so sure. I’d have to ask your mama. Speaking of which. Have you thought anymore on reaching out to your family besides your wife?”

“I kinda wanted to make sure we had a better relationship first. I don’t want to take away her support system,” Jake explains.

“That’s very noble of you. I’m sure its hard having the same support system,” Tim says.

“But we don’t. Just because they’re my family doesn’t mean they’re my support system. They’re my wife’s. My support system is here. They’re my team. I don’t need to take her’s. I have my own.”

“That is true but don’t think just because they’re your wife’s support system they aren’t still your family.”

“I know they are. Right now I would just rather focus on my wife more though. She’s who I want back the most. My family will come. It’ll be much easier to talk to them when they don’t hate me for breaking Y/N’s heart.”

“Do you actually think they hate you?” Tim asks.

Jake shakes his head, “No, if anything it’s worse. My parents are probably disappointed in me. They raised me better. I’d probably let my dad kick my ass at this point. My brother-in-law probably wants to. He slipped into the big brother role easily for my wife when her parents kicked her out.”

“Is that Catherine’s husband or Lauren’s?”

“Catherine’s. I don’t know if Lauren is married. When I left she and her steady boyfriend were having a baby girl but I don’t know much past that,” Jake says with a shrug.

Tim hums and jots some things down in his notebook, “Have you thought about what story you’re going to tell for your homework?”

“No. I was trying to think of one before I fell asleep last night but nothing really came to mind. I’m sure I’ll think of something though.”

“Be sure that you do. Wouldn’t want your wife to get a better grade than you,” Tim says with a chuckle.

“Wouldn’t be the first time. She’s always been smarter than me. Smarter than I’ll ever be,” Jake says honestly.

“Has that ever been a problem for you?” Tim asks.

“Oh God no! I love that she’s smarter than me. I love everything about her. I don’t think I realized how much I loved her still until yesterday. I missed her ,of course, but I didn’t realize how much until I saw her. It’s like I woke up for the first time in years and then the realization hit that she’s not here with me and it hurt like hell and I can’t keep living like this,” Jake said as he got up and paced around the room.

“Well we’re working towards you not living like that but it’ll take time,” Tim says with a sigh.

Jake sighs too and sits back down, “I know. I know.”

“Good. Well Jake, our time is up for today but I’ll see you next week. Make sure you think about your homework,” Tim says standing up and walking to the office door.

Jake nods and follows Tim to the door, “I will. See you.” Jake sighs and leaves. He heads out of the office building to his truck. A lot of things running around in his head.

He checks his phone and sees Bob had texted him asking him if he wanted to come over and hang out. He shoots Bob a text back and heads to his house.

When Jake gets there and rings the doorbell he’s met with a squeal of his name and a tiny figure throwing the door open before jumping into his arms excitedly.

“Hello there, munchkin!” Jake says laughing and setting Fiona on his hip.

“Hi Untle Jay! I miss you!” She says wrapping her arms around him.

“I missed you too, princess. Did you have a fun day at preschool today?” Jake asks her walking into the house and waving at Bob who is sitting on the couch wearing a princess crown and holding a tiny cup and saucer.

Fiona hides her face in Jake’s side and mumbles something.

“Baby girl, I didn’t understand a thing you just said,” Jake says sitting down on the couch near Bob and setting Fiona on his lap.

“Thomas kick me at center time so I pushed him and got in trouble,” Fiona mumbled.

Jake looks over at Bob who is trying not to laugh then looks back at Fiona, “Well Fi we can’t be putting our hands on our friends at school. That’s not nice.”

“But he’s not my fwiend!” She says with a pout.

“But that doesn’t mean we can push him! If he kicked you what are you supposed to do?” Bob asks.

“I’m sposed to tell a teacher,” Fiona grumbles.

“Right! And then if he keeps kicking you tell Uncle Jake and he’ll beat up his dad,” Jake loudly whispers to Fiona who giggles.

“Otay!” She says and hops off Jake’s lap and comes back soon after with a cup and saucer for him and hands it to him.

He takes it and thanks her with a grin.

“So Jake how was your session yesterday? I didn’t see you much today to ask,” Bob says to Jake.

“It was fine. Hard. Just seeing her made it hard. Made it real. I couldn’t pretend I hadn’t hurt her anymore. It was plain to see on her face. I didn’t realize how much I hurt myself either. It was kinda like when you’re little and you hold it all together until you see your mom and then you lose it. I wanted to just break down and plead for her to forgive me,” Jake says with a sigh and takes a pretend sip of his pretend tea to appease his pseudo niece.

“That does sound hard. You still glad you’re doing this?” Bob asks taking a pretend sip of his own.

Jake nods while watching Fiona look through her bins of toys.

Fiona finds something and walks over to Jake. It’s a tube of some sort. She opens it and squeezes some of whatever it is onto her hand and starts rubbing it on his face.

“Untle Jay you so pretty now,” Fiona says with a smile.

He chuckles and thanks her. Bob winks at him, “Yeah princess, you made Uncle Jake so pretty very sparkly.”

Jake groaned, “It’s never coming off is it?”

Bob laughs, “Nope.”

Part 6

#jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #I had to let go of you just to get a hold of myself #hangman x female!reader

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fluxedbuds · 3 months

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apparently y'all Are desperate enough for my Lomadia Oc so uh. hope you're in the mood for [checks notes] ~13 paragraphs, half of which is just description!

allow me to introduce Villom!

She doesn't have an actual name or in-universe nickname, I just call her Villom. Because she was originally a Villain Version of Lomadia from a sci-fi world for some comic idea I totally scrapped bc it sucked. Except for Villom!

So basically what if we put Lomadia in space and gave her every problem and no normal coping mechanisms

The base universe is Completely Impossible sci-fi space stuff, involving solar systems being relatively close together and having tons of habitable planets, with star trek 'convergent evolution' making everybody a Weird Human Basically. Part of these choices is that I. Don't actually like sci-fi lol. I don't think its bad I just can't Get Into It, so I did the lazy version. HOWEVER I do also use the fact that its extremely artificial and story-focused as part of the plot so its FINE There IS also magic, but it’s generally less used, as tech is more accessible and less complicated from a user standpoint. That doesn’t mean it isn’t powerful, if you know what to look for. Thats foreshadowing!

Compared to base Lomadia, Villom is.. very immature. She has trouble identifying and controlling emotions, she's quick to anger and holds grudges. She's also more impulsive and tends towards insults and crude jokes. She's actually pretty fun to hang out with as a result, but responsibility is a role she's crushed into, and it never truly fits. She's trying her best ok

Villom starts out her story as a young adult, training to be a pilot. She does some hero shit, but breaks so many rules in the process and gets kicked out. She’s enraged by this betrayal of what was supposed to be her life, and steals a ship to go rogue and try to pursue her dreams anyways. She doesn’t exactly know what she’s doing, though, and eventually a chase causes her to crash on an unfamiliar planet, where she meets Rythian. He’s steampunk now, don’t question it

Anyways, they end up teaming up, and form the first of her crew. Later additions are Martyn, who is a mouse guy who has So Fucking Many People Who Want Him Dead, and Zoeya! Who ended up separated from Fionn following partially the plot of Mushbury, and works as the ship’s engineer. Their ship (that lasts long enough to get a name…) is called the Ask, and Villom occasionally (and jokingly) calls her crew the Answers. (Its called the Ask because originally I gave the characters nicknames based on Norse mythology for Pretentious Reasons, those might come back later)

So everything’s all fine and poggers for a while, with the Ask’s crew causing mischief and undercutting evil empires across the worlds- and then Villom’s home planet is destroyed. And she sees it happen.

See, one of the tropes of sci-fi that bugs me, is how understated the death of an entire planet tends to go. This is the first step of Villom realizing how truly fucked up the world they live in is- and the first step of her wondering why it has to be this way, and how to stop it.

It only gets worse from here.

No matter how many evil empires they topple, no matter how many massive threats they thwart, there’s always another one. And no matter how fast they are, they can’t stop every world-ending crisis. Villom starts learning magic, wondering if theres some kind of solution there. When she doesn’t find one, she just looks harder. Brushing so close with forces she’s alone in experiencing wears on her, compounding with their futile mission.

The breaking point is when Rythian dies. Raiding an enemy ship goes wrong, they’re outnumbered, they’re trying to retreat. Surrenders are not accepted, there.

It’s another thing she sees happen, another thing she was inches away from but unable to stop. And she can’t take it. She can’t take losing another part of her, another of the few things she could call home in this cold void.

She takes some of the things she learned looking where she shouldn’t- and kills the nearest member of the enemy team, trading a life for a life. And part of her soul as tax, of course. Just a small bit, this time. She never tells him. Pretends it was instead an incredibly close call. He probably knows she’s lying, on some level, but he never says it.

Villom is desperate, now. There’s more and more things she’s hiding from her crew, more and more boundaries of safety she’s pushing. She trades one of her eyes for the ability to see the functions of the world itself- maybe it’s a mistake, there’s some gear stuck, and if she fixes it this infinite loop of wars will stop.

There is no mistake. This is how the universe is intended to function.

She can’t give up. Because if she stops, she’s never going to get up again.

Maybe there’s other worlds where it’s better, where it’s safe. Maybe there’s a way to make this world like them.

Maybe there’s a way to leave.

She’s barely human anymore, even though she looks perfectly fine. Her hair is white, her eye replaced, but that’s all. She’s replaced the things she’s traded away. She’s barely even a part of the world, anymore. Unstuck from the threads of it, floating as a constant point, unchanging and undying, snapping back into place when moved.

A lot of universes are visited by a strange woman with white hair, who never stays. Sometimes she’s a savior, or a tyrant, or merely another passerby.

One of them, somewhere, has to have an answer. The way to break the cycle. And Villom will find it- even if she has to take every one of them apart.

#long post #villom #published works #<-organizational tag this isn't like. in a book #if you actually read all of this i love you. and hopefully you now get why im obsessed with her #my cringefail girlboss <3 inventing new war crimes #if you follow the suggestions blogs you may have already seen her!

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violivs · 1 month

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NMTDaily: Summer Tips

- “I probably look awful” *is the world’s cutest human* Hero, please.

- Goddamn though, when I first watched this, summer still meant something. Summer still meant several months of no school and nothing much to do (*snort*) instead of just being that time of year when I still spend all my time working, it’s just hot outside. What is the passage of time?!

- Hero is sweet and nice but she is also loyal. She would only be that harsh with someone if she was doing it for Bea or Leo or Ursula, I think. I think her snapping at Ben to stop watching their videos and mentioning them in his is the meanest she’s ever been, and she still manages to deliver it almost like she’s letting him down easy! Incredible.

- Beatrice: *bitching about how awful Benedick’s vlog was*

Me: *kicking my feet and squealing* You’re gonna love that stupid face!

- “I hate that hill!” Creating another parallel between Bea’s videos and Ben’s. Now they’ve both complained about the hill. Just makes me think of Ben seeing Bea walking the hill and offering her a ride all faux-chivalrously and her furiously turning him down and keeping on walking. Wouldn’t be surprised if that just happened right before this video and that’s why she’s in a Mood to rant about him.

- She is so focused on hating Ben that she willingly called Hero riff-raff! That’s dedication lol

- I do get annoyed by any Shakespeare modern AU movie/book/series that changes the character names completely to sound more modern. So SO glad NMTD stuck with the canon names and leant into the Bene-dick jokes. Even if that euphemism wasn’t in use in his time, I still think it’s what Shakespeare would’ve wanted. 😆

- Benvolio! Hamlet reference!

- In a world where Much Ado doesn’t exist, I want to know where in the world the Hobbes parents found the name Benedick. I know they’re professors, so that’s how, but you know what I mean.

- “He’s not all bad!” See, Hero can only be so mean at a time before she goes back into nice mode. I love her.

- Obsessed with Bea and Ben having classes together and having to try to keep a lid on it and not just bother each other all the time. And them both not understanding why they just can’t help but react to each other, why they care so much about everything the other person does and says.

- Ben editing Bea’s homework annoyingly (lol, I desperately want to know exactly what “postmodern bullshit” he wrote too) and being “a walking textbook” is sooooo… he just loves to learn! About everything! And share what he learns with others! All I can think about is him biting off more than he can chew at school next year in Lolilo because he’s so enthusiastic about everything. And Bea is going to go from not wanting to hear a word he says to finding his passion for it all so endearing that she can’t bring herself to burst his bubble and just communicate about not wanting an LDR. 🥺 They already wreck me!

- “Do you think you always think before you speak?” Hero with the necessary call-out!

- “Mine’s vodka!” Lol

- Bea immediately correcting Hero and acting like a know-it-all about summer right after complaining what a know-it-all Ben is. Classic.

- *googles togs* oh, swimsuits, interesting

- “Scarves that shade your face” just really reminds me of a certain reason Hero from the play has to hide her face in the future… a reference?

- “you have a lovely face! Show the world your pretty face!” An iconic line!

- Another Bea/Ben parallel! Bea says she likes banana milkshakes, and in Vox Pops, Ben said his favorite food was bananas. Can’t believe I’ve never had them go for milkshakes on a date in a fic before, note to self.

- Bea’s tip IS legit. I also think of summer as the hell months, as she put it, and staying in the air conditioning is usually my coping mechanism of choice. Girl after my own heart.

- The cute little cursive note at the end! The Hero touch.

- I love this episode, and I love how Hero and Bea both enable each other and keep each other honest, and how they get along.

💖🦩🥭

#nmtd #nmtdaily #summer tips #nmtd spoilers #violivs nmtdaily liveblog #doing a binge catch-up and writing posts as I go rn #i will get there!

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frankiejay03 · 2 years

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I made like five really long comments on this tumblr post I came across and I hate @ing people so I won’t but it was essentially another HashiMada vs MadaTobi vs IzuTobi vs… uh whatever else there is and here are my two cents.

Before I begin, we’re on tumblr. Yes, we’re making this up. We met the founders for like two episodes or whatever like. Yeah. This is an anime about moon aliens trying to take over the world because some not-grandpa somehow spent 80 years alone in a cave surviving on resentment and sheer spite alone. Don’t give me that bullshit. If you didn’t actually care about made-up stories/romances you wouldn’t be here.

Moving on.

In regards to the HashiMada/MadaTobi/IzuTobi argument, I have one main point that blows every (Hashirama) ship argument out of the water:

Mito Uzumaki.

Okay, backtracking.

To summarize these ships, I think HashiMada, when viewed romantically, is too sweet and… typical, yknow? Like stereotypical Romeo and Juliet and yeah I like the occasional Hashimada post, yknow, it’s not BAD it’s just… meh. IzuTobi is fun because they can have an incredibly strong rivalry going on, but I think Izuna is waaay too toxic/aggressive for anyone… he’s like… he gives me… like… *squints* incel vibes sometimes yknow? It’s so hard to explain, but I know exactly what I mean. Now, MadaTobi? Gorgeous. In the anime/manga they’re like perfect opposites yknow? Well, not PERFECT like SNS but like… so complimentary (kinda… ish).

Okay look, Hashi and Mito are very complimentary. Bright red/white vs earthy green/brown. Girl boss vs malewife. Incredibly intelligent vs incredibly powerful. I love HashiMito, they’re just so good for each other.

On the other hand, HashiMada is a little strange because they don’t mesh so well; earthy green/brown vs angry red/black/purple, malewife vs Tired DadTM, both ridiculous powerhouses, one centered around peace and prosperity while the other is centered around his family. It CAN work but it’s not nearly as poetic and perfect (and yes I mean PERFECT) as HashiMito is. Again, no problem with HashiMada but… Madara is not The One for Hashirama, yknow? I’m all for the gays but come on, you’re gonna overlook an icon like Mito? Unacceptable.

Now I can’t say I understand Izuna very well but I do understand (I think) Madara and Tobirama decently well. Back to compliments, angry red/black/purple vs icy blue/white/red aren’t COMPLIMENTARY but it is very indicative of Tobirama and Madara’s natures. Tired DadTM vs Adopts-all-the-strays single mother, family centered vs found family/family of choice centered, incredibly powerful vs incredibly intelligent (wait a minute, that sounds a little familiar…), and (my fav) a very rough exterior to hide a very hurt, war-traumatized person underneath (Hashirama was always a little too… idealistic to truly understand that no, you can’t stop fighting your ancestral enemy just because you WANT to).

Again, I dont really have Izuna pegged very well but… he’s just a little sus (and whiny seriously I’ll never get over him snitching on Madara and Hashirama at the river or his constant dOnT tRuSt ThE sEnJu like bitch (lovingly, tiredly) shut up) ((I don’t hate Izuna!! He’s just… a brat actually that’s kind of the theme with younger Uchiha brothers lol))

Uh, I feel like people won’t understand my characterizations so here is how I understand the founders which may not be correct/what was intended but I don’t care and neither should you:

Hashirama - eldest son which usually implies having the heaviest load (for example, Madara) but he’s actually a little spoiled. His enthusiasm/generally cheery demeanor isn’t like Naruto’s (a coping mechanism and also he’s a little dumb because no one ever taught him otherwise or gave him the time of day), it’s more like he’s JUST like that. He’s incredibly short sighted/narrow minded. Spending the entire war blowing up entire battlefields for fun (he didn’t kill anyone, sure, but he didn’t help anyone either) just to fight with his friend knowing he’s going to deny all overtures of peace? Yes, Hashirama will survive the battle, but his clansmen won’t. He’s striving for peace so the children can have better lives but… his method is so… terrible. He’s just not the brightest bulb even if he has good intentions. So, malewife, super powerful, idealistic.

Mito - cant say I know her incredibly well but I know she’s incredibly smart (her little chakra diamond thing on her head already displays a sort of forward thinking Hashirama is incapable of) which is a different kind of powerful but powerful nonetheless, she’s Uzushio’s princess so… take from that what you will, I just think it further pushes her need to be intelligent to be able to survive being royalty.

Madara - right, Tired DadTM means like Madara is always so worried about his brother and his clan mates. He is driven by the need to protect them, something that typically male animals in nature have in common: the NEED to protect what is theirs. Madara is smart, sure, but more than that he’s incredibly powerful (Mokuton alone puts Hashirama leagues above the rest of the ninja world, to be able to compete with that and survive without the god ex-machina that is Mokuton is quite the testament to Madara’s abilities as a ninja) Madara doesn’t care about peace for peace’s sake but rather for his clan and family’s sake (which is why it’s all the more detrimental when peace is achieved but when the main reason he worked towards it is gone, Madara drifts astray)

Tobirama: my beloved. He’s an idiot but he’s the smartest man in the room ALWAYS. Where his brother will always be stronger (and coincidentally the strongest ever), Tobirama is a genius. (Jutsu creation is NOT an easy feat, much less what is essentially teleportation via what amounts to scribbles of ink of paper) while Hashirama got to live in his happy little bubble of “ooh like at the nice boy I met at the river I’m sure nothing could go wrong there!” and “I am guaranteed the seat of power because of my status of clan head’s first son and mokuton wielder” Tobirama got none of the above. A weirdo in every sense (albino, freakishly intelligent, lacking in a few moral codes that keep most other people from fucking with mortality (which, yes, was a coping mechanism from his brothers dying in his childhood but not the point)), Tobirama has a completely different worldview than his brother. When they do achieve peace, Tobirama focuses on his brother’s goal more than his own brother: peace for the children. While Tobirama, war-traumatized and just a little socially inept, goes about it in the worst way it is still the only way he knows. He adopts all the strays and nurtures them to the point where they won’t NEED protection (in animals, this is typically the female’s role *hint hint*) ((how well his methods work is also debateable *COUGH COUGH* danzo *COUGH COUGH*)) oh and the family of choice thing referred to his band of gremlins from different clans

If you’re the type of person to say “ToBiRaMa WaS rAcIsT” then I know you have never experienced true racism in your life. I am a queer gender-fluid (most often perceived as a woman, idfc) person of color who has experienced ALL SORTS of -isms and -phobias, don’t tell me your male anime characters (WHO ARE ALL THE SAME RACE) are being RACIST to each other when they LITERALLY CANNOT BE. Was Tobirama particularly prejudiced and bigoted towards a specific clan? Yes. 100%. Was it justified? That is up to the reader to decide (((a little))). Was he racist? Go fuck yourself.

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taterturnspages · 1 year

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THE CLIENT BY JOHN GRISHAM - BOOK REVIEW

Genre(s): Fiction, Legal Thriller, Mystery, & Suspense

No Spoilers

TW: mention of suicide, PTSD/child trauma

SYNOPSIS:

‘The Client’ by John Grisham follows eleven-year-old Mark Sway after he and his little brother, Ricky, witness a suicide of a well-known lawyer, Jerome Clifford, who was defending a high-profile case involving the murder of Senator Boyd Boyette. Mark and Ricky attempt to put a stop to the suicide attempt, but Mr. Clifford had other plans. Mr. Clifford captures Mark and locks him inside of the vehicle. Mr. Clifford spills a major secret to Mark involving the Boyette case. Mark escapes the locked vehicle with the explosive secret and a hefty choice to make. After the media acknowledges Mark as a witness to the suicide and the police investigate the crime scene, the FBI is on Mark’s tail to reveal what he knows about the case.

Mark retains an amateur lawyer, Reggie Love, to guide him through the high-stakes pressure of the FBI hounding him for information, and the possibility of the Mafia tracking him for potentially holding information that could harm their case. Should Mark spill what he knows to the FBI and chance the Mafia finding him? Or, should Mark keep quiet and play the risky legal system game that could result in serious federal charges? Neither Mark or his lawyer knows the answer to this question. Reggie is willing to go to great lengths to protect Mark from the pressures surrounding him, even if that means both of their lives are in danger.

Mark needs to make a decision, but which will he choose?

READ THIS IF YOU:

Are a fan of ‘Law & Order’

Enjoy thriller books with a little more than just ‘true crime’

Need a page-turning suspense novel that you can’t put down, and when you HAVE to put it down to eat or go to work, you think about it 24/7

CHARACTERS:

This novel has an endless stream of characters with a ton of different FBI agents, Mafia men, Mark’s immediate family, court staff, and hospital staff. For that reason, I will only cover the two main characters, Mark and Reggie.

Mark Sway:

Despite Mark being only eleven years old, his wit and intelligence are far beyond his years. He has lucid moments of not being afraid of anyone or anything, but deep down he is just a kid and it’s comforting to see that he lets his childlike coping mechanisms take over at times. The book takes place over six days…SIX DAYS. The amount of things this child has went through in such a short period of time was tough to read, but he handled it like a champ and ALWAYS focused more on the feelings of those he cared about. His character made this book go the extra mile for me, because I was always thinking ‘What is Mark scheming next?’. He singlehandedly kept me on the edge of my seat.

Reggie Love:

Reggie has lived a troubled life, and that surely did not stop when Mark Sway entered her office. Reggie is a new lawyer and has only practiced for four years, but don’t let that fool you. She is a strong female character and an amazing lawyer. She makes sure to let everyone know that she will not tolerate anyone messing with her or Mark. Much like Mark, Reggie is stuck between a rock and a hard place. She is having trouble advising Mark on his decision, but she supports Mark nonetheless with every decision he makes. Again, Reggie also took this book to the extra mile for me. For Mark, he was now walking in a world with no trust and no allies. Reggie did her absolute best to assure Mark that she was by his side no matter what and I know that is exactly what Mark needed during all of this. I strongly believe that Reggie’s character was flawlessly written.

PRAISES, CRITIQUES, AND MY THOUGHTS:

I like to start my reviews with bad news first, and good news second to end on a happy note. So, first and foremost, my only issue with this book is that the ending was not nearly as exhilarating as I would have hoped. I keep all of my reviews free of spoilers, so I really can’t go into more detail there. I was hoping for an ending with more drama and more suspense. Don’t get me wrong, the ending was not predictable (in my opinion); it was just not as extreme as what I was hoping for out of a suspense novel.

Now with that out of the way, I’m going to explain why I loved this book so much. For starters, this book didn’t NEED a child as the main character. The story could have been written with an adult MC, but the fact that Mark paved the way in ‘The Client’ makes it that much more interesting, albeit upsetting because reading about these events happening to such a young child is devastating. But from a strict “fiction novel reviewer” perspective, I think the difference between child and adult MC was everything.

Second, Reggie Love is an ICON. She is unfettered, which after learning her backstory, was inspiring given all that she has been through. If I ever have legal troubles, I will do my best to find a real-life Reggie Love.

I highly recommend this book, as well as any of John Grisham’s novels, because they always knock it out of the park for me. I’m typically a strict romance reader, but every now and then I need to take romance breaks. During those times, I know that John Grisham will not disappoint. He has yet to prove me wrong there. All of his novels are legal thrillers and follow some sort of legal problem, so if you find interest in the legal system, then John Grisham may be the author you’re missing.

#bookworm #book review #bookblr #reading #john grisham #the client #book journal #digital journal #bookaholic #thriller books #legal thriller

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lets-talk-spirituality · 2 years

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Where have you been?

It’s been awhile since I’ve done a long post and it’s because I’m just going through a lot of shifting within myself. Maybe some of what I share can help you.

End of August I moved like halfway across the world from where I was living previously and since then I’ve been adjusting to so much. This place is so healing and beautiful and I can feel so much of the peace I’ve been yearning for.

I’m working through a lot of releasing of the past, dreaming of old lovers and bosses. I had a very toxic boss for three years and I’m still healing a few months after leaving. I just quit in late July so I’m still processing through that. I didn’t realize how much healing I still needed but it’s been showing up in dreams.

Woah oh oh it’s magic!

Lately the universe has been doing some amazing magic in my life. One new thing is that I’ve been allowed to at times see myself through the eyes of someone who loves me. It’s like randomly I will get this amazingly confident feeling of how cool I am and strong and beautiful and it’s like woah, where’s that coming from, but truth is I am all those things and I don’t need to down myself to appear humble. If I wanna be cocky it would be a start to the years I spent beating myself up. But it’s like I can see myself outside of my own critical self lens and there is so much beauty in that.

I’ve also been feeling like I don’t need to justify myself. I’ve been spending most of my weekends just relaxing and sitting in nature and there’s this internal shame that comes up. I’ve been telling it to fuck off and questioning where I got that doing nothing means I’m good for nothing or have nothing going on. Rest is actually an active choice I’m making to build up energy for all that I feel is already in my orbit. I had this insight once about how warriors can’t keep fighting well if they never heal and rest after battle. I’m sick of fighting wounded. Flowers don’t bloom year around. It’s okay to rest and be dormant. Life isn’t too short to find peace.

New Skills

I’m building new skills. Rest is a skill. Peace is a skill. Joy is a skill. All ones that are new to me. Although I recently experienced a timeline shift, my energy is still shifting and as I heal, more shifts. The universe asked me to stop smoking nicotine earlier this year but I wasn’t there yet. About two/three weeks ago I stopped. And honestly the only reason is because that is a coping mechanism I’ve outgrown and no longer need. An older version of me used that to cope but the me I’m becoming doesn’t. Holding onto that habit was holding me back and the second I let that go, I felt a shift. I’d never condemn habits as bad but there does come a time when holding onto something that we used to need keeps us in that old energy. I’m not that person anymore and letting myself let go of things isn’t easy. I miss the habit of smoking itself, not even nicotine but like all things, I will become used to this new normal too.

Exhaustion

Part of my quest to stop smoking has also been I’m just fucking tired all the time and have been since like the start of the pandemic. I realized that my mind is constantly thinking and manifesting in the background. I also had a breakthrough in therapy where we made the connection that codependency (putting others feelings before your own) is actually anxiety and it blew my mind. Taking antidepressants has been so wonderful for me, and so I’m determined now to try anti anxiety medication to help with the overthinking, ruminating thoughts and other ways that anxiety manifests. I think it may be part of why I’m so tired. But I know part is just filtering all that’s happening in the world. The more I heal the more I can filter and the less it effects me.

Megaformer!

I also said yes to myself and started a new workout class I love. I was warring with myself about the cost but I realized if I want to be the girl who does this workout then I need to do it! And honestly when I told people the price they were like that’s not that much. Perspective! If I want to become the me I want to be then I have to do what she does. All these choices are putting me in the energy of who I am. I’m letting myself be me finally. If green juice is basic, so what I’m basic! I don’t care about anything but figuring out ways to love being alive. I realized the whole point of exercise is to spend one on one time gaining trust and confidence in your body. This class focuses a lot on strength and it’s been amazing to focus my mind and challenge my body this way.

In summation:

Anyway! I’m still around and will do a long post soon I hope but I’m just like all of you. Just because I know things doesn’t mean I’m not still growing and being challenged. I’m still human and I’m still figuring out how to heal and move on from toxic situations, learning to let go of people and things and ideas, learning to love myself and how to talk to myself and treat myself better. The energy shifting I’ve been doing takes a lot of self work and energy. Changing takes a lot of effort and intention and consistency. The abundance and joy I’m reeling into myself takes a lot of energy. I love all of you and I hope some of what I shared maybe helps you too.

#magic #self growth #self reflection #self awareness #new skills #about mod

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chasing-rabbits · 4 months

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Have to laugh or I’d cry and I’ve had enough of crying for tonight. Having an awful breakdown but hey fuck it right because fuck that right who cares about that. Fuck that I’ve been crying every night breaking down since Sunday in fact last night was the only night so far that hasn’t ended in tears but hey fuck that. Fuck that I’ve been progressively getting worse. No fuck it fuck it doesn’t matter, doesnt matter none of it fucking matters so why the fuck do I keep trying for. I dont care I’m not doing this for me so why the fuck do I care. Why should I keep putting myself through this night after night for everyone else’s sake when I have the answer when I could just give in and stop fighting with myself to make the ‘right’ choices.

Just so fucking tired of fighting just so I don’t disappoint others or upset them. Like yes I am aware it’s a shit coping mechanism and yes I don’t ‘want’ to do it but also I do ‘want’ to do it because a shit coping skill is still better than not having any (at least not any that are working rn). Worst of all is how selfish all this is. My breakdowns are selfish. My BPD is selfish. It is inherently selfish, I hurt so much I am in so much pain it blinds everything else and it forces itself out of the shadows it screams and shouts to be heard it paralyses and puts you in harmful situations. It’s selfish because it’s so devastating it causes such immense pain that it can��t be ignored by those around us and when I can’t control it I require others help. And I’m not saying this in a derogatory way I saw something awhile back that talked about bpd in this way & I was prepared to be like ugh at it cos iykyk but the way it framed it actually made a lot of sense and it wasnt saying it in a shitty or stigmatising way but idk I wish I could remember where I saw it because it made a lot of sense unlike me right now. That being said I feel selfish because I can no longer keep everything inside. I don’t have the strength to do it on my own. I feel selfish because when I”m in so much pain I’ll cling to anything that can take it away. It’s selfish because those around me who love me are forced to take action when it hits because otherwise I’m a risk to myself & sure not literally forced but they love me they’re not going to leave me like that ig I’m saying my bpd is so volatile the breakdowns I get are so bad it leads to situations where they ‘have’ to step in bcos I can’t keep myself safe. I feel selfish knowing that just by being in someone’s life by virtue of loving me they are going to be put in situations where inevitably I won’t always be able to handle my bpd on my own sometimes it’ll get so bad I’ll reach out for help and they’ll want to because they love me & I’ll cling to them like a buoy keeping me afloat in a storm. I’m not a selfish person I know this but sometimes I can’t handle it on my own and idk sometimes reaching out for help feels selfish because it happens so often. because people have to set aside their day/time for me, for my bpd & it’s hard because you’re always told to reach out for help but when that help is so constant its hard not to feel selfish, guilty, weak, a burden. It feels selfish to be honest with people now because if they knew how bad I was doing .

#erin talks #erin rambles #prsnl #long post #bpd #The only upside to all of this is venting this out has distracted me enough #That I’ve gone from all the emotions crying to just numb

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stevishabitat · 5 months

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33 Things People Don't Realize You're Doing Because of Migraine

So, in partnership with The Daily Migraine, we asked their community as well as our Mighty community to share things other people don’t realize they’re doing because of migraine. Maybe some of these will sound familiar to you, too.

Here’s what the communities shared with us:

1. “Wearing sunglasses indoors. It’s not to act like a rock star, far from it.”

2. “Communicate through texts because talking and holding a conversation hurts. With texting I don’t have to respond immediately. I can also just type ‘migraine’ and they get it.”

3. “Refuse to get out of bed (for which I get called lazy, when I’m really just in too much pain and too nauseous to move).”

4. “I look like I’m fluffing my hair, scratching my head or adjusting my ponytail, but I’m really just trying to relieve pressure on my head. Sometimes I hold my nose because I smell things so intensely. I do so many things that probably make people think I’m odd, but they’re just coping mechanisms.”

5. “I get really cranky, and people might think I’m being mean. It just hurts to listen or talk. It’s not something you did, it’s just my head.”

6. “I pause for an unusually long time because the word I’m trying to say has escaped me.”

7. “Pretty much everything I do is calculated risk. I choose to do something, and I have to weigh the odds that I may end up with a migraine afterwards.”

8. “Blankets over all the windows. My dad came over the other day and said ‘Jeez, you live like a vampire,’ and I could only shrug. Not by choice, Dad. I miss open windows and sunshine.”

9. “Not eating. Not many people outside of the chronic illness/migraine world understand how much migraines affect your whole entire body. It can make you vomit or, if you’re like me, it can make you feel just nauseous enough that you won’t throw up but you can’t hardly eat or drink a single thing for a day or two without making it so much worse.”

10. “I slouch. Sitting straight up hurts my neck, because my head feels heavy. People always say, ‘Sit up straight, posture’s important.’ I can’t all the time, and sometimes people judge.”

11. “Looking unkempt because I don’t want to touch my hair or face. Appearing lazy because the fatigue is intense.”

12. “I go for walks a lot while at work. I work under fluorescent lights and in front of a computer screen, so my only real option is to get out of the building and stop looking at the screen under the fluorescent lights. Plus, I can’t usually go home sick because quite frankly I have a migraine 24/7.”

13. “Pillow over my face no matter how dark it is in my room. Sometimes I’ll just hide under my blankets. Oftentimes I will feel so sick from just turning over in bed or walking to the washroom. I can’t even handle candlelights when I’m at my worst.”

14. “Move very slowly, kind of frozen and unresponsive. Blank unfocused stare.”

15. “I’m sure [people] don’t realize I drink 90 oz. of water as fast as possible to stay on top of the pain. [They] probably just think I’m extra thirsty… So many weird rituals when you are a migrainista like me.”

16. “I angle myself so the other person is blocking the light source during a conversation, especially if we’re outside in the sun.”

17. “Hold hands with my husband so I don’t fall. Most people just think we are being a sweet couple.”

18. “I turn my head from side to side a lot to try to stretch out my neck and shoulders, or crack my neck for the illusion of relieving migraine pressure.”

19. “Making sure I eat at least three decent meals a day. People think I’m strange that I schedule things around my eating schedule but if I don’t eat a migraine will hit me hard.”

20. “I live in a very dark house. I get migraines almost daily so it is always dark. I have blackout curtains and a dimmer so I can keep the light as low as whatever is comfortable. Whenever we have company over, they always comment on how dark our house is.”

21. “Disappear from social media, not responding to phone calls and text messages. The light off of my phone, iPad and laptop would hurt my eyes and worsen my migraine. So I usually just turn them off.”

22. “I rub my hand or a pen up and down my upper arm in order to give myself something else to focus on when my aura starts to come on.”

23. “I speak very softly. It hurts to talk at a normal volume. I have stopped singing in the choir. To me, it sounds like I am yelling and my own voice may trigger a migraine.”

24. “I grind my teeth a lot during a migraine. Also, I walk around with a ‘false’ face on trying to pretend everything is alright.”

25. “I often have the habit to look down as I walk or do anything… not really because I’m ‘shy’ but because I can’t handle much light.”

26. “Using pressure points on my neck and sometimes head to temporarily alleviate (or distract from) my migraine. It can appear as frustration, laziness or boredom, I’ve been told.”

27. “I get really quiet and antisocial if I’m in a social setting and start blinking a lot when I notice the beginning of the headache coming on.”

28. “Always turning down the radio/music in the car – sound is a trigger – and thus being the ‘party pooper’ to the jam sessions. And concerts are a complete absolute no-go, unfortunately.”

29. “[I] mess up my words, become unable to speak and speak in a manner where people who don’t know me would assume I’m drunk.”

30. “Slowly rocking myself back and forth, especially when the nausea hits. I don’t know why but sometimes it’s soothing.”

31. “I knead at my neck and use smelly balms. I also go to the bathroom to run cold water on my face. I have to pretend I don’t want chocolate or an adult beverage when things are flaring up, when I really want one. I have to nap when it acts up, leave work early for doctor appointments. The worst surprisingly is yawning though. People think I am disinterested or don’t care, but it is often an early sign for me to take some meds with caffeine and prepare to either go home or jury rig myself to get through the rest of the day.”

32. “Wearing a hat inside. The lights in many buildings can cause worse migraines than the sun. People seem to just assume I’m rude for wearing a ball cap inside, especially at restaurants. Trust me, I wish the lighting didn’t increase migraines too.”

33. “Rub my forehead. I also may be eating a mint or honey candy for the nausea, or just food to try and prevent me from getting a migraine. I have to listen to my body in a way others may not because being tired/hungry/stressed can lead to a migraine.”

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triggerthreestrikes · 1 year

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I wanted to write this for a while now. I have two guardian OC’s that I like writing for but haven’t posted anything for one of them yet. A few of my followers may Already know Naomi, (Who has since been re-named Naori) And Trigger. In universe Naori is the YW, whilst Trigger is her friend she met all the way back in the cosmodrome, where they were both resurrected for the first time. Trigger is a hunter with a very bad relationship with grief. His coping mechanisms, are unhealthy at best, incredibly self destructive at worst. He took Cayde’s death hard, but eventually came out of it after some long talks with Naori. He wasn’t nearly as close to Cayde as she was anyway. But Amanda….yeah, with all that was building up pre defiance he was never going to take it well. Story under the cut. TW for Alcoholism and depression, and implied suicidal tendencies.

Trigger took another drink from the third bottle of whiskey that night. He’d been cleared from duty for the next day, and if they called him in? A rez will cure any hangover. Lucinda hadn’t said anything yet, just silently watching him.

He couldn’t tell if it was anger or shame he felt, which only made him feel the need to take another drink.

“Trigger…” she finally said quietly. “It’s been three weeks…three weeks of just…non stop patrols, strikes, crucible, salvage ops on Titan- You need to take time to process everything.” “That’s what I’m doing now aren’t I?” “No. This-” Lucinda nudged the bottle in his hand with her shell. “Is numbing yourself. You can’t keep running away from how you feel about everything.” Trigger barked out a laugh that was anything but mirthful. “Watch me.” He said. He saw the petals of Lucinda’s shell wiggle in annoyance. “If Amanda saw you were drinking again-” “What? She’d yell at me? Call me a damn fool like she did after Tevis died and I did this? Well she won’t. She can’t, because she’s dead. Everything I wanted to say, or do, or make right with her? Never going to happen. Even if we called every ghost not with the damned hive back to her grave, and even if one of ‘em raised the body there? That wouldn’t be her. And I wouldn’t want it to be.” Trigger dropped the now empty bottle in his hand, letting it shatter on the floor. His face dropped into his hands. “Trigger…I didn’t want to do this…but you’re not giving me a choice. Amanda recorded this in case she died and you were…you about it.”

An audio message began to play as Amanda’s voice came through. “Recording? Okay…Trigger, if Lucinda’s playin’ this, it means I’m gone. Hopefully because I was fightin’ and not because I got squished by some new light’s jumpship landing gear. But it also means that you’re Drinking again. Maybe even burying yourself in guardian stuff?” Trigger winced. She knew him well. “Well, if you’re doing that? Knock it off! I get it, even if things between us weren’t…great…because of Ul- Crow, and how I’ve been with him; You can’t keep doin’ this. Not to yourself, and especially not to Lucinda and Naori. Trig, you can’t give in now, They still need you around. I know it ain’t easy, but…forward momentum buddy. For me? I know you’re hurtin’ but folks still need you in tip top shape. You can do it Trig. Be brave, and tell Crow I- I’m sorry. Even if I wasn’t able to work things out, It ain’t his fault. It never was. Alright, I’ve rambled on long enough, and you need time to sober up. Actually sober up, y’hear me? I don’t care about whatever kind of hangover you guardians get bein’ able to drink more than us normals you don’t get out of crawling back into a bottle easily! Get it together friend, I’ll miss ya.”

The message cut off, tears slid down Trigger’s cheeks. “How?” He asked Lucinda. “Where do I even go from here?” “Start by going to sleep. Fix that empty stare. Then? deliver Amanda’s apology to Crow.” “And after that?” “Fight like hell.”

#destiny 2 #destiny #destiny 2 fanfiction #triggerthreewrites #season of the deep #Amanda Holiday #Tw alcoholism

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dienamights · 3 years

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A Reverberate Lullaby | K.Bakugou

✎ The echoing howls stalk you, a ghost hunched on your shoulders, wailing like a child calling for rescue, who cries with no tears. Chanting for a hero that is willing to pick up the pieces of its soul and being, yet it is only left to wither. For the ghost has lost faith that such others exist and can only be cured by finding them, for you are the ghost of your world and love is the only true exorcist.

✎ Protagonists: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

✎ Word count: 4.1K

✎ Category: hurt/comfort, Implied Mature Content MDNI, Prohero!au, Established relationship!au

✎ Caution(!): Implied Mature Content MDNI, mention of depressive state, toxic family, toxic coping mechanism, mention of reader’s weight gain and thoughts about self worth. Please keep in mind while every person’s reaction to depression is different, don’t belittle anyone’s battle when you don’t understand it.

✎ Author’s notes: Hello! Hope everyone’s taking care! Still on hiatus BUT I’m here to post my contribution to the Mental Health Awareness collab by @doinmybesthere ! This has been in the works for a while because I kept scarping ideas for triggering me lmao. This piece is very personal to me and I’m glad I am able to share my experience with you all, I hope that it might help anyone out there in reaching out and asking for help because I know how difficult and scary it might be! Please check out everyone’s contribution that they worked so hard for! kisses kisses take care!

OOH ALSO! Thank you so much for 900 followers aaaaaah! You’re all so amazing and if anyone has suggestions for an event to hold in June lemme know! I’ll also think of some ideas

» Masterlist | Requests | Taglist

The morning sun barely rises and peaks through your blinds, sunshine starting to kiss at your cheeks as you squint at the light, the room welcoming the warmth that is being brought into it after the evening’s chill that made you curl tighter in on yourself, clasping whatever heat you could muster than to turn around and find it in the heating pad of a body that lays next to you.

An alarm only just rings before quickly being shut off, followed by the creaking of the bed when the person behind you shifts, shifts again, another time, before getting up and stalking to the bathroom, after letting an elongated sigh when they sit at the edge of the bed, not acknowledging your presence accompanying theirs. The door clicking closed before the trickling of water fills the quiet room.

Your clock reads 5 am when you squint at it, and you blink at the time before you go on with your routine, setting up breakfast while your boyfriend gets ready to go to work.

Oddly enough, you don’t really quite remember when you started working on the food, all that you could see in front of you is nothing but a scene that looks like it’s out of a broken TV - there’s just so much static. The voices are distorted, as if they’re coming from a defective radio.

“Listen, this ain’t about me, this is about you and how you-”

“What about me? Huh? That you see me as nothing but a burden? No, you can say it-”

“You wanna hear me fuckin’ say it then fine! This is about you sitting on yer ass all day obsessing over her while she wouldn’ give you the time of day y/n. When will you fuckin’ realize that?”

The scene blurs and sways, and you feel your mind run at a speed you didn’t know it could muster, and you’re unable to keep up with it. The knife in your hand shakes vigorously and barely misses your fingers when you bring it down to cut the vegetables.

The sound of the bedroom door shutting closed alerts you, straightening your back when you hear the drop of your boyfriend’s gauntlet by his chair at the dining table. Katsuki approaches you with careful steps, his still ungloved hand circles your waist before pressing his lips to your temple, a gruff greeting of a whisper laced in between.

“G’morning.”

The familiar scent of caramel mixed in with his aftershave welcomes you, wraps around you and cradles you, promising everlasting safety and happiness. Yet, your heart wrenching sobs and muffled crash of your laptop against your floor that rings in your ears tell a different story, shrieking at you, roaring about your failures, mocking your entire existence.

“Made gohan, should be ready in a minute.” you mumble back, posture stiff at the close proximity of Katsuki and you feel the curl of his lips in displeasure pressing into your temple from both not reciprocating his greeting and your choice of meal for the morning. “You don’ eat gohan,”

“s’why I’m making it.” The quick retreat from your figure is like a slap to your face, and you barely stop yourself from reaching out and forcing his arms back around you. Because it's the bite in his voice that halts your movement.

“You’re still going?” you finally turn to take a look at him, the garnets in his eyes shifting, bleeding from hurt, betrayal, confusion, you really weren’t sure. And by God you had no energy left to try and figure out. “Yes I’m still going Katsuki, they’re my-”

“Yer really listenin’ to the bullshit spillin’ outta ya? This isn’t about em being your family y/n, we’ve been through with it already.” the space between you two feels like endless miles, pieces of the broken bridge you both worked so hard to build the only evidence of it ever being there, the rest crumbling into the valley in between your bodies.

“No, you’ve been through with it, I just wanna make things right, m-maybe I can fix it”

“It ain’t yours to fix y/n, when will you realize that?”

“No!” there you go again, sobbing pathetically. “W-why can’t I have a family, huh? Why- why can’t I, fuck, have a family that just loves and supports me a-and just doesn’t- ” your voice croaks, not failing to notice how Katsuki stepped away from the wreck in front of him. Probably having had enough of you, had enough of how troubling and bothersome you are, probably wondering how he got roped with all your shit and got dragged into your mess of a life.

His hands feel like scolding fire when they’re placed on your shoulders, halting their shaking as you cry into the palm of your hand to muffle the sobs, a habit Katsuki has been working so hard on to help you overcome, saddened to see you try and hide your vulnerability from him.

“Because they never made an effort, so why should you?” The tugging at your heart burns, the swallowed sobs feel like needles prickling at your lungs, making breathing feel like an impossible chore. You can’t help but feel restrained whenever you’re presented with the truth, especially unfiltered and unsugarcoated like right now, you know he’s right, you’ve known he was right a long time ago, but admitting it out loud just felt borderline impossible.

So you do what you do best, push him away, all the strength you can muster barely budges his figure, the meal forgotten on the counter as you run and lock the bedroom door on yourself.

Your footsteps feel heavy, dreading the topics and scenes you’re bound to relive. The grip on the strap of your shoulder bag tightening as you push the glass door open. A sigh escapes past your lips again as you enter the restaurant, half-heartedly smiling at the hostess before making your way inside to look for them.

It’s always the same scenery, the kind that always makes you want to run away to the other direction instead of being dragged down into whatever hell this is. And you pause to question yourself, again, why you actually agreed to put yourself out there.

There they are, seated in the four person table, with two empty seats, one for yourself and the other for the sibling your mother always hoped to have instead of you.

Your mother’s pursed lip could be seen from where you stand at the entrance, the clicking of her tapping foot sounding as bad as grinding metals in your ear, you hate it, despise it

It’s the same clicking you learned to memorize, to anticipate, to fear, when she passed by your room, the clicking that made you smother your face in your pillows and swallow your sobs, because the sound of you crying brought her more distress and annoyance than concern for her daughter.

With another tug at the hem of the shirt you’re wearing, you approach the table, hugging your father when he stands up and nodding to your mom when she eyes your figure.

“Good morning mother. It’s good to see you.”

“What’s wrong with your hair?”

Here we go, you breathe out before tugging at a strand of hair, spitting out your words “nothing’s wrong with it.”

“Then why does it look awful like that?”

There are times like these where you are left to question your reasoning for accepting whatever invitation you received from your parents to have brunch with them after all those months, a moment of weakness deceiving you into believing it was better than to spend it in your empty apartment, with the silence that ate away at your sanity every second. The only evidence of life in it other than yours was the recently cleaned dishes and the note thanking you for the meal, the promise of cuddles and movies tonight making you gain just a little more patience, barely.

You refrain from answering, your response is to lower your head, drag the dining chair before plopping on it, a dreary sigh escaping your lips as you scoot your chair closer to the table. Your mother never changes, it’s been a while since you were able to move out of her home, and while your father tries to tell you that these brunches are a way to reconnect with them, you yourself know that it’s merely a chance for your mother to nitpick at everything you ever did or are doing since you left.

“How have you been y/n.” your father smiles at you, both of you ignoring the sound of your mother kissing her teeth when her attempted jab at you is ignored. “Uh, I uh I’ve been good, I just wrapped up with my exams and so far things have been-”

“How is your hero boyfriend?”

For a second, you contemplate whether to ignore her question and keep conversing with your dad, dreading the questions that are to be pushed your way regarding Katsuki, of which will be used as bragging material for when she meets whatever group of friends she associates herself with, but you know better than to ignore her with the way she gets when she isn’t fed with attention.

“He’s uh, good.”

“Why isn’t he here today? What, too good to meet us?” your mother nags, and for the love of God, would that fucking clicking ever stop?

“No, he’s doing his job of, you know, being a hero.”

“Is he now? Well, what about you, hm?” She cocks her head as her nails tap the table. ”Did you think your father and I wouldn’t figure out you got fired?”

“How-” the gritting of your teeth is deafening at this point, your jaw clenching so tightly as you and your mother stare each other down. “Your dad pulled some strings, it isn’t that hard. So tell me, you like leeching off of him after you were done with us?”

“This isn’t, I just- I was- I, I had a lot of university work piling up a-and I couldn’t make time for my shifts and I just, it was just so hard for me to get out of bed these days and I.” why are you doing this? Why are you explaining yourself to people that don’t deserve it? Why are you feeding off of their acceptance, knowing damn well you never got it, and that thing was never gonna change.

“Oh, I don’t wanna hear about you not getting out of bed, you’re here now aren’t you? This is all in your head y/n. You need to stop talking nonsense, what’re people gonna say about you, about me, when they hear you?”

It feels just like yesterday, your figure standing and facing your full length mirror, your reflection eyeing you with identical vacant eyes. Fingers running through your bed head, a wince escaping you at the movement. Bringing your hand up and catching a glimpse of a slight swollen purple bruise along your wrist and the dried blood on your knuckles, the skin stretching upon rotating your wrist and causing notable pain.

Alas, that pain paled in comparison to when your mom barged into your room, blaming you for the way you were acting and belittling your reasoning. Beckoning your father over to replace your broken vanity and for your house maid to disinfect the space, the place sparkling clean and void of any evidence of what had transpired the day prior.

The shattered glass was picked up and thrown out, the splatters of blood were wiped clean, and whenever you brought up, what your mom refers to as ‘the temper tantrum’, you’re ignored by both your parents as they continued about their day, fearing the shame it would bring upon their name if the event was to catch others’ attention.

“Good morning! I’ll be your server for the day. What can I get you?” the foreign voice sounds more comforting than your own mother’s, and you almost laugh at the irony of it, but you only return her smile and take a look at the menu. Lighting up a smidge at the name of one of the dishes, while your parents place their order.

“Can I please get the soufflé pancake?” you look up to catch the horrified look on your mother’s face, followed by her clicking her tongue and shaking her head as if your choice of food was shameful.

“Certainly-”

“Uh, no she won’t be having that. Get her the Honzen Ryori,” your mother eyed your figure -whatever was visible to her from across the table- before turning to face the server again “maybe cut down on the rice, God knows she doesn’t need the extra calories.” and waves her off, disregarding your protests and tapping her nail against the table top, her annoying method in demanding your silence, which you subconsciously react to, snapping your mouth shut when the sound reaches your ears.

“What was that for? You know I like having sweet breakfasts,” was fuming even close to what you are feeling? Probably not. “Yes I can clearly see that, you’ve let yourself go as well. Do you think that boyfriend of yours will stick around when you start putting on even more weight?”

At a loss for words, you turn to your father, who has been quiet this whole time, for any sense of support when it comes to his wife. But the way he presses his lips together tells you all you need to know, how just because he isn’t bad as her, doesn’t make him that great of a parent. That standing by while you have been bullied your entire childhood and well into your adulthood is just as bad as being the cause of it.

“God forbid he realizes how much of a train wreck you really are and throws you on the side of the street, because you know damn well we won’t be here to pick you up.”

It began as a whispering in the air. The day had been beautiful -well, as beautiful as it can be with the kind of day you’re having- and the sky was like a dome of plasma-blue. The clouds had looked like airy anvils drifting under the gleaming disc of sun. People quickened their pace as the clouds began to gather in the sky. The postcard-perfect sky started changing. The beautiful cocktail-blue shade merged in with the flaming orange and mesmerizing purple as the sun sunk deep into the horizon, before beginning to darken into gravel-grey. Large pillows of cloud start to form, blocking out the old-gold color of the sun.

The first splatter of rain hits you when you’re halfway across the street, dismissing the need to take shelter under the roof of the buildings like some passersby are doing, hoping to see out the shower. Droplets of moisture begin to drip onto your head, sprinkling onto you like a gardener’s hose. It was well after your meal with your parents, and you had spent the last few hours walking aimlessly through the streets, making sure to avoid those covered by your boyfriend during his patrol. Hoping, praying, that something will clear your head, will help your poor jumbled mess of a mind forget about this entire nightmare of a day.

Should’ve listened to him

The rainfall intensifies, the drops drumming against the hood of the cars that you pass by, there is so much rain that the sound blurs into one long, whirring noise, reminding you of the blades of the fan that you stuck your finger in, that one time when you were left alone in your house when you were only five years of age. Eventually, they fade into a musical chime as you push your drenched hair away from your face and feel the vibration from your phone as it rings the ninth, maybe tenth time.

He told me so.

Tall apartment complex building; you couldn’t see its end from where you stand. You shiver as you approach it, the doorman - bless his heart - running and placing his umbrella to futilely shield you from the rain, and you just laugh and tell him that you’re already drenched and just waiting to go back home.

God forbid he realizes how much of train wreck I am

Not wanting to dampen the people at the elevator and make them uncomfortable, you take the stairs up to your shared apartment, you usually don't mind the exercise but with how heavy you feel after the rain and day spent up on your sore feet, all you think about is locking yourself in your room and discover what kind of new façade could you try and fool Katsuki with when he reaches home.

Just how I trick him into thinking I’m not with him to leech off of him

Eventually and with a struggle, you make it to the door, dreading the sight you might come to face, almost hoping for a black hole to emerge and swallow you whole.

What would people say about me? Do people think I’m crazy?

With a forced exhale out of your lungs, you fetch the key from your bag to unlock the door, but it’s wrenched open before you have a chance to insert your key.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Your eyes meet the beautiful rubies of Katsuki, and despite his anger that always overcompensates his worry, you smile and throw yourself on him. The shivering ceasing when he wraps his warm arms around you and that loving caramel scent engulfs you, in spite of how your hair is drenching his shirt and how you sniff against his neck.

“You need a shower, you’re shivering.”

“Take one with me?” you look up at him through your lashes, and he blinks at your uncharacterized boldness but agrees nonetheless, helping you out of your clothes and turning on the hot water before stepping in with you.

It is a struggle to help you clean up when all you do is grab at him, whether they’re your hands on his shoulders to lower him to kiss you, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your breasts against him, or palming his hardening cock as the poor man tries to shampoo your hair.

“Would ya knock it off? I’m tryna help you here shitty woman” you frown and squint your eyes when the shampoo gets close to them. “I wanna have sex.”

“Yea I can fuckin tell, just lemme-” you bring his arms down and press his palms to your boobs, letting go of his wrist when he starts squeezing at them. “Do you not want to?” he gulps, his dick twitching at the feeling of your soft mounds in his hands, your nipples covered up by the suds from the shampoo, as your finger traces the underside of his cock. “Yeah, I uh, fuck, I do, just- you need to wash up so you don’t get sick, alright?”

“Do you not think I’m pretty anymore?” you pout childishly, tears threatening to escape your eyes, and they burn as you close them when he washes the product out of your hair, a deep frown on his lips when you open your eyes back again. “The fuck you on about? That rain really fucked with ya?”

“Are you gonna get rid of me when you realize how much of a mess I am?” you whisper, your voice muffled under the sound of the shower above you, and you keep quiet as he helps you scrub your body, but your boyfriend is observant, he isn’t fucking dense.

“What do you want, right now?” he lowers himself to your level when he’s done, his hands stroking your cheeks as he eyes the way the water droplets cling to your lashes, but still not missing the red rimming around your eyes.

“I just wanna for- I uh, I wanna have sex.” you mumble, a plea hidden underneath your words, a plea to help you forget, to help you bury this day behind you and pretend it never happened.

What you don’t expect is the way that Katsuki pulls your naked wet body out of the bathroom and drops you on the bed, feeling your bodies dampening the bed as he hovers over you, no words are spoken between you as he kisses and nips at your skin. Marking it up and down as he all but worships your body, strands of his hair tangle between your fingers when you run your hands through it, arching your back at the feeling of his tongue tasting your slick.

He doesn’t let up until you cry out, and not in pleasure, your sobs far beyond those he loves to hear when he’s denying you an orgasm. No, they’re sobs that wreck your whole body, kicking away at his shoulders as you curl in on yourself and wail into the sheets. Sitting on his haunches on the floor, Katsuki’s eye soften at your figure, the way your shoulders are shaking and how -yet again- you’re trying to muffle your cries with the sheets this time, pressing your face against the mattress in an attempt to lower your noise, as your mother would call it.

“Hey, look at me” you feel his lips grazing your ear as he kisses it, pressing his lips against your temple, fingers unwrapping your fist against the sheet and digging into your hands and pressing kisses against the nail marks in the palm of your hands. “There she is, there’s my girl.” you hear when you lift your head from the bed, sight blurry from your shed tears but still easy to distinguish Katsuki even between billions of people.

You sniff when he kisses at your lids, groan when he chuckles and calls you ‘snot the naught’ when you wipe your nose with the back of your hand, beaming when he hears you let out one weak chuckle at the way he teases you. Still pressing his lips against any surface of skin he can reach.

“You don’t have to talk about it you know, to me at least” he mumbles to you when you’re both dressed in your sleepwear and are cuddling on the dry side of the bed, opting to change the sheet the next day. “Maybe, maybe we can get someone who can help you, you know.” you press your face deeper between his neck and shoulder, shuddering when his warm palms rub your back from under your shirt.

“I can make some calls, get in contact with someone.” you lift your head. “But I can’t afford-” he tuts and frowns at you “None of that.”

“Remember what I said when we agreed to move in?” you do, you just love the sound of his voice when he says it, feels like he’s making all these promises all over again. “Tell me.”

“Told ya I’d be whoever you want me to be, whoever you need me to be. I’ll be yer mom, even better than that bitch, I’ll support and love you unconditionally.” you sniff and tighten your hold against him as he presses his lips against your cheek.

“I’d be better than yer pussy dad, you can rely on me any time and I’ll live up to all your expectations. And callin me daddy is always a plus” he tangles his legs with your own when you wiggle away from him, laughing and giving you no chance of escape, not that you are even thinking of it.

“I’d even be yer genius fuckin nanny that taught you to tell yer mom to go fuck herself when you were four,” your suppressed giggles lights him up and he can’t help but chuckle as well. “I’ll be anything and everything you’ll ever need, baby. I’ll be your goddamn hero.”

The sun comes out again, casting slanted beams of light across the buildings. Steam rises slowly from the greenery. It rises up eerily and drifts mist-like towards the molten-gold sun, right before it escapes into the abyss. The image is so vivid that it stays with you for as long as you remember. Because on this exact day, the shrieking that follows you everywhere you go, haunting you and mocking you, suddenly is nowhere to be found. And all you can hear is the comforting sound of Katsuki as he hums you a lullaby to sleep.

aaaah I hope you like it!

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i-just-like-games · 2 years

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Here's my own hcs on how things work in the Stanley Parable and ud. There's probably some inconsistencies, but that's what tsp is all about, baybee

The Narrator is a higher being of some kind, omnipresent voice type deal. It made Stanley, the office, everything, both out of passion for storytelling and (as seen in the second memory zone visit) choice anxiety and loneliness. The Narrator can technically control everything there, but because he uses it as a coping mechanism, his own worries and stuff manifest and he lets things get out of hand. Also, he could technically force Stanley to do everything he says, but he wants Stanley to make choices for him, even if he doesn't like them in the moment.

The Curator is also a higher being of the same type and level as The Narrator. (I know there's a lot of evidence that she is higher up than he is, but I really like the idea of The Narrator being an all powerful DM over the office) They're friends, and while Stanley is usually under Narrator's guide, being its character, Curator can write their own stories with him, like fanfiction basically. I like to think that during the museum ending, she saw how stressed Narrator was and tried to show Stanley things so he could understand what was happening.

The Voices are to Stanley as we are to anything we write. But a plane of existence up. So Stanley can make choices, but his personality and situation were crafted by the Narrator. Kinda like a story that writes itself more or less.

Stanley has his own soul, which is the player's decisions. While all characters created by the Voices have a bit of their soul/free will left (maybe they all used to be people that were made into characters?), Stanley uses his more than average because the Narrator is pretty lax, leading to the Serious and Real Person endings.

Mariella was just a bystander that The Narrator made into his character for a brief moment. He didn't put her more into his story, so she went back to her usual life.

Employee 432 was a character once, that was abandoned but kept existing by the way their story left off. They can do meta things like adjust the settings and fix the achievement thanks to their soul, just like Stanley. 432 knows lots of things bc of their unique perspective but can't control everything like The Voices.

432 isn't the Narrator's character, but they're in the Parable, maybe because a piece some other Voice's notes got mixed in with his. That's why The Narrator didn't know about them and got anxious. 432 wants to keep the story going because they know if The Narrator fully moves on from the Parable, both they and Stanley will stop existing. (Luckily, that's very unlikely)

The adventure line(tm) is kinda like a pet to The Narrator. He can control it, but it can also misbehave.

#also narrator he/it and curator she/they #Stanley #the narrator #The Curator #employee 432 #the adventure line ™️#the stanley parable #tsp spoilers #tsp ultra deluxe spoilers #stanley parable spoilers #my stuff #my headcanons

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chainofclovers · 3 years

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Ted Lasso 2x10 thoughts

GOOD GOD.

“No Weddings and a Funeral” is like being hungover but also coming out of a hangover. Having a terrible cold but also feeling better and appreciating every breath that comes through your nose. Embarking on an organizational project and accidentally falling into a photo album and crying about the pictures and organizing almost nothing tangible but making a few things more clear in your brain.

So much of this episode is about the AWFUL POINTLESSNESS OF DECORUM. How loud is too loud when you’re drinking stolen wine and shrieking about sex in a church right before your father’s funeral? How should you feel--thirty years later, as an accommodating, anger-averse person--about having been too angry to attend the funeral for your father who killed himself? What expression should you make when you show up really late to a different funeral? Why must you wear uncomfortable shoes just because someone died? What happens in your mind between standing up to give a eulogy for a man you’re still angry with and choosing to Rick Roll your mom and everyone else as an act of complicated love, humiliatingly incomplete until someone else starts to sing? Should you worry about your therapist seeing your normally tidy flat in a full-on state of depression mess? Is it okay to be offended that your boyfriend is so uncomfortable about death that he can’t stop making morbid jokes? Should you care about other people caring that you’re crunching an apple in church or squealing with joy to be reunited with a friend you’ve not seen in awhile? Are you obligated to explain your behavior if your kid doesn’t understand how you could stay with someone unfaithful? How far behind the counter should you sink when your [undefined relationship person]’s mother has just let you know she can see your dick through your underwear? Is a funeral reception an okay place to find a hookup? Is a funeral reception a decent spot for a break-up? Is a funeral reception a good time for a love confession when you know the person you’re confessing to is happy with someone else? And who do you make eye contact with when you can’t look directly at the person asking you if you’re okay when there’s so, so much about you she doesn’t know yet? Even if--for this tiny little moment within a vast swath of many okay and not-okay moments--you’re honest when you tell her that you are?

I fucking adored this episode because it answers all these questions very simply: Show up. Show up for yourself. Show up for your friends. Try not to harm yourself. Try not to harm your friends.

I love that this episode is about the messiness of adulthood and the things we bring with us from childhood and that it takes place partially in Rebecca’s childhood bedroom, and in Ted’s childhood memories. Dwelling in those places (whether physically or mentally) isn’t an automatic recipe for regression, but it does get everyone closer to the things that made them who they are, to the unresolved and half-buried parts of them that still make them tick today.

Forever obsessed with every single detail about Rebecca’s childhood bedroom.

Forever obsessed with Deborah’s decision to Rick Roll herself every single morning of her life.

Forever obsessed with Rebecca’s decision to Rick Roll her father’s funeral as a way to not have to make up a single word about her father and to do something very vulnerable and kind for herself and her mother and everyone.

Forever obsessed with Ted’s decision to Rick Roll Rebecca Rick Rolling her father’s funeral.

Forever obsessed with an entire found family backing it up.

I love that it is Isaac’s leadership that ensures every single member of the team attends the service for Paul.

I am very, very interested in Jamie’s love confession to Keeley because I do think it will spark some reflection in Keeley but I do not think it’ll go the cliched love triangle route.

Each scene with Rebecca and Sam struck (for me, a human being sharing a subjective perspective on the internet) the tender-awkward-beautiful-stressful chord I was hoping it would. I think it’s wonderful that Sam is honest with Rebecca about how difficult it is to keep their relationship a secret, and I love that Rebecca has a million mostly-unarticulated reasons for why she’d much prefer the secret to continue. I like that Sassy, Keeley, and Nora respond to the revelation as friends; they might be tempering their judgments in part because they’ve all gathered to bury Rebecca’s dad, but I don’t think their reactions would’ve been that different even on a happier occasion.

While there are a million and one different reasons why a continued relationship between Rebecca and Sam could cause serious ethical problems, I really love that when people share big news on this show, the people who care about them generally react by trying to see why the person is doing what they’re doing. Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t also hold each other accountable, but in my book it’s OK that Keeley’s first reaction was to feel happy that her friend is having some fun.

Also everyone has been making weird judgment calls this season, and this episode felt like a moment of real breakthroughs in terms of people telling the truth about things that happened to them and leaving themselves open to honest responses from others.

September 13, 1991. It’s so tenderly, beautifully, overwhelmingly meaningful that there’s still so much Ted and Rebecca don’t know about the things they have in common in these parallel lives they’re leading. The scene between Sarah Niles and Jason Sudeikis is so beautifully acted, and so is the scene between Hannah Waddingham and Harriet Walter. The way they intertwine to communicate that Ted and Rebecca basically lost the ability to trust their fathers simultaneously, from an ocean away? In the hands of lesser storytellers, it would feel too perfect a mirroring, but here it feels heartbreakingly imperfect. All the things they still don’t know. All the questions they try to ask each other. All the things they don’t dare ask yet. And then the storytellers are holding a candle up to all of it and letting the audience bask in the glow of this connection even if Ted and Rebecca can’t fully understand it yet.

I am so proud that Rebecca and Deborah were able to embark on the beginnings of a conversation about the ways Deborah and Paul’s relationship might have resembled or not resembled Rebecca and Rupert’s. It feels possible that they could get to a point where Rebecca truly internalizes her mother’s pride that she broke a cycle by leaving Rupert, and could maybe even understand why her mother made the choices she made. I love that in the final scene, they’re still relying on their old mother-daughter conversational patterns—the frustrations, the snippy shorthand, the passive-aggression. Mothers and daughters!

I am also proud that Ted—albeit via a joke about Sharon charging him for the house call—indicates that he understands the value of Sharon’s work. He’s changed a lot, all in realistic ways for someone who loves learning and really does want to meet people where they are and appreciate them. I’m very moved that instead of putting himself in a real harmful situation by showing up to the funeral on time at any cost, he did what he needed to do to take care of himself and accept care from someone else. And then Sharon’s suggestion that he think about things he loved about his father? And the way he’s able to share a positive memory of Rebecca’s own father at a time when she really needed it? Gosh.

Awkward, undecorous transition from 1991 to present-day incoming...but SASSY! She’s just, like, a whirling dervish of loyal friendship and not giving a fuck and penis size discussions and being casually, delightfully cruel to Rupert, who so deserves it. Rebecca was going on a real face journey when Sassy goes off with Ted at the end, and I’m sort of *eyes emoji* about all of that, but I continue to feel like Sassy is the most imperfectly wonderful friend-from-the-past kind of person and I love everything she and Nora get to do in this episode.

Keeley saying “That baby is whack” might be my favorite line in the episode? Maybe the whole show? Not really but really.

FUCK YOU, RUPERT. Bex and Diane, y’all are fine. And I truly feel for Nate...whatever scheme he’s getting suckered into. Whatever insecurity Rupert is preying on. I want Nate to go to therapy, too.

I feel like it was an unpopular opinion at the time, but I loved Rebecca’s 2x1 revelation about vulnerability and fear of getting hurt and needing to let someone love her. Sassy doesn’t always word things in the most nuanced way, but I think there’s a real possibility that she did ask Rebecca to really consider what it means to feel either safe or unsafe with a person but to know that in either circumstance, that person could end up causing her pain. Standing in that closet with Sam, managing to make it clear that she’s not asking for a break because she knows he will hurt her but because she has to figure out how to be with a wonderful person who could cause her pain...the growth, man. Makes me emotional.

I emerged from this episode feeling, of course, stunned by all the amazing parallels and revelations and beautiful acting and Rick Rolls and just, everything. I also emerged feeling sad/raw/tender because messiness and decorum and growth and coping mechanisms and death and dramatic irony and not knowing things about people and not knowing what you don’t know...it’s a sad, raw, tender place to be.

To quote a guy who got a whole sitcom (lol) named after him, life is real hard.

#ted lasso #ted lasso s2 spoilers #meta by me #ted lasso 2x10 #a lesbian watches ted lasso #lotta feelings in here y'all #cw suicide

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star-anise · 3 years

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I read your post about trauma and I'm trying to make sense of my parents treatment of me as well as my own diagnoses. Is anxiety itself trauma? Or a result of trauma? Its the stress response itself not calming down. I think I was and am emotionally neglected. My parents are not sympathetic. I'm adhd anxiety depression my whole life. That post about learning new social situation techniques really resonated. What are the treatments for neglect? Besides plain old cbt and mindfulness and anti anxiety meds

Trigger warning: Child abuse, child neglect, emotional neglect

Anxiety can happen because of a wide variety of reasons, from medical to situational to genetic. It could happen out of the blue to a totally healthy adult. Or it might be a symptom of trauma and a bad childhood. PTSD used to be classified as a kind of anxiety disorder, but we now understand it's a lot more complicated.

I'm very sorry your family aren't sympathetic and don't get what's up with you. I want to make it very clear that it is not your fault that they aren't sympathetic.

It's not your fault for not explaining things clearly enough. It's not your fault for not being a more lovable child. It's not your fault for being emotional or oversensitive. It's not your fault for not communicating your needs in a way they can hear. Their treatment of you is not your fault.

That's important not just because it feels good to be absolved of blame. It's not a meaningless platitude. It's a nicer coating on what can sometimes be a very bleak truth. That truth is:

There is nothing you can do to make your family be sympathetic to you.

I am so, so, so sorry. You can spend your entire life turning backflips, you can learn interpretive dance, you can become the world's leading expert in your field, you can get hit by a car and find out you have cancer, you can be as sympathetic and understanding about their reasons for neglecting you as they could possibly want, you could do everything in your power to be a good child, and none of that will ever give you the power to make your parents be sympathetic to you and what you've been through.

Sometimes parents do learn and grow and change and work to repair the damage done while their kids were children. But that's because of their own issues and experiences and reasons, not because of anything their children have done. Many parents keep being oblivious and neglectful even when their children have become everything a parent could ever hope for.

Actually, an amazing number of my adult neurodivergent friends have had the absolutely excruciating experience of hearing their parents say, in essence, "Hey adult child! The other day someone I respect way more than you told me about [your condition], and I was astonished! They told me that thing you've been telling me for years, and it blew my mind. I now realize that this is a real part of your life! Wow, it sure would have made a difference if I'd done that thing you've been begging me to do for years now, huh? Hey, have you heard about this handy behavioural technique you've been doing every goddamn day of your adult life? It sounds like it would really help!"

Like, even if your parents ever Get It about your specific disorders and conditions, they're extremely likely to salvage their self-esteem by refusing to ever seriously acknowledge how much it's hurt that they've failed you.

And what that means is: You have to plan the rest of your life as if they will never be sympathetic.

That might mean never giving them any say over your medical care or personal life choices. It might mean not living with them, not turning to them when you need a supportive community, or not letting them play a large role in the lives of any children you yourself may have. It might mean having to build your own support network that doesn't include your family at all, because you can't count on them to care when you're in distress. It can really suck to have to keep giving up the dream that one day you'll be able to count on your family to nurture you emotionally, but I promise that it sucks less than being continually disappointed with no backup plan.

Researching emotional neglect can be really difficult because a lot of the best research psychology as a field has achieved on the topic comes from really extreme forms of neglect and abuse. Exactly the kind of neglect and abuse that society waves in the face of the "merely" emotionally neglected: "So what if you didn't get hugged enough! You had enough to eat, a roof over your head, and they never hit you! They weren't even mean or malicious! Stop whining!"

And... look, if you've just broken your legs and you're in a wheelchair, who would you rather learn about using a wheelchair from: someone who can easily walk everywhere all the time, or a double amputee who's been using a wheelchair for years? The first person can probably get around more easily, but the second one can tell you a lot more about the specific challenges and skills that will be central to this phase of your life.

That's the frame I propose for research: Your life might not have been as bad as the case studies you read (though it's probably worse than your family is willing to admit, because invalidation is itself a form of emotional neglect, and this is so common there's even a poem about it) but the issues they encounter and the skills they require are probably useful to you, too.

With that in mind, check out books about early childhood neglect and trauma like The Boy Who Was Raised as a Dog by Bruce Perry, which talks about the parts of the brain and developmental stages that can be impaired by toxic stress in childhood, and the various forms of treatment that can address each one.

As far as CBT, remember to focus on behaviour, not just cognition. Reading about using touch to self-soothe is good, but less powerful than using that knowledge to find a blanket you love to touch, and wrapping yourself up in it whenever you're upset. Neglect means that you failed to get repeated, predictable experiences of being comforted. Healing therefore means getting that practice in as an adult: Creating thousands of daily, repetitive experiences of being cared about. Caring about yourself, and finding people who will care about you.

Maybe also give Dialectical Behaviour Therapy workbooks a try? They're designed for Borderline Personality Disorder, which can be seen as a specific subset of complex trauma. Like, if the effects of childhood abuse and neglect were a rainbow, BPD might be red-orange. But what makes DBT useful is that it has examined which skills and coping mechanisms vital to emotional health people with BPD most commonly weren't taught/never learned/need more practice on. The curriculum might not overlap completely with your own needs if you fall into the yellow, green, blue, or violet aspects of C-PTSD, but it's a good starting place when you're inventorying skills and habits you want to strengthen.

Good luck? I hope this helps!

#staranise original #trauma tw #child abuse tw #child neglect tw #invalidating environments tw #emotional neglect #long post

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fruitcoops · 3 years

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Hi Eve! Could you maybe write something like Sirius having a majorly stressful week and he's been on edge all day and he finally decides to go talk to Heather if only to just let it all out. By the time he comes home he's exhausted but Remus is all ready for him, and he's greeted with the sight of Remus in a nice little heap of blankets and pillows piled up on their sofa with a Disney movie ready to play and all his favourite snacks lined up on the coffee table. And Sirius of course just about dissolves into a puddle of affection and gratitude because Loops 🥰🥰🥰

It's honestly concerning how much fluff I write. Oh, well! This is such a cute idea and I'll never pass up an opportunity to write soft Coops <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“So, you’ve started baking?” Heather looked up as Sirius nodded, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. It still smelled a little like Remus from the last time he stole it, but not nearly enough to drown him in comfort. “That’s awesome. If you don’t mind, can I ask why you chose that as a hobby?”

“It’s—” Stupid. He bit the words back at the last second; Heather never liked self-deprecation, and they had been working on positive self-talk for…as long as Sirius could remember, really. “Uh, I helped Re’s mom make a pie over the holidays and I just have good memories associated with it, I guess.”

Heather jotted something down, her soft smile never faltering. She was wearing a sweater the same color as her name—it was distilled comfort, and Sirius felt some of the tension release from his back. “You said you do it when you’re stressed, right?”

“Sometimes.”

“Does the rhythm help, or is it something else?”

He stared at his hands, rubbing his thumb over the callus from his favorite spatula that was beginning to form. “I think…” he trailed off and bit his lower lip. Honesty always wins. Why do you like it so much? “The rhythm helps quiet my head down, yeah. And it smells like home. And—and if I do it right, I can’t screw it up.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“If I follow the recipe, it works. Every time. I can read the instructions as many times as I need to, and I can focus on that until everything up here—” He gestured vaguely toward his head. “—shuts up for a bit.”

Heather nodded; the room was quiet for a moment while she wrote before she settled into her chair and let out a slow breath. “I’m really happy you started doing this, Sirius.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep. We’ve talked about finding healthy amounts of control and tethers in your daily life, and from what you’ve said, this makes you happy in addition to helping you calm down. What do you do with everything you make?”

He shrugged. “Give it away, mostly. It’s healthier than store-bought stuff, and the guys like it. Re and I can’t eat it all ourselves.”

“How often do you stress bake?”

“Oh, probably three or four times a week.”

Shit, shit, shit. Heather’s eyebrows crept upward. “Oh?”

“…yes.” Can’t take it back now.

“Okay.” She made a quick mark on her clipboard—for the hundredth time, Sirius wished he could snatch it and run. “Interesting. Why are you so stressed?”

“It’s not like that all the time,” he said quickly. “Just over the past couple weeks.”

“What’s been going on?”

“Everything?” he said. It sounded more like a question. Heather made another note. “It’s—well, Jules got the flu two months ago and Re wasn’t sleeping because he was worried, so I got nervous and started staying up later so I’d be tired, but then I got bored and worried about both of them so I texted Hope about her pie recipe—"

“Sirius,” Heather interrupted gently. He closed his mouth and tucked his hands into his sleeves, palms itching. “Deep breaths, then tell me what’s been going on these past couple weeks specifically that was stressing you out.”

He obliged, counting ten before speaking again as his brain stopped feeling like someone poured pop rocks into it. “Right. So, this whole habit thing started two months ago, and we’re getting closer to you-know-what—”

“The playoffs?”

He made a quiet noise of distress and tapped the wood of the chair. “Oui, that. There’s a lot of pressure from last year, and when my friends are stressed, I get stressed, and baking is easy and fun so I just…didn’t stop. A lot of things are happening right now, and this feels like the only one I can control.”

“There you go,” she said with a proud smile. “Thank you.”

“What did I do?”

“You’re being more open and honest with yourself. It’s good to see.” She crossed one leg over the other and leaned slightly forward. “You’re a really, really good captain, Sirius. You are so in-tune with the other people in your life, but you’ve got to remember to step back and do things for yourself sometimes. Right now, baking is your stress relief because you can’t control your friends’ lives or emotional states. Try to find more things like that.”

He stared at her for a moment. “Are you diagnosing me with ‘needs a hobby’?”

“In a sense, yes. You have done an incredible job over the past few months of letting your world revolve around things other than hockey. Branching out to baking was an excellent choice. Now it’s time to find other things that give you similar comfort, okay?”

“Alright.”

“Fantastic. Let’s brainstorm.”

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

Sirius dropped his bag next to the shoe rack and immediately leaned back against the door, closing his eyes with a sigh. Therapy was always exhausting, but usually in a good way. Already, he could feel the weight of the last three weeks lifting off his shoulders. “I’m home!” he called.

Remus materialized from the living room and padded over in his fuzzy socks, planting a kiss on each of Sirius’ cheeks. “You look tired. Good or bad?”

“Good,” he assured him. “We worked on finding a hobby.”

“Oh?”

“Apparently, baking every other day isn’t a great long-term coping mechanism.”

Remus kissed him lightly on the lips. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that.”

Sirius pulled back with a frown. “I thought you liked my baking.”

“I do. I also worry about how much space we have in our kitchen, and how much you sleep.” He gave Sirius a squeeze around the waist and patted his hip. “Now c’mere, I have a surprise.”

“What kind of surprise?” Sirius asked warily as he allowed himself to be pulled toward the living room. “Do we have company?”

“Does Hattie count?”

The dog in question barked when they entered the room, though she was buried beneath a mountain of blankets and only her nose and tail stuck out. In the hour and a half Sirius had been gone, the living room had transformed into a massive fort—the couch cushions were propped up around a nest of pillows and blankets, and low amber light fell over everything from the side table lamp. It radiated coziness and warmth; he felt the last bits of his exhaustion settle into contentment. “Wow.”

Remus beamed at him. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.” He cupped his face in his hands and nudged their noses together. “And I love you. So much. I’m going to go rinse off and change, but can we cuddle afterward?”

“What do you think this is for?” Remus teased. “You took my sweatshirt.”

“It’s too big for you anyway.”

“How long until I find it in my laundry pile because it doesn’t smell like me anymore?”

Sirius pretended to think for a moment, though he couldn’t keep his smile down as happiness bubbled through every vein. “Tomorrow.”

“Go take your shower,” Remus laughed, then kissed him once again. “I’ll see if I have anything else that’ll fit you.”

#sirius black #remus lupin #hattie #heather #sweater weather #coops #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #therapy #baking

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