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luviesz · 2 years

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astro observations <3

for entertainment purposes <3, these come from my own research and observations, one placement doesn’t define you, other placements/aspects and houses can affect it, if it doesn’t resonate then there should be others out there that do

tw!: mentions of eating disorders

As a taurus placement i always see people comment on taurus placements and their love for food, i have a taurus rising and that rules over physical appearance and self. I believe that taurus risings may have a problematic relationship with food due to physical appearance. Struggling with diet, weight, or in a complicated relationship with food. Could suffer from an eating disorder or body dysmorphia. Ive noticed this in several taurus rising placements, however ofc the severity of it varies, not saying every taurus rising has an eating disorder dgkalsg.

Taurus moons are i think sososo kinds and sweet, i have noticed that people with this placement may consider food as a way of expressing their heritage and their family. Maybe food is something that reminds them of their family a lot, and is a part of their identity. i.e my friend with taurus moon is arab, her mom always cooks us arab food when i go to her house. Its a part of her identity as she loves it and it reminds her of her family, its a connection they all have as a family.

Cancer moons i have noticed are very people pleasing individuals, i love them a lot but in general they are very sensitive and since they hold so much love for everyone they dont want to disappoint them, or fight, they avoid confrontation sososo much. They are very closed off at the beginning but they are such sensitive and vulnerable people <3. I have also noticed that because of their people pleasing nature, they may come off as hypocrites at times, they may dislike or shit talk people and then when they are with them everything is fine.

Libra venus encapsulates venus energy at its finest oh my god. I see the colour pink, like baby pink, I think they may put walls up at first but they believe in the healing love, in compassion and sweet love. I think love language could be physical touch or gift giving. This placement is so pretty im jealous. I do think they will go through their fair share of shitty loves before they find the comfort, soft and sweet relationship they deserve.

For me the quote “I'd rather die than live without passion.” screams sag placements, as a sag dominant passion is what drives me to do things i love. Its hard for sag placements to settle for something they arent passionate about, living without the burning passion for something would be like being dead. I believe thats why sometimes sag placements can get through depressive slumps, they lack passion or self confidence to do stuff. ive said passion way to much oops

Saturn is where you tend to struggle, where there is a big lesson that needs to be learned. i think specially of saturn in retrograde natives, they need to take a look at the house it falls under to understand better their placements. i.e saturn 3h means that you'll struggle socially, you will feel like you wont fit in and social situations overall seem sometimes daunting.

libra risings are ofc icons love them, ive noticed they have a very round or heart shaped face, maybe cute cheeks, also the eyes of a libra rising are very lively, they radiate joy, and their laugh is very contagious.

i think scorpio risings are all about the eyes, the have a deep gaze that can be considered intimidating. All their emotions are hidden behind the eyes. Maybe their voice could be low or monotone when they are serious. Overall they are very sensitive people but they dont let that show at first glance.

v excited about posting this <3 hope someone finds it useful even if it’s just myself lol, if u have these placements lmk what u think !! <3 love, m

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allofthismatters · 4 years

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I wrote this a while ago and never finished/posted it, so here’s some Ava and Sara recovering from 4x12. :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22942597 -----------------------------

Finding Ava felt like one of Sara’s nightmares.

So far it was all darkened hallways that branched off and never ended, with nothing but dim blue lights that hurt her eyes and made her dizzy. She’d spent years learning to control her emotions no matter the circumstance, but now she can hardly hear her own breath over the blood rushing in her ears.

She can’t stop turning images over in her head of Ava—hurt, trapped, tortured, starved, weak…dead. Sara has been every one of those things herself at one point or another, but it feels ten times worse imagining any of it happening to Ava.

She’s spent plenty of time the last two weeks begging herself to believe things never would have worked out between them in the long run, just so losing her wouldn’t hurt so much. She drifted between forced indifference and allowing the crushing heartache to find its way through until she was numb and exhausted by it.

There was no more numbness now—she’s running on pure terror and rage…rage that anyone would do this to the woman she loves, and rage for allowing herself to spend so much time thinking Ava was just too angry to pick up the phone when she was actually god knew where, alone and in trouble, and how could she let this happen?

She and John are searching wildly, and all Sara can think about is how fucking cold this place is and how much Ava must hate it.

They open door after door only to find room after empty room, Sara’s stomach getting sicker and her lungs getting tighter until finally, finally, she crashes into John and sees why he’s stopped. The door in front of them is cracked open, light filtering into the hallway. She pushes past him and opens the door with fire in her eyes.

She’s ready to kill anything in her way.

The room is empty besides a figure hunched over in a chair. It’s slumped against the wall, gaunt and freezing, hair plastered across cheeks—

Sara’s flying toward her before either of them can blink. Not a thought in her head of what she might be running into, years of League instincts momentarily abandoned in order to get her hands on Ava before she loses her mind. Sure, she can’t see her face, but she knows her anywhere.

There you are.

For a split second, all the adrenaline keeping Sara upright drains at the sight of her…Ava, who she’s spent all day scared to death for and who she’s ached for since the night she told her to get out of her office. Ava.

Sara kneels in front of her; she can distantly hear herself murmuring nonsense as she clears the wet clumps of hair from the face in front of her. Ava lifts her head and makes only the briefest eye contact before her strength fails her and her chin hits her chest so hard that Sara can hear her teeth clatter. She lifts her face, but finds nothing besides familiar eyes trying and failing to look at her before they fall closed again.

Sara swears under her breath and feels for her pulse.

There’s a lot of fumbling as they free her. It’s not lost on Sara the way John tries to help get Ava into her arms at first, and she feels a pang of appreciation for how well he understands her. She wants, needs, needs to make Ava safe herself, needs to feel the strain of her body, but Ava’s so much taller than her and she’s such dead weight that Sara finally relents to rationality and lets John carry her to the ship.

Sara arrives first, yelling for Gideon, losing words when she realizes she has no idea what Ava needs…what even happened to her, really? All she knows is—

“Gideon, she’s-- Ava’s cold. She’s really cold.” She gets the words out like a scared child as she clears off the chair in the medbay and digs for a bag of fluid in the cabinet. John is just behind her and settles Ava’s limp form down while Sara forces her shaking hands to secure the medbay cuff on her wrist. She presses on Ava’s arm until she finds a vein, only vaguely aware that she’s muttering a steady stream of soft words that are half for her girlfriend and half for herself.

“You’re ok, hang on for me. You’re ok.”

There’s a machine somewhere behind her that’s at least registering a pulse.

“There you go, keep--don’t go anywhere, babe.”

She gets the IV secured, figuring it can’t hurt. Her eyes frantically scan the medbay screens, lips moving as her clouded mind tries to make sense of it. All she needs is proof of life, and she seems to be in luck. Ava’s heartbeat picks up just the smallest bit, and with it, loosens the vice around Sara's lungs.

“Ok, that’s my girl….that’s my girl.” The words slip out unfiltered, tender, automatic and she fights off the quick stab of hurt that asks, Are you sure she’s still your girl? There’s panicked anguish bubbling up in her chest, and while now would be an awful time to throw up, Sara feels sick to her stomach. What if she was too late? What if she has to sit here and watch another person she loves die right in front of her eyes? How is she going to survive another loss, this loss—

Gideon mercifully cuts off her spiraling thoughts with what Sara probably could have figured out herself: that Director Sharpe is suffering from severe dehydration and exhaustion…her body temperature is 85 degrees, her pulse is irregular, her blood pressure is nowhere near safe…Sara misses the rest of it as her vision swims and her stomach clenches with nausea.

“Captain, I’d recommend getting her something warmer. I can fabricate—", Gideon begins.

“Stay with her, Sara, I’ll go get it.”

Sara startles when she realizes Zari is in the medbay now, just in time for her to hurry out again. She turns back to the chair, dragging and clawing all her emotions back under her control so she doesn’t come apart. Now that she’s got Ava in the light, she looks like death and she's not sure she's ever hated anything more in her life. Sara yanks at the filthy hems of her pantlegs until Ava is free from them, then wrestles her damp undershirt over her head, panic mounting when she can’t pull it free.

Son of a bitch.

Maybe she’s swearing out loud or maybe it’s just in her head, but she finally gives up and tears at the hem until it rips.

It’s only a shirt, but it’s thin and wet and smudged with dust and clinging to her already clammy skin. It’s only a shirt, but it feels like a threat and she needs it away from Ava’s body now.

Ava’s always cold. It's one of the first real things Sara remembers knowing about her. She has five undershirts just like this, always folded neatly, one for each work day. More than once, Sara has moved one to a drawer just so she can hear Ava’s annoyed voice echo from inside her closet, Sara, where the hell is Thursday? Her sweatshirts go missing all the time only to reappear days later, smelling faintly like her girlfriend. And she’s come to love the inevitable moment in the middle of most nights when she wakes up to Ava pressing back into her arms, shivering until the heat of Sara’s body makes her still and relaxed again.

She’s always teased Ava about it, even found it endearing, but now it feels like the most serious thing in the world, and Sara feels a weight of overwhelming shame in her chest.

Nobody fucking kept you warm.

She leans over Ava, searching her face for life, for anything. Sara moves awkwardly to get herself onto the narrow bed and wraps an arm around her girlfriend’s back. She clasps her protectively to her chest, flinching at her freezing skin as she tries to force her own warmth into her blood.

Zari comes back and the two of them get blankets tucked in around Ava and suddenly, there’s nothing left to do. The blood has stopped rushing in Sara’s ears and if she can’t quite feel Ava’s pulse, she can at least hear it beeping steadily on Gideon’s monitor. Her breath is a slow, pained rattle, but it’s breath and that’s all that matters. Sara is trying to remember how to breathe herself when she feels a gentle touch on her hands.

“Sara. Hey. Don’t hold onto her so tight.”

Zari has been milling about the whole time, making blankets and bandages appear when Sara needs them without intruding. Now her eyes are understanding and full of compassion as she pries Sara’s white knuckles away from where they’re digging into Ava’s bare back so hard she’s shaking.

She nods distantly and tries to relax, moving her hands to Ava’s cheeks. It’s hard to keep from weeping at the bone-melting relief of touching her again. It’s been too long, and she just wants to see her and talk to her again. Even with Ava in her arms, she misses her so much her chest hurts.

She sits for what seems like hours, studying her up and down. Sara’s eyes are hungry for the sight of her, her arms craving the soft weight of her body. The only thing that helps Sara dispel the lingering combination of absolute rage and sickening panic is taking inventory of Ava: her eyes sunken in, face dirty, bloody hair and ribs prominent under where her hand rests. An angry red scratch across her jaw and onto her ear. Her lips are cracked and bleeding, too. All things to tend to once Gideon’s done with her and she’s free to take care of her in privacy.

For now, she can only hold her and hope that somehow, in her oblivion, Ava knows she’s safe again. Gideon’s scattered updates startle her, someone brings Sara water and a snack that she takes gratefully, Ava’s body occasionally jerks against her as she fights complete unconsciousness. Sara rubs her back, hushing her without knowing whether she hears her or not. She's nearly drifting off herself when Gideon next speaks.

“Captain, if I might suggest, Director Sharpe will heal more easily if she’s less distressed and able to rest. I’d advise a sedative to keep her—”

Sara doesn’t hear the rest of what Gideon has to say. All she hears is a weak moan from the woman in her arms followed by a voice that’s gone unused for weeks—

“No. No—” Ava’s eyes are still closed, but there she is—alive, aware, talking. Begging not to have her senses taken away. Not again.

She’s gasping in bits of air as she blindly fumbles for whatever is on her arm that might steal her away from reality again. Sara feels nails digging into her arm and she’s not sure whether Ava is fighting her or clinging to her. She’s not sure which would break her heart more.

Sara catches her hand, holding loosely so Ava doesn’t feel trapped. Her other hand goes to rest on Ava’s forehead and she tries to keep her voice even and calm. “Ava. Ava, listen. Listen to me.” Ava pushes Sara’s hand away and Sara lets her. “Listen. It’s ok, nothing you don’t want.” She covers the inside of Ava’s arm to keep Ava from pulling off the only thing keeping her hydrated. “Leave that. You’re safe. It’s me, won’t let anything happen that you don’t want, baby.”

She stays close to Ava, trying, trying not to touch her because that’s what she needs, she needs space to let her mind catch up to where she is, but seeing her this wrecked has her heart crumbling inside her chest.

Once Ava has remembered how to breathe again, once her hands have stopped fighting and are back by her side, exhausted, shaking, Sara brushes fingertips over her wrist and covers her hand. “I’m here, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

Ava winces and shuts her eyes against the brightness of the room. “Gideon, dim the lights?” Sara mumbles, stroking hair off of Ava’s face.

It seems to take hours, but Ava eventually gets her eyes open, takes a look at Sara and all the tension in her depleted body falls away in a rush, leaving her nothing more than an exhausted heap. The relief feels like a tidal wave. If Sara were standing it would knock her off her feet. She finally feels emotion bubbling up in her chest, nowhere to go but out, and no matter how hard she pushes it down, she feels a sob starting in her gut and getting stuck in her throat. She’s not sure whether she’s going to cry or be sick.

Ava's lost the very last of her energy and lays there, eyelids heavy, squeezing Sara’s hand reassuringly, rhythmically—the way she always does when they’re in public together. Right here, it says.

It seems to take hours before Ava closes her eyes again, breathes deeply and swallows hard. She brings one shaky hand to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“Fuck.” Ava sounds more pissed off than anything, like she’d simply been woken up by a car alarm in the night, and a sharp, hysterical sort of laugh bursts out of Sara, closer to a sob than anything. “How long?”

“Two weeks.” Sara cautiously reaches out, moving a lock of hair from Ava’s face and tucking it behind her ear. When Ava doesn’t startle or protest her touch, she does the same on the other side and then leaves her hand resting on her forehead again.

“Jesus. How did—I was home when—"

“Just rest, it doesn’t matter right now.”

Ava stills, breathing a bit steadier. She nods in agreement and stays quiet, swallowing against what Sara assumes is nausea, if her own experiences have taught her anything.

She doesn't know what finally breaks her--maybe it's just the realization that the real danger has passed and that Ava is ok, or maybe it's the way Ava keeps a hand on her every time she shuts her eyes, like she's making sure she's there--but Sara notices her own tears coming once it’s too late; her face has already crumpled and then she’s weeping, as quietly as she can. She just can’t help it. She hasn’t heard Ava’s voice or touched her skin in weeks and it’s like coming in from a storm. Coming home. She’s home.

Ava’s eyes are closed, but no matter how hard she tries, there are loud catches in Sara's breath and occasional fat tears landing on Ava’s chest.

“Don’t cry.” Ava’s hand reaches up blindly, looking for tears to clear away and instead jabs Sara somewhere near the eye. Sara nods with a shaky smile, holding Ava’s hand and using it to wipe her eyes before kissing her knuckles.

“Sorry. Just missed you so much.”

Ava seems to relax at that and she turns herself back onto her side, whimpering with pain, just to get back in Sara’s arms. She burrows in close and Sara holds her tight, like someone just gave her permission to breathe again. Ava responds with a soft kiss to her jaw that goes straight to her gut, squeezing pleasantly, reassuringly. It’s a comfort she thought she might never get back.

“Don’t let go of me yet.”

“Never.” Sara tightens her arms, kissing her dirt-smudged forehead, then her temple, her cheek, her nose, her chapped lips. “Never.”

#avalance #sara lance #ava sharpe #legends of tomorrow

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larryfanfiction · 5 years

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Amnesia Fics

💭 take my hand (and my heart and soul) by bananasandboots

Harry feels nauseous when he opens his mouth. “Hey. Um, hi. It’s me,” he mumbles before realizing with a jolt that Louis might not have his number anymore. “It’s Harry… Styles,” he tacks on, screwing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. This was a terrible idea.

There’s silence on the other end for a long time. Harry understands. He shouldn’t have called. He tries not to let the static swallow him whole.“I – yeah. Hi,” Louis finally answers, slowly, awkwardly. “I um. Sorry. I heard about your accident. You’re alright?”

Or, the one where Harry hasn’t spoken to his best friend in sixteen months and can’t remember why.

💭 Indestructible by whoknows

“Hi,” Harry murmurs, and Louis hiccups out a sob.

“Hi,” he manages, still clutching onto Harry’s shoulders. Harry’s fingers drift across Louis’ cheeks, and there’s something off about Harry’s expression, but Louis can’t figure out what it is.

“I’m okay,” Harry says, and Louis is going to say something to that, even if he doesn’t know what, except Harry’s kissing him.

💭 Home for Christmas by haloeverlasting

The Shameless Hallmark Movie AU you probably didn’t ask for.

Or, the one where Harry didn’t think he wanted a family, but with a little Christmas magic (and maybe one Louis Tomlinson) he realizes that he is very, very wrong.

💭 (don’t forget) where you belong by rippedgloves

It takes less than two seconds before Harry all but throws himself at Louis, who still has an IV hooked to his arm and looks more fragile than a newborn. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Louis’ left arm circles around him to pat him in the back.

“Fuck, love, you scared me so much,” he murmurs against Louis’ neck, “I missed you.”

“Um, hi—Harry, was it?”

Harry can’t help but laugh, tears wetting his cheeks as he pulls back a little to look at Louis’ face, expecting a teasing smile. Instead, he is met with Louis’ confused gaze. His heart drops in his chest as he realizes that Louis isn’t messing with him.

“It seems,” Niall says, “that Lou is having a bit of trouble remembering certain things about his life.”

“Certain things,” Harry repeats, his tone flat, as he removes himself from Louis’ side. Louis is eyeing him curiously, his eyes wide and confused, and he looks a little worried, like he wasn’t expecting Harry to react like this—like he wasn’t expecting Harry at all.*

or, the one where Louis wakes up from a coma and doesn’t remember Harry.

💭 For As Long As I Can Remember (It’s Been December) by green_feelings

After recovering from a severe accident that causes Harry to lose his memory of three years, he moves to London to start his life over as a star chef. Little does he know that when he falls in love with Louis at first sight, it’s not the first time they meet.

Featuring an unintentional game of hot and cold, Harry chasing memories that won’t come back, Louis burying himself in work to try and forget what he can’t forget, Liam being torn between two of his best friends, Zayn as a moral compass and Niall saving the day with good music and brutal honesty.

💭 Always by JamieJam93

Thousands, if not millions, of fans had been right. Harry and Louis had been in love and together for four whole years. They were ‘the dream team’; the couple that made others sick while simultaneously envious.

But thousands of fans had been right about something else too. The pressure had been too much. The fame had been too much. The closet had been too much, and, four years after the pair swore to each other that nothing could break them on the night of their first kiss in 2010, they broke up.

Fast forward to 2018, on the night of One Direction’s last ever concert, and Harry has yet to move on. It’s not as sad as it seems-he still lives his life and, for the most part, he’s happy-but he knows that Louis was his one true love and is trying to prepare himself for a life completely without the other when an accident erases Louis’s mind of all of his memories. In reliving the moments with him, trying to make him remember, Harry comes to find that maybe he never really forgot them at all and maybe, like him, he hadn’t moved on either.

💭 just a memory (and all that we could’ve been) by trustingno1

“I think - there’s something wrong. With Harry’s memory,” Louis says, and someone mutes the TV.

(or: Harry wakes up in a reality in which he and Louis are very much together. Which is pretty awesome. Or - it would be. If Harry could remember any of it).

💭 The Dead of July by whimsicule

Being an Avenger means continuing to be Captain America and smiling and being honorable for the public and Harry does his best. But it doesn’t give him time to figure out who he is supposed to be once he takes off his uniform and puts the shield to the side. Just being Harry had always involved Louis, and Harry fears he doesn’t know how to exist without him.

or: Harry is Captain America, and Louis’ been dead for 70 years.

💭 The Things I’d Do To Wake Up Next To You by dirtymattress

AU. Harry wakes up to a pregnant Louis Tomlinson and a wedding band on his finger.

💭 Consequences by allwaswell16 (78k)

Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

An amnesia au

💭 Meet Me in Montauk by make_this_feel_like_home (84k)

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind AU.

What do you do when the love of your life forgets who you are?

What if there was a place you could go to have a person--and all the pain they caused--erased from your memories forever?

Louis Tomlinson isn't quite sure why he woke up one day and felt like a different person. He also isn't quite sure who the green eyed stranger who knows his best mate Zayn is, but when he finds himself in the same lift as one Harry Styles, he knows he wants to find out.

Harry's entire life is defined by one moment: the accident that made him forget years of his life. There had been a guy... but he can't for the life of him remember who he was. And now, a chance encounter with a charming bookshop keeper makes Harry feel like maybe the past doesn't matter as much as he'd always thought it did. Suddenly things that never made sense were starting to make sense again.

The one where Harry has amnesia, Louis can't handle the pain and Lacuna Inc provides a unique service: the ability to erase a person from your memories.

💭 i can’t breathe (without you as mine) by togetherwecouldbealright

It’s slightly strange that Harry doesn’t recognize him but Louis doesn’t really mind because for some reason that’s a mystery to him, Harry still somehow seems to be smitten with him.

or, the one where Harry just had surgery and is at the mercy of anesthetics and Louis is having far too much fun video taping Harry’s initial reaction to seeing him.

💭 Our love was made for movie screens. by sweetkisses

“I don’t know-.” Harry stops and looks over at the omega, wondering what his face looks like. “I don’t know who I am.” He whispers with a shaky breath.

or Harry wakes up and doesn’t know anything about anything and Louis is his omega.

💭 who we used to be by itsnotbleak

“The doctor said he might remember,” Gemma said. “If he was around familiar things. Mum thinks that means he needs to stay with her forever, spend all day looking at old baby pictures and school photos. But he remembers all that perfectly. It’s living with you and your weird gang of lost boys that he doesn’t remember.”

“And you think the best way to jog his memory is some weird kind of full-emersion re-enactment?”

“It might be,” said Gemma. “It can’t hurt to try.”

An au where Harry and Louis used to be together, and then they broke up, and now Harry can’t remember any of it.

💭 Lucky by ineffablelouis

Harry has surgery and wakes up with temporary amnesia. Louis is there to witness it all.

💭 Crying lightning by frenchkiss

Louis doesn’t remember the accident, and when he wakes up he finds that he doesn’t remember any of the last ten years of his life either. All he knows is there’s some curly-haired bloke by his bed claiming to be the husband he shares a house, a dog, and a life with, two siblings he’s never met before waiting for him in the waiting room, and more niggling questions at the back of his head than anyone can physically answer.

This really isn’t how he planned to spend his Wednesday.

💭 Fugue by iwillpaintasongforlou (16k)

Harry falls asleep a 17 year-old who lives in Cheshire and is probably rockstar Louis Tomlinson's biggest fan. He wakes up 24 with a wedding ring on his finger, two kids, and Louis Tomlinson attempting to wake him up with a blow job. The doctor calls it organic retrograde amnesia, says he might never get back the last seven years of his life. The only thing that feels the same is how he feels when Louis touches him, and maybe that's enough to make him fall in love all over again.

💭 the summertime and butterflies by B3autifully_br0ken (13k)

A car crash causes Harry to get amnesia and to loose all memory of ever knowing his now ex-husband Louis.After lots of sleepless nights, crying and heartache, they decide splitting up is the best option for both of them.A year later, Harry starts to remember.

💭 Silent Memories by trulymadlylouist (82k)

It’s funny how quickly one’s life can change, really. for harry, it’s a bag of sweet popcorn, soft kisses and a bit too much rain that flip his life around.

before he knows it, he finds himself waiting for the love of his life to wake up in his hospital bed, and when he does, louis doesn’t remember any of the memories they shared and the people they used to be; and harry’s world shatters.

(or, harry and louis have been in love for years. on a rainy night, harry begs louis to go out to buy him some popcorn, and louis crashes the car. when he wakes up, he doesn’t remember anything.)

💭 fondre ton absence by scrunchyharry (41k)

Harry had never really given much thought to the future. He preferred to let life steer him forward and to follow in the footsteps of Louis, his best friend from as far as his memory went, his lover, his everything. Louis knew better than he did what was good for him.

It changed drastically when Louis was ripped away from him, drafted and sent to the front to fight in a war that Harry had always been sure would never reach him. Too young and too sickly to follow, Harry was left on his own for the first time in his life.

When he thought things could not possibly get worse, Louis went missing at the Somme and was declared dead. While everyone buried and mourned him, Harry never moved on. If Louis were dead, he was sure that he would know it. Their lives were too entwined, he would know if half of his heart had died.

Determined to find Louis, Harry did everything he could in his quest to be reunited with him, except prepare for the state Louis might be in.

He did not prepare for the harsh truth he would have to face: was love possible without memories?

More Masterposts

#amnesia #masterpost #amnesiama

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goodticklebrain · 5 years

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Q&A August: Kate Powers of the Redeeming Time Project

Q&A August continues! I first met Kate Powers at the opening reception of the 2016 Shakespeare Theatre Association conference. It was my very first STA conference and I was, needless to say, SUPER NERVOUS about suddenly being in a huge room with hundreds of top-notch Shakespeare experts, artists, administrators, and educators. I felt very much like an impostor and interloper: after all, I was just drawing these stupid little comics, while these people were making Shakespeare come to life, and were changing lives in the process.

I had heard of Kate’s phenomenal work with Rehabilitation Through the Arts at Sing Sing Correctional Facility, so I was already suitably intimidated when I was first introduced to her. However, she took one look at my name tag, said “Oh my god, you’re HER”, and then seized me by the arm and proceeded to lead me around the reception, introducing me to all manner of Shakespearean theatre luminaries and instantly incorporating me into the STA community. And that’s pretty much Kate in a nutshell for you: welcoming and supportive, absurdly generous with her time and energy, and never hesitating to help lift people up in any way she can. Over the past several years she has become a wonderful resource, correspondent, and friend, and I’m so excited to share her with you now.

Take it away, Kate!

1. Who are you? Why Shakespeare?

I am a director, a text nerd, a prison theatre maker. I saw my first production of Shakespeare before anyone had a chance to tell me that this was going to be good for me, or that these people talk funny. I was eight. The play was in a park downtown; we had a picnic and a can of mosquito spray standing by as we watched Petruchio arrive (on a motorcycle, wearing leopard-print hot pants, as it happened) to wed Katharine. I am sure that I missed a lot, but I had a great time.

After a student matinee of my production of Measure for Measure at the Kansas City Rep in 2005, a girl asked at the post-show discussion, with great urgency, if Isabel was going to marry the Duke. When I directed The Winter’s Tale at American Shakespeare Center, I spoke to a lady in the audience who was seeing her first-ever Shakespeare play. She asked me if I had updated the language or if someone else had done it for me. She was stunned when I told her that we had not changed a word. “It’s crystal clear,” she exclaimed. I am all about smashing up the cultural church of Shakespeare and starting the Shakespeare block party.

2. What moment(s) in Shakespeare always make you laugh?

It’s cheap, but it is textually supported cheap. I laugh every time an actor playing Malvolio reads the letter, “If this fall into thy hand, revolve,” takes a beat, contemplates, and then turns in a circle. It’s not actually what the letter writer means (it means “consider,” essentially), but it doesn’t matter. I think you have written a strip about revolving Malvolios, (Mya interjects: I have!) and I would like someone to start a band called the Revolving Malvolios.

3. What's a favorite Shakespearean performance anecdote?

I would probably have to go with Squirrel Butt Romeo.

Mya interjects: Kate is, of course, referring to the immortal anecdote that led to the creation of this comic:

4. What's one of the more unusual Shakespearean interpretations you've either seen or would like to see?

I saw a Czech language production of Hamlet while I was in grad. school. The host at my B&B in Prague strongly discouraged me from going. I think he thought I would be upset when it wasn’t in English. I told him it was okay, that I was fairly familiar with the story. They cast Claudio much younger than I had previously seen. The late king’s much younger brother. He read like an older brother to Hamlet in some ways, and also, he was HOT. I suddenly understood “The king doth wake tonight and takes his rouse, / Keeps wassail and the swaggering upspring reels,” much more clearly, and I also could see the appeal, the sexy appeal, the temptation, the need to believe, for Gertrude.

The interpretation that I have seen far too often is the leather-clad Hamlet wielding an AK-47. Just. Don’t.

Mya interjects: OK, I have definitely seen leather-clad Hamlets, but Hamlet wielding an AK-47? What is that??

5. What passages from Shakespeare have stayed with you?

“It is required you do awake your faith” and “Let be” are perpetually in the front of my consciousness.

Mya interjects: I totally forgot about “Let be”. Is there a more powerful two-word quote in all of Shakespeare?

Right now I hear Sir Thomas More’s “mountainish inhumanity” speech to the rioting mob loudly and insistently:

“Grant them removed, and grant that this your noise Hath chid down all the majesty of England; Imagine that you see the wretched strangers, Their babies at their backs and their poor luggage, Plodding to th’ports and coasts for transportation, And that you sit as kings in your desires, Authority quite silent by your brawl, And you in ruff of your opinions clothed; What had you got? I’ll tell you. You had taught How insolence and strong hand should prevail, How order should be quelled; and by this pattern Not one of you should live an aged man, For other ruffians, as their fancies wrought, With self same hand, self reasons, and self right, Would shark on you, and men like ravenous fishes Would feed on one another.”

6. What Shakespeare plays have changed for you?

Which ones haven’t?

7. What Shakespearean character or characters do you identify the most with?

I pretty much am Beatrice, with a dash of Paulina. Very smart, very punny, often wielding my words as a weapon, tenacious, determined, protective of those around me, and also afraid of getting hurt, yet determined to speak, to name injustice when I see it. “I care not. It is an heretic that makes the fire.”

8. Where can we find out more about you? Are there any projects/events you would like us to check out?

I am the founder of the Redeeming Time Project. Our name comes from Hal’s speech in I Henry IV, “I’ll so offend to make offense a skill / Redeeming time when men think least I will.” We make theatre with men incarcerated in two Minnesota state prisons. I started doing this work over a decade ago with Rehabilitation Through the Arts in New York state. We believe human beings are born inherently good, and we teach critical life skills (such as empathy, critical thinking, communication skills, teamwork, conflict resolution, goal setting, delayed gratification) through making theatre together. At Sing Sing Correctional Facility in 2016, while we were rehearsing Twelfth Night, one of the men said, “Shakespeare gave me words for emotions I didn’t know I had.”

The act of imagination required to play a character can become the spark of compassion that leads to empathy. One can learn empathy through the effort of performing a play, because one must ask, “What is it like to be this character? What is it like to walk in his shoes?” Through rehearsal room disagreements about the interpretation of a scene, or a line, one can learn to tolerate not just different points of view but also ambiguity itself. This newly acquired tolerance and wider understanding of human behavior helps cultivate patience and perspective.

Shakespeare teaches us what it means to be human, in all the nobility as well as all the depravity that it can entail. Again and again, he asks us, “What does it mean to be alive? How should we act? Who am I? What do I love?” Redeeming Time makes Shakespeare accessible to all, restores a voice to the silenced and voiceless, and explores the full complexity of the human condition.

Incarcerated individuals who study and perform Shakespeare challenge. They develop a passion for learning. They explore the full complexity of humanity through Shakespeare, reassessing their past and current choices, as well as their future options, as they do so. Although RTP will work with material written by other playwrights and authors, Shakespeare will always be the firm ground on which we stand.

(Back to Mya) Thanks so much to Kate for taking the time to answer my questions. You can find out more about Kate and her excellent work here:

plainKate.com

The Redeeming Time Project

@_plainkate_ on Twitter

Plus, you can hear Kate on several episodes of the Reduced Shakespeare Company Podcast:

Episode 346: Theatre in Prison

Episode 398: ‘Salesman’ Behind Bars

Episode 498: Year of Shakespeare

Episode 532: Shakespeare and Trump (also featuring yours truly)

Episode 580: Redeeming Time Project

COMING THURSDAY: A fellow Michigander who just happens to be one of my personal Shakespearean superheroes!

#Q&A August #shakespeare

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bloodhonnie · 3 years

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I know you’re not an expert or anything but was wondering if you had an opinion on this.. I have BPD and my dad has classic NPD traits. So I’ve suffered emotional abuse due to him which has probs caused the BPD. I view him more as his own person who his own unprocessed trauma and his behaviours are not about me. My friend thinks her grandma has NPD and called it a “dangerous dangerous.” Do you think there’s a line between NPD being dangerous but also us offering some compassion?abuse is hard idk

Before I start this I wanna mention I have a BA in Psychology. I’m in no way an expert but I have taken classes and that’s what’s on my college diploma. That being said a lot of the stuff in textbooks and what’s taught in fundemental classes isn’t always accurate. I’m going to be speaking from my personal experience and I am in no way saying that things are as I say they are. Think for yourself and maybe use what I say as a tentative basis to do your own research. You can read studies for free on scihub after using Google/Google scholar to find research articles. With all that being said this is what I personally think given the context and experiences I’ve had:

Not eveyone with NPD is gonna be an abuser just like how not eveyone with BPD is someone who was abused.

Let me frame it this way. We as people with BPD know that BPD doesn’t control us and that we’re still accountable for our actions. The same goes with people who have NPD.

Before I continue to address this question (cause I don’t wanna forget)

Do not diagnose other people in an effort to explain their behavior.

Alright so NPD is severely misrepresented the same way BPD is. It’s important to engage with the words, diagnosis, etc... that we interact with daily. Let’s see what the DSM5 has to say about NPD yeah?

“In the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition (DSM-5), [1] NPD is defined as comprising a pervasive pattern of grandiosity (in fantasy or behavior), a constant need for admiration, and a lack of empathy, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by the presence of at least 5 of the following 9 criteria:

A grandiose sense of self-importance

A preoccupation with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love

A belief that he or she is special and unique and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high-status people or institutions

A need for excessive admiration

A sense of entitlement

Interpersonally exploitive behavior

A lack of empathy

Envy of others or a belief that others are envious of him or her

A demonstration of arrogant and haughty behaviors or attitudes”

Source: DSM-V via Medscape.com

(I would’ve actually gone into the dsm 5 and gotten a screenshot but my laptop is broken sorry)

NYU has a chart (that is in the dsm5) let’s take a look at that too

“ Narcissistic Personality Disorder DSM-IV Criteria

Narcissistic Personality Disorder

A. A pervasive pattern of grandiosity (in fantasy or behavior), need for admiration, and lack of empathy, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by five (or more) of the following:

Significant impairments in personality functioning manifest by: 1. Impairments in self functioning (a or b):

1. Has a grandiose sense of self-importance (e.g., exaggerates achievements and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements).

a. Identity: Excessive reference to others for self-definition and self-esteem regulation; exaggerated self-appraisal may be inflated or deflated, or vacillate between extremes; emotional regulation mirrors fluctuations in self-esteem.

2. Is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love.

b. Self-direction: Goal-setting is based on gaining approval from others; personal standards are unreasonably high in order to see oneself as exceptional, or too low based on a sense of entitlement; often unaware of own motivations.

3. Believes that he or she is “special” and unique and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high- status people (or institutions).

AND

4. Requires excessive admiration.

2. Impairments in interpersonal functioning (a or b):

a. Empathy: Impaired ability to recognize or identify with the

5. Has a sense of entitlement, i.e., unreasonable expectations of especially favorable treatment or automatic compliance with his or her expectations.

feelings and needs of others; excessively attuned to reactions of others, but only if perceived as relevant to self; over- or underestimate of own effect on others.

6. Is interpersonally exploitative, i.e., takes advantage of others to achieve his or her own ends.

b. Intimacy: Relationships largely superficial and exist to serve self-esteem regulation; mutuality constrained by little genuine interest in others‟ experiences and predominance of a need for personal gain

7. Lacks empathy: is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others.

Pathological personality traits in the following domain: 1. Antagonism, characterized by:

DSM-IV and DSM-5 Criteria for the Personality Disorders

trauma).

DSM-5 Criteria - Revised June 2011

The essential features of a personality disorder are impairments in personality (self and interpersonal) functioning and the presence of pathological personality traits. To diagnose narcissistic personality disorder, the following criteria must be met:

a. Grandiosity: Feelings of entitlement, either overt or covert;

8. Is often envious of others or believes that others are envious of him or her.

self-centeredness; firmly holding to the belief that one is better than others; condescending toward others.

9. Shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes.

b. Attention seeking: Excessive attempts to attract and be the focus of the attention of others; admiration seeking.

Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder DSM-IV Criteria

Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder

A. A pervasive pattern of preoccupation with orderliness, perfectionism, and mental and interpersonal control, at the expense of flexibility, openness, and efficiency, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by four (or more) of the

Significant impairments in personality functioning manifest by:

DSM-IV and DSM-5 Criteria for the Personality Disorders

The impairments in personality functioning and the individual‟s personality trait expression are relatively stable across time and consistent across situations.

The impairments in personality functioning and the individual‟s personality trait expression are not better understood as normative for the individual‟s developmental stage or socio-cultural environment.

The impairments in personality functioning and the individual‟s personality trait expression are not solely due to the direct physiological effects of a substance (e.g., a drug of abuse, medication) or a general medical condition (e.g., severe head trauma).

DSM-5 Criteria - Revised June 2011

The essential features of a personality disorder are impairments in personality (self and interpersonal) functioning and the presence of pathological personality traits. To diagnose obsessive-compulsive personality disorder, the following criteria must be met:

Impairments in self functioning (a or b):

a. Identity: Sense of self derived predominantly from work or

productivity; constricted experience and expression of”

Source: NYU.edu

Are you starting to see how more context gives people humanity? People are misrepresenting and misusing the word narssasitic. It has a clinical significance that is different from the colloquial significance. Another word that might tie it all together that is misused in the same type of way is intersectionality. Colloquially intersectionality is a term used to describe the intersections of all minority identities. In reality intersectionality is a race theory that was coined by Kimberle Crenshaw to explain the intersections of race and gender in reference to black women. Crenshaw later expanded that to include the intersections of race (excluding whiteness), gender, and queerness. Without the context of intersectionality as a race theory intersectionality is being misused and misrepresented. I hope that was a good enough example.

Before I move on let’s recap what I’ve discussed so far as to spare any confusion.

1) people with personality disorders are responsible for their actions.

2) BPD is not exclusively tied to abuse. (I can go into this in a different post if you’re interested).

3) We do not try to diagnose other people.

4) Personality disorders are often misrepresented.

5) We learned the 9 criteria for the diagnosis of NPD in the DSM-V (2018).

6) We learned context is important to understanding misused terms. (I.e what the criteria for NPD actually manifests as). (NYU chart)

7) The example of intersectionality and how it is also a colloquially misused term.

Im gonna end on two separate points.

The first point is that personality disorders are under constant scrutiny due to how similar symptoms are. There is actually talk of removing BPD in the next volume (not addendum) of the DSM. Knowing that I can mention how NPD was removed in 2013 but was later added back in.

My second point is that it’s important to educate yourself as much as you can and to not think that people are abuusive because of a mental illness. People are responsible for their own actions. If someone is abusive they’re abusive. Sometimes there are no explanations.

#bpd #personal #borderline personality disorder #ask #answer #answered

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kairoskrp · 7 years

Photo

— On the wicked wings of time, thy kingdom comes

Meet [ Song Jihyo ]

She is a [ thirty-five] year old [ owner of safer shores ] currently residing in [ skyhall apartments, #605 ]. Visit and greet her today!

Personality:

Song Jihyo is a force of nature. Regal, proud and strong, Jihyo has a strong sense of what is right and what is wrong. She easily feels taken advantage of and will often lash out harshly to make sure people now that’suna-fucking-ceptable.Generally kind-hearted, warm and passionate, she has a strong temper that flares up like a supernova but is also easily pacified. Above all, she is protective and will do anything to keep those she loves safe. She has seen too many things to still care for fear, let alone let it hold her back. Sweet to most, it is a good idea not to get on her bad side.

Spirit: Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons

Power:

Enhanced condition: The user’s physical and mental abilities are above natural members of their species in that verse, beyond what can be emulated via natural training and with little to no maintaining. This entails that they are faster, stronger, more intelligent and overall superior to fellow members of their species, without being obviously supernatural. (Think Captain America.) Jihyo has no extra mental capacities, though.

porcelain to ivory to steel: Jihyo has an increased resistance to pain and injuries. She is nearly immune to all poison or drugs (to her great dismay this includes caffeine and alcohol). Most people could barely hurt her with a punch, and normal knives while still hurting her will find considerably more resistance on her skin. She can fall from great heights that would kill a normal person, or simply blink as they break a chair over her arm. If normal people’s skill is paper, hers is steel.

even heroes have the right to bleed: even so, Jihyo is not invulnerable. Things like shooting her at point blank will still hurt her. While she may fall from greater height, shoving her out of a plane would still kill her. Giving her a ridiculous amount of drugs will still affect her. To her great dismay, alcohol and caffeine is included in the list, and so are painkillers, so when she does get hurt, it’s usually a slow, painful way to recovery. She heals slightly faster than regular humans, but not considerably so. She is more difficult to harm, but when she gets hurt it usually sucks big time for her. Also while she might be more resistant to actual injury, she is not that much more resistant to pain, meaning that while something might not harm her, it may very well still hurt her.

golden medalist girl: Jihyo is in prime condition, and doesn’t have to train much to maintain it. She is considerably more agile than an olympic gymnast, faster than a sprinter, has the stamina of the world’s greatest marathon runner, stronger than a sumo wrestler, has incredibly fast reflexes, and so on. She has a certain affinity to hand-to-hand and close combat especially.

jack of all trades: due to her all-compassing power, she doesn’t really excel at anything. This means that someone with enhanced strength would still be stronger, or enhanced speed would still be faster. Also, while a lot of complicated moves and human feats may be within her capacity, she still has to actually learn and practice the moves. To maintain her energy she must eat copious amounts of food and she often goes hungry.

my spideysense is tingling: along with her physical condition, her senses are also heightened, meaning she sees, hears, smells, feels and tastes on an increased level. She can smell several layers of scent, see greater distances and during night or through smoke (although she posses no skills like heat vision or the likes, so her vision is ultimately still on a human level.) She also has a heightened awareness of dangers.

hear my heart roar: she can however not stop this skill, much like any other part of her condition. This means that she can get overwhelmed if exposed to too much stimuli as well, which can cause headaches or nausea or send her into a panic attacks. Her danger sense also often translates into a sense of paranoia, where she might consider things far more dangerous than they may be.

Biography:

tw: drugs, violence, murder, implied child abuse, implied rape, prostitution

She is a nameless girl, for all the names she has aren’t really hers. She’s a motherless girl, for all the women that hold her hand aren’t really hers. She is a lifeless girl, for the live she leads isn’t hers at all.

She follows a stranger in the airport and she lets a woman she doesn’t know coo over her. In the morning, her father made her swallow a bag of something white, and a doctor put even more inside. She didn’t cry, because good girls don’t cry. Good girls smile and twirl around in their pink princess dress and don’t throw up before they’re told, no matter what. Good girls help the family.

She is seven, and she knows this.

II.

You’re special, her father told her, his hand on her aching tummy. The bag feels heavy and wrong, but she doesn’t cry. Only you can carry something so valuable inside you.

Something inside her stirs, deep within the hollows of her bones, underneath the cage of her ribs, and she knows that to be true.

III.

If she closes her eyes: golden shores, the waves calm and clear enough to see the vividly coloured fish swim, warm as the water washes over her bare feet. It is a dream, maybe, or a memory lodged in the confines of her veins, a soft thrumming like the humming of a bird’s wings. When she closes her eyes, the world is hers, the sand underneath her feet is hers and she belongs.

When she opens them: the smell of chlorine and car exhaust, she sits quietly like a doll by the poolside of a city she doesn’t know as people talk in a language she doesn’t understand. They have taken what is valuable from within her outside of her and with that, she loses her value. She’s just a girl. Just a kid, forgotten.

Just a vessel.

IV.

No one sees her, until Hayoon does. She will have a name to remember, she will have a legacy. She is beautiful, a mirage in the darkness, starlight eyes with a sunshine smile. They never taught Jihyo love, but she knows that’s what it is, the flutter beat of her heart. They never taught Jihyo love or peace or calm, but she knows that’s what it is.

Hayoon wants to be a dancer. She trains ballet, twirling in the sunlight. She loses her balance and wobbles and Jihyo catches her. Hayoon laughs, but doesn’t try again.

So she grows up like this: playing alone in the corner, pretending the sticks she finds are swords of old, gleaming in the sun. She rages against the sky, besieges the doll castle she got as a gift, conquers a foreign street. Hayoon at her side always, Hayoon twirling in the golden light, Hayoon laughing, Hayoon’s sleepy face smudges against her chest.

Protect, the voice inside her whispers, and Jihyo pulls her closer.

You’re becoming more beautiful every day, they tell Hayoon, and it frightens Jihyo. She knows what that will mean. She is twelve and she understands the ways of the world now. She cannot shield her eyes any longer. Being beautiful means being wanted, and what people want can be sold, but only if the people wanting are important because of their numbers. But Hayoon giggles and she can’t talk.

No one ever asks what she wants. (She wants, more than anything, to go to those golden shores, to hear the birds sing there, to speak in that language that sometime flies through her mind like a fleeting memory, a wisp in the air, a hint of something greater.)

VI.

If she closes her eyes: a white knuckled grip on a kopis, the taste of blood in her mouth but none of it hers, a field of men slewn at her feet as she roars with victory.

If she opens them: Hayoon crying, her eyes swollen shut, blood trickling down her nose. Hayoon screaming they’re going to sell me, they’re going to hurt me. Hayoon crying don’t let them hurt me.

VII.

She is right. They come for her, cursing and forceful. And Hayoon crying don’t let them hurt me, don’t let them hurt me. Hayoon screaming, unnie, save me.

Hayoon screaming don’t let them hurt me, but Jihyo is just a little girl, and she doesn’t want pain either. She is weak and fragile and all alone.

Fight, the voice inside her roars, and Jihyo listens.

VIII.

She is not a girl in a cage, she is not a broken bird. She is a goddess. The blood they have spilled so carelessly is the blood of a queen. Her pulse roars like the rally cry of an army, deafening over her own screams. In her wake, empires fall. Her eyes have witnessed hundreds of spears gleaming in the sun, coated with blood.

Fight, the voice inside her roars.

She is not fragile. She is unbreakable. She is a tenacious protector, fierce in her wrath.

Fight, the voice inside her roars.

Her anger sparks like a supernova, like a galaxy bursting into life, violent and glorious, a darkness and then the light, her frightened animal heart breaking out of its cage, the golden shores washed by tidal waves.

Fight, the voice inside her roars. I will protect you, the voice inside her promises, and Jihyo is unafraid.

IX.

When the anger subsides and the voice stops roaring, they are all dead at her feet. Hayoon’s eyes are wide and teary-eyed, but when the footsteps sound, she doesn’t hesitate. She takes Jihyo’s hand and pulls her along and together they run into the night.

Life on the street is harder than life in her golden cage, but it is free. She has Hayoon, she has an army of girls just like them, girls who ran into the night with their heads held high, girls with scars and bruises, who fell apart at the seams once, who picked themselves back up. She has Hayoon, she has a stranger’s wallet in her hand. She has a friend and dreams about a woman, strong like a mother, protecting her.

What more could a girl want?

XI.

Of course it is a man who ruins it.

XII.

You are meant for more than this, he says.

This means Hayoon shivering in a corner, this means boys fleeing with broken bones and bruised ribs. This means starving, slowly but surely. This means freezing, slowly but surely. This means living like an animal.

The voice inside her agrees and Jihyo listens.

XIII.

So he teaches her, how to fight, how to destroy. A vessel of another kind. No more deliveries. No more things given, but things taken.

He gives her names.

She makes the names go away.

XIV.

Life is good for a while. They regain another golden palace, Hayoon by her side. No longer a lost girl, but a queen. (And he, her king, in the silent spaces of her mind.)

But Hayoon stops smiling one day. She goes quiet and cold. She doesn’t like it when he comes near her, but she doesn’t tell Jihyo to leave. Jihyo knows, she didn’t like the streets. She didn’t like the fear of it, the uncertainty.

Jihyo knows, Hayoon is too beautiful to suffer like that.

XV.

Months pass and the swelling of Hayoon’s belly can’t be denied anymore. At dinner, Hayoon looks at the table but Jihyo looks at him. He looks away, and Jihyo knows: she should have never trusted a man. No one talks about it, but the truth lies heavy in the air between them, always on the verge of threatening to spill into words.

XVI.

Hayoon doesn’t want to run anymore, so they stay. Her baby girl is healthy, but Hayoon doesn’t smile. Hayoon barely looks. She has his eyes.

A year of silence and Jihyo finds her on the ledge of the apartment building. Hayoon twirls in the golden sunlight of the setting sun and then she is gone.

Then it’s all gone.

XVII.

Fight, the voice inside her roars, but Jihyo is too tired. She knows what fighting means. It means taking more things out of the world.

She doesn’t want anything out of this world. She wants Hayoon in it. She wants Hayoon back. Fight, fight, fight, the voice inside her roars, destroy.

Protect, she tells it. Protect.

XX.

Protect, she tells the voice inside her.

And it answers her. Protect.

#kr; follow #song jihyo #krp #res; skyhall #tw: drugs #tw: violence #tw: murder #tw: implied child abuse #tw: implied rape #tw: prostitution

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