The problem is I have chronic guilt about something that I can’t control but everyone on tumblr would tell me I’m a bad person for. Unfortunately, this is the only place I can vent so this particular issue will just destroy me from the inside

Dela floated up to the gengar. Being a ghost therapist is something that Dela is fascinated with. Particularly, because she felt like she needed one.

"Just curious, but have you had any pokemon that you have helped confess to or ask for horrible requests? What do you do in those cases?"

Felix: It can be tricky sometimes. Some Pokémon just become so hellbent on wantin’ ta take revenge that they don’t wanna consider other options. I’ve even had a spirit or two want ta harm Destino and their family. Of course I’ve gotta put friendships aside for those ones as ta not let my feelings get in the way of providing ‘em with some form of support.

*Felix put his arms behind his head, getting into a position that looked even more comfortable than the last. He looked in thought, considering all of the cases he’s had to work with. He couldn’t go spilling these spirits secrets but he supposed he could explain things a little clearer.*

Felix: Being a therapist for ghosts can be hard. I’ve heard a lot of things from these spirits - things that they would have never admitted ta anyone if they were alive - and I have ta hold onta their secrets unless it’s gonna cause someone harm. I’ve had spirits admit to all sorts of crimes they’ve committed. From thievery ta some downright awful things that I just couldn’t repeat, I’ve had ta treat every spirit same, without judgement or fear of bein’ judged by me.

Felix: And it tends ta go well. They’ll talk about themselves, I’ll repeat back what they’ve said ta get ‘em ta process it, they usually think of a solution and I give ‘em the chance to work through whether that solution is best for ‘em and then reflect on everything that’s been discussed.

Hope: It doesn’t surprised me about Destino being a target for the spirits. I imagine their family may not be kind rulers.

Felix: They certainly have things goin’ on which make ‘em not great rulers but, considerin’ what they have ta work with, they’re doin’ a damn good job.

*Felix paused his thought for a moment. There was something he needed to ask about that hadn’t come out of his mind since he heard it.*

Felix: Speakin’ of royal families, how close are ya with the other kingdoms’ children? If they have any, that is.

Hope: Dad mainly deals with the political side of the kingdom so he knows a lot more about them than I do. I’ve met the Whimsain prince Kader and princess Clover before. Clover tends to do public displays of combat in the city which are really cool to watch. I think Kader also likes to wander through Whimsain to speak to his subjects but we haven’t heard much from that kingdom recently. My dad hasn’t mentioned King Regis or Queen Melody for a while so I have no idea what’s going on there.

Hope: I haven’t seen Prince Oswell of the Mechania kingdom for a long time but I know my dad tends to speak with his dads often for trades. I really don’t know much about him. And I wouldn’t know where to start with the royal family of Naaturo. I don’t think many Pokémon know what their deal is but I know they have more than 30 royal children. I think the eldest is called Mira. Could be wrong though. I’ve not met them myself.

Felix: More than 30?!

Hope: You heard me right. Again, that whole family has a weird way of doing things. I’m not sure even dad knows what’s going on but he speaks with Queen Pollen sometimes.

Felix: Ya know, I think I much prefer the Underdark’s system of only havin’ one royal family ta worry about.

I think growing up knowing well that I was autistic, especially growing up in a special education school, traumatized me in ways I’m still finding out about. To know from such an early age that your real self should never be shown to people, because it will cause them to judge you, to scorn you, to isolate you, it can’t be a healthy thing. Every thought and feeling must be filtered, must seem normal. If I don’t seem like a normal, well-adjusted person, what am I worth? Am I even human? Of course I am. But am I? Of course. But I’m still different. I can never not be different. The only thing I can do is pretend that I’m not, pretend that I understand people, pretend that I’m not at all times scared out of my mind that my facade of normalcy might crumble. Pretend that I’m in on the joke. That it’s not at my expense.

When I dropped out of college, I essentially gave up. I admitted that I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t work a normal job, keep to a normal schedule, connect with normal people, seem like a normal person. I was always on the edge between functional and non-functional, and being non-functional won out. So here I am, working a totally abnormal job, and regularly talking to my therapist about the stress I feel from now having to seem like a kind, likeable, functional person to an audience that only ever gets bigger, and scares me out of my mind. Even if my audience would accept the abnormal me, there would be those who would not. It doesn’t take much for a person online to be hated. They come off as arrogant one too many times, they speak out of turn, they’re just a bit too ignorant on a topic. The inevitability of such a thing happening hangs over my head like failing at job interviews used to. The only way to avoid it is to seem normal. To seem like a normal, well-adjusted person. I don’t know how to get away from that stress.

Run ARMY! (Meet Part) a1 d3

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Reader won the opportunity to film a spin off of Run BTS! celebrating the boys return from enlistment, called Run ARMY!, over the course of seven days.

Word Count: 1,095

Notes: Idk if y'all have noticed but I tend to just write scenes I get inspired for and then fill in the blanks for this one lol. Random bits and bobs until I connect them. This part specifically needs some work on the actions and interactions, I think.

Took Inspirations from Run ARMY! series on Tik Tok by _yamanika_ and Guess The Bias! by HelloMyAlien7 on Ao3

Warnings: Reader is p anxious lol Sort of panic attack? Anxiety attack? idk man. Just anxious Reader.

Masterlist Link <3 | Prev Part Link c: | Next Part Link :D

By the time the SUV is pulling into the underground parking garage you’re meeting the band in you’re sweating buckets. Not literally, thank the stars, but you feel near to it. Hannuel smiles kindly at you from the driver’s seat, obviously able to see your nerves. You’re pretty sure a satellite could see your nerves right now.

“You’ll be fine.” She soothes as the car descends. “The boys are super nice, and they’re excited to meet you. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” You suck in a deep breath in response and let it out. It doesn’t help much.

“I’m more nervous about ARMY not liking me than BTS not liking me.” You admit, consciously switching to twisting your rings around so you don't pick at your nails in your anxiety. Having bloody fingers while meeting your favorite band would not be a good look. “Also they intimidate me.” You add quietly.

You hear Hannuel stifle a snicker and your head shoots up to glare at her in affront. She’s supposed to support you, not laugh at you! She must see your mulish stare in the rear-view, because she quickly defends herself.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m not laughing at you, I promise. It’s just that they’re so silly sometimes, it’s hard to find them intimidating after having known them.” You easily concede the point to her. You'd seen enough behind the scenes content to get that impression. It’s a bit soothing to hear from an actual staff member though. “They’re the sweetest, really,” Hannuel continues, “You’ve genuinely got nothing to worry about. They’ll take care of you.”

You groan and let your head thump against the seat. “That’s part of the problem!” You complain, “It’s my first time on this side of a camera, it’s my first time meeting BTS, it’s my first time being in Korea, It’s just a lot! What if ARMY sees me fumbling and the boys helping me and decide they hate me? I can’t be hated by ARMY! I’d die!” You dramatically slump sideways, coincidentally timed with a turn that scootches you that much farther over. Score one for dramatics.

Hannuel laughs gently at you, and you continue somewhat more seriously from your slumped position. “I mean, ARMY is basically my home. I don’t know what I’d do if they hated me.” You murmur into the leather cushion.

Hannuel hums musingly at you and the two of you lapse into silence for a moment.

“Well,” She starts, “First of all, you probably already know that you can never please everyone.” You nod miserably, aware that she could no longer see you. Both your therapist and your friends had told you as much many times. She continues, “But ARMY loves to see the boys interact with other ARMY. It’s another way they get to know them and feel connected. If you ask me, you’ll have more people projecting onto you than judging you. Not that they won’t judge, but” She shrugs, “People always do.”

You slowly sit up and shoot an admiring look at the woman. “Woah,” you mumble, “How are you so wise?”

Hannuel barks out a surprised laugh. “Life experience, mostly.” She replies amusedly.

You settle back into your seat and finally notice that Hannuel had stopped the car before what you assume to be the final turn before the boys would be in view. You feel a rush of gratefulness for her. You hadn’t known her very long, but Hannuel had already been an incredible help and a very soothing presence to you. You should buy her something nice before you leave if you get the chance. See if you can send a gift basket through Hybe for her if you don't.

She starts the car rolling forward again as you reappear in the rear-view mirror, fully over your momentary theatrics. You take another deep breath and let it out again. It helps more this time.

“It’s not like my socials are public or anything either," You soothe yourself aloud, "And my friends already know me, they’re just excited. Everyone else is secondary.”

“Exactly” Hannuel affirms. You jump just a bit and then try to pretend you hadn’t forgotten she could hear you. Luckily, she’s too busy driving the car to notice. “Like I said, you’ll be just fine.”

Unfortunately for Hannuel’s encouraging words, you’d finally rolled close enough for you to spot seven men standing near 3 other SUVs just ahead and you were suddenly incapable of hearing anything anymore.

Static fills your brain as you study them. You register the casual clothes, watch them nudge each other excitedly as they notice your vehicle, even note the camera crew nearby, but not a single thought makes it past the haze of panic. Distantly, you wonder if this is what an adrenaline rush feels like. You suddenly can’t remember.

Your heartbeat thuds in your ears as the car comes to a gentle stop.

You absently bring one hand up to the pulse point under your jaw to measure your pulse and raise the other to your chest to make sure you’re still breathing. Hannuel is repeating instructions for your benefit in the front seat, but you simply cannot engage your brain enough to listen. All too soon she's exiting the car. You manage to tear your hands away from their comforting positions as she comes around and opens your door for you.

Hannuel helps you down as you duck out of the car and gives you a brief sympathetic smile as she takes your trembling hand.

Excited exclamations meet your arrival and you hastily paste confidence over your every mannerism as you lift both hands to wave back with equal excitement. Hannuel is the only one close enough to be able to see your hands continuing to shake, or note the fact that you stop breathing as you approach BTS.

You hope your smile isn't too tight and that you look appropriately excited. Hopefully whatever the cameras are seeing right now can be explained by excitement and reasonable nerves. You'll take your near panic-attack to the nearest private space, thanks.

"Hello! Oh my goodness, hi!" You release your held breath as you great them, first shaking RM's hand as they return your greeting before stepping back and bowing as best you can as you introduce yourself.

This prompts a round of mostly redundant introductions from the members, starting with RM and then continuing down the line until they'd all politely introduced themselves.

You can't quite stop yourself from running your hands through your hair as you take them in.

“Maybe you’re not too much,

maybe they’re just boring.”

- the spirit of Patron Saint of big personalities Lwaxana Troi (the pretend version of her that lives in my head and comforts me when I do socially embarrassing things like express my feelings a little too much.)

I want to make prayer candles of her with this saying on it.

I’m adding it to my list of things I want to make when my body is feeling better ☺️💜

If someone else wants to take the idea and make it first, go for it! I do not currently have the energy for executing these ideas, but I frequently have good ones and it’s a shame that I’m not able to create them myself.

I am working on personal boundaries and I’m hoping to have more time for projects like this.

Until then, just imagine it with me.

And know that every time someone calls you weird, a little Lwaxana comes out and says to you so no one else can hear “you’re amazing darling, they just don’t understand you. They need you to fit into a box so that they can find power in their ability to adhere to normalcy. Be you, that’s your power. Let them think you’re weird, so what. I love you for it, and a lot of other people will too.”

Peoplr judge the idea of having imaginary friends, but I’ve been trying to reparent myself using imaginary representations of different parental figures from my favorite stories.

Many of these are Star Trek characters.

My parents lack the emotional awareness to give me the advice I need to hear, and my brain does not believe things I tell it in my voice.

But if I imagine another character saying those things, particularly one I have an emotional bond with, it is much easier to hear.

My own voice in my head is often cruel - a defense mechanism to justify the way other people have treated me.

I would punish myself for not being able to please other people.

I am trying to unlearn a lot of those thought processes and develop healthier coping mechanisms.

Star Trek helps a lot.

Janeway in particular.

I like watching the series and “imprinting” on the captain like they’re my mom or dad.

Is it weird? Yeah maybe. But it also works for me.

Guinan is another character I often turn to for “advice.”

Sometimes conventional therapy isn’t going to help you because you need to convey the information in a way your brain can understand.

Your therapist isn’t going to tell you what to think.

I use mine as a sounding board and we talk a lot about my coping strategies and whether they are helpful or not.

I love having her as a resource because it gives me the freedom to try off the wall creative exercises and have her as a “safety net” in case I’m actually doing something “crazy.”

Creative people NEED the opportunity to be creative.

Society conditions imagination out of us unless it can be commercialized for profit.

But you can use your imagination to help yourself too.

Your mind is a very powerful tool.

Dark Side

Ya know how there are fanfics you write, fanfics you post, and fanfics you just think about? This is the one I’ve been thinking about lately. I saw a post earlier that reminded me of it so now I wanna talk about it and here we are.

Pairing: Yakuza Therapist!Getou X OC

Word Count: 720

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: violence, blood, gore, death, trauma

Masterlist

Yakuza Therapist!Getou whose client is a tad bit traumatized and uses violence to cope but wants to stop. She has night terrors and sometimes they get so bad she goes to an underground fighting ring with no rules where everything’s handled quietly. 

And she snaps. She tries not to, but every time she goes she ends up killing dozens of people because she can’t/doesn't want to stop.

She gets pretty well known in the ring. People start calling her The Phoenix because of how much blood she sheds. It goes everywhere. By the end, her and the floor have turned red. After the first couple times she goes, they only let volunteers fight her.

Everyone who chooses to go into the ring with her know there’s a very good chance they’ll die, but they also want to be the person to take down The Phoenix. They all die.

And she wants to stop. She doesn’t feel guilty. She knows no one who goes there is innocent. They probably all deserve to die, herself included. But she knows it’s wrong. So she wants to learn a different coping mechanism.

It helps clear her mind. It helps her calm down. But she wants to stop killing people.

So she finds a therapist. One who won’t judge. But of course she’s worried about getting turned in so she’s vague with the details. 

He pushes her and promises he won’t say anything. She doesn’t believe him and keeps her mouth shut.

Until she sees him. In the crowd. After a fight. She’s standing up there, covered head to toe in red, surrounded by bodies. And he’s watching. Thinking, but not judging.

So she finally tells him everything in their next session (he made sure the office was empty apart from them). 

And he asks her why she wants to stop. She doesn’t feel guilty, she obviously enjoys it, and people are willing to fight her, so why stop?

Her only answer is she knows it’s wrong.

Realizing he won’t get anywhere with this approach, he asks her if she’s tried or found anything else that helps. She says sex. He tells her to find a fuck buddy or friend with benefits. She says she’ll try but doesn’t.

One night, she wakes up from another bad one. Covered in sweat, shaking, her chest feels tight. She calls him. He doesn’t pick up. She tries again. No answer. It’s the middle of the night, she figured he’s sleeping and doesn’t want to bother him.

So she goes for a walk to clear her head. And ends up at the warehouse where the ring is held. She has a couple fights, is ready to stop, but then the ‘ref’ (more like an organizer/helper) tells her she has a challenger. She accepts.

And it’s the source of her trauma who steps into the ring with her.

She snaps and obliterates him. It’s been years. Her scars have healed to a silvery white. She’s gotten stronger, faster, smarter. She takes her time. He’s barely recognizable by the time she’s done.

Knowing she’s seconds away from killing everyone in the building, she steps out to the locker room to clean off. But instead she ends up with her hands on the sink, leaned over, thinking to herself ‘don’t snap don’t snap don’t snap.’

Eventually she pulls herself out of it and leaves through the back of the building into the woods. She wanders for a bit until she finds a house in the woods. 

It’s a yakuza safe house. She doesn’t know that, nor is she in the state of mind to care. All she knows is people come out and attack her. (She’s covered in blood and found their hideout, of course they’d be willing to kill her and dump her body in the woods)

And then she snaps. And wipes them out.

Once they’re all dead and she’s standing in the middle of the carnage, she realized what she did. Worried about getting caught, she finds alcohol and gasoline and burns down the house.

She wanders the woods for a bit until she finds a small, shallow river. The deepest part reaches her chest. She strips down and washes off, making sure to get all the blood out of her hair and clothes.

And finally Getou calls her back.

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

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starting an o.ff fic teehee a little bit of it below haha

Excerpt from Sugar Cats News, circa 1961:

“Last night, West Bismark, known baseball protege and model, Valentin Vader aka “The Batter”, was arrested after bludgeoning and  beating small-time crook, Everett Smirk. Mr.Smirk was presumably caught trespassing by Vader, and subsequently beaten as a result. Local police had little to comment, but our reporters managed to grab the excerpt listed below:

“”It’s sadistic is what it is, playing judge and jury like that. Noone should extend the hand of the law with their own. Mr.Smirk should be alive tonight.””

Mrs.Vader, otherwise known as Eloha Vader, and her son Hugo were seen cowering in the doorway as Valentin was taken away. Readers, I can only imagine how shaken they must be, how frightening it is to know your own husband and father turned out to be a bloodthirsty killer. My condolences for this broken family. May justice come down on Mr.Vader the same way he did on his victim(s?).”

Damn ‘em, damn them to shit and fire and hell-

“I’d stop yanking on those cuffs of yours, Mr. Vader. You’re supposed to have calmed down by now. Imagine what the bosses will say.” Says that therapist who’s been so goddamned coy from the start. Valentin yanks again, then goes into a slouch.

“They hurt my wrists.” 

“They’re cuffs, what did you expect? Take the medicine, act happy, no more cuffs; Just like promised.” He slides the accursed bottle to the front of his desk and gestures at it. “They aren’t going to let you just do what you want, you know?” He says. Valentin thinks he’s fighting off a smile, but if he says that he’ll just… get the drugs doubled, or something. 

“They hurt my head.” 

“You barely take them, of course-”

“They make me dizzy and they make me tired. I can’t take ‘em.” He retorts.

 They’ve had this argument before, and they’ll have it again if no one understands that they hurt him-

“ We aren’t changing them, Mr.Vader. Not until there is improvement-” The therapist is cut off as Valentin yanks on the cuffs hard and loud. “-and until you can get it together.” He leans back in his stuffy chair and crosses his stuffy arms. 

“That’s the deal, that’s the situation. Like it, or no more stardom; nothing.” He spits some on the ‘th’. “Now, I’m going to give you these, and you’re going to get-”

Valentin rubs his wrists as he strolls down the desolate sidewalk. Why couldn’t he be sent somewhere nice… maybe Joas. Joas would have hedges and at the least, street lamps that didn’t flicker. 

But no.

He’s in Vesper and he’s being thrown around by Enoch’s men like cats do a bird, and he’s going to keep being thrown around until he can’t stand. 

Damn ‘em to shit and fire and whatever else they’d hate.

Valentin turns the bottle around in his hand, over and over. Maybe the next time he read the label it’d be different and the pills inside wouldn’t make his stomach turn sour… maybe the next corner he turned would be to his house, to his wife and kid. 

But no.

His kid is sick in some high quality hospital and his wife is in a different house that she won’t tell him about. Few months makes a hell of a difference; press isn't on his tail, his wife and child are off places unknown, and he’s getting on a train to an empty house. 

“Hey, I know you from somewhere, don’t I?” 

Valentin grits his teeth and shifts his head towards the voice. If it’s another brown nosing reporter, he swears he’ll lose it. 

“Zacharie?” Relief. A friend in this hell.

Valentin met Zacharie at agame of his in ‘57. He was leaving through the back and Zacharie was selling half priced, off brand baseball cards to eager spectators. They must’ve gotten along because of their propensity for illegality.

“One and the same. How’s life? I’m gonna pretend your face hasn’t been plastered on every wall and crevice there is.” He says. 

“Anyone normal wouldn’t say that.” He quips. 

“Luckily for you and I,” Zacharie grabs the handrail, hand just below Valentin’s. “I’m not.” 

“Luckily.” He replies. The tram shakes. “So what are you doing, talking to a murderer.” 

“Alleged, dear Valentin, alleged.”

“Alleged.” He won’t disagree now, Zacharie’s the only friendly… well mask he’s seen in some time. Zacharie wore a strange mask for as long as Valentin could remember. Maybe he should think about wearing one too; it’d help with the ‘paparazzi’ at least.

“I happen to be on my way home. You know how the wife gets, not home by sundown and I'll come home to a walloping.” He says, shrugging. “I just thought you could use some company, since it's some time to Bismark, friend. If you’ll let me leave here alive, that is.” He breathes a laugh, and looks at Valentin for any reaction. Valentin remains stoic, but his tone turns icy cold. 

“It’s best that we don’t talk too much. Leave the air some space.” He replies, his jaw tensing along with his grip on the rail. Zacharie raises his hand in apology.

“Too soon.” He says.

They stand in silence, the only noise coming from the tracks and the jingling jangling of Zacharies bag on his back. A small vanilla card drops to the floor, Valentin does not alert him and Zacharie does not seem to be aware of his loss.. They are friends, Valentin thinks, but they are not friendly. Not now. 

The train slows, stops, and sits impatiently for its two passengers. Zacharie walks away and Valentin follows. He stops to pick up the card and pockets it, Zacharie probably wanted him to take it. 

Probably. Most Likely. 

They’ve stepped off, shaken hands, and separated before he reads the card. 

SUGAR CATS NEWS

News for keeps.

He sneers and rips it. Of course Zacharie reads that crap. Of course he was there for giggles and shits. He’s huffing and puffing all the way to his house before he’s calmed down enough to realize that everyone’s read Hip Cats schlock. It’s the only news source the, damn them to hell and whatnot, guardians hadn’t shut down. Forlorn now, he walks up to the darkened doorway. 

Here’s to tomorrow. 

Yesterday was better. His head ached and his limbs felt funny. He knew this was all he got to expect for the next forever; no one was going to listen to him complain. 

Steven & Mr. Knight

Lunar sys au character cards | Read all chapters on ao3

‘Mate, I’m not gonna lie, everything time you tell me about what you do as Moon Knight I want to imminently text our therapist but I know everything you do is technically illegal and we would get sent straight to jail,’ Steven says, examining at himself in the mirror, running his fingers over all the newly acquired battle scars. Steven is starting to suspect that Khonshu is getting lazy with healing the body as a middle finger to Marc and himself. 

Mr. Knight had just finished giving Steven a download of everything he did, sparing no bloody details for ‘transparency sake.’ It was something Marc and Steven disagreed on; if Marc takes control of the body after Mr. Knight, he does not want to know about ‘any of Khonshu bullshit’ while Steven refuses to stay in the dark. 

‘Yes, well, protecting the travelers of the night does not conform well within the confines of the law,’ Mr. Knight states.  

‘What exactly is your justification? I thought you were all by the books and all,’ Steven asks, raising a brow at that comment.

‘I do adhere to pre-established set rules, however, those rules don’t always align with ‘the law.’ I am not opposed to bending rules if it's for the greater good,’ Steven sighs. This justification seemed to be the common response for all vigilantes. Despite what others may think, Steven isn’t naive. He knows that the system itself is corrupt, that racism and discrimination against the powerless have built the foundation of society, that money speaks louder than the truth. Steven didn’t even need to be a brown, Jewish, autistic man with mental illness to see it. So maybe an outsider is able to fill the gaps of injustice. 

But even since Steven found out they were back in Khonshu servitude, the ethics and morality of being a vigilante pondered in his head. It had been easy when he was roped into all the bullshit with Harrow and Ammit because of course genocide and eugenics are bad. Again, he didn’t need to be indigenous, Jewish, autistic, and mentally ill to come to that conclusion. But is he naive enough to believe that what they’re doing when they’re wearing that mask is for the great good? That Khonshu, being a god of justice, can fairly judge a human for their sins. Are they preventing further harm or are they just contributing to the endless cycle of violence? Are they even acting out of their own free will or has the bond to Khonshu been written in the stars?

‘Very utilitarianist of you,’ Steven groans. 

‘Are you opposed to my methods?’ 

‘Well, I don’t exactly appreciate that every time you return the body to us it feels like it’s gone through a meat grinder. Or that you stole my look. I guess my reservations are what your exact motives are. Are you really in it to protect people?’

‘It’s a benefit,’ a benefit? Steven stops, looks up to meet his reflection in the mirror. 

‘And your main drive is…?’

‘I enjoy it,’ Mr. Knight answers with a smile. 

Hello!! I was wondering what harry potter houses do you think the pokemon characters would be in and why?? I’m specifically interested in ur opinion on our coordinating family, harley, solidad, may and drew :) (they’re my favs lol) but also please include other characters that ur heart desires!! It would be fun to hear all ur opinions and sorting choices!! :) I hope you have a wonderful day!!

So, the timing of this is a little odd since I just finished digitally flipping off a terf. By answering this I am NOT CONDONING JK ROWLING'S ACTIONS OR THE PROBLEMATIC UNDERTONES (and overtones tbh) OF THE HARRY POTTER BOOKS. Out of respect and appreciation for anon, and since this is a valid question that can help us analyze the characters which I love to do, I want us to behave in the tags and donate to trans charities if you can. Alright. Anon this is NOT to judge you lol!!! I just want to make it clear that I appreciate your question and had fun answering it but I also recognize the timing of answering a harry potter related question after telling a terf to fuck off. I did read the books and was temporarily in the fandom, though, so with all of that out of the way, here's my opinions! :)

I think May is a Gryffindor leaning hufflepuff. She's a people person who is emotionally intuitive, but more than that she's adventurous and seeks new experiences. She's pretty cut and dry to me, but there is room for debate. I say she's a griffinpuff. I don't have much else to say about her, actually-she's adventurous and a social butterfly, and maybe a little more gryffindor in her motivations and more hufflepuff in her disposition. But where hufflepuffs rely on their own hard work, May prefers to leave things up to chance and luck-a very gryffindor trait.

Solidad is a prety easy hufflepuff to me. Her drive is helping other people. She wants to do what she can to make others feel listened to and to help people understand eachother. She loves to give advice and I think she gets fulfillment out of that. She works ahrd and will do what she thinks is right, even if it involves CLEARLY, CANONICALLY AND BLATANTLY putting someone's crush on full blast in front of other people. She'd be a great therapist if not for the HIPPAA violations.

Drew stumped me for a bit. He's a deep thinker who I imagine is always in his head, strategizing and overthinking like a ravenclaw. But he's ambitious and independent like a slytherin. Also green. He pushes himself and his pokemon hard, often to the brink. He's calculated-but not in a cold way, just a thinker. He softens up to people after a while, but it takes a while for him to thaw out. He isn't trusting and he's suspicious-a direct contrast to May's naivety, both regarding Harley. Because of that, I think I'll go slytherin but again, room for debate. Slytherclaw or whagtever it's called, don't remember the mixed names and I don't care to look it up.

Harley.... bet y'all thought I was going to go slytherin, didn't you? Nope! Ravenclaw. Hear me out. He schemes. He plans. He manipulates and plays with people. Socially, he's incredibly intuitive and has an uncanny ability to pinpoint what makes people tick-and an ability to exploit that efficiently. He cares about individuality and being genuine to himself, showing great amounts of interpersonal and intrapersonal intuition and knowledge. He is incredibly good at setting up dominoes in a way that they'll fall in his favor-he can think things out with foresight. And those are all really big ravenclaw traits!

As for other coordinators, I don't remember enough of DP to give as deep an analysis, but Dawn is either hufflepuff or ravenclaw, Conway is ravenclaw or slytherin, Zoey is slytherin or gryffindor and kenny is a hufflepuff!

rants

I’m going to be ranting on here often. I have no one to text or talk to besides my fill in therapist I don’t even tell shit to.

Today I found out my ex bsf has a bf. So what? Good for her right? yes, but why do I find myself envying her. Envying her life. Wishing it was me in her place. She glowed up, has many friends, and even a bf now.

Schools coming up. I’m stressed about this upcoming fall. I can feel myself spiral back into my old mindset. I’m already judging myself “ am I ugly? Am I not “ How do I make it stop? idk.

So, I did my makeup. To feel better. To see if I feel pretty with makeup on. I took pictures.. they all came out horribly. The inverted filter doesn’t do me justice. I always get compliments in person though so what does this mean? I’m very confused. I can’t tell. I find myself the ugliest person to exist. I don’t know how people genuinely find me pretty. Maybe they’re lying ?

Afterwards, I went on a walk to clear my mind. I had my new headsets on blast walking with my broken phone. I saw a old couple with their dog walking and all I could think in my head was “ keep walking, don’t look, “ I felt anxious walking around them. Felt like all eyes were on me when they probably weren’t. I hate this feeling. I just want to be pretty.

I came home.. and brought my cat to my room for emotional support. Instead, she meowed to leave my room. How sad. I let her out, closed the blinds and lights and put lil peep sad mix on. I finally cried. Bawled my eyes out because I just want to feel pretty and loved. I want friends, I want to be outgoing, I want to feel happy.

As I’m listening to lil peep I get the urge to smoke it away. I’m 29 days clean. I shouldn’t throw it all away but it’s tempting. I get the urge to relapse on sh. But, I hate my old scars… I don’t think it will stop me though. Maybe I should get into a idgaf mindset.

Tbh, fuck it. I think I’m going to delete every social media I have. Yes, including tiktok. I need to work on self love. Of course I am beautiful. I have beautiful big eyes, long lashes and full lips. Idk. I feel lost in this world.

I thought I was feeling better honestly. I’ve been doing my morning routine and going on walks. Constantly doing things to get myself together. Decorated my half of my room and even worked out yesterday after a long time. But why do I feel sad today?!

UGH. what is this universe. I should listen to self-help YouTube videos. I just hate watching long videos. But, I’ll do it. I’m deleting social media after this and I’m going to only consume helpful content for a week. At least I have art next school year. It will help me relax and get back into my drawing habits :)

I am loved. I am happy. I can overcome this feeling. I am worth it. I am beautiful.

As I’m saying affirmations 5 degrees come on and I feel sad 😭😢 I changed the song to talk dirty by Jason druelo. Blasting it in my headset. I feel better already.

Yes I am pretty. Yes I’m going to make friends. Be positive sista. WHAT YOU SPEAK ABOUT YOURSELF WILL ALWAYS BE BROUGHT TO REALITY!!! Pinterest is going to be my main focus. Creating a self concept and a vision board asap tomorrow.

Worth it by 5th harmony came on Fr feeling myself 😫😫 period I feel better lol I’m a bad bitch idgaf anyone who gets to know me is special. I’m a amazing person. Going to mediate now and take my makeup off eat brush floss grow eyebrows & then sleep by 10:00 sharp !! ( hopefully )

Bye loves

little vent

i can't even go to school without ending criying in fear because people are perceiving me, i can't stand all those eyes, and when i get home i just cry even more because i know i humiliate myself there

and making friends is so hard, and finding people is even more hard, and keeping friends is... even even more hard

i can't do this, i'm triying so hard... aah...

(don't feel forced to answer if you don't want to ofc!)

tw: school ⚠️⚠️

hey anon, i had a similar experience at school. it was so scary all the time.

schools are a haven for social anxiety especially because you’re being watched All The Time. 

am so sorry you’re going through this. but you can get through it. take care. 🌹🌹

sorry, this is going to be an obscenely long reply. you don’t have to read it all. i just need it out there. because the reason i started this blog to help people who went through what i did in school. back then, i wanted there to be some secret alliance of quiet and bullied kids. i wanted someone to show me how to survive those years, and i was counting the days. 

my social anxiety at school got so bad i couldn’t look up from the floor or desk ever. and yeah i cried a lot too. felt so vulnerable like no-one was safe to be around. didn’t want to be counted in things. every new ‘activity’ in lessons caused a spike in fear because it could be a group project or i could be asked to speak or read something out. 

tw: bulling ⚠️⚠️ (skip to ‘other ways to cope’.)

most people were cruel because of the culture of bullying, and any niceness just looked like either pity or a trick ( i can’t read people well, and there also was a lot of that psychological bullying - you know where they pretend to be nice and then laugh for no reason, just to make you feel like shit). 

had friends but lost them because isolated myself because social anxiety convinced me that they hated me because i couldn’t talk to them (those friends were nice; it was a cognitive distortion). 

being friendless at school is a survival game. and it is often traumatising. i want you to know that it is not your fault. 

🌹 if you’re bullied, it is not your fault. 

🌹 if you have no friends, it is not your fault. 

🌹 if you’re anxious or scared, it is not your fault. 

it may not be because you’re not trying enough; it might just be because of a shit school system which systematically traumatises the mentally ill and/or neurodivergent. 

i’d look into finding or asking for a quiet room you can go to when overwhelmed or anxious, or just to be alone knowing oif they won’t provide it (my school used to kick loners out of empty classrooms during lunch, because “they shouldn’t be there unsupervised” (when really they were just there because they would be bullied in the canteen). 

other than that i don’t have much advice. i didn’t cope in good ways. 

tw: therapy mention ⚠️⚠️

hid in the toilets and got traumatised by the fact i had to hide. many people refuse school (which is not something i advise. but fuck any place or people that makes you cry from fear). meds and therapy might help if they’re an option. 

🌹🌹🌹other ways to cope: 

headphones, especially ear defenders and / or ones that can blast music to distract you. 

when i was in school i had long long fringe, covered my peripheral vision, and that helped with fear of being perceived because otherwise i would constantly have to look around to see if anyone was looking or laughing at me. it’s kind of a ‘if you can’t see them, they can’t see you’ fallacy. 

grounding techniques. wish i’d known these. because i just dissociated out my head. 

please don’t hate yourself. i know that that is often impossible. had a therapist once who asked me “what are you scared they’ll see, when they look at you?” turns out the root of my fear was that they would see something weak, vulnerable, laughable, small; something to be humiliated and judged and hurt. (stemmed from childhood traumas including bullying). that therapist told me to ask myself: “what kind of person would judge you like that, would see you as worthless or funny or broken?” the answer is: only the cruelest, most insidious person in the world. you understand? when you have a small flame of self-worth, the judgement reflects badly on the judger, not you. 

what are Good things you would like people to see when they look at you. maybe you’re brave, or kind, or you have cool hair or nails. in school had punk hair that i got bullied for, but it was a source of pride. pride is an absolute good. there were times it actually made me Want to be seen.

calming grounding things that you can associate respectively with going to school and leaving school (i listened to the same song on the way out every day. i changed into my comfy hoodie, and it made me feel free and safe again. 

oh and when i left school for good, like finished my final year, i left them a “thank you” if you could call it that. it was actually a framed sheet of paper containing details of the bullying and how the teachers (general) ignored it. the note told them to do better. i hope that school is safer now. but the system needs to change. 

🌹🌹🌹

6/3/23

the rocd has been really intense lately, ever since i went to rawl’s wedding. i just kept comparing justin to everyone else there, feeling like ppl were judging him and me. that he wasn’t good enough. that he’s not attractive enough. tall enough. it’s made me go through a spiral, and when i told my therapist about it, she said to remember that these are just thoughts. that i’m not a bad person or partner for thinking these things. i need to continue to separate my thoughts from reality, bc just because i think them, that doesn’t mean they’re true. it’s kinda a weird concept, bc you would think whatever you think is the truth. btu not with ocd.

the thing is, your thoughts become your reality. you can make them into your reality, even when they’re skewed and NOT reality. and that’s where i need to learn to not make these horrible thoughts my reality. im trying to work on being more compassionate towards myself. that i shouldnt keep thinking to myself how horrible of a person and partner i am for thinking these things. i know that in a lot of ways, i am unlearning a lot of what i grew up hearing. that it’s a cycle of superficiality and this need to please that stems from my mom, childhood, and just my culture in general. 

if im happy with justin, which i am, then these intrusive thoughts don’t need to break our relationship. that the endless comparison, thoughts of him not being good enough don’t need to tear something beautiful that we have apart. bc he and i do have something real and beautiful. i know i take it for granted, bc we’ve been together for almost 10 years. its crazy! longer than so many relationships and marriages. but justin is my rock. he is truly a wonderful partner... he never stresses me out, gaslights me, or really, makes me unhappy. sure there are things he can do to be a BETTER partner, but as is, he is quite wonderful. makes me laugh, cleans, pays for things. im always in my own head, making up all these weird scenarios. ppl judging him when they meet him. its why i avoid introducing him to friends or ppl he has never met before, and why i feel ok with him being around existing friends. but it shouldnt matter what ppl think, even if they feel that way. and who’s to say they even feel that way? everyone who’s ever met justin knows he’s a great guy. even mom came around and really sees that.

when i looked up ocd, it said that i need to become comfortable sitting iwth my anxiety and know that it will pass. ahran and her bf, i do kinda get jealous seeing their pics, hes tall, good looking, etc. but i know it doesnt really matter in the grand scheme of things. why compare? im trying ot be compassionate to myself. i know i compare because a lot of it is engrained in my upbringing from mom. thats what she did, and it really just stuck with me i guess. veronna said the same. but she told me to be kind to myself in this process too. i am unlearning and trying to break the cycle of doing these things, and i guess thats something to be proud of. 

i have rocd. and itll be ok. one day at a time, ill overcome it. i need to start to become confident in my choice of partner and who i am. not think that justin is extension of who i am or what i am. hes his own person, and so am i. we’re good for each other, i know we are. thats what matters.

5/15/2023 DAB Chronological Transcription

2 Samuel 13 - 15

Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible Chronological, I'm China. Today is the 15th day of May, welcome. So good to be here with you today. Now it is good to be here with you today, but I will go ahead and tell you I am not excited about today's reading. There are three scriptures that I personally really would just rather skip and not read them because is they're just heavy and they're weighty and they're lofty and they're just uncomfortable. First one is the story of Lott's daughters raping their father. And then the second one is the story of Dinah at Shekham. And then today it's Amnon and tamar. I do not like reading these stories. They're very difficult. I try to be as sensitive as I possibly can because I realize, like, I'm recording this and reading this now. But you are listening to this at any point in your day, and there's a potential that really any given scripture could bring up something in you that you're like, oh, ouch, or you are like, I'm going to go call my therapist or I'm going to go seek one out. And today is one of those readings that it just makes me so uncomfortable and it's so heavy, it's so hard. So I just want to kind of give like a forewarning. If you're not familiar with this story, it's very similar to the other two that I described. Now, I believe that God is a God of justice and God is a God who knows how to judge. And so if this brings up something maybe similar in your story, I just want to say I'm so sorry I don't have the correct tools and words to be able to guide you through that, but I sincerely hope that you seek out healing if you haven't already. And that if after today's reading you need to just do something for yourself and to be with the Lord, that is okay. Like, I definitely just give you permission for that. So today we are in the book of Second Samuel with chapters 13 through 15, and we are in the Evangelical Heritage Version. Commentary

So a really horrific beginning to this story. Really terrible, awful horrific. So to kind of summarize what all that we just read is not, I don't even have the words for what is going on with him. I truly believe you are probably not in your right mind if you are desiring someone in your family to the point where you are trying to conspire how to get them to sleep with you. And what I say by right mind is I don't know what that's like. I don't know. I don't know if they have some sort of mental illness or if they have just crazy, wicked desire. I don't know. I don't know what that's like, I don't know what it's like to be in that mind of a person. It would be easier for me to say that this is the label, this is what happens in the brain of someone, but I don't know. But gosh, it is grueling, it is disgusting, and it is evil and it is vile. And so he gets someone to conspire with him. It gets him an idea in his head, and he decides to play sick. He convinces David he's sick, says that he needs a sister to take care of him. Sister goes in there. We read what happens. And so she comes out, she's weeping, she tears her robe, which is a sign that something happened, especially because the scripture tells us that these long, beautiful robes were worn by the king's virgin daughters. And so to see someone in these robes with them torn and crying with ashes on their head, I think you can quickly put two and two together. And so Absalom is very quickly like, hey, don't tell anybody about this. We're going to get this sorted out. And I have such a hard time with this because I don't know why in his heart or in his mind. I don't know if he just was like, I'm going to take care of this. Just let me figure out how, or if he thought, it's not going to get taken care of the right way or no one's going to believe I don't know what his thought process is. And we're left with very little detail. But then King David hears about all these things, and he was very angry. That's it. So now we have two people who know the story and are doing nothing. Absalom did not speak with him on at all. Either anything bad or good happened. Absalom hated him on because of what happened to his sister, and then that's it. Two years pass. Now, that is again, I'm not a therapist or I'm not going to try to claim to be someone who knows how to guide anybody through this, but that is such a long time to be silenced and to be told by someone, especially a family member, don't tell anyone about this. He's your brother. Don't take this matter to heart, which is, oh, gosh, it's silencing. And she doesn't get to tell her story. She doesn't get to say what happens to her. And I don't know what the culture and the time of this would have been like. Again, I don't know. Would it have been because she wouldn't have been believed? Would it? Because something would have fallen on her? I'm not sure. I don't know culturally what was going on. But I do know that this is not okay. Two years go by before anything happens. Her brother knows about it. Her father knows about it. Nothing is done. So two years passed. Absalom as we find out later in the scripture that Absalom has basically been conspiring for two years to try to figure out how to take revenge on his brother. And so he basically is like, let's get him drunk. And then at that point, we're going to kill him on my command. And so he kills them. Sorry. Absalom kills Amnon. And Absalom flees. He's gone. Probably because he knows that wasn't the right way to handle it. And it wasn't up to Absalom to have justice for Tamar or like, this wasn't his to handle, and he wasn't Amnon's judge, if that makes sense. I understand his anger and his actions. Like, I can understand them. That doesn't make them correct. So in my personal unprofessional opinion, I'm just breaking down the story. So then we see that Joab, he knew that the heart of the king was attached to Absalom, basically, that he really loves him. Absalom's gone. He's fled. He's fleeing to all these different places. And David's mourning his son Amnon. And he also had some confusing news about all of his sons are dead, but actually it's just one son. So then Joeb is conspiring, and he's like, how do I basically get these two to talk to each other? How do I get them back to being in relationship? And so he hires this woman, or maybe not hires, he kind of instructs and forces her to go and be manipulative and deceiving to King David. And so then David, she says exactly what Joab tells her. David's like, okay, fine, whatever also is this Joab doing? And she's basically like, yeah. So Absalom comes back. He does not see the king. David tells him like, he is not to see me face to face. So Absalom goes to his own house. He did not see the king and talks about how attractive Absalom is. And now he has sons. He has a daughter. He names his daughter Tamar, which is clearly he's very disturbed by all of this. And this is years have passed. This is now maybe four, five years later, and he is still trying to wrestle with this. And anyways, so just continuing on the story, he tries to get Joab to come to him and kind of work for him as a messenger job's. Like, no, he doesn't respond to it. And so Absalom sets his fields on fire. And then the king summons Absalom. He goes to the king. He bowed down with his face to the ground and kissed Absalom. That's it. That's the only bit that we have of their interaction together. And then it goes into Absalom. He's filled with all kinds of emotions, all sorts of rage. And he's saying, I wish someone would make me a judge in the land. Then everyone who has a legal issue or needs a judgment could come to me and I would give him justice. This sentence right here tells me that Absalom feels somewhat responsible for what happened to his sister or he's taking responsibility. I don't think that that was his responsibility to take on. I do think that he was wrong in saying, keep quiet about this. He comes up with a plan two years later, kills his brother and then leaves. And so now he's saying, someone should just make me a judge in the land, because what I have to say, my judgment is going to be great and my judgment is sound. I'm going to give the people justice. And this is typically a cry for help, that someone is hurting and that they are feeling what is the word they're feeling? Shame and remorse. And this is just my best guess. Best guesses. I don't know that this is fact, but I do know this story is so heavy and it's so weighty. And so four years later, Absalom says to the king, please let me go. Let me go to where I have fulfilled so I can go fulfill my vow to which I've made to the Lord. Because when I was in Gesher, I was better off. And I said to the Lord, if the Lord really wanted me to return to Jerusalem, I will serve the Lord. The king releases them and he goes. But Absalom sends agents throughout all the tribes of Israel, saying, when you hear the son of the rams horn, you are to say Absalom is king. And hebron so he's trying to take on some sort of power and some sort of leadership because he thinks that he deserves this. And so he overtakes Hebron, and David gets word of this and he says, we got to flee. We got to go, because this is not going to end well for us and he's not going to leave any of us behind. So they leave. He flees, and there's great grief and mourning throughout their travel. This story is so just messy and so awful, and we never hear anymore of what happens to Tamar. It's like a weird start to a story. And all of this is because of Absalom's feelings about this and how they go unresolved and then what that does to him over his life and over the course of all of these years. And so, as you can probably guess, tomorrow we'll be in the Psalms and we'll hear David's heart cries about his feelings about this. And man, it's like so hard to try to wrap this up and try to land this. The story is awful. I hate reading it. It makes me uncomfortable. It makes me sad or Tamar. It makes me sad for the fact that the focus came off of her and she didn't, to my knowledge. And the story doesn't really say, like, there's no this wasn't justice, this wasn't healing. This was Absum taking things into his own hands because he was the first one to see her afterwards. And I don't know what that does to someone. I mean, I've I've had friends who've confided and stories very similar like this with me and it makes me it filled me with rage and it still makes me feel fill with rage and want to do something. But I also know that I'm not the judge. I'm not the one who gets to sentence or convict or any of those things that the Lord does. It's not me. And sometimes I've said those same exact things that Absalom has said where I wish I could. I wish that I would be made a judge because I'd be a great one, because I have excellent plans of how things should be carried out. But that's not always the truth. We don't always know how to best handle things. And we clearly see in my personal opinion, Absalom didn't handle this the right way. And I think he carried a lot of guilt and shame and remorse. And I think we really see it through his actions and over whatever it is, like five or seven years of his life. And so I just want to say maybe that's you maybe you can relate to this story in some light. And I just want to say I'm so sorry. I hope that you receive the peace that you deserve, the healing that you deserve. I hope that you can really find some professional help that is spirit led and faith based that can really guide you in some inner healing. Of just asking Jesus where he was during those moments and getting to see where he was and Him revealing to you actually how he is caring for you and even if you can't see enough, feels weird, it feels crazy. I promise he's going to show up for you in those moments and maybe you feel like you can relate to something like Absalom where someone confide in you and you took matters into your own hands and now you're paying for the ramifications of that. I feel like that is heavy and weighty. And I just want to remind you, friend, it's not ours to carry. It's not ours to try to figure out, and it's not ours to avenge or ours to seek out justice. The Lord says that he will do all that for us. And I know that that feels that brings a sense of almost helplessness and like, what am I supposed to do? Ask the Lord and he'll show you. He'll show you how to be a friend or a caring person in those situations. And if not that, you can just validate and offer and encourage them to seek out some professional help for some healing because everybody is worthy of that. And Jesus came and paid the price for that. And so I just want to close the prayer and just kind of end after that. Prayer

Father. I thank you for your word. As crazy as there are of days where I read things and I'm like, Lord, why? Why is this in the Bible? Why did this stuff happen? God, I oddly enough, thank you because somebody resonates with this. This is either bringing things up and can lead to a place of healing or God, there's healing already taking place. And I thank you, that you are God who heals. You're a God who cares about his people, you are a God who knows when enough is enough. And you are a God who knows when to rescue. You're a God who knows when to save. And I thank you that you would reveal those things to Your people who have been victims of abuse of any kind. Lord, I just pray that resources for professional help, productive healing, those resources would come to mind or just come into their pathways, that they would seek that out and that they would find You God and that healing would really begin to take place, that restoration would really begin to settle in their lives. And, Lord, I just thank you. That that comes from you. And I pray God, that we would be good stewards of Your presence, that we would really just hear from the Holy Spirit when those conversations are brought to us. If someone does confide in us, Lord, that we wouldn't be someone who tells them to be silenced, that we wouldn't silence them, we would hear them, listen to them, and Holy Spirit, that you would guide us in what our next step is that you'd stand guard over our mouth, stand guard over our hearts. And I thank you that we can trust you. And I thank you that we have you. We're not left to do any of this on our own. This in Your name we pray, amen. Community Prayer Line

Good morning, this is Cynthia in upstate New York. I just wanted to share praise, report that some of you prayed for me. I had cataract surgery and then I have dystrophy, so my eyes were not healing as well as they should have. But I'd like to say that they are healing and they are doing much better. So I do thank you for your prayers. I wanted to pray for also two people that asked for prayer on Sunday, May 7. One was for a lady in the UK, I don't remember her name, but her sister is having a surgery, a very specialized surgery in Qatar and I just wanted to pray for her and I wanted to say, Jesus, we first thank you for all that you do for us each and every day. But we ask for prayer today for our sister in the UK that will be having specialized surgery in Qatar. Lord, you are the great physician and you can touch her. You can touch them and you can heal her. Lord, we just ask that the prayer goes smoothly, we ask for wisdom to the doctors and that you are able to correct whatever the issue is with her body and we ask for complete healing in Jesus name. And I'd also like to pray for the woman whose husband he's looking for work and he's not able to find anything. And she just sounded very down and she did say she was desperate. And Lord, I just ask that you come to this family, Lord, and help him to not only find work, but to find the perfect job for him. Find something where he can thrive and he will flourish and just help to put a song back into the heart of his wife so that she will also praise you, Lord, and thank you every day for what you are doing. I just ask for just uplift this family and just give them hope where it just sounds like right now it sounds like they have none. But Lord, you can touch them. You can help bring that back into their lives and their hearts, but I just ask for prayer for them in Jesus name and thank you. DABC chronological family. You guys are amazing. Amen.

TEEHEE

Excerpt from Sugar Cats News, circa 1961:

“Last night, in West Bismark, known baseball protege and part-time model, Valentin Vader aka “The Batter”, 52, was arrested after bludgeoning and  beating small-time crook, Everett Smirk. Mr.Smirk was presumably caught trespassing by Vader, and subsequently beaten as a result. Local police had little to comment, but our reporters managed to grab the excerpt listed below:

“”It’s sadistic is what it is, playing judge and jury like that. Noone should extend the hand of the law with their own. Mr.Smirk should be alive tonight.””

Eloha Vader, 55, and their son , Hugo, were seen cowering in the doorway as Valentin was taken away by local police. Readers, I can only imagine how shaken they must be, how frightening it is to know your own husband and father turned out to be a bloodthirsty killer. My condolences for this broken family. May justice come down on Mr.Vader the same way he did on his victim(s?).”

Damn them, damn them damn them damn-

“I’d stop yanking on those cuffs of yours, Mr. Vader. You’re supposed to have calmed down by now. Imagine what the bosses will say.” Says that therapist who’s been so goddamned coy from the start, dressed to the nines while Valentins had to sport wife beaters and pants you can barely fit anything into.

He yanks again, the chair he’s chained to practically lifts. He goes into a slouch then, tries to curl up like some dead spider under a couch

“They hurt my wrists.” 

“They’re cuffs and you’re yanking on them like some animal, what do you expect? Take the medicine, act happy, no more cuffs; just like promised.” He slides the accursed bottle to the front of his desk and gestures at it. “They aren’t going to let you just do what you want, you know?” He says. Valentin thinks he’s fighting off a smile, but if he says that he’ll just… get the drugs doubled, or something. 

“They hurt my head.” 

“You barely take them, of course-”

“They make me dizzy and they make me tired. I can’t take ‘em.” He retorts. His free hand dips and bows in the air for emphasis.

 They’ve had this argument before, and they’ll have it again if no one understands that they hurt him.

“ We aren’t changing them, Mr.Vader. Not until there is improvement-” The therapist is cut off as Valentin yanks hard on the cuff. The chair scuffs the floor. “-and until you can get it together.” He leans back in his stuffy chair and crosses his stuffy arms. 

“That’s the deal, that’s the situation. Like it, or no living freely; nothing.” He spits some on the ‘th’. “Now, I’m going to give you these, and you’re going to get-”

Valentin rubs his wrists as he strolls down the desolate sidewalk. Why couldn’t he be sent somewhere nice… maybe Joas. Joas would have hedges and at the very least, street lamps that lit the damn sidewalk.

But no.

He’s in Vesper and he’s being thrown around by Enoch’s men like cats do a bird, and he’s going to keep being thrown around until he can’t stand. 

Damn them to shit and fire and whatever else they’d hate.

Valentin turns the bottle around in his hand, over and over. Maybe the next time he read the label it’d be different and the pills inside wouldn’t make his stomach turn sour… maybe the next corner he turned would be to his house, to his wife and kid. 

But no.

His kid is sick in some high quality hospital and his wife is in a different house that she won’t tell him about. Few months makes a hell of a difference; press isn't on his tail, his wife and child are off places unknown, and he’s getting on a train to an empty house. 

“Hey, I know you from somewhere, don’t I?” 

If it’s another brown nosing reporter, he swears he’ll lose it. He breathes in deep and shifts his head.

“Zacharie?” Relief. A friend in this hell.

Valentin met Zacharie at agame of his in ‘57. He was leaving through the back and Zacharie was selling half priced, off brand baseball cards to eager spectators. They must’ve gotten along because of their propensity for illegality.

“One and the same. How’s life? I’m gonna pretend your face hasn’t been plastered on every wall and every wall’s crevice there is.” He says. 

“Anyone normal wouldn’t say that.” He quips. 

“Luckily for you and I,” Zacharie grabs the handrail, hand just below Valentin’s. “I’m not.” 

“Lucky us.” He replies. The tram shakes. “What are you doing talking to a murderer?” 

“Alleged, dear Valentin, alleged.”

“Alleged.” He won’t disagree, Zacharie’s the only friendly face… well, mask,  he’s seen in some time. Guy wore a strange mask for as long as Valentin could remember… maybe he should think about wearing one too; it’d help with the ‘paparazzi’ at least.

“I happen to be on my way home. You know how the wife gets, not home by sundown and I'll come home to a walloping.” He says, shrugging. “I just thought you could use some company, since it's some time to Bismark, friend.”

“You don’t have a wife.”

“Maybe one day I will, if you’ll let me leave here alive, that is.” He breathes a laugh. Valentin’s jaw clenches along with his grip on the rail.

“It’s best that we don’t talk too much. Leave the air some space.” He says. He gives his friend a look poisonous enough to put down a horse.

Zacharie raises his free hand in apology.

“Only kidding. Too soon for it, understood. ” He says.

They stand in silence, the only noise coming from the tracks and the jingling jangling of Zacharies bag on his back. A small vanilla card drops to the floor, Valentin does not alert him and Zacharie does not seem to be aware of his loss. “The old Beatdown, in the industrial section.” He waves at Valentin. “That’s where I’ll make a proper apology to my dearly eh… outlawed friend. Let me take you there, see familiar sights.” His eyes are crinkled, suggesting a smile. “You’ll come, won’t you?”

Valentin lets silence separate them. He hasn’t thought of The Beatdown in a long time, having left it behind for upper class and stuffy men that spit and spat. He’d been a grand fighter, earning the title ‘The Boxer’. The public haven’t been very creative when naming him.

 He hums and looks around the cart like he’s ruminating. He faces Zacharie again.

“Fine.” He lies. “I’ll come. You’ll apologize and we’ll be even. I’d even buy from you again.” That wasn’t a lie, about not buying. Valentin would buy a stick from Zacharie, not that he’d ever admit that.

Zacharie grabs his arms and shakes it in excitement. “Noon, tomorrow evening.” The tram comes to a halt. “See you then!” He says and winks. 

The train sits impatiently for its two passengers. Zacharie practically skips away with Valentin close behind. He stops to pick up the card and pocket it; Zacharie probably wanted him to have it. They’ve stepped off, shaken hands, and separated before he reads the card. 

SUGAR CATS NEWS

News for keeps

He sneers and rips it. Of course Zacharie reads that crap. Of course he was there for giggles and shits. The Beatdown his ass.

He’s huffing and puffing all the way to his house before he’s calmed down enough to realize that everyone’s read Hip Cats schlock. It’s the only news source the, damn them to hell and whatnot, guardians hadn’t shut down. Forlorn now, he walks up to the darkened doorway, hand steady on the knob. 

Here’s to tomorrow. 

There’s blood everywhere, his skin feels soaked with it. His hair is a mess where the bat struck. Bits and scraps of himself are strewn all across the front hallway. If he could move at all, he’d turn and catch the moon peeking in through the window of the door. 

He sees himself instead, bat in hand. He doesn’t have remorse, he doesn’t care that someones bleeding to death on his expensive carpeting. Valentin’s foot flinches, and down the bat comes again. More tidbits fly across the room… probably onto more carpeting. Vader loves carpets, thinks it makes the house automatically chique. Valentin wears down his head, he’s sick with it. 

He’s sick.

His head is swimming.

Dear god there’s blood everywhere.

Hard Knock Life ;

I’ve spent years trying to weed through this mess in my head, but it’s getting so clean now, It’s like the cord of thoughts in my brain was hiding some pretty cool stuff under it, pretty dope realisations. Yanno I didn’t go outside and run or walk or workout because my mum would laugh at the people who did that. I wouldn’t speak up because my mother would judge those who did. How can I say this without sounding like I’m an ungrateful daughter who doesn’t like her mum, that’s not true, that the furthest thing from the truth. I love my mother and I don’t blame her, I don’t even think I knew enough to even piece it all together. I feel like im making no sense, but im trying to read this damn chord but it’s hard. I feel like right now, im actually sick so maybe it’s the best time to talk about the rotten seeds imbedded in my brain, I’ve got a headache, im nauseous as fuck, im kinda high a little bit so im not in as much pain, my headaches aren’t fkn normal they’re fat fkn migraines that effects my neck, eye, temple, shoulder, jaw, sometimes it makes my teeth hurt or like they’re falling out lol, it’s pain I can’t open my eyes my vision goes black it’s so dramatic and so fitting for a BPD bitch lmao.

Anyways, I think that convo was getting a little like fucked up so I needed to get my mind off it, idk man I feel like I’m just rambling, I’m thinking too much about the reader and not shifting my attention back to just writing.

I have an appointment with my drug & alcohol Therapist tomorrow and like ugh. I’m feeling sick so it automatically makes me not want to go, she has only asked me of one thing, and that’s to sort my licence out, and do you think I’ve done that? No I haven’t done that, because idk why. I forgot. Like idk why I didn’t go do my licence, I guess I don’t fucking care that much. I don’t feel good today mannn, but I did still do my morning routine, most of it, which just consists on me cleaning my room, making my bed, putting music on and taking my meds lol, I’m back in bed now, but I still feel good and super grateful because my room is clean, my meds are taken, and I don’t really have to worry about anything else until a little later, I’ve given myself the space to chill, which I need sick she’s a sick girl. Oh yeah I applied for a job yesterday like full on went into the shop and handed my resume. I’m excited for the response. Sick of waiting for this other bullshit job, hours are better and it’s closer than my old job and my old job was literally 1km away.

I feel like my mum dropped me, not like physically, but she dropped her association with me when I was like 13-14 she kind of gave up on me and just let me run wild in my own brain, with no help or direction on where to go. She didn’t wanna talk to me about anything, she didn’t wanna hear anything from me, she didn’t care how I felt, what was going on at school, she didn’t care about me, or didn’t make it feel like she did, so I got a boyfriend who I became extremely codependent towards. My mum ignored me, for years, and didn’t talk to me unless we got drunk together, for years, I’m talking like 10 years she left me alone, it was awkward to talk to her, it was horrible, I missed a ghost it felt like, I missed her but I didn’t even know her.

Y’all I know I said goodbye but I’m soul tied to this man. I can’t let him go and I’m a freak for holding on still, thats how I feel, the last thing he said to me was how beautiful I am, and how much he loves me, so why is it so fucking horrible. Why does this feel so horrible, I shouldn’t reach out, thats not what I should do. Not anymore, I make myself look like an idiot, and all these thoughts are just so silly to me. But I miss him, and I don’t know if its because he’s my favourite person, or because he’s the only person to ever get that closet me… like he knows me in a way no one else can, I wouldn’t let them anyway…. I landed a job interview with a company I’m really enjoying, I don’t want to go because its a far journey, and its all too new, I just wish I had ‘him to talk to right now. I just wanna talk. It always turns into an argument, I miss him. ha. I do, I miss him, I still see him everywhere, I see him in me, I see him in everyone, and all the songs that are playing are song I was singing when we were together, yang, all that r&b shit, wee belong together by Mariah Carey just started playing, like, fuck off. Am I not tormented enough? I cant see myself with anyone else, and if that means I’m single forever then I’ve accepted that, and I’m okay with that, no one compares to my first love. And I’m not sick and tired anymore, I’m okay with that, I can understand that, and I’m okay. I guess he’s just a character that lives in my head, and thats the only way I can make peace with not being with him. Maybe he doesn’t even exist? Maybe he’s in a happy relationship, maybe I don’t even love him and I’m just in a mood swing, maybe im in love with someone else, maybe I’m in love with someone I can’t be with BECAUSE I can’t be with them, maybe I’m meant to be with someone else. Idk. Because I have loved after him, and some even more intense than my favourite person, but with my FP, I just don’t know….. I’m bound. Not for too much longer now… surely. I am so ready to let this go, soooooo ready. Omg, I still have his ring in my draw I gave him as a promise ring, he got me one swell, I know we were so married, anyways I still have his ring. Idk where it is but I know its hidden somewhere, that ring is my goodbye. I’ve always known it thats why I kept it. Just like I kept my goodbye from him for so long. The ultimate disrespect to myself. I was open for him for this long, my very first love, my first everything, it was 100% a relationship that was more grown than we were, way more grown. we were acting and living like we were so much older than we were. We were pretty locked in. And it was okay with me because I was following in my parents footsteps, young love, the seriousness, all the ugly. I accepted it all, and I loved all of him, for everything he was inside and out. ill always have love stored away somewhere for him, but choppitty chop chop Jesus Christ its HURTINGGGGGG MEEEEEEE. How??! gahh damnnn I’m tryinggg….. why don’t you fucking do it lmaooo, okay okay okay your right. Were gonna do it together girlie, aswell as let go of the anger I have towards my mother, since it all came out at the same time. Ugh, my counsellor told me to be honest tho so I am. I’m so much stronger than this, holding onto all of this bull fucking shit. I don’t need to hold onto anything, at all. The only thing that exist is this moment right now, thats it and thats all. Consciousness feels pretty trippy btw. Idk why I said that, I think I went into the void of the moment, lmao. Its good to not have to think or feel for use a little bit, everything disappears. All my problems leave, all my overthinking.

He kept me in line, and told me off, he guided me, he helped me, he loved me he cared for me. I can do all of that myself. If its really that, that I want. I guess I’m lonely, and he’s the only other person who can cure that for me. I feel a sensation of completeness when I’m talking to him, no matter the topic, or argument. I forgive him, and I let him go, please.

I love all my ex’s lol, not gonna lie, they all made me so crazy for them, all my ex FP’s , LMFAO, no one does it better, I wanna say I miss having a FP but I don’t, except for that one fkn FP that won’t loosen its grip on my mind, I’ve learned to live with him, its peaceful sometimes, but its still a fucking parasite. I’ve also decided I’m not going to take that job with that cool company in the city, its too far, ill keep an eye out for the other job I wrote a whole cover letter for. The universe has given me options and I am so thankful for that. Thank you thank you thank you. For everything, for it all <3 I was trying to whack the weeds out without looking at them in the eye, how rude.

“oh, no,” i hear you say. “not more of these.”

yes, more of these, except these are from a horse’s mouth, the words of a therapist.

(18+ please)

When do I feel like my most authentic self?

Aside from making art or being on my blog, never. It’s like there’s this unspoken rule that I’m forbidden from ever fully being myself. The punishment is I’m always made fun of (and not in the flirty way that I usually employ) or ostracized. People don’t like the authentic “me”: when I show the real “me”, they don’t know what to do with me. The real me is never embraced, no one likes it or wants to be with it. The real me is hated. I always feel like I’m being judged for things I like, all that I do, everything… no one actually likes me, and no, I don’t see a shred of power in this, either. I tried to see it but I can’t. I’m not amazing. I’m just nobody.

My most authentic self does nothing but leave me isolated.

And by the way, I’ve found that this is very quickly becoming one of those words that’s thrown around so much that it’s losing its meaning. Like, “vibe” is one of those words. What does it even mean to be authentic anymore?

When, if ever, have I experienced sexual flow?

What’s that?

Edit: I’m a virgin.

Second edit: never. Literally never. Nevermind the fact that I’ve never had sex and that this is the first time i’ve heard of this, I’ve always been so rigid and wary of my own behavior.

What words or images come to mind when I hear the term “gay”? (“Lesbian?” “Bisexual?” “Asexual?”)

Call me old-fashioned but I think of really happy people (the term “gay” meant “happy” before it was used to describe sexuality, after all).

Lesbians, I think of short, often unusually colored hair on women.

Bisexual, I think of Kirk Hammett of all people.

Asexual, I think of the ace cards in a deck.

In what ways do I imagine my life would change if I were more involved with LGBTQ2S+ people? How would it stay the same?

I’m lgbtq+ and I don’t think my life has changed in the slightest.

How does my body react when I see queer-themed scenes in movies or TV shows?

A little uncomfortable, to be honest, like I squirm a bit—it’s because I don’t expect it, it’s not “internalized” anything. It’s that I don’t expect it. After a time, though, it doesn’t even faze me in the least.

Regardless of gender or appearance, what helps me feel most connected with a romantic or sexual partner?

…their intellect? I don’t know, I’ve never been involved with anyone before. 

(Can we stop using the word “partner” please? This word is just a noise to me now, completely devoid of meaning).

What does “Love is love is love” mean to me?

Reminds me of “a rose is a rose is a rose” from Gertrude Stein. An odd repetitive phrase that’s supposed to make you think (except Mrs. Stein was approaching from an “it is what it is” angle).

How do I trust myself to make big decisions?

Big decisions, that’s for people who have their shit together, right?

What practices, beliefs, and experiences are essential to my self-identity?

My pain. My anxiety. My weight. The way I move and how I do it. The way I love and feel.

I don’t know, I feel like I’m bullshitting.

What messages did I receive from family, friends, and the communities in which I live about what it means to live a “good” life with “good” relationships?

(Oh, man, you want me to go there?) I was taught that I had to be married to a man with two children by the time I was my age that I am right now and that I would have all things sexual figured out the very second I had a wedding ring on my finger—this belief that women can automatically turn on their sexuality at the drop of the hat once they’re married was pounded into my head from a young age. The total christian belief that for some alarming reason gen z has taken to as of late… 😳

No one ever told me about possibly identifying as a different sexuality (it was always “if you feel this way, I’ll accept you”, akin to “if you need anything, tell me” that I hear at the slightest mention of depression or anxiety, but never the possibility that it would happen to me, though), or that I would find myself thinking about girls as well as boys, or that crossdressing is fine. I lived in a podunk town full of conservatives when I was in high school. There was a boy at the middle school who committed suicide because he was bullied for being gay. I remember I was a senior when it happened: his name was Seth Walsh. Rise Against did a song called Make It Stop and they actually mention his name in the bridge.

What do I imagine are the hardest parts of living as an openly LGBTQ2s+ person? What would be the best?

Actually being open with it: when I was a baby, my cousin Harmony came out as lesbian and then began identifying as male, and the family pretty much disowned him. I actually did say I was pansexual on facebook before my logout and no one said anything, and I don’t know if I should be insulted or relieved because it’s a big deal coming out, especially after what happened to my cousin.

As for the best, I have no clue. I said I was pan on instagram, and again, no one bat a lash. It’s like coming out has completely lost its intensity and literally no one cares if you come out as pan or anything. I honestly don’t know what’s worse, to be honest: I expect becoming persona non grata because it’s happened to me my whole life, but indifference? No. 

So much for being vulnerable and connecting with people.

What would I need to change in my life in order to consider options beyond heterosexual relationships?

Get the hell out of this area and never come back, for one thing. After that, I don’t know. It’s not like spotting a toupee. Can people tell if you’re lgbtq+ without you being aware, or is that just some corny joke that tv and movies did for years?

What would it mean for me to change how I identify sexually?

Ever since I started identifying as pansexual, it’s made a lot more sense but it hasn’t really helped me in connecting with people. If anything, it’s made me feel a lot lonelier. I can’t imagine having a boyfriend, and I sure as shit can’t imagine ever having a girlfriend.

Which parts of my current/past relationships have been performative and which parts feel genuine and pleasurable?

I’ve never had a relationship. Not even exaggerating. I’ve never had a boyfriend and having a girlfriend is out of the question, especially since some of my worst bullies were girls.

What kinds of thoughts do I have when I see a same-sex couple holding hands in public? Kissing?

I only ever saw a lesbian couple holding hands one time and I was mesmerized by them. I remember walking right behind them and I couldn’t stop looking at them (I almost walked right into a tree, I was so drawn to them). Never saw two gay men together, though.

How do I bring compassion and kindness to those parts of myself that make me feel uncomfortable?

I’ve been trying to figure this out for months. Yes, I tried affirmations, and they didn’t help—if anything, they made me feel worse about myself. I journal and it only kicks up anger and negative feelings about myself. I write erotica but I have difficulty talking about it and saying it out loud: in my year review post in December, I was really struggling to write in the fact that I’m an erotica writer now. It looked effortless but trust me, I was struggling. Like, do I actually say that, especially with how big of pricks ig are with that?

Which terms or words do I use to describe my sexual interests?

Ridiculous. Unnatural. Lame. Boring. Filthy. Worthless. Horrible. Disgusting. Unacceptable. I’m a heathen. I’m not human. I’m a bad person. Completely not sexy at all, only “cute”. What is wrong with me? Why am I like this? Why do I feel this way? What am I doing wrong? Nothing positive, that’s for sure.

I’ve never felt safe to express these things, either. How am I supposed to see them in a positive light if the outside world won’t let me share in the first place?

Consider: “Labels are for clothes, not people.”

I usually say cans of soup, because even clothes defy labels.

How do I embrace my authentic self – even when it differs from the expectations of others?

I just do but… I see no use or power in it, especially when the reaction I get is “meh, whatever”, instead of bringing me to the right people.

This was supposed to bring me to the right people. I feel like i’ve been lied to. It’s not in me to fake it, either: what the hell am I supposed to do?

What makes me feel the sexiest?

I guess my skinny jeans? Black and stretchy and they go with anything. I don’t really like t-shirts anymore because it always feels like they’re choking me (they make me look matronly, too).

Were you expecting me to say lingerie? No. I look at lingerie from Spencer’s, I picture myself in one of those and I cringe immediately. I know I’ll look like an idiot if I wear something that’s supposed to be sexy. Why do I even bother.

What is my favorite sex scene in a movie or television show?

I don’t think i’ve ever watched a sex scene and didn’t feel uncomfortable, or told to look away. Add to this, it’s all underwhelming: I hate 50 Shades of Grey (and screw you if you think that’s legit erotica) and I have never seen anything on the silver screen or small screen that was actually sexy in my eyes. This is what people find hot? This sucks.

Am I holding anything back from myself?

Happiness. What have I done to deserve true happiness? Nothing? Okay, then what should I do to get happiness? Oh, also nothing? Why am I not happy then? Did I miss something here, why is this such a nebulous concept? Why is this so pointlessly confusing?

My lesbian thoughts. They’re like… here and gone in a couple of seconds. What do I even do with them.

My straight thoughts, too. What guy would want me?

I don’t even know what I want in another person, except for intelligence, spontaneity, looking unusual, a big heart, and has a conscience.

I have never been anyone’s crush—I’ve never been anyone’s tumblr crush, if you can believe that. People on tumblr have crushes on other tumblr people (you see those posts ad nauseam about how much they love their mutuals, and they’re really annoying because it just reminds me of my own loneliness. and they’re just stupid on principle, too, like I GET IT. YOU LOVE YOUR FUCKING FOLLOWERS. SHUT UP ALREADY, I DON’T GIVE A SHIT AND I DON’T BELIEVE YOU ANYWAY.) I don’t get this new generation of tumblrs either: you claim to be fans but there’s no passion, it all feels very passé and heartless, like an attraction at Disney. But mention ~mutuals~ and you would think a strip club just opened.

I have never been anyone’s girlfriend, anyone’s type… anything.

Moreover… what on earth makes the adults in the room think i’m hot shit?

“Hannah, did you see that cute boy checking you out?” What is this supposed to accomplish? I didn’t see anyone, and I don’t know what you want from me.

“I assume that belongs to your hot boyfriend.” (talking about my rock n roll jacket, and it’s kind of obvious it’s mine because the collar is pink and next to pins and patches of bands, it’s got kind of effeminate patches like daisies, hot pink peace signs, and cats as well)

Why should I hold back anything when there’s nothing to send out to? I yell into a void all the time. I’m being myself but no one listens or cares or wants to get to know me, like there’s a reason why I turned off my ask box (aside from getting rude messages and they were genuinely upsetting me). If I’m not getting shat on, I get radio silence. I’m literally that starved.

Do I have anything I am concerned to tell my partner?

*seethes* Everything. What am I supposed to say? What do you want to know? What do you want me to say?

For some reason, journaling about the relationship aspect of sexuality only makes me angry: it makes me painfully aware of how fucking pathetic and lame my sexual history is, how a woman my age is supposed to be far more experienced than this, and it just makes me aware of how much of a black sheep i am, too. I violated a time table and I failed at being myself: I deserve to be punished and destroyed. I really, really feel like I messed up by being a late bloomer and not living up to expectations from a young age. I mean, I have a lot of anger in the area of sexuality as is, and it’s very dualistic, too: I feel anything sexual and I get angry, and then I get angry at myself for being angry about something that’s supposed to be natural.

Moreover, the fact no prompt list I have ever come across to try and help me unpack and audit my feelings has not had the presumption that those doing these have never had a relationship does fuck all to help—if anything, it just riles up the anger. “You and a partner” this, “you and a partner” that. Is virginity just a joke and a myth to you people who write these godforsaken things, what the hell? Some of us are just that malnourished. Some of us have never been approached or even looked at. Some of us are physically ugly. Some of us have never felt sexy a day in our life.

STOP ASSUMING WE HAVE OR HAD A PARTNER. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.

What are my favorite sexual fantasies?

I’m so tired. 

I’m exhausted. 

I don’t know what to expect out of these anymore. 

I have too much pain about the realm of sexuality that it’s overwhelming.

This is all bullshit, like my fantasies are so stupid. 

No one finds me attractive.

My sexual expression is hideous.

Just leave me alone.