#oh and update: my therapist WAS very interested in the fact that i now write characters' emotional experiences as much more embodied | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

winderlylandchime · 4 months

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I came on your blog to send you a few updates about my brother because the man is a gift that keeps on giving and then I saw that you tagged one of the posts about wanting an update about my brother. Gotta love it when the planets align that way haha. I apologize for how long this is but it has been an interesting week in my brothers life so I tried my best to keep it short and failed as you can see lol.

First of all I had to break the news to him about Randy retiring from acting to become a therapist. And it went just as how you’d imagine it to go if you imagine a grown man with a tendency to be childish and dramatic reacting to it. So many things happened so I gotta tell you the highlights: We were on facetime and I told him, he screamed (an actual AHHHH while holding a hand to his chest) and then went ‘of fucking course! The second I join the fucking party, he decides to fucking retire. And I’m supposed to NOT take it personal?!’. And while he was going on about it he was also doing something but i didn’t see what and all I saw was him grabbing scissors in a really stupid way (they were pointed towards him) so I went ‘ummmm’ and he goes ‘what? Oh come on, not even I am that fucking dramatic. I’m making myself a *said so that the last letter made a pop type of sound* crop top.’ And then he enthusiastically showed me the shirt that had A LOT of writing on it and he cut it so that only the first word is on it which is “HOLE”…. He is very proud of it btw, plans to wear it to his PT next week.. i swear he lives his life like a reality show mixed with a sitcom.

Anyway, he can’t believe Randy is actually going to be a therapist. Like at all. And then he goes ‘that’s so fucking weird though. Blondie a therapist. There’s no way people won’t recognize him..*long pause* do you think Gale also has a normal job now? Imagine he’s like a professor or some shit since he is nowhere to be found (me: how do you know that?)….i may have googled him..seriously is he even alive still?’ (ngl now i keep wondering if Gale also said fuck it and got a normal job) and then what followed was him gasping and then looking up at the ceiling and going ‘dear god.. i know i talk a lot of shit about you but if you could PLEASE make some gay dude go viral with a tweet or a dumb tiktok video about how Blondie is his therapist, that would be so fucking dope. Thanks bye’ and now I can’t stop thinking about the possibility of some gen z kid making a tiktok about it..

The good thing about this week is that he is finally covid free so i was talking to a non-feverish person which tbh not much difference, the bad thing is the dude somehow managed to get laryngitis so he’s losing his voice at a speed of light and while he was going on and on about Randy, he kept losing his voice more and more..which obviously made things for me, his little sister, a lot more fun. He was completely raspy yesterday and today he kinda still has a voice but not really. And no, none of this has prevented him from not talking about Randy retiring. It’s been over 24 hours.. Mom was annoyed with him because he will lose his voice talking about a middle aged white gay man, so he is balancing it by also talking about Gale aka a middle aged white straight man.

He also got really angry because he discovered that QAF online doesn’t have the right soundtrack (he already knew that but forgot). He was so upset about that that he was going on about it for at least 5 minutes while sounding like a dying goat. He then tried to bribe me to send him my dvds..So now his mission for 2024 is to somehow/somewhere find the dvds. Mom is hoping he doesn’t succeed because she knows full well what would happen aka he will force her to watch it. However our uncle is betraying her by helping him because the 69 year old gay dude likes drama. Mom thinks the fact that she lives 20 minutes away will stop my brother from making her watch it.. She clearly underestimates him.

And then probably my second favorite part because I got to witness it all through texts and voice memos and facetimes is that while he had covid, he had a lot of free time so one day he said fuck it and started going through everything qaf related online. So here’s a bit of a rundown of his 20 years late opinions: He is (still) angry at Hal, he’s angry at one of the writers (i forgot his name but it’s the writer who talked shit about Randy publicly), he has mixed feelings about Dan and Ron just because he’s not very fond of old men but he is also sure as fuck that they had issues with Randy, he found out that Michelle has a child with Bryan Singer and now he doesn’t like her because “i have morals.” He again remembered Gale was Pentecostal and that threw him in for a spiral at 3 am and what followed was a feverish rant about cults (which made no sense but that’s okay). He found old interviews where Randy was not so fond of qaf and that made him have some feelings but it ended up with him announcing a “war” against writers. And then he circled back to his anger at Hal because he decided that he was clearly jealous of Gale/Randy’s attention. He has range ngl. This is also where he decided Gale is a missing person because ‘seriously how the fuck can nobody post anything about him? Make him go to some charity event or some shit, I miss my man.’

Then on the day that I told him Randy is retiring which was like 2(?) days ago, he called me because he listened to the Poly episode of Randy’s podcast again (this lead to me later telling him since he didn’t see the new ep since this was the only one he had saved) anyway he called me to ask ME about if I* think he could be polyamorous (having siblings that youre close with is such a weird fucking thing). Then he decided I was not the right person to ask so he called our aunt who actually is polyamorous while he was on facetime with me and I got to witness the beauty that made me and my neighbor laugh way too hard (i wish you could hear/see him but just imagine a toddler covered in chocolate trying to make a point with an attitude how he totally didn’t eat the chocolate) because our aunt hit him with ‘i mean…stranger things have happened but also (his name), you broke up with your ex girlfriend because she wouldn’t share her purse with you’ He argued it with this and I quote ‘okay FIRST of all how DARE you bring that up, you know I’m still sensitive about that, 2nd the purse matched my outfit so it was rude she didn’t share. 3rd, I shared my two purses with her whenever she asked because sharing is caring, see that proves my point, 4th the purse was in a box for donations so once again: RUDE on her behalf and 5th and probably most important part: she cheated on me with her cousin’s girlfriend 2 days before so I think the least I deserved was to be allowed to borrow a fucking purse.’ Reader, I need you to understand that this happened like 10 years ago when he was like 25. Till this day he is more upset about the purse part than the cheating part. He was upset about that for a week until she texted him she thinks she’s gay and then he went ‘oh..i mean you couldve just fucking said so..btw did you throw that purse away?’ Our whole family still makes fun of that (in a nice way) bc he really didnt care about anything except the purse but also because he hit on a girl at bar once and she told him she’s gay and he pulled up instagram and showed her our accs and went ‘i got a sister or an ex, whose number would you prefer’ so he’s definitely still upset over the purse. Btw the jury is still out on him being able to share a whole human.

And also today which is why I’m sending you this now, I woke up to these next texts: ‘what if i change my therapist and I go to Randy? How fucked up would that be?’ ‘Imagine I end up in his office and just start talking to him about qaf’ ‘wait hold up, imagine if I didn’t know it’s him! And i show up in my Justin shirt and go on this long speech about this show and Brian and Blondie…at what point do you think he’d stop me?’ ‘Okay so I texted (his therapists name) and after he was done being mad at me for asking him dumb questions under the impression of emergency late at night, his only words were ‘in my humble professional opinion, (his name), it would be BEYOND fucked up’ but I think he’s exaggerating, what do you think?’ ‘So what kind of therapist do you think he’ll be? Like one on one ‘you got depression, heres pills’ type or couples or what?’ ‘Also do you think he’ll be a cool chill therapist or will he be one of those that look like they escaped their Mormon family and have a stick up their ass?’ ‘Do you think my man is also doing some random work now? Like mechanic or something?’ ‘My man as in my man Gale btw’ ‘no but fr imagine you go to therapy and the dude who you watched fuck on tv is your therapist… at what point do you tell him that you know what his booty looks like?’ ‘His choice in clients are limited.. either kids with no social media or like the fucking Amish’ So I would say he is handing the Randy retirement/therapist news about the same as all of us… or worse.. I actually can’t decide.

Dear sweet anon! I put out into the universe that I wanted updates from you and your brother and the universe delivered.

First of all, we are all devastated about Randy retiring from acting/public life. But also, as a therapist, I do support this journey for him. I do think it will be hard but he will have supervisors along the way to help him navigate the fact that there is footage out there of his butt on a Showtime show. Either that or he can only see clients who are toxic levels of heterosexual.

Speaking of your brother's idea to covertly become his patient, may I direct you to this anon I received? Here THE FANDOM KNOWS YOUR BROTHER AND PREDICTED HE WOULD WANT TO INFILTRATE RANDY'S THERAPY PRACTICE.

The soundtrack online is a travesty and is also homophobic. Would your uncle help me find the DVDs too? I have S2 but not the rest. (I don't even have a DVD or Blu Ray player but I also bought the entire David Tennant Doctor Who collection on Blu Ray (well minus 14 I guess) so at this point I'm just collecting stuff. (I do have a link to a google drive with all the episodes but you or your brother would have to reach out to me by DM here or on discord (thataj.) because I can't post it publicly (it's not actually mine lol).

I think it is very polyamorous to break up with someone for not sharing. Also, I am now curious about his collection of purses. Isn't sharing the name of the game in polyamory?

I think all of his opinions about everyone are so valid. We do get one (1) proof of life from Gale on social media per calendar year. Usually on someone else's account. I know there was a post of him in 2023 so we need to look out for 2024. I do NOT know what he is doing to earn a living these days. It is very likely he has a job that is not in entertainment or at least not on stage or on screen. Maybe entertainment adjacent?

Thank you so much for this update. I love that this continues to cause drama and discussion in your family. I love that your brother's therapist is fully involved. And I love that you continue to share your family with us.

#ask winderlylandchime #dear sweet anon #queer as folk #a straight man watches qaf us 2000 in the year of our lord 2023 #2024 edition

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the-scarlet-witch-22 · 1 year

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hello hello!!

Ahhh that's so exciting and so sweet that you and your stand partner are bestieess!!!! Also I laughed so hard when you wrote about getting dopamine from external validation because if that doesn't summarize every performer ever than i don't know what does 😂😂

Yes, yes, yes!! The way you said it was so well put!! I typically say that during rehearsal "we get lost in sauce" 😂 but you said if far more eloquently. I think that's what I miss the most about performaning, apart from being surrounded by other creative people. The fact that everyone is there trying to create something so beautiful and trying to convey emotions in a way that goes beyond words is something so magical. Uggghhh now I'm gonna start looking up local theatres to see what productions they're doing to see if i want to audition.

Honestly everyone crying is just a testament to how well written and enthralling this story was!!!! I (and I'm sure everyone else who read it) was so captivated by the story from beginning to end! When i tell you i LOVED the scene with the kids i truly mean LOVED. 1 - i thought it was the hottest thing ever that Agatha enjoys interacting with kids (and honestly kept thinking about Agatha with kiddos cause i just know she has such a soft spot for them) and 2 - experiences like that are just so transformative for children!!! I still remember the very first musical I saw in person and how amazed i was by it and immediately knew it was something i wanted to do.

Ahhh i feel like my asks just keep getting longer and longer!! They're starting to feel like letters at this point 😂 So sorry 🥴 but i saw THAT THERE IS GOING TO BE A SEQUEL!!! And it's going to have CARMEN IN IT?!?!?!?!! I'm sooo excited!!!!!! I completely forgot i had said something about Agatha conducting an opera, but oh my goddddd i want her to conduct an opera so badlyyyyyy. Needless to say, i am very, very excited!!!!!!

I hope you are having a fantastic start to you week!! ❤️🥰

- paganini anon

Hi Paganini Anon! 💜

Ah yes. Jerry, my stand partner is an icon and I’m determined to become his best friend. I already have a plan for our next rehearsal 😌🤞🏻

Hahah I actually enjoy the phrase “lost in the sauce” a lot more than what I said!! It’s so true! I think it’s incredible that you’re in theater, and I completely get what you’re saying. I’m rooting for you and pls keep me updated (if you want to) on if you end up auditioning for anything!!!! I’m sure you’ll do great and it sounds like it would be so much fun!! The fine arts are such an incredible gift and my biggest regret is going so long without performing.

Thank you so much omg 😭 I am a very emotional person (I blame my Pisces moon, my therapist says otherwise tho), and I think it’s clear in my writing that I enjoy angst. I’ve always appreciated your support and anons on here, I go “ooo” whenever I see I have one!! They make my day 😌 I’m rly truly sooooooo glad you liked Agatha with the kids!!!! I added so many little details in, it always makes me excited to see what people enjoy and what they can relate to. And that’s so sweet 😭 it’s so incredible how one experience can help shape your entire life!!

No pls I love the asks! It’s fun- and I love writing letters! One of my friends from college and I would write each other letters back when the pandemic first hit and it was so fun. Yes!! I’m like… 1/4 of the way through writing the first chapter!! Yes yes yes it will have Carmen!!! It’s one of my absolute favorite operas. I remembered your ask and I was like oh wow that would be an interesting idea, could I do that? And then I brainstormed and decided I wanted to keep writing haha. Agatha is going to be on one while she’s conducting in the sequel and it’s going to be very entertaining to read. I’m so glad you’re excited!!!!! 💜✨

Ah thank you! It’s been a bit busy and the cold weather is making it hard for me to focus on things, but I am trying my best. I hope you’re having a good week too, thank you sm for the ask. I always love getting them!! ✨

#Paganini Anon

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heyyyharry · 3 years

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Happier

(inspired by happier by Olivia Rodrigo)

Word count: 2.4k

I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

Part 1: Drivers License

Part 2: Deja Vu

A/N: I edited the original lyrics to match the POV :)

Harry had come up with a thousand scenarios of how this day would play out. Actually, he’d been thinking of this day since the moment he’d received the news. He didn’t dare to hope that she’d say yes to coming back for a sequel. He’d been sure that they would write her character off, give a lame excuse for how his love interest could not make a return and make his character forget about her completely to move on with a new girl in town. It would have been great if it was that easy in real life. Once someone was written off the script, they were gone for good. Real-life relationships were not that simple. Goodbye didn’t mean ‘never see you again’. You would still share the same friend circle and social bubbles, and it was worse when you two worked in the same industry. Harry didn’t know how he’d lasted a year without running into her, not since the Grammys.

“Didn’t you two date?”

“No.” Harry shook his head, but his eyes stayed glued on Y/N from across the room. She wasn’t looking his way, too busy saying hello to everyone else. “No,” he repeated, more to himself than to his co-star. “We didn’t.”

“But she wrote an entire album about you,” said the other twin. What was her name again? Lulu?

“Luna!” cried her sister, Lex. “You can’t ask him that!”

“No, it’s okay,” Harry said with a tight smile, slightly annoyed by the blonde twins, but he didn’t want to seem like an ass on the first day of filming. “And I don’t know if it was for me. You should ask Y/N.”

“Ask me what?”

Harry flinched when he looked up and saw Y/N padding towards them. She hugged the twins, who seemed way too excited. Harry guessed they were Y/N’s fans. They gave off crazy fangirl vibes, probably just pretending not to know the drama to interrogate him. He couldn’t blame them for assuming he was the villain and definitely could not blame Y/N for portraying him as one. It was more important that he knew who he was and how much he had changed since his last relationship. Maybe they could finally be friends.

“Were they bothering you?” Y/N asked him once the twins had left.

Harry nodded. “They’re your friends?”

“Oh, I met them last year on tour. I’m surprised you don’t know them. They were on Disney.”

“I don’t watch Disney,” Harry admitted with a smile. “Well, not today’s Disney.”

“Understandable.” Y/N nodded and bit her lip. She seemed guarded with her straight back and hands hidden behind her. She eyed him up and down, quite subtle yet noticeable. “How have you been?”

“Pretty good,” he said, nodding slowly. “You?”

“Yeah, but mostly tired because of tour.”

“You’re done?”

“Yup, last night was the last show.”

“Nice.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Nice?”

Harry blinked. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” Y/N giggled. “You still sound very...you.”

“Well, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, you should. But it’s been a year so…I mean, you haven’t changed much.”

“Right,” he said lowly, his eyes falling to his feet. Harry supposed he should say something else, perhaps bringing up another random topic to discuss, but all he could think about was what had happened between them. Things had been messy, hadn’t they? How could they go back to before that? Before her first song about him. Before he’d chosen someone else over her.

Or he could talk about her new relationship. She’d been in a happy relationship for almost six months, right? No wait, hadn’t they broke up two weeks ago? He wasn’t sure because he hadn’t been catching up. If they’d broken up, he’d sound like an ass to even mention her ex’s name. He should just stay quiet.

“I’ll see you later?” she said, gesturing at her stylist who was waiting by the door.

Harry could ask her right now -- the reason she’d agreed to film the sequel to their first movie together. He’d heard from a very reliable source that she’d specifically asked her agent to decline any project that he was in. So did this mean they were good? That she didn’t hate him anymore? He could have gathered his courage and got the answer right then…

“Yeah, see you.”

...but he didn’t.

And so she gave him a smile and a little wave, then happily returned to her stylist.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N!”

“See you, Annie!” Y/N said as she put the rest of her things into her tote bag. Her new driver had got her schedule mixed up, and so she had to wait here for another half an hour. She was in no rush. It had been a light first day, and she’d had a fun time getting to know the new cast members and catching up with old friends.

She sat on the sofa in the lobby, legs crossed, texting her best friend about her day. She’d purposely left out the short off-screen conversation with Harry, and her best friend didn’t even bother to ask. In their world, he didn’t exist, and his name was censored in every conversation like a curse word that was even worse than ‘cunt’. Nevertheless, she didn’t hate him anymore. She was doing just fine on her own, being busy with her career, and she’d been in a happy relationship after her fall out with him.

She and the guy, a model, had broken up two weeks ago due to long distance and some differences that they could not change. They had ended on good terms and decided to stay friends. They said you could only stay friends with your ex when you still had feelings for each other, or you had never loved each other that much in the first place. For her, it was probably the latter. Her previous relationship had been more platonic than romantic, apparently. So she had nothing but the best to say about him.

As she was going through her camera roll, just reminiscing about the past, she heard footsteps approaching and looked up to find Harry. He offered a smile and gestured to the spot beside her on the sofa. “May I sit here? My ride is late.”

“Yeah, sure.” She hurriedly scooted over.

“Good job today,” he said. “You were great.”

“Thanks, so were you.” She smiled, and they both looked away at the same time. This was so awkward. She hated small talk. She’d never had to have small talk with Harry. Conversations with him used to be so easy and natural and silly. Whatever this was, it wasn’t them.

“Can we just be normal?”

At first, Y/N thought she’d been the one who’d said it, so when she realised it’d been Harry, she was speechless.

He swallowed and sat a bit straighter, still not looking at her. “I don’t want us to be weird and awkward.”

“Okay,” she said.

He cleared his throat. “Wanna try again?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, not to sound like an ass but when Joey kept forgetting his lines, I was so pissed off, I could throw a chair at the wall.”

“Right?!” exclaimed Y/N, feeling free to have finally broken out of her shell. “Like, he doesn’t even have many lines. I know he’s new but damn...you can’t get far if you don’t learn your goddamn lines.”

Harry shook with laughter. “Oh God, we sound like dicks, don’t we?”

“Maybe.” Y/N laughed, covering her mouth. “But you know what? We can’t be nice in this industry. It’s impossible.”

“Shhh, if someone heard this, we would be into big trouble.”

“Oh please, I’ve had worse articles written about me than ‘Y/N speaks facts about her lazy co-star’.”

Harry tossed his head back and cackled. “The worst one I’ve got this week was ‘Harry Styles hates therapists.’”

“What?!” Y/N gasped. “No way! That’s so stupid!”

“Right?” Harry rolled his eyes. “I could get all my therapists to speak up for me but I’m kinda immune to bullshit now.”

“Therapists? Like plural?”

“Yeah, one in every city.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

Y/N rubbed her hands onto her legs. “Rough year?”

Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he leaned back. “You have no idea.” Then he swept his hair out of his eyes, sucked in a breath, and finally looked at her. “I wish I could have talked to you, though.”

She bit her tongue, knowing what she was about to say next would disappoint her best friend so much, but she had to. “So do I.”

Harry looked taken aback before his lips curled into a smile. “It’s silly, isn’t it? I haven’t talked to you in a year, and I feel like I know everything that’s happened to you except that I don’t.”

What he’d just said might make no sense for most people, but Y/N knew exactly what he meant. She nodded and wetted her lip. “You only know as much as everyone else does.”

“Yeah, I got updates on you from the news and our friends.”

“Same.” Y/N smiled back. “I hate how they write articles about your new haircut but not mine.”

“I like your new hair colour.”

“Thanks. I like your new car.”

Then they both burst out laughing. It was fun and also a little bit strange that Y/N didn’t feel the same anxiety talking to him as she used to. It must be because they had grown and were now meeting again as better people.

“Damn, my ride's here,” Y/N said as she read the text from her driver. “I gotta go now.”

“Oh, okay.” Harry stood up and followed Y/N to the entrance. “Hey, just wondering--”

“Yeah?”

“Am I...am I still blocked?” He looked a bit flustered as she tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “On your phone. Because I remember you having my number blocked--”

“I unblocked you on your birthday.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” Y/N shrugged. “I should’ve sent you a happy birthday text but...I didn’t want your girlfriend to get the wrong ideas.”

“My ex.”

“Yeah, I know.”

They smiled at each other one last time before saying goodbye. Y/N knew it was silly, but she was hoping he would go after her.

Ding.

A notification popped up when she was in the car. She was almost home, and it was from Harry’s number. He’d sent her a link with a message that said, “Hope you like it :)”.

Curious, she tapped on it and was directed to an audio file titled ‘Track 5’. The upload date was last year. About two weeks after their short conversation at the Grammys.

Hurriedly, she fumbled inside her bag for her iPods and put it on before she pressed play.

“Hey, Jeff, I couldn’t sleep so I wrote this song. Listen and let me know if it should go on the album.”

Then came the piano intro. It sounded good, so Y/N wondered how it hadn’t ended up on his last album.

But when he started to sing...

We ended a while ago Your friends are mine, you know, I know You've moved on, found someone new One more guy who brings out the better in you

And I thought my heart was detached From all the sunlight of our past But he’s so nice, he’s so funny Does he mean you forgot about me?

Oh, I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

And does he tell you you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen? An eternal love bullshit he might not even mean Remember when you were with me I meant it when you heard it first from me

And now I'm pickin' him apart Like cuttin' him down will make you miss my wretched heart But he’s charming, he looks kind He probably gives you butterflies

I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better

I hope you're happy I wish you all the best, really Say you love him, baby Just not like you loved me And think of me fondly when your hands are on him I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

The song was for her. He’d written it when her new relationship had gone public. Y/N sat there, staring blankly ahead until the honking of a car tore open her inner peace, and reality came crashing back in. The driver dropped her off at her house. Instead of going inside, she stood on her front steps and replayed the song one more time. When it ended, she decided to text him: Why didn’t this make it to the album?

She didn’t know where he was now, but it showed ‘typing’ in less than a second, as if he’d been waiting in their chat since he’d sent that link.

You would’ve hated me, Y/N.

True, she replied. Still, I would’ve loved the song lowkey. And added, I love it btw.

He took so long to type that it was driving her crazy. She flopped down on the concrete stair with her phone clutched in her hands, her heart thundering against her ribcage. Anxiety popped like a balloon when his message appeared: Were you happier?

She reread it again and again.

No.

I wasn’t either, he responded. I kept getting deja vu.

Ha, nice reference.

That song is my guilty pleasure. Love listening to you roasting me on loop.

That last message made Y/N bury her face into her palm and giggle like a fool. She thought for a second and wrote: I could come roast you in person now if that’s what you prefer. I think we’ve never had a proper roasting.

Can we meet, Y/N? Or are you busy now?

No, not busy.

Great, I’ll pick you up.

Just tell me where, she responded with a smile on her face. I got my drivers license now :)

#harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic

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syubub · 4 years

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ENERGY CHECKUP: YOONGI (again)

Now, I know I've already done an energy check up on yoon but I wanted to see how he was doing now that he's gotten his shoulder surgery!

Disclaimer time: tarot is not to be takes as fact and is my interpretation if the cards :) entertainment purposes only~

SHIT IS STRANGE (it is Yoongi though so I'm not too shocked)

So. For starters, his energy is pretty calm and chill. He's also a bit more quiet?

I wrote a note that tomorrow is exciting... idk I wrote it down and I'm not sure if its exciting for him or for us? Maybe its just a general like, "tomorrow is a good day" type thing.

Now. 11... I wrote this down and I'm not sure why though I believe that he might be seeing 11:11 on the clock or possibly that something exciting is happening for him at 11:11 (I just checked and thats in like an hour and a half from when I'm writing this down(( update i just finished writing the whole post and it is about 11 minutes away)) idk. I make no promises but I wrote it down so there you go.

I also kept seeing plants and I'm not sure if people got him flowers or plants as a "get well" type thing or maybe he's stressing bc someone has to water his plants lol

Okay. Okay. Hear me out. Black bean noodles. It popped into my head and I was told to write it down but I'm also really hungry so take that with a grain of fucking salt. (I even pictured a nice elaborate bowl that was red as well as the take out container. Yum. Send me noodles)

MOVING ON

Here's the actual reading lol. He is bored.

Thats all. Thank you for coming.

I joke. The cards give me a kind of frazzled feeling? Its the struggle of knowing hes done something good but it comes at a cost. Yoongi works. A lot. All the goddamn time. So what now? He's having this shake up thats forcing him to deal with stuff. Him having this surgery also may have brought back some less than favorable memories/ feelings that hes being forced to deal with now. Over all though he feels like its good. The 6 of wands makes me think that he's thinking of our response when he comes back. Its like he's gonna be so much more confident in himself and his dancing and he can finally move on from the car accident? It happed so long ago but he literally carried this burden with him. Its good. The wheel of fortune and is about a change and the 8 of swords is about self imposed restriction, imprisonment and over all bad/ negative feelings. I pulled the wheel of fortune first and asked what was changing and that was the 8 of swords. This surgery is helping to free him from this restricting, painful thing that may have been reminding him of the past! YES HEALING

Now. For this section I just kinda asked "whats up?" And got, easy does it, divine life purpose l, balancing masculine and feminine energies and uplift your thoughts. He may be resting but he's got his mind working on 3,000 my dude. Its the regular "yoongi is woke af" bullshit but damn. The cards say what they say. He's preparing. I'll come back to this.

Now the 7 of cups and the 3 of swords. I asked how he felt about missing out on promoting. He's heart broken with the 3 of swords. It genuinely pains him. And with the 7 of cups he might feel like there's a lot of ways this can play out and he's considered a lot of options.

I was curious how he felt about me coming into his energy so I asked him what he thought of me. Lol. These each came out separately. We got, 2 of cups, four of wands, the empress, justice, the magician, the sun and the lovers. Ha

So. To add to the mood setting my guide said "he's a drama queen" lol yeah he is.

So so so so so. I was confused? Still am a little confused but I'm like 80.9% sure that he isn't bothered by me poking around in his energy n shit. In fact my theory is that he's using this connection to his advantage? Lol sounds dumb but my best guess is that home boy sees my energy/ what I'm doing as a way to figure out his own shit? Idk maybe he thinks I'm his energetic therapist. Maybe even a matchmaker (I mean... I have been putting a lot of energy and work into finding/ connecting with his soulmate so maybe he's letting me do all the dirty work) I really don't understand but I got no further explanation.

Oki oki oki. Now. I was drawn to 2 books. The kybalion and the prophet. I asked yoon if there was any messages that we wanted to point out through the books and I got a number for each book so I took it as page numbers. 28 for the prophet and 54 for the kybalion

Take what you will from these if it calls to you. I haven't read these since I was around 13? The sentiments for each felt important to me so I'm curious what you all might think/ feel when reading these? ( I also get the feeling that Yoongi has read the prophet idk why)

Okay. At this point I was like cool, let's wrap this up but I need to talk about his pjs? Green/grey? Plaid pj bottoms don't ask me don't ask me don't ask me I don't know but It wouldn't go away so I had write it down? Help.

I had written yoongis brother down too. Theres something about him? I'm not sure what but thats all I got lol

I was very strongly told that I needed to remember 7, that its important. Got it. Worth it down.

Oki. As I was going back to the platform blah blah blah the string turned blue too. The cord is usually white or silver but it was blue so that was a fun thing and then I was like "nice. Cool. Thanks. This was awesome, get healthy blah blah" and go to leave/ end the connection but the cord wouldn't go away.

???

What.

Then the string (idk if I said but that string shit is like on the third eye? Its connected to my forehead and his too.) Kind tightens.

I'm like, "oh shit."

Listen. Usually everything is smooth and nice and I just leave.

All is well though bc my guide is like, "stop being a little bitch" so I just let it happen.

Yoon shoves me back off the edge of the platform. Why he gotta be like that?

Now. This is strange. I had dropped down into a library.

Y'ALL

I almost shit my fucking pants. Dear god.

THE AKASHIC RECORDS MY DUDE

He started walking me around until he found a blue book. His mother fucking book.

Home boy brought me to his fucking Akashic fucking blue fucking book.

I was big mad. "YOU LITTLE FUCKER! YOUVE KNOWN ABIUT THIS SHIT?" And he was like, "duh"

I've never felt more disrespect lol

Also the way the library was presented was way way way different from how it looks to me. So thats an interesting note. Looking at his book, on the base of the spine is a number 7...

Oki. Cool. I asked if I could look and he said, "Sure, when you can find your way back."

This mother fucker threw me out of a meditative state. Have you ever woken up just before you hit the ground in one of those falling dreams? THAT WAS THE FEELING.

?? I'm not sure what the fuck just happened or if it holds actual significance.

Anyway. After cursing the fuck out of yoobi I started thinking what else 7 ment.

I was specifically told to remember 7 and it was on his book. Then It popped into my head (I want to say its because I'm smart and thought of it all by myself but I think that was my guide wanting me to keep my last brain cell safe). What is yoongis life path number?

Now I don't know shot about life path numbers but imma read up on them tonight. I used a life path calculator on Google. HIS LIFE PATH NUMBER IS 7 Y'ALL.

Maybe I'm dumb as fuck but yoobi never disappoints.

Conclusion: Yoon is fine. Hes just being a yoongi and a yoongi does.

⬆️Me after this reading⬆️

⬆️ Yoongi rn playing 12D chess⬆️

#bts #bts tarot #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts rm #namjoon imagine #jin #kim seokjin #yoongi #yoongi imagine #min suga #min yoongi #hoseok #jhope #bts jimin #taehyung #jungkook #jk

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fallenhero-rebirth · 4 years

Text

Brain update

First, let me say that this isn't about what anybody has done. My reactions are not in proportion to anything that has happened, and might be considered odd, weird and sensitive to people involved.

So let me explain.

I'm an Aspie (what we call ourselves in Sweden), on the autism spectrum. Yeah, might have guessed that from the story I'm writing, Sidestep is not the only one trying to figure out how people work.

Over the years I have built up an arsenal of knowledge and analysis to be able to pretend to be neurotypical, something that I can manage alright most days, but which breaks down once you get to know me better. I'm open with this at my current job, and luckily both my bosses seem to be okay dealing with open communication and just telling me what I need to do.

It was not always like this, and that is one of the reasons why I had a breakdown and needed to get off discord/tumblr.

Back in the late nineties, I had finally got my dream job. I was a product developer in the food industry, part of a rather small department of middle-class academics. I was the new hire, everyone else had worked there for years, and things were going well. Or so I assumed. I got cool projects, got along well with one of the sales people, and well, my boss was weird but bosses always are.

Three years later. Our parent company wanted to sell us off, everyone was starting to get worried about their job. We tried to expand into things were weren't equipped to do (you don't bring spices into a fruit jam line, will be hell to clean) and while I did the projects, I also raised an (in retrospect) too big stink about the fact that we were wasting time developing things we couldn't produce without expanding. My boss (who I had learned was a devout christian) started to get really weird, I got called in and he wondered if I was a member of a cult (I was often wearing a headscarf at the time because pressure on my head is good for stress relief). I also got told off for wearing army boots to work (we had lab shoes in the lab), because (I kid you not) if we had danish visitors to the lab (we didn't have visitors) they could be offended since they had once been occupied by Nazis. Yes, at the time I was an Antifa metalhead/satanist, it was a very volatile time in sweden and nazis were everywhere. Now they're a political party, go figure.

It all came to a head when I was confronted with a folder one of the secretaries of the department had where she had written down every odd and strange thing that I did, and there were a lot of accusations of things I quite frankly blocked out. Around this time I was suffering from bad burnout, had memory loss, my hair was falling out and I lost two bikes because I forgot where I parked them. All because of workplace hostility.

So for the first time ever, I went to the company doctor, who immediately sent me on a one month sick leave, and gave a reference to a therapist. When I went and told my boss, his reaction was "It can't be anything at work," in a dismissive tone. I wrote my resignation right then and there, left the building, snuck back a Saturday to clean out my stuff so I didn't have to meet anyone. Luckily I was backed up by my union, so I got unemployment despite quitting, and the therapist helped me get back on my feet and hook me up with some antidepressants.

Still, I was a wreck for years.

At the time, I had NO idea I was an Aspie. It weren't talked about, the only thing I knew about Autism, was from the various portrayals in movies, and well, in the nineties you can guess. Rainman pretty much was it.

What destroyed me the most was not that people disliked me, I didn't like them either, we didn't have anything in common, and middle-class people always scared me. No, what broke me was the fact that my system failed.

See, I had built up myself over ten years into someone I wanted to be. Smart. Capable. Metalhead. Researcher. Activist. I thought I knew the rules. How to interact.

It turned out I knew nothing. People had been talking behind my back for years, and I didn't know. Getting annoyed by my ticks, and I had no idea. Nobody ever brought anything up to my face until it exploded one day out of the blue. This is why I have ranted about anons on this tumblr. This is why I have been so openly against passive aggressive posts and bullying, especially the anonymous kind, because it destroys people and I don't think the people who does it knows the impact they can have. I hope they don't.

I have never gone back to the lab. I can't. I'm having heart palpitations just thinking about it when I'm writing this. I retrained. Became a machinist. Back to the working class I came from. Eventually started writing.

And this is exactly what these last months have felt like.

I thought I understood things. I was pretty open with being old, an Aspie, not understanding memes, or humor, or tik tok, or certain aspects of people's behavior like jealousy, but the problem with joking about this is that it's so easy to take as just a joke. That I'm just making fun of myself (oh it's that too). I got advice from some of you, which I ignored, because I thought that I could be different. That there was no danger in getting close. That I could be just another voice in the crowd. An occasionally evil avocado. That this couldn't blow up in my face, that everything was cool.

And then it did. And I was wrong. And the talking started, and things were coming out that I had no idea that was going on. That I was being held responsible for. Opinions that were spoken in my name. Events I was supposed to have been aware of and supported. All of a sudden I was omniscient, aware of the true passive aggressive meaning of every reblog, aware of every post in every room in the discord I wasn't even running. Wasn't even a mod on. All of a sudden I had power, and I had used it to hurt people. The people I cared about. Everything I wrote was taken in the worst possible way, twisted into things I never meant, and the more I tried to talk to people, the worse it went.

Look. I know this was at heart a war between people that just doesn't like each other and the things they do/the ways they behave. I'm still not entirely sure who's been involved, and I'm not interested in finding out. I tried to build a supportive space, reblog everyone's art and fics, encourage people to make their own things, get a kofi, get some money, make some friends.

And herein lies my problem.

I thought I understood how to be, and now I don't. I have no idea who hates my guts and who doesn't (well, except some who has very vocally let me know). I can't trust anything. I can't trust anyone. And it sucks. Someone I trusted stabbed be in the back because they were convinced I stabbed them in the back and that sucks more than I can describe. Every time I make a comment on AO3 or twitter it's after psyching myself up for half an hour, and I'm usually a wreck afterwards, because my brain doesn't know if they hate me too, and if I am imposing on them and making their day bad.

So yeah. I need to figure out how to be. How not to have a nausea attack every time I accidentally click open tumblr from pure reflex, looking away from the screen just not to see how may messages I have.

I never wanted to be the aloof author, but maybe I have to be. The question is if I can. I have been told I can't comment on pics or fics, because then I have favorites. And that makes people jealous. And it makes people think I take sides. I have been told I can't be on the discord, because then I will be held responsible for what the mods do there, and everything that's said even when I'm not around. I should apparently have someone manage the tumblr, it's not something that I, an author should do.

I now understand the authors who just stay away and remain distant, because people give themselves the power to write the narrative for you.

Part of me wants to tell people what I've told my current bosses, don't assume, just talk to me. I don't pick up/do passive aggression, I don't understand hints, I have trouble with nuance, I don't listen to gossip, I don't interact enough to know anything that's going on. Just ask before assuming.

Except that right now I can't. I can't talk about any of this. It's too close. It sets me off. It's getting better, sure, I'm on medication again, but the smallest thing still can ruin my entire day. I have no idea how long it will take me to recover and come back to some semblance of normality. I'm not posting this myself (my partner does). Writing is going well, because it lets me not be myself. I need those walls again. The therapy of writing about pain.

I'll rebuild them. I'm not entirely sure who I'll be on the other end of it. We'll see.

I have consciously not spoken about any details because those could be misunderstood, this is not a passive aggressive callout to anybody. I have no hard feelings towards anyone, I am not angry or upset, just confused and sad. I am truly so very, very, very sorry that I've hurt people, both by action and inaction. It was never my intention. I will do my best to do better in the future.

Still working on how to do that.

#personal

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yukipri · 4 years

Text

Marco’s Bauble Part 7 - a One Piece Mermaid AU Text Story

I ended up spending most of this past weekend setting up the Mermaid AU on AO3, so I do hope y’all will check it out over there!

Please note that on AO3, this Marco’s Bauble story is going under the title On the Courtship of Monkey D. Luffy. I didn’t really know where this series was going when I began writing it, and “Marco’s Bauble” was most definitely a starting point, but it’s expanded well beyond that now, as you’ll probably see in this update ^ ^; I haven’t decided yet whether I’ll rename all the parts on Tumblr or not.

BUT in the meantime, I’ll continue posting updates in advance here on Tumblr (and on Patreon even further in advance ;D), so here’s an update for this week!

In which Sabo confronts Koala.

Continues off of, and should be read after:

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 1

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 2

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 3

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble, Part 4

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble, Part 5

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble, Part 6

Hmm, Koala thinks. So this probably counts as a "kabedon."

A kabedon, according to the young new recruits who'd explained it to her, is a situation in which one person, ideally tall and attractive, leans over a second, ideally smaller person, boxing them against a wall with their arms, essentially pinning them in place. Koala thinks it sounds like menacing posturing, but the recruits insisted that if done by the right person, it's a terribly titillating scenario, the kind you'd find in romance stories.

It happens to be the situation that Koala finds herself in now, with her back against the side of Merry's cabin as Sabo looms over her, effectively blocking all exits with his arms braced against the wall on either side of her.

Sabo, Koala grudgingly thinks, probably not only qualifies, but is likely the recruits' very definition of tall and attractive.

Right now, he's doing that thing where his eyes are half-mast, dark and unreadable as they peer down at Koala through the curtain of blond locks that have fallen across his face. It's a look that Koala knows has half of Baltigo swooning, and she's heard people call it Chief's Sexy Look.

Koala feels very strongly that those are a poor choice of words, because from personal experience, she knows it's a look that's usually followed immediate, brutal interrogation that often ends in screams and excessive bloodshed.

"Koala," he breathes, in that voice that has stolen the hearts of half the Revolutionary Army, and has convinced more than one unfortunate soul that perhaps, they might survive this encounter after all.

But Koala knows better.

Because his next words are, surprise surprise, "What are you hiding from me about my Luffy?"

He smiles then, and it looks misleadingly gentle, and Koala can see why strangers may mistake him for a benevolent princely gentleman.

But Koala knows Sabo. And all she sees is the manic sadism behind the oh so very fake expression.

She cringes, because no, there is absolutely nothing romantic or exciting about this situation at all. All she feels is Doom.

"Hmm?" she says, keeping her hands behind her back so he can't see them twist. In these situations, Koala's more than well aware that the more she talks, the more she incriminates herself.

Many who observe their partnership are under the impression that Sabo's just the overpowered guy who beats people up and destroys shit, while Koala provides intel. And while it's true that Koala has intel, Sabo's the one who often personally extracts it from their most stubborn sources.

In other words, what Sabo wants, he usually gets. It's usually a comforting thought, but not today.

"Hmm?" Sabo parrots back, eyes lazily tracing over her face, and Koala frantically tries to keep her expression neutral as he searches for an opening.

It's like when they were children, Koala thinks, when they played interrogation games with each other as assignments for Inazuma's class. Except this time, it's not Koala's grade on the line. And while Koala knows that her partner would never actually hurt her, he's also very capable of making life pretty miserable for her if she doesn't spill.

And right now, she has a secret she'd really, really like to keep away from Sabo.

The secret being, y'know, the fact that someone proposed to his dearest baby brother.

And even though it's extremely unlikely that Luffy understands the significance behind the gesture, she considers the gift hers, which, for all points and purposes...means she accepted.

Koala does not want Sabo to find out about this, from her, at least right now, before she has more information.

But, Koala glumly remembers, she's never actually managed to win any interrogation games against him.

"You know," he says, voice deceptively light, and Koala wants to groan because here we go. "Luffy and Ace mean the world to me. They're not just my past, they make me who I am. Even when I didn't remember, they were with me, and I was with them. They're everything to me."

Koala won't break. She tries to look for an opening without shifting her eyes, but Sabo's not an amateur and there are no escape routes.

"It would truly be terrible, if something happened to one of them, something that should be stopped, that I could have prevented if only I had known."

He's poking her defenses. He wants her to say, you're blowing this out of proportion, it's not that big a deal, or maybe you're overthinking this. Possibly even lie, I'm not hiding anything, or even counter, what makes you think I'm hiding something?

Koala knows better. Those are all traps, all openings that he'd pounce on, and she's seen him rip people apart for falling for them. Koala won't give him the chance.

He leans in close, and whispers in her ear, voice low and dark in a way that would make his fans cry, and his enemies cry too but for an entirely different reason. "You wouldn't know something that'd prevent me from fulfilling my duties as Luffy's older brother, now would you, Koala?"

Well, Koala thinks snidely, depends on what you consider your brotherly duties, and whether they include homicide and starting a war with an Emperor.

She says, "Mmm."

Sabo, or rather his mouth, smiles. His eyes are a void. Koala's not used to be on the receiving end of this particular stare, and she isn't enjoying a moment of it.

"Alright. If that's how you want to be. Let's figure this out together, now shall we?"

Sabo's voice is calm, exaggeratedly patient, like a therapist. He never talks to Koala like this, but Koala still recognizes this particular tone, and cringes as she realizes which interrogation pattern he's chosen. It's one she's ill equipped to counter at the moment, and he no doubt knows it.

Koala braces herself. Blank face, she tells herself, even breathing. He's using his stupid over-powered Observation Haki to keep track of your pulse.

"Well," he begins, "I know it's already about Luffy, because you're more nervous about me talking about her than Ace." It's stated as fact, and Koala blinks rapidly to moisten her eyes because she knows the real deal's starting now, and she'll have to avoid blinking when it might give her away.

"And it must be something you found out during your Fishman Karate sessions, because you don't have any other time together, at least when I'm not watching."

Koala isn't remotely surprised that he's monitoring everyone; after all, she's been doing the same. She wants to sigh but keeps it in.

"It's probably something physical, because Lu can't keep secrets if she thinks of them as secrets, so it might have been something you saw...a scar, or a mark on her body? No? Then an object she has on her...Ah, there we go."

Fuck you, I didn't give you any tells, Koala thinks indignantly, but she knows that expressing any annoyance will only confirm his guesses, and continues to refuse to speak.

"You've been going to the kitchen more often than usual, but not during meal times, or even prep times, but rather lulls...times that you have no business in the kitchen, and times where only cooks are present, cleaning up or otherwise doing tasks that don't require their full attention...the perfect time to chat."

Maybe I wanted a snack, Koala thinks, but keeps her mouth shut, because Sabo already knows when and how she snacks. This interrogation really isn't fair.

"And as for the cooks in question...well, if it were Sanji, I'd just ask him myself, but you knew I wouldn't do that, right, Koala? You know I could get it out of him, so if it was him, he wouldn't know anything of value. But I don't think he's involved at all."

Sabo looks at Koala expectantly. Koala stares right back at him, though her eyes feel very, very dry.

"So the question now is, why would my dearest partner want to protect Thatch, Fourth Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates and temporary first cook of the ASL Pirates?" Sabo talks as though he's asking himself, but he isn't, and Koala's not fooled. She keeps her face blank. "I doubt it's a personal thing, after all, his intentions towards Luffy couldn't be more obvious, he announces it at least once a day. And given my partner's obvious little lesbian crush, it doesn't seem in her best interests to help him, no?"

This does get a reaction from Koala, and her breath leaves her in a whoosh. Fine, make it personal. If he's figured out this much, it's only a few more steps till the answer, and at this point what does it matter. Koala glares, relishing freeing her face from its mask, and for a moment Sabo's back to his usual self, giving her a cheeky wink as though to say told you so. But then Interrogator!Sabo is back, because he's not quite done yet.

Whatever. She tried, alright. It's not like she owes the Phoenix anything. She leans back against the wall, bringing her arms in front of her chest, and scowls, hoping her expression projects exactly what she thinks of Interrogator!Sabo at the moment. Sabo likewise drops his arms, because he knows she's no longer going to escape.

"You're not protecting Thatch himself, because if you were we could solve it here, and it never needs to get out of hand. So you're protecting someone connected to him. The fact that you're being so stubborn, tells me that it's not just a personal thing, but something that could cause an incident, that would likely affect the Army. Which means, obviously, a Whitebeard pirate.

"But I don't think it's just any Whitebeard pirate. They're someone high profile enough that it would be a big deal if I were to confront them, possibly jeopardizing any potential future alliances the Army forms with them, or drawing the eyes of the World Government. Which, they're already watching us, which makes me think it's gotta be someone even bigger than Thatch..."

Which, of course doesn't leave much.

"It could very well be old man Whitebeard himself," Sabo says, but he's shaking his head. "But something tells me it's not. And I know that some very interesting little blue birds have been stopping by the Merry, likely with letters for Thatch, but possibly also with unsolicited deliveries for my baby brother..."

Your baby brother, chill with your possessiveness, does rubbing it in feel that good? Koala sniffs.

"And as for why it's a big deal...you wouldn't be so secretive over a crush. Everyone on the crew has a crush. That can be dealt with. This is a few steps beyond, something you think would make me mad, right, Koala?”

Sabo pauses a moment, but it's for dramatic effect, because Sabo knows that Koala knows that he already has an answer.

"So tell me, Koala. What did Marco the Phoenix give Luffy to try to claim her as his bride?"

And well, there you have it.

"Bravo," Koala says dryly. "I see you're qualified for your position, Chief. I'll be sure to inform the Boss."

Sabo tips his hat, and even though she allows herself to relax, Koala keeps her eyes trained on her partner.

He's taking this calmer than she expected, to be honest. Interrogator!Sabo still hasn't fully faded from his face, but he's no longer giving off sadistic vibes, and has that little frown that tells Koala he's still sorting through his thoughts. His ability to remain composed is likely affected by the fact that they're still in Paradise, and the Whitebeard Pirates and the New World are still quite a ways away.

Which is good, because it means Sabo can't just impulsively cause a massive incident on the spot. But it's also bad, because it means he's got more time to plot, and Sabo can come up with some pretty devastating things if given the opportunity.

"Sabo, I barely know anything myself, and neither does Thatch," Koala says, finally willing to speak. "I'm working on getting more information. Don't plan anything rash yet. It could all be a misunderstanding."

Sabo slowly nods, still quiet. Koala sighs.

This might be a good time to bring up a certain topic, she realizes. She'd been thinking about it for a while now, but had wanted to give him more time.

She first thought about it when the night after he regained his memories, she sees Sabo slip away from the Merry to pursue the ship that's transporting the slavers who tried to sell Luffy at the auction house. The slavers have already been passed in the hands of Army agents, all of the enslaved have been freed and are on their way to safety, and Luffy's back with her crew. Their job should have been over.

Sabo comes back before dawn, accompanied by Ace who had likely transported him with Striker. He seems calmer than the night before, but Koala doesn't miss that his gloves are still damp from recently being washed.

There've been other incidents too, in the short period they've traveled together. Koala's seen Sabo dangerously close to snapping (and actually snapping) more during the past few weeks than their entire decade together. And on one hand, it's understandable, but on the other...

"You know," Koala begins, as gently as possible. "she's no longer the child you left behind. She's an adult. Even if this ends up being nothing, she may still find someone, one day. What are you going to do then?"

If Luffy's in physical danger, protecting her is one thing. But what if it's something that she chooses?

The change is subtle, but Koala notices when the last of the Chief of Staff fades from Sabo, as his head tilts downward ever so slightly. And all of a sudden he reminds Koala all too much of the tiny, battered child who stared at himself in the mirror when he thought everyone was asleep, touching his scars and asking, Who are you?

"I can't lose her, I can't lose either of them," Sabo says quietly, and he overlaps completely with the lost child, and ah, Koala thinks, because she gets it.

That child, that self who was missing for so long, is back now, inside Sabo where he always belonged, where he always existed but couldn't be recognized. That child now takes up so much space, too much space, and still hasn't been fully reconciled with the adult that Sabo's grown up to be. Simpler, childish emotions and desires that feel too vibrant and raw, clashing with the adult's more weathered world view, aggravated further by all the darkness that Sabo's seen in their line of work.

Sabo's less concerned about Ace, Koala knows, because even though Sabo loves both his brothers, Ace is like his other half. They don't protect each other, but function seamlessly as a single unit, a unit with one priority that stands above all else.

Luffy.

Luffy, who as a child, Sabo was able to protect from anything and everything in their isolated microcosm. Luffy, who as an adult, Sabo knows all too well is more vulnerable than ever, as proven by the very situation in which they reunited.

A gilded glass tank, hidden away behind dusty curtains, with a dark, motionless shape crumpled at the bottom. Chains, chains, and chains upon bruised skin, and bubbles rising from parted lips, getting smaller and smaller as she slowly fades...

That was bad enough, but Koala doubts Ace or any of the others know exactly what the fate of a captured mermaid is, at least in the way that Koala and Sabo do.

Koala understands, she really does.

But she also knows the importance of freedom, not just to Sabo, but likely to Luffy and Ace as well.

"Would it be losing her?" she asks, and child!Sabo flinches.

"We vowed to be free," Sabo says, and he still sounds lost, like he doesn't know what the word means anymore. "And we will be." His hat shadows his eyes, and Koala can't imagine how they look at that moment. "But I don't want her to go where I can't follow."

"Then follow," Koala says, because what else is there to say? "Follow, if that's your freedom. But you can't stop hers."

"I know."

She couldn't have known how Sabo would take her words.

Part 8, we see more of Thatch.

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

As always, any comments are immensely appreciated and help motivate me to create more for this AU! ;A;

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

#OnePieceMermaidAU #One Piece Mermaid AU #fic #text headcanons #Sabo #Koala #genderbend #longpost #long post #pre-SaboLu #should I still even post fics on tumblr or is that a waste of my time? ^ ^;;;

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years

Text

The Treatment of Capt. Syverson-Chapter Two: Therapeutic Procedure

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: Shane and Sy share some moments during their treatment sessions…and a phone call that could set the tone for the next few weeks.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None, yet… ;)

Author’s Note: Sorry, I was so eager and excited to post the first chapter of this last night, I totally put some inaccurate info in my description notes. I will correct that in the original post and try to do better henceforth! Hope you enjoy Sy and Shane totally flirting some more and getting more friendly in this chapter. Feedback is appreciated! Even constructive criticism! :D

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags: @onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive @summersong69 @titty-teetee

Let me know if you wish to be added to the list! I’m happy to do it!

Shane woke up that morning with knots in her stomach. She dropped every product she picked up in the shower, she was shaking so much. She accidentally ordered the wrong coffee on her way to work and was now drinking something much less caffeinated and far too sweet for her taste. The barista had informed her it was a grande caramel macchiato with an extra pump of vanilla and extra caramel drizzle…with only two shots of espresso…she couldn't begin to describe how wrong that drink was for her. But it was better than nothing, she told herself, not fully convincingly.

She had chosen her clothes with extra care, even though, with the dress code, her options were limited. And she had made sure to put on a bit of mascara and just a touch of perfume, even though they weren't strictly supposed to wear it…she didn't know why she was bothering.

Well, actually, she did know why. She had been checking her schedule extra diligently lately to make sure she didn't look like a hobo when Sy was coming in. He'd been coming for three weeks now, and after the initial bellyaching about Jordan not being as pretty as her…her heart!...and his feeling extra sore after his visits with him, they were on a roll and had a great chemistry together as far as their treatments went…she tried not to think about…beyond the world of therapy.

She thought back to their first session after she got back from her trip. And the conversation they had.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I think the next time you can't see me, I'm just going to cancel." he had sulked as he wiggled his mass of muscle onto the mat.

"Sy, no. you need therapy. Don't be like that to Jordan. He's an excellent therapist."

"He ain't you though." he smirked, sending her heart racing with that smile that somehow managed to look both boyish and rakish under his full, dark beard. Fucking hell. He needed to stop.

"Well, we can't fault him for that, can we? Lay back, Mister." She demanded. Done with the niceties of the evaluation and onto the treatments where she was in charge. The boss.

"Yes, sir!" she laughed at his clear avoidance of calling her ma'am.

"So where'd you go last week? Vacation or stay-cation?" he asked, the term "stay-cation" sounding downright comical coming out of his country-boy mouth.

"I went to the beach. Gulf Shores."

"I thought you looked like you got some sun."

"Yeah," she pretended his noticing the detail of her awesome tan did not send her reeling. "My folks rented a condo right on the water for my siblings and I to come and stay with them. They're still there. It was tough to leave all that beauty." the beach, pretty much any beach, was her favorite place to be.

"I bet…" he looked at her, something dreamy in his eyes, but he looked away before she could process it. "I thought I had my fill of sand and sun when I was over in Iraq. But you make it sound…like paradise." he smiled softly up at her as she worked on his knee, trying to break apart some of the scar tissue from the injuries and surgeries he'd had…and focus on that, and not the warmth rising in her.

"That's the perfect way to describe any place on the Gulf of Mexico. I doubt it's anything like Iraq, since there's so much water around. It's my favorite vacation destination. Well, apart from London."

"Them British folks always seem so stuck up. Don't know if I'd get along with any of 'em."

"It felt like a second home for me. Everyone was very kind and polite, for the most part. At least it was no worse than it is here."

"Maybe it's just because you're so nice."

"Wait 'til about week eight or ten of your protocol. You won't think I'm nice then. You'll be cussing me out and ready to ring my neck."

"Promise?" he asked, a dark grin on his lips and in his eyes…she faltered for a moment, gulping.

"Cut it out, Syverson." she rolled her eyes, covering…without great effect the way he made her feel.

"Yes...ma'am." he smirked with satisfaction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And now, today, she'd be treating him again, fairly early in the day, and she had to prepare herself. She'd checked the policy, and although there wasn't anything strictly against dating a patient, it was clearly a conflict of interest, and would be frowned upon by her frigid tyrant of a boss. Best to let things remain platonic for now.

Her 9:30 was a no show, so she finished up some notes and was working on some continuing education credits when messenger popped up around 10:00.

Sergeant Sexypants is here. He's quite early and he knows it…*smirk emoji* he must like you, Shane!

Heather, come on, be respectful…he was discharged at the rank of Captain! *rofl emoji* and I think you might be right about him liking me…*nervous emoji*

Oooooooooh!!! You guys are gonna *couple kissing emoji* *eggplant emoji* *okay emoji* *explosion emoji* *baby emoji*

Omg…*three facepalm emojis* I am going to go ahead and start him early since my 9:30 was a NCNS.

Don't finish him too early. Make it last. *smirk emoji*

Jeez. She closed the chat and went to grab him from the waiting area.

"Hey Sy, you ready?"

"You bet, sunshine!" he flashed her a crooked smile. He was calling her sunshine now…ad that to the list of things she'd have to pretend didn't make her swoon.

"Great. Let's start on the bike. How's the knee feeling today?"

"Oh, it's…about the same. Stiff. Lil' sore."

"Well, it's a slow process, like I told you at your eval. You've got a lot going on in there."

"I know…just…it hasn't taken me four weeks to do anything in my life." he sulked. "So…thinking about this taking…twelve or more…" he grimaced as he sat down on the bike, and adjusted it for his longer than average legs, putting his feet in the pedal stirrups.

"You may not see it, Sy, because you're so close to it, but trust me, you're making progress. I can tell you're doing your exercises at home, and you're always willing to put in the work here. You have no idea how much that sets you apart from…some of these other people." she leaned in closer and spoke the last part more quietly to him. It was true. So many of her patients were either lazy or just in it to appease their MDs into writing them scripts for pain meds. That wasn't Sy.

"You really think so?" he gave her the side eye with his baby blues, crushing her with the color like the waves of the ocean she'd just returned from.

"In fact, I know so." she placed a reassuring hand on his broad and thick shoulder. She felt the tension between them hum, like electric current.

"Now, level one, and a steady pace. You're not trying to win any medals here. I'll take those crutches."

"When ya think I can 86 'em damn things?" he griped as he handed over the assistive devices.

"Well, you see Potter again tomorrow? I'll write an update today and send it to him. If he likes what he reads, or more likely pretends to read, regarding your progress, he may discharge them. Do you feel like you can be good to the knee and treat it nice without using crutches? I don't want you to regress and re-injure yourself. That's not gonna get you into your running shoes any sooner."

"I'll be nice. Real gentle." he winked at her…he wasn't just talking about the knee. And she knew it. But again, she pretended she didn't, ignoring once more those butterflies threatening to choke her they were multiplying so fast in her belly.

"Okay, I'll put that in my note. Patient compliant with instructions to be nice." she laughed.

They talked as they biked, Shane sat on the one next to him and pedaled along with him for something to do other than be idle. She thought it made him feel better as well. Like he wasn't doing it alone. They covered the subject of her siblings, an older brother in IT and a younger sister who was an MA, and his German Shepherd, Aika, which he was allowed to bring home from Iraq after they were both honorably discharged. Music, both of them completely in agreeance about the superiority of classic rock.

"I noticed you've worn a Lynyrd Skynyrd shirt a few times and meant to say something before now."

"Yeah, they're one of my favorites. But there are a few newer groups that I like a lot, too. Kings of Leon got me through some tough times, honestly."

"Oh, they're great! I love their sound. And their lyrics…poetry."

"No shit. Sorry." she shook her head and raised up her hands to indicate that he didn't need to apologize to her for swearing. She'd been known to make sailors blush when she was off the clock. "Only by the Night…that whole album is…it's just in my blood, ya know? Ya ever have an album do that?"

"I have. Whole artists catalogs, actually."

"Which artist?" he prodded.

"The Beatles. Pretty much every song. Like you said, it just, like, I dunno, it's almost deeper than the veins. It's in the marrow. My soul." she stared off out the windows ahead of them, thinking about her favorite band in the world and how magical it was to experience Sir Paul McCartney playing some of her favorites live…twice…and the timer on the bike went off, pulling her from her daydream.

She looked over at him, startled by both the noise, and the dreamy look in his eyes that was becoming all too familiar.

"Sorry." she stood, grabbing his crutches for him and handing them back to him from where she had leaned them as they rode.

"Hey, don't be sorry for…ahem…for loving what you love. We should all…hold on to the things that make us feel like that." she nodded.

"Thanks…I don't think a lot of people…understand the way I…my tendency to take things like music, movies, and shows…books…so deeply to my heart." they walked to the treatment room from the gym, taking their time, since they had it. A rare occurrence for Shane, always needing to capitalize on every spare minute. To make productivity a priority.

"I think…that…well, seeing a pretty grim side of the world like I have…seems like there's enough darkness and bullshit making everyone miserable. If we find something…or…someone…that brings us some happiness or even just makes that misery bearable…we oughta hang onto 'em real tight. Cherish it like gold." the silence in the small room was loud with that electrical hum of their tension again. He'd said all the right things, as he always seemed to, but under the absolute wrong circumstances. She just nodded.

"They teach you philosophy in Basic?" she giggled. He laughed back in response.

"Oh, no, Basic was way easier than…whatever goes on inside of us."

"Speaking of which," she segued deftly, "lay back, and let my try to get some range out of that knee before I take new measurements for this update I'm gonna write."

"Yes, ma'am!" he chuckled.

"You get some sick thrill out of calling me that, don't you?" she scowled playfully at him.

"Oh, you have no idea…ma'am." he winked at her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Shane was wondering how Sy's appointment went as she ate her soup at lunch and caught up on her morning notes. She got a ping on messenger.

You have a gentleman caller…*eggplant emoji* hehe, he's on line three.

Geez…thanks Heather.

No need to ask for a name. She knew Heather meant Sy.

She picked up the phone at her desk in the treatment room.

"Hey Sy! How'd the appointment go?"

"Hey, sunshine…eh…he said I'm doin' good, but he wants me to stay on crutches another two weeks." she could hear grave disappointment in his voice. She felt for him.

"Aww, I'm sorry Sy. I know you wanted off those. And I know they're a pain. Literally and figuratively."

"Why wouldn't he want me off 'em?" he was so frustrated. He must have just left the office.

"Did you ask him that question?"

"You know doctors, Shane. Not like I would have got an answer in plain English. Figured you'd know."

"Well, I haven't seen your post-visit report, but it's my presumption that he wants to play it safe. You know he spent most of his day in the operating room with you, right? An eight hour surgery, you had. He probably doesn't want to undo all that by d/c'ing the crutches too soon."

"I was gonna be careful though, Shane!" he was worked up properly, and she could hear it over the roar of his pickup in the background.

"I know you were, Sy. I'm sure you were going to take all kinds of precautions. But what if you're walking into your kitchen, during a storm, and there's a loud clap of thunder, and Aika gets startled and busts past you? What if you're feeling good one day, and forget about it, and jog to catch up to someone holding the door open for you and miss a stick or something under foot? You can't prepare yourself for every pebble or patch of mud in your path, Sy. Accidents will happen. Some circumstances are beyond our control…we just have to do the best we can. The crutches are going to help you until we get you stronger. That's what we'll focus on until those two weeks are up."

"Why is it you can calm me down like this?" he asked, sincere and truly calmer than he had been.

"I'm just a good therapist, is all."

"Ya don't think that's really all, do ya?" the sound of his deep drawl in her ear from the receiver made her shiver. He was implying something that she just couldn't entertain. It wasn't possible for them right now. Maybe…down the road…in a few weeks…

"I'll see ya tomorrow, Sy. Come ready to work that knee."

"You didn't say no…" he was too hopeful. Damn it, he was cute when he was hopeful. She was glad she couldn't see his face light up like she knew it was doing.

"You may have noted I didn't say yes, either."

"Yet. See ya in the mornin', sunshine."

"Bye, Sy."

She put the receiver in the cradle and her face in her hands.

"Shit."

She had a feeling this particular patient was about to become much more complicated.

Up Next: Chapter Three-Therapeutic Activity

#netflix sand castle #sand castle #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc

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miss-pearlescent · 4 years

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LIFE UPDATE (lol)

Hello, this is going to be a long-winded life update because I simply want to just talk about things that have been going on and why I don’t update on a consistent basis :)

One of the reasons is above! Last week (two weeks ago??) I covered Naughty with a friend! Please check it out :D Honestly, this didn’t take away from my writing at all because I do random covers all the time, but I just want the views lmao HUMOUR ME! (I’m the one in white). Oh, and please don’t comment anything about my writing/fanfiction/tumblr on that video! I keep this blog pretty private.

Anyway, what did take away from my writing is A WRITING COURSE! Can you believe :) the :) irony :) I signed up for this writing course because I’ve always really wanted to publish a book aka basically give birth. As a teenager, I followed a few YA authors like they were gods, and when I attended signings, I was starstruck! I’d be like, “Girl, your mind!” So there I was, looking up how to publish a goddamn book and realizing that there were so many things to it other than just writing. It was discouraging to say the least! Then two years ago, I mentioned my hobby to my therapist and she suggested taking a writing course.

She (bless her heart) even searched up local colleges for me and opened my eyes to the fact that educational institutions held entire courses dedicated to romance writing. Wow. Of course, I rejected her idea because of the kind of person I am.

I’m kidding.

I’m not.

LOL ok so I was like “I don’t want to take a writing course because I don’t want people to judge my writing and tell me to write romance a certain way or else it doesn’t feel organic. And what if I lose my interest in it? Then what will I do with my free time? And what if people find my shit really fucking weird? etc”

I put the idea off for a year and finally came back to it last year when I found myself taking frequent trips to the library to write for a whole day. I would buy a Booster Juice, some sushi or Subway, and then I would park my ass on a plastic library chair for 5-8hrs straight. Come Fall/Winter, with the knowledge that I had some basic self-discipline (lmao), I looked into writing courses. I decided to take an online romance writing course that would start February 2020.

Guess when my country began seeing COVID cases? February 2020. Oh boy!

So my lifestyle changed, my work changed, and then I have school work?!?! My dumb ass hasn’t touched anything school related in three years. I was like “you know what? I’m going to try! I’m going to want to learn, and I’m going to put in effort.” Holy shit!!!!! I’ve learned that school still stresses me out lol it doesn’t matter that my grades literally don’t matter in this course. I’m still stressed.

That’s not to say I didn’t like this course. I really enjoyed it because I actually did learn a lot. My instructor (professor???) was also really...ELOQUENT LMAO Her lecture notes would spill mad tea but in the most polite way possible. I have yet to see any of my marks or read any of her comments (due to my fragile ego) but I am excited to do so.

One example of her brilliance in getting her message across is this little section about active vs passive verbs. We’ve all done this lesson hundreds of times in high school, but OMG the line that she uses at the end really solidifies the difference! After reading that, I decided not to skip any of the other readings lmao home girl had my respect.

OK ANYWAY! Back to me stressing! I was very stressed with every assignment. It was nice to be challenged to write differently (creating better mood, fleshing out characters more) because the end products were all...”nice”. But that shit took so much energy that I couldn’t write anymore! I couldn’t think of new plots that I was interested in :( It also didn’t help that I was going through other personal issues, and my libido was nonexistent. As a result, I have so many intros to stories because I’ve had to force myself to think of something for this course, but I never was truly interested in them to actually write it all out from start to finish. Not to mention, I have not written a sex scene since February lol

Then came the final assignment that I just submitted two days ago. OMG. It was a straight up publisher’s package. You had to have a 20pg manuscript. You had to write a query letter/cover letter. You had to research which publisher you would submit to. IT WAS SO SCARY.

I was going to write a whole new story for this manuscript but after writing 4k words, literally nothing was happening in the story and I was so bored. So I scrapped it all and took one of my most recent stories (Universal Differences, but in third person lmfaooo) and tried to tweak it. It was soooo difficult!!! Of course, I also procrastinated this whole thing because procrastination is one of my character traits. On the last three days, I pulled 8-10hrs non-stop everyday to finish it (unrelated, but I watched the SuperM 100 MV after one of these days, and I had to close my laptop immediately after the video because I felt like the MV was attacking me to stay awake LOL). There were so many times where I legit hated myself and my writing and nearly cried because I would think back on all the love that you guys gave to that story and then I’d be like “THE STORY (and, in turn, me as a person) IS SO UNDESERVING OF ANY LOVE AT ALL.”

See, this is why I went to a therapist a few years back loooool I had to rewire my brain to dissociate my writing from myself. I had to keep reminding myself that even if my prof didn’t like it, I would still get good feedback at the end of the day and none of that feedback would reflect me as a person. That even if she told me that I was never going to be able to ever publish anything, there are many writers who were told the same thing and came out of it alive and prosperous because they continued to work hard. I have a whole ass template now of what to send to a publisher/agent. If I wanted to, I would have the skill base to take a story and know where to direct it for publication.

And I would have the confidence to do that!!! Because I’ve already done it once!!!

Something cute my prof said when one of the students said they were overwhelmed:

[ I think it can help if you just think of it as the business processes of that industry - and not you laying your heart and soul out in front of some stranger to judge. :)]

;____________;

OK that is all for now, I think! Since I have submitted my final assignment, my imagination has come free of its reigns so I hope to get more stories out to you guys! Thank you for the requests too! The wilder they are, they more they get my brain going hehehehehehehhehe have a good week everyone~

#There is no need to read any of this #I just wanted to talk through my stress

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dredgenridge · 4 years

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I am desperate to leave the living situation I am in. I need help. I have tried other place in the past and not a budge. It's a stretch for me to try here. It's a hit or miss deal.

I am 21 years old, working 40+ hours a week with $10 an hour, no vehicle* and I am living with my homophobic family. This has been my life for a while now in this broken down house, literally. I'm in hell.

I do love my job and the family I work but 10 and hour doesn't cut it to live on my own. I hate asking money from them because they have treated me so well in the past. I always feel guilty asking. (This family has gave me gifts amd money to help me get items I need like the special boots I had to order. I need to replace them since they are beat up but they were not cheap for me and work helped me.)

These are the KURU Boots they helped me get because I work outside all day and I am on my feet. I have had these for around six months but they are done. I need to buy a new pair of KURU shoes but I am holding off for at least a few more weeks. (I have plantar faciatis. Work has worked around that fact with me.)

Before you ask, I have tried to do another job, ended up quitting because it was too much to go from outside retail (from 8am-6pm depending on what day it was) to a restaurant (on weekend nights) and didn't get to go home til around midnight a few times? (and for them to ignore some of my notes on my resume about my mental health? I was not going to stay so I quit there and continued to work at my current job.) I have applied for other part time jobs and got one call back but couldn't make it and asked to be rescheduled and they say' "Yes. We can do that." Then that time comes and never get another call?

*In April, it will mark two years my own vehicle has sat in the yard. TWO. YEARS. I do, however, have someone coming Friday night (Mar 13) to look at my truck and then return Sunday afternoon to work on it. So I won't be vehicleless too much longer, hopefully. I've seen his work but I am afraid to be screwed over because I have issues with that. I am always scared since I have been screwed over before.

That truck is my golden ticket outta here.

I am the only LGBT+ person in the house. I know my family is homophobic because they wear it proudly on their sleeve. I have heard their vile bullshit. I hate living in south North America.

It is like they don't think I can hear them when I wear my headset but boy oh boy, all the shit I've been fucking stuck hearing? I have had no privacy in 5 years. FIVE. Look at this.

I am near my bed right now and that is my view to the living room and kitchen. I hear everything. I hear the fighting between my parents, my brother when he talks about me. When I make comment about it they go back and say, "That's the point." when it comes to them talking about me. They clearly are too thick to see how much that has mentally damaged me.

Right behind this wall, is a health hazard.

From the sock over to the dresser is damp on the carpet be cause for over a month we have had a water leak from our water heater tank.

When I opened the door in the room to the water heater tank is, in the room beyond that brick wall- this is what I saw.

A brick wall is literally keeping me from that right now. I am sure that is black mold. I have not felt the best since I opened that door and took those pictures.

My so called father knows about it and hasn't done shit.

You see this?

The bathroom with the working shower has looked like this since at least 2017. That plywood is starting to get bad because of us showering.

In the other bathroom a light could fall in any moment. Been like this for roughly a year or more. I don't know anymore.

We live down the road from a restaurant and when they spray for roaches, we know. We know because my brother works there and they are in our house for a few weeks. I got up late one night to go get some water, flip the switch and I managed to see three small roaches scuttling into dark areas of the kitchen.

Do not get me started on mice during the winter. I don't see them but I can sure as hell hear them.

Another thing. The house is old so the foundation is not stable. The living room floor is warped in different areas and we have a leak under the house with our sewage line I believe. But at least once a month, under the house has to be pumped out of water. We do not have a basement.

My dad clearly does not give a flying fuck about anyone but himself. I think my absent father is a scociopath. Let me clarify. Physically there but never interacted with his kids. HE DOES NOT AND WILL NEVER KNOW HOW TO INTERACT WITH HIS FUCKING FAMILY.

The audacity to think I wanted a rifle that I will never shoot as a high school graduation gift?? I told him I wanted an xbox for graduation around the time he was about to get the rifle and it baffled him. I have always had a high interest in video games and I had not owned my own gaming system like an xbox or playstation of my own up until 2017. It was always share the Wii or PS2. He doean't know me at all.

I've heard my parents fight for at least the last few months and I am so sick of it. My friends are fucking worried beyond belief. They are stuck fucking hearing it when I am in a voice party with them and it is so embarrassing.

Just get a fucking divorce already. I am really tired of playing mom's therapist. I get that she needs to vent and all but to your traumatized, mental disordered child? I already am suffering enough from lack of needed treatment. It has taken such a strain on me that my facade is completely crumbling away at work. I can't hide my pain much longer.

I have wanted to kill myself twice in the last year alone to escape this. I have wanted to make it quick and the least messy as possible with one of the many hand guns thay lay around in the house. I was so close to going through with it the second time I thought about it.

I had made my mind up. Write a letter and a will for what my friends get and what to throw away. I was about to start writing it once I decided that I was ready to die. I scared some people and they told me to go to a hotline to talk me out of it.

That was seven months ago.

I need to escape and this is my last shot on asking for help. (I have asled help for different things and I have been overlooked.) I know friends who want to help me are unable to. I am not mad at them. They are already doing what they can to help themselves first beofre me because I care aboit them and want to make sure they are in a good spot before anything else. They aren't in the best situations either.

I need financial help to help me move. I am only asking for a total of $5000. If you can only donate even just $1 dollar, I will be more than thankful for you help. I am also opening commissions at this time. Please bear with me on timing. I am working 40+ hours a week right now and will work on the commissions as soon as I get a breathing chance when I get home.

My Commission Prices

$10 for a sketch and that will go from a bust to full body. I only do traditional- so pencil and paper. No sketch lines, just a clean pencil drawing. No limit to characters on one drawing. You will be charged for more than one character if you are going to have them on individual papers.

+$1 if you want it inked.

Note- I will not draw backgrounds, do shading or draw any NSFW. I am not adept in those fields.

My Paypal-

Thanks for at the very least reading through. Please help this be spread around. I will follow up with weekly updates through reblogs.

#tw suicide #abuse mention #tw abuse #emotional abuse mention #im desperate for help #i have no where else to turn #im scared that i will be stuck here longer than i already want to be #please #anything really helps

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jamesginortonblog · 4 years

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No one could accuse James Norton of allowing himself to be typecast. The 34-year-old has played a vicar-turned-sleuth in Grantchester, a violent rapist in Happy Valley, and the aristocratic hero of War & Peace. He’s also number three in the betting to be the new James Bond. And he’s just about to add to his library of opposites with two new roles: the staid tutor John Brooke, who marries Emma Watson’s Meg March, in the star-studded new film adaptation of Little Women; and the flamboyant real-life figure at the centre of the Profumo scandal – Stephen Ward – in BBC One’s The Trial of Christine Keeler.

“Ward was 100 per cent the fall guy,” says Norton, sporting a dark-blue crushed velvet jacket and settling in on a chaise longue in an upmarket London hotel. The actor looks every bit as debonair as you’d expect for a man playing the high-society osteopath with connections that ran from Soho to the aristocracy. “The government needed to clear their own name by tarnishing someone else’s.”

It was Ward who introduced the 46-year-old Secretary of State for War John Profumo (Ben Miles) to 19-year-old model and showgirl Christine Keeler (Sophie Cookson) at a party at Lord Astor’s country house estate of Cliveden in 1961. It led to an affair that exposed Profumo as a security threat – thanks to Keeler’s simultaneous relationship with a Russian naval attaché.

Keeler and her friend Mandy Rice-Davies (Ellie Bamber) often stayed at Ward’s London mews flat, and the 50-year-old former public schoolboy would later be prosecuted for living off immoral earnings in a dubious case of establishment revenge. The two had contributed small amounts to household expenses. Ward committed suicide after the judge’s summing up amounted to a direction to the jury to find him guilty.

Amanda Coe’s stylish, evocative drama establishes Keeler and Rice-Davies as sexually liberated young women for their time. Does Norton think they were victims? “Ward definitely used certain relationships he had with young, beautiful women to ingratiate himself with the wealthy elite,” he says. “He also groomed them to a point… but it’s too simplistic to say he was a man who groomed young women. His relationship with these young girls was often a very positive one, he would enable them, take them out of poverty.” Keeler was from a disadvantaged background and fitted the mould of the “alley cats” Ward liked to befriend. Norton gives a terrific performance as the sleazy Pygmalion.

“I really warmed to him… you fall in love with these characters, and Stephen Ward was way ahead of his time, so brave in how he lived his life and expressed himself, his sexual tastes, his flirting with cross-dressing, in a world that was still incredibly repressed.

“And the final reckoning was that Stephen Ward had somehow corrupted these Tory ministers and it was all his fault, which is absurd.”

I wonder if Norton, the son of a retired college lecturer and a mother who taught medical ethics, is as dazzled by the truly posh as Ward was.

“Wealth or class are not things that I’m particularly dazzled by,” he says. “I am by talent.” He cites Little Women director Greta Gerwig and her partner Noah Baumbach, who made Netflix’s Marriage Story, as an example.

Norton himself is part of a powerhouse acting couple, with British star Imogen Poots, whom he became close to when they starred together in a play in 2017. They seem very happy. “It’s good,” he says, but adds, “my personal life is very normal, I have a house in Peckham, my [parents] live in Yorkshire. There's very little glamour and scandal.”

There was a little bit of the latter when his previous girlfriend, actress Jessie Buckley, said their break-up had been “acrimonious”, but Norton is far too canny to add fuel to that particular fire.

Similarly, he won’t comment on the rumours linking him to James Bond, insisting they are “based on nothing”. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have strong opinions on the series in general.

“We all know that with James Bond, large parts of it, and all the versions of it in the past, are now antiquated and it needs to be updated,” he says. “And I think that Barbara Broccoli and the producers are very aware of that. Bringing in people like Phoebe Waller-Bridge can only help.”

Might the spy be a little too one-dimensional for someone who has taken on so many interesting parts? Daniel Craig, who is stepping aside after the latest film No Time To Die comes out in April, has often seemed unhappy with the role.

“If I was to take on a franchise,” Norton says, “I would always want to complement it with something completely different.”

He has just taken on a big HBO sci-fi series, The Nevers, he says, and is in negotiations with the BBC about doing a second series of McMafia. We chat about the fact that the first series attracted a measure of criticism, including some for his own performance as Alex Godman, the scion of a Russian mafia family drawn reluctantly into the underworld. “There was an article about the three wooden faces of James Norton,” he says with a laugh.

How did he take it?

“It’s a rite of passage that you have [bad reviews],” he replies. “Ultimately, it’s an art form which is deeply subjective and you’re never going to please everyone.” The character was intended to be “inscrutable and calcified”, he adds. Nevertheless, he admits he might play it slightly differently second time around.

“Yeah, possibly,” he says. “But, then again, you don’t want to pander to the people who didn’t like it. There's so much content out there that people who don't like it can go and find something else.”

One of the factors that Norton and director James Watkins agreed upon when sketching out Godman’s background was his public school education. Norton is a public school boy too; a former pupil of Ampleforth, the leading Catholic boarding school which was found to have covered up the sexual abuse of scores of children in a devastating report in 2018.

Norton never saw any wrongdoing during his time there, but does admit to being “quite badly bullied” and credits one of the monks - a Father Peter - with helping him get through it. “I was able to go and just talk to him and he basically became my therapist,” says Norton. “I just sort of sobbed my eyes out.”

Has it left a mark? “It probably has a bit,” he says. “It’s not defined me, but it has informed who I am. I’m hyper aware if someone is being in any way ostracised on a film set, for example.”

On Little Women, he found himself on set with some of the industry’s biggest names, including Saoirse Ronan, Timothée Chalamet, Meryl Streep and Laura Dern. The film’s a deliriously romantic and sentimental take on the novel’s sibling rivalries, but it takes its duty to Louisa May Alcott’s study of the economic subjection of women seriously. “It's important for us to go back to those punctuation marks in the struggle towards equality and recognise how far we've come, but also how we're not quite there yet,” Norton says.

He and Watson were given the task of writing their own marriage vows for the film, which he says he laboured over but arrived with them unfinished to discover that Watson had already written hers and they were beautiful. He was just young enough to read the early Harry Potter books, he notes, but has only seen a couple of the films – “Don’t tell Emma.”

He plays Chalamet’s tutor – did he fancy the 23-year-old as everyone else seems to right now? He smiles. “He’s a beguiling and bizarre, unique force of nature,” he says. Norton had been wondering about wearing a suit to today’s photoshoot, but is glad he didn’t as he’s just bumped into the younger man in a Gorillaz tee-shirt and sunglasses. “Whenever he’s around, I feel about 10 years older than I am.”

Among all its bold women, I wonder if his own character – John Brooke – is just a teeny bit dull. He laughs. “He’s a little quieter than some of the other characters, but that allowed me to just witness all these great women actors. It was incredible.”

There’s certainly nothing dull or quiet about the character he plays in the film Mr Jones, which is released in February. It’s the surprisingly little-known story of Gareth Jones, the journalist who uncovered the Holodomor – the man-made famine genocide inflicted by the Soviet Union upon Ukraine in 1932-33, which is estimated to have killed up to 7.5 million people. “He blew the whistle on the Soviet Union,” says Norton. “He was the first person to go [to Ukraine], and come back and tell the world.”

In the West, the economic crash of 1929 had led to the Great Depression. “Everyone was looking at the Soviet experiment thinking, ‘Oh, it's working’,” Norton says. “They were getting into bed with Stalin and trade deals were being made. And no one was calling them out. Until this one serious, bespectacled, earnest Welsh journalist got on a train and risked his life to blow the whistle.”

I wonder if those types of films can command a big enough audience to keep getting made? He accepts that independent cinema is in a period of shrinkage, but says, “while the audience for this type of film might not be as big as a Marvel movie, we have to protect those stories because film isn't just about escapism. It's also about education.”

#james norton #little women #the trial of christine keeler #mr jones #interviews

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gwynplaine89 · 5 years

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Smile and put on your best face

Multi-chapter fanfic. Arthur X Sophie.

I own NOTHING. Todd (aka God) does.

Will be updating regularly.

Chapter 1: A chronic underachiever

The bus is full. Seems like I will have to stand this time. No, wait. There's a free spot in the back. I drop myself on the last seat. I'm still in pain due to the beating I took this morning. Some kids assaulted me outside the music shop. They stole the sign from my hands and ran away. I followed them but they ambushed me in an alley, beat me down and hit me. There were five of them. I know the broken sign will be deducted from my paycheck. And there's not much one can deduct from that salary anyway...

The way home is long. All days resemble each other. Always the same route, the same streets, the same lights, the same people. But sometimes, and only sometimes, there's something different, something that catches my attention. A little boy. In the front seat. He turns around and watches me with curiosity. He seems to be very interested in me. He's the only one in this bus for whom I'm not invisible.

I had washed my face earlier and removed all the clown make up, but it doesn't matter. Kids, unlike adults, posess fantasy. Just by making some funny faces the boy is already laughing. Suddenly, his mother turns around and looks at me in anger.

- Stop bothering my child!!

- I wasn't bothering him...I'm sorry...

I was just trying to make him laugh. People always seem to be upset...

And suddenly I feel laughter crawling up my throat. Oh no...please no, not now.

- HAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHA

The woman turns around again.

- WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT??!!!

- HAHHAHHAHAH no....no HAHAHHAH. I'm not...I'm not laughing. HAHAHAHHA. I'm s-sorry. HAHAHAHHA.

I need air. My throat hurts. I can't speak. My hand reaches to my pocket, I grab one of my "presentation cards" and hand it to her. Normal people always carry those with them. They say things like "LAWYER", "DOCTOR" or "CEO". Mine is a bit different.

"Excuse me if I laugh. I'm sick. My laughter is involuntary.

Please kindly return this card"

The woman reads it, looks at me with mistrust and hands me back the card. My laughter slowly calms down, but I've already made her uncomfortable. Her and everyone else here. I feel all those eyes on me. There's still two stops before home but as soon as the bus halts, I get off. I sit down on a bench at the stop and wait for the next bus.

A man approaches and sits down beside me. He carries a newspaper and begins to read. Thomas Wayne, who is running for mayor of Gotham, is on the cover. I laugh a bit upon seeing him because I remember that my mom has a weird obsession with mailing him letters. And then my laughter gets out of control.

- HAHAHHAHAHHAAAA

I cover my mouth with one hand to smother the laughter. But I can't.

- What's wrong with you?- he says, visibly annoyed.

I just shake my head no. I try to say something but again I fail. My laughter only gets worse and louder by the minute.

- HAHHAHAHAHAHA

- WHAT'S SO FUNNY, ASSHOLE??- the man yells, throwing aside the paper.

Again I reach for my card and hand it to him.

The man reads it. Now he is the one who laughs.

- You're sick?? Hahhahaha.

- Yes, Sir...

- Really?? You poor thing...HAHAHHAHA YOU THINK I'M STUPID OR WHAT??- he yells.

- N-no!! I...

The man tears the card into pieces.

- No!! Please...I need it!!

It was the last one I had left over.

- Fucking freak!!- he says and throws the pieces of paper in my face.

Great, in just one day I managed to get myself beaten up, have some deducted from my paycheck, and my last card torn. My life is such a success.

People are not only impatient...sometimes they are cruel just for the sake of it.

I let the next bus pass me by. Despite the fact that it's gotten dark and it's winter, I think I prefer to walk today. The cold of men is worse than the cold of the night. It's a voluntary cold.

Chapter 2: Penny and Murray

To get home it's necessary to climb a set of never ending stairs. It's something I'm used to, but every step hurts due to the punches and it takes me twice as long to get to the top. From here, I continue to the right for two more blocks. The wind blows intensely and I fold my arms over my chest to protect myself from the cold because my yellow sweater doesn't keep me warm enough.

It's hard to make way through the garbage that threatens to bury all of Gotham. The rats, on the other hand, are something one gets used to after a while. Personally, I don't mind them. I think they suffer the same luck we do. They just wander around desperately in search of a bit of food and shelter.

The building where I live is a damn horrible shack. It's old, collapsed and it sucks. Inside are at least two hundred appartments where people live cramped together like sardines. Mine is number 8A. There's barely enough space to fit in my mom and me. But, in spite of it all, it's the only good moment of my day when I get here, home.

- Happy, you're late! What happened?

Happy...that's what my mom calls me. It's ironic...Mom never leaves the house, her health is very fragile and she needs my help for almost everything. She can no longer work. Her name is Penny. I always prepare dinner and take it to bed for her. There's only one bed. Sometimes we share it and sometimes I sleep on the couch in the living room.

- I missed the last bus...- I explain while I take off my shoes and warm her a bowl of soup.

- Come quickly! The show is about to begin!

Every night before going to bed, we watch Murray's show. It's the best part of my day.

Murray is not just a comedian, he's the best comedian there is. He is everything I dream to be one day. When I watch his show, I often imagine that I'm there, that Murray invites me, that I tell hilarious jokes, that people applaud me and I make them laugh. Mom says that my purpose in life is to spread joy and laughter. It's something I take very serious. Mom and Murray are all I have, they are my company every night when I get home.

- Will you not eat, son?

- I'm not hungry.

- But look how skinny you are...eat a little, yes?

- Don't worry, mom...I'm fine.

After the show mom goes to sleep. I stay up for a little longer. I light a cigarette and take off my shirt. In days like these, I'm careful not to do it in front of mom, so that she doesn't see the bruises on my body or how terribly skinny I am. She doesn't need to know that people hurt me in the streets or that a clown's salary doesn't buy enough food for the two of us.

I try to write my diary, just like my therapist said. It's mostly lose thoughts, insignificant stuff that comes to my mind during the day. I don't wish to see anyone and at yet I need someone to speak with...and I solve the problem by talking to the paper. That said, it's not always easy to write down my thoughts because words have limits and thoughts don't have them.

For today I write a single line:

There is a certain amount of punishment in the mere fact of existing.

I am a clown, and to complete myself, or perhaps to complicate myself, I am also a dancer. Sometimes I start dancing in the dark, alone with the street lights peeking through the window. I don't need music, one carries music on the inside. I always picture an audience that admires me and says "Arthur, you're such a great dancer!"

-"Thanks!"- I reply and wave to my public.

How amazing it would be to be like Murray and fascinate the crowds every night. How awesome it would be to feel the sincere appreciation of the people. Their respect, their admiration, their love...How great it would be, even for just one day, to belong to the world of the happy.

#joker #fanfic #arthur fleck

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theexistentiallyqueer · 5 years

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Sorry to bother, but where do autistic and adhd brains overlap? Because both are neurodivergent (and beautiful, I agree) But how can I find out which behaviour belongs more to me being autistic (got diagnosed this year) and which is adhd? (No Matter What Deadline, after several years in hostile environment (failed university, then call center work) I panic. Hard.) How do I disentangle adhd and autism to find out what strategies to use to function better?

Please don’t feel like you’re being a bother, because you’re not! Honestly the fact that someone is coming to me to ask ADHD questions makes me teary-eyed, because I’ve fought so hard to learn to function with ADHD that people Asking Me Things like I’m a trusted expert just makes my heart grow three sizes, the opposite of the Grinch.

I’m probably not the best person to ask about how ADHD and autism overlap specifically, especially if you’re taking this from an autistic POV. And I’m also not a behavioral expert, which is a very strong preface. But I can (and am very happy to) talk a bit about my experiences with ADHD and how I’ve learned to make things work for my brain.

I’m going to put this under a cut, if that’s okay with you, anon. It got kind of long and I don’t want to overrun anyone’s dash. And you can always, always ask me ADHD questions, and I’ll try my best to answer.

My ADHD tends to manifest specifically in the following ways:

Extreme hyperfixation that has its own varying degrees (e.g., I’m really into Fire Emblem: Three Houses, but I have so lack of interest in Byleth/Claude that my lack of interest feels like an actual void)

An inability to process feelings regarding things other people care strongly about that I don’t. If we’re using the same fandom example: I could rant forever about how Byleth/Edelgard gives me ALL THE FEELS, but if I friend I care about started to talk about Byleth/Claude, I would immediately lose all interest in the conversation and struggle to react in a way that doesn’t present me as a selfish monster who doesn’t care about the person I’m talking to.

I tend to monopolize conversation if I’m given the opportunity because I LOVE getting the chance to talk about my hyperfixations. If someone cuts me off when I’m really into a topic, I get incredibly irritated and have to try to restrain from myself from acting petty in response. The number of times I have smiled my mouth is a knife and said, “ANYWAY, as I WAS SAYING…” is beyond count.

I don’t recognize or remember people until I have something meaningful to associate them with. I also don’t tend to notice things that don’t clock themselves as Important in my brain. I usually describe this as “background furniture.” Even PEOPLE become background furniture. A girl I work with mentioned a person on her team had quit, and I’d literally walked by that person’s desk earlier that day and didn’t notice it was empty, because that person and the entire space they occupied was background scenery.

If something affects or touches me personally, it hits me Very Personally. I had a complete fucking breakdown watching the video of Philando Castille’s shooting, because I heard his daughter crying while she watched him getting shot and went down onto a spiral of personal loss over my own father to gun violence and started to immediately correlate the two. Separating ADHD brainness from my whiteness is complex and hard and (said sarcastically) so, so much fun.

The direct inverse of that are things like: I’m talking to my mom, who’s telling me about a high school friend of hers just got into a horrific vehicle accident and is in the ICU. My mom then goes on to give me regular status updates on this woman I don’t know. I get out of work, and she talks about this woman’s surgery. I get out of work, and she talks about this woman’s family’s attempt to find an adequate rehab center. They find a rehab center, and my mom shows me how her friend decorated her daughter’s room. My mom shows me a video of the girl working with a physical therapist, who gets her to push herself upright with a walker and take her tentative steps. “Awesome!” my brain thinks. “Great!” my brain thinks. All of it spans over several days, weeks, months. I have nothing to do with this constant influx of information. I don’t know how my brain should file it. I don’t know this woman who was injured. I feel for her in theory because no one should ever have to go through that even though so many people do, but I haven’t ACTIVELY PRETEND like I personally am invested in the situation or else my mother gives me Concerned Eyes because I seem to be In A Bad Mood Today.

When it comes to organization, I tend to lean towards hyper-organization rather than hypo-organization. By which I mean I over-organize to combat the fact that ADHD often results in disorganization, and disorganization results in chaos, and chaos gives me COMPLETE PANIC ATTACKS. At work at one point, I had my emails auto-tagging every incoming email based on the email type, on top of tagging for my clients. Every label had a different color, and it all made sense to me, because I’d made it. When my team had cover my stuff on a day I was out, my inbox was such a horror show that it left them feeling drained and distressed.

Let’s talk about socialization! I have a rocky relationship with my childhood best friend. When I discovered social justice in college, I started picking fights with everyone over everything Problematique. The first major fight I had with my best friend at the time was because she felt I was over-aggressive towards a mutual male friend of ours. She was probably right, because I know the kind of bullying behavior I later developed. I thought I learned from it. After the 2016 election, I messaged her on FB, thinking I had a sympathetic ear, to say that seeing her mother post constant messages of support for Trump and sharing stuff dismissing Trump’s sexual assault allegations was particularly hurtful considering I’d told my friend that my mom had been sexually assaulted.. I’m not going to share what she said, but she wasn’t in the wrong. We didn’t talk for several months after that.

Speaking of her! When she started dating the guy she’s now married to, at one point I asked her if they’d had sex yet. I asked it because I thought it was a thing you were Supposed To Talk About as friends, and also because I was, in a way, morbidly curious, because I’m grey-ace and queer. She confirmed that they had, but I still felt so icky and uncomfortable about that for so long afterwards. It was only after I started to understand that I’m not cis and not allo that I really understood why: I was forcing myself to perform what I thought female friendship was based on how it’s portrayed in media, and it’s only once I began to understand that I’m on the ace spectrum and that I’m nonbinary that I really started to understand how forced mainstream conversations of attraction are.

I’m loud! I’m loud! I’m loud! I’m loud all the time! I live with my mom and I socialize with my mom and when we’re in public spaces and I’m talking about something that interests me, she always, always, always feels like she has to shush me. What makes it ironic? If there are other people being loud around me, I can’t function. I can’t process the noise. It’s EVEN WORSE if they’re speaking in another language, because if it’s English I can process the words at least, but if it’s another language, it’s just pure, inescapable sound that I know has meaning but can’t intuit, and if I can’t understand something, that’s as bad as dying.

From what I’ve read about autism, here are ways I THINK my ADHD traits overlap with autistic traits:

I can’t read facial expressions. I think I have a better concept of emotional nuance in facial expressions than someone who’s strictly autistic, but I’ll still panic when I see a smile that isn’t bland enough. RDS (rejection-sensitive dysphoria) will kick in. They hate me, they hate me, they hate me, is the track my brain will play on repeat until I’ve drunk myself into oblivion. Whenever someone smiles, I mistrust it immediately.

Eye contact is incredibly fucking frustrating. I understand that it’s expected, but it’s SO UNCOMFORTABLE. Why do we need to stare into each other’s eyes to understand one another? How can you people write whole treatises on the sanctity of locking gazes and finding an instant intellectual bond without realizing that eye contact that’s not called for is personally invasive?

I can’t understand flirting vs not flirting to the point that I’m absolutely paranoid someone is flirting with me, at which point I usually become hostile if I think they ARE, because DON’T FLIRT WITH ME. TALK to me!

I hate, hate, hate unsolicited physical contact. If I’m in a state of over-expression, I hate it even more. I’m not physically withdrawn, because I love hugs, and cuddles, and human touch. But when I’ve spent the entire day listening to other people talk and I have to walk into a room where people continue to talk, if someone touches me, it’s fucking No-Oh-One.

Someone is interested in a thing I’m interested in. We’ll use Persona 5 as the concept, because this honestly happened recently. I talk with the guy whose desk is across from mine about Persona 5 all the time. He’s also excited about Royal. I started going into my Sophia theory that I’ve really only lobbied at @softspokensansa. I could see, I could viscerally see, the interest drain from his expression. BUT I HAVE AN IDEA SO I WILL TALK ABOUT IT ANYWAY, and then afterwards I felt incredibly resentful that I was being filtered through a cookie-cutter drain.

It’s painful–it’s really painful!–to try to talk about my spiritual ideas with other people. I have a side blog I just started and am preppy myself to share, and I’m absofuckinglutely TERRIFIED everyone is going to write me off without looking at what I have to say. IT’S THE RSD AGAIN! Nothing I ever said has actually mattered before, so why should it now?

I feel, constantly, like I’m halfway between a point of reality and a point of something. What that something is is indefinable, but regardless of it, I exist.

I’d like to direct you to two very positive youtubers I know; I meant to do this earlier, but now feels right in terms of how I’ve written: How To ADHD and Amethyst Schaber.I credit both of them in helping me find a safe place with ADHD before diagnosis. There are stories other than yours that matter.

I wish you the best, anon! If you think you’re autistic and ADHD: given the comorbidity between the two, you probably are! And ADHD is just as beautiful, complicated, and misunderstood as autism is.

If anyone reading this can speak to living as both autistic and ADHD, please respond so I can lift your voice. And to my anon: you’re beautiful completely. I hope my story has helped you in its anyway, and I hope that you find yourself at a place of peace. It’s a struggle to get there, but it’s worth it, every step of the way.

#anonymous #thanks for coming to my teq talk #gaydhd

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norcumii · 5 years

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Reblogged from the prior tumbl, originally posted 02/04/2016. Question submitted by @makiruz. Slightly reformatted to avoid a readmore cut and whatnot.

In Full of Sith, they always ask new guests how they got into Star Wars. And you know? That's a good question, how did you got into Star Wars?

HEH. Oooh, that’s a bit of a loaded question. So I’ll give you the short answer, which I suspect would fit the thing you mentioned what I haven’t heard of; and then because I’m a wordy bastard what overshares, the long answer which is more accurate and has content warnings for self harm and suicide.

SHORT ANSWER

It was the 80’s. I was young, in single digits, though I couldn’t tell you exactly what age. I was already dealing with an irregular sleep cycle, though all I knew was I had a flashlight, a pile of books near/on my bed, and a thick pound puppies duvet to read under.

I don’t know if I was in my room or on my way to/from the bathroom, but I could hear my parents watching something downstairs. Swooshy noises, a shrill screee, and some thwoom bzzts.

Of course I went downstairs.

I don’t know if it was episode 5 or 6. I’ve a fondness for 6, but carbonite left a HUGE fucking impression on me, and my parents have always approved of muppets, so Yoda.

I knew I loved it. I didn’t have any toys, though I think somewhere there was a print edition of A New Hope running around. I do recall multiple sleepovers at my grandmother’s place – a tiny house on acres and acres of woods – and she’d sometimes pull out Return of the Jedi and we’d watch it together on her tiny TV. Later on I’d be in bed, staring out at woods and trees that I knew, but seemed huge to a little kid, and I’d dream of Ewoks.

RotJ was Gram’s favorite, and for many years mine, too.

I like Ewoks.

VERY LONG ANSWER

TW: mental illness, depression, self harm, suicide, abuse

In late elementary, early middle school, my brother and I were basically reading ANYTHING we could get our hands on. He sometimes dove into books that didn’t interest me, so I’d read the first of something and then be bored and he’d keep going.

Star Wars EU was one of those. It was too grim for me. I think I didn’t run into any of the really good writers. It was all Han and Luke and Leia on the covers, so take that for what you will. There also was no Wookiepeia, so I was depending heavily on the writers’ abilities to convey things to someone very visual, yet pretty impatient with descriptions, so it never took.

I was in high school when The Phantom Menace came out. Mine honorable brother was off at college, so it was with great excitement on my part, and bemused tolerance on my parents’, that they and I went off to the theater.

On the one hand, I was dazzled.

On the other, there was Jar Jar. There was the fact that I hadn’t been impressed with the re-release of the OT – Han shot first. FITE ME. There was the fact that TPM didn’t feel like Star Wars, which was darker and grittier and…simpler to me.

So I wrote it off. Packed Star Wars away as “one of those things” that I’d been into, but felt like I was moving past. I was obsessed with Gargoyles, I was looking at going to college, and I would keep m’damn ewoks without needing to try to extend that vision with gungans.

College sucked. I went in, not sure if I wanted to go into English, for writing, or Psych, because I had always been what I’d now call The Mom Friend. I met a nice guy who tried, but things never really clicked between us, and there was an interesting bit that he was mad about Star Wars and insisted that I read the Rogue Squadron books.

That was a Good Decision. Dating him, not so much.

I had a huge assortment of Life Issues. Got into an abusive relationship that would end up lasting 14 years. Transferred schools. Got the fucking Psych degree, though literally only by the grace of a professor who didn’t want to see the kid not graduate just ‘cause she couldn’t numbers and I did go in and try. Talked to him and still couldn’t with the maths but the effort was there to bump me a few points above failing.

I was burnt out. I was depressed. I tried killing myself a few times – not very good at it, as you can see. Took up self-harm as a coping mechanism. Failed in the still never successful search for a decent therapist in Pittsburgh. Got a job slinging food, because needed some kind of income, and people without pressure was nice. The keeping on a schedule thing failed, leading to an average of 4 hours sleep a night. Losing contact with family and friends because I couldn’t stand the pressure of “how are you?” and “what’s going on in your life?” Clinging to Warcraft because repetitively farming was better than clawing open my back or neck again, and the people there were ok with some rando dropping out of sight on a dime, and only a persistent few had the grace and spirit to make it past some serious defensive issues of mine.

I stopped writing. Stopped caring about Gargoyles, stopped being able to see into that AU I’d made for myself of a crazy clan and the weird human who survived cancer with them.

Stopped going on IM, for the same reasons I stopped talking to people.

I still kept track of some folks via LiveJournal. A handful of the Gargoyles folks who were determined, gods know why and thank you, since I know several are here on the tumbles and I genuinely love you to bits.

I quit my job after five years, because enough was enough between the fact that it had all the hallmarks of an abusive relationship and I was fucking tired of being a manager without any actual authority, and the endless hamster wheel of hiring and people quitting because it was a nice, but highly dysfunctional place.

I missed the customers, though. Several of them are here too, and it’s kinda funny ‘cause I know in at least one case I talked to them about Star Wars. I still hope they’re not too shellshocked that I kinda went down the rabbit hole pretty deep.

Started getting more sleep. Not less anxiety, not less depressed. Tried out a few depression medications, with very mixed results.

Then one day @dogmatix came into the LJ area I still hung out in. Enthusiastically recommending to all and sundry that if there is even a shred of interest in Star Wars, THERE IS THIS THING YOU SHOULD READ.

She drew a Wookiee. That was a character?

I’d always liked Wookiees.

And I needed something to read.

Star Wars was one of those things, from back in the day before things went to shit. Low investment, since if I didn’t like it or didn’t care, then eh. Whatevs. Dogmatix was one of the Gargs holdouts still in my circle (or whatever it is that I was hovering at the edges of), and in the past I’d liked her recommendations more often than I disliked them.

I’m also endlessly weak to her art.

Wookiee.

So I did that thing. That so many of us here have done. It took me about 2 weeks to get through Re-Entry. It had trouble taking root in the depression, but Obi-Wan going crackers was something I could empathize with and appreciate.

There was the hope that had been missing from the EU novels I’d tried reading back in the day.

There was Wookieepedia, which meant I could stop and see what a Nautolan was. I had tabs open for DAYS so when someone named Adi or Gallia who were apparently the same person? I could see who that was. I got stupidly distressed that Abella didn’t have an entry, until I twigged and checked for a Chitanook, and holy shit I could never tell what character was going to crop up as canon, obscure EU character, or home brewed.

I honestly expected to set it aside, get updates as they happened, and gradually step away because that’s how things were going at the time.

But I still needed something to read, to stave off empty hours when my brain was too full of screaming.

On Ebon Wings. I’d loved The Crow when I’d seen it back in high school, and that story tapped into the powerful visuals and the lovely message I’d adored and in ways I still don’t quite understand it somehow validated that I could be mad and still be ok. Maybe. Maybe not now, but someday.

Maybe.

So I gave in and got a Tumbl. I’d been a stubborn holdout, regularly checking the same half dozen feeds daily because dammit, I don’t wanna go through the trouble and I was close to giving up on LJ and another journaly thing? That was stupid. But I wanted to follow Flamethrower and Dogmatix, and it made it infinitely easier to follow several blogs (and oh GODS one of those is a mutual and holy fuck I swear I screamed the day that happened and it’s still a high to realize).

Dogmatix wrote Möbius and Accidental Timeshare, wherein Venge goes universe hopping. That’s also a weakness of mine.

I’d been kvetching IRL about the treadmill and wanting something to watch, and someone mentioned in Dogmatix’s feed The Clone Wars – which conveniently was on Netflix. So I figured what the hell. I was disinclined to like clones – ‘cause yeesh, they’re the reason the Jedi all died, and yeah, ok, the Order was SERIOUSLY FUCKED UP, but.

I still had never seen Episodes 2 or 3.

I turned on the Clone Wars movie, and within ten minutes I nearly fell off the back of the treadmill due to crying.

THIS was the Star Wars of my youth. THIS was what I remembered. A little grim. Lots of quips.

That sound. Lightsabers igniting. A-wings rumbling overhead. Blasterfire, and that music.

I had to stop and calm down and for the first time in ages WRITE [, because I just had to ramble about how it all hit me in the feels]. I had no idea I’d missed this.

By the end of the movie I’d decided ok, I wanted more. Wasn’t sold on these clone fellas, and damned if I could tell one set of armor from another (this is ALSO due to the treadmill screen being calibrated to be a compromise of a very short person – me – and a very tall person, which means neither person gets a decent view but that’s not what the treadmill tv is for).

I’d been told there was an order to the episodes, but I didn’t care. Continuity is for those who think about the future, and I was still regularly suicidal.

So the first episode I watched was Yoda romping around a planet, playing with droids while three clone troopers tried to babysit his mad little ass.

They had me, all in one episode. I loved these guys. They had individuality, I could tell them apart by the voices (which is sometimes just as important to me as visuals) even if I couldn’t name them, and the personalities –

They were loyal. Their primary concern was old batty Yoda which I had adored as a child because MUPPETS. They were willing to die to keep him safe and there was this lovely reciprocity in taking care of each other and all of them, clones and Jedi alike were doomed to extinction and I don’t think I knew yet HOW the clones were except they weren’t in the OT so there was shit going down.

Tragic figures, loyal found family, incredible voice acting, Batty Old Yoda who OH YEAH FUCKING KICKED SO MUCH ASS I COULD NEVER GET ENOUGH.

I wanted to keep those three clones. I was willing to keep them all.

Final blow, that knocked me into the fandom so hard I’ll be surprised if I ever leave?

THIS.

The origins of Balance. This is the post that started a simple notion, to try to write something when I’d gone….anywhere from 7 to 10 years of not writing A SINGLE. DAMNED. THING of substance – and that was after thinking I might try to get a degree related to it.

Darth Wraith was a tentative idea. I was scared @deadcatwithaflamethrower would be irked I wanted to play in her sandbox (oh my gods I was inserting myself into a conversation with her this amazing person who wrote blindingly well and so damn much and how the FUCK was I daring to speak up about a silly half DREAM I’d had because once again I couldn’t sleep).

Then, because I was trying to break out of the depression, the cycles of mental ill health, and if I was on this tumbls thing, fuck it, I’d try the IM thing again.

I’d been gone long enough that pretty much no one on my contact list was still there. That…was ok. There wasn’t the pressure.

And Dogmatix popped on, asking if I wanted to share details about this Sith Qui-Gon thing.

I had A SCENE. ONE. SCENE. And she was spinning it off into this EPIC, which at first I was gleeful because she had neat ideas and I couldn’t wait to see what she would do with it and then wait, she’s not talking about writing it herself, this is more about something WE could work on.

Thank gods it was IM, because I had a little panic about commitment to a project when I regularly was sure I wasn’t going to see tomorrow and if I didn’t wake up one morning that’d be MORE than ok.

Still. There was that itch. The visuals in my brain. The characters I’d started to like in Flamethrower’s universe, which had formed my mental voices for them.

The only sound in my head for so long was just screaming.

Writing down that scene in Knock On Effect, where Venge meets Wraith – that felt good. It never changed much from the first draft to what was posted. The rest grew, and quickly. It was clear if we were doing this, then there were multiple stories, spanning in universe years.

And then there were spinoffs. Wonderful ideas and plots spiraling away from this one notion, and gods I wanted to write about those glorious clones.

How’d I get into Star Wars?

Chance. One strange little step at a time, and a bunch of miracles and horrors that kept me bleeding but not dying. Damn good fic. The kindness of friends. The generosity of strangers.

The tragedy of a once great order of space monks, and their allies-forced-to-be-betrayers clones.

One little picture, of Qui-Gon Jinn with Sith eyes.

#tumblageddon #reviving from the purge #star wars #tw #self harm #suicide #depression #mental illness #abuse #emotional #Norcumi has Opinions again #deadcatwithaflamethrower #dogmatix #i did not expect to cry when writing this #star wars saved my life #literally

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a-walk-in-silence · 6 years

Text

The Past Is For The Past (Pt. 1)

Pairing: Cop!Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: As a teenager, you were stalked and sent death threats. They were never caught. Now as an adult, you start dating a cop, Tom Holland. Everything seemed normal until... something happens.

Warnings: Character death, description of dead bodies, blood, major past trauma,

A/N: Hey! This is Liza! So even though I’mma primarily be the one posting/writing, I gotta give props to my girls @thedaydreamingwriter and @hollands-poppet for helping with the idea for this series as well as helping form this into a brilliant idea. So like go give them love! Thank you! Also, this is a 5 part series! I’m going to try and schedule these updates periodically so that way the last part comes out on Halloween! I’m already a few days off but oh well! Enjoy!

Key:

Y/N - Your Name

L/N - Your Last Name

Italics - Flashback

Bold Italics - Notes

9 a.m. October 31st

“So tell me about what happened when you were 16,” said the calming voice of your therapist, casually leaning back in his chair. On his knee was a notepad, filled with information that you had told him. “Every session that we have, we always seem to come to a... blockade, if you well, when talking about your teenage years. As it is my understanding, your boyfriend- what was his name?” Dr. Carmichael once more shifted in his chair, posing his pen so that he can write.

“Tom,” you responded, readjusting your legs so that they were crossed. “He’s, uh... he’s a cop, actually. We met in college.”

A smile perched itself on your therapists lips as he leaned forward a bit, copying your words. “Right, Tom. He’s the one who convinced you to come here, right?” The piercing eyes of your therapist met yours as he tried to dig through your psyche right before your very eyes. At your nod, he smiled calmly, relaxing once more. “So, have you told anyone besides your family and boyfriend about what happened? If the answer is yes, then I’d like you to think of me as a friend. Open up to me about what happened. Only you and I can work on fixing this problem together.”

You chewed on your bottom lip for a moment, contemplating his words. You knew you wanted help, to forget what had happened. But you were scared to open up. You weren’t sure what to make of anything. You knew he only had your best interest in mind...

“I... uh... was in high school, at the time. Central London. My mother had just passed away from cancer, so it was just my father and I. The first incident happened while I was studying for my GCSE’s.” You cleared your throat suddenly, feeling as though you were being suffocated by the tears that were threatening to spill. “S-Sorry... I... I was putting away my books...”

----

You laughed in your friend’s direction as she awkwardly tripped over her own two feet as she attempted to reach the higher level book shelves. She landed straight on her bum, looking mildly annoyed as you laughed. “It’s not funny!” Terra practically hissed, tossing the book towards you. “Go on! Why don’t you put it up!”

Shaking your head, you casually reached forward, sliding the book into it’s proper place. You threw a victorious smile over your shoulder as Terra silently fumed for a moment before laughing herself. “You’re such a clutz. How do you ever expect to do anything if you can’t stand on your own two feet?”

“Enough you two,” Amy laughed, giving you a playful shove. “I can’t believe you’re acting like a bunch of children right now instead of studying. Our GCSE’s are soon! You’ll both fail if you don’t study!”

You merely shrugged in response to her remark. “Why study and stress when I can wing it and do just fine?

----

You seemed to trail off when talking about your friends. Your heart stopped beating as images flashed in front of your eyes. The things your stalker had done to your friends was seared into your memory. Their unblinking eyes at nothing as their chests stopped rising and falling.

You weren’t aware of the fact that you were now scratching your fingers along your arm, causing red streak marks along the soft flesh. It took your therapist clearing his throat for you to look up and stop scratching at your arm.

“Don’t push yourself to talk about it,” he said, voice soft. “I want you to be comfortable and tell me about everything that you can. If something is too difficult to remember, then I want you to stop and take a moment to gather your thoughts. If you still can’t talk about it after you’ve taken a breather, then skip it. There’s always tomorrow to fill in the blanks.”

Slowly you nodded, rocking back and forth in the chair for a moment. Your eyes glanced back up towards the clock that hung over your therapists head. You still had another 40 minutes left in this session. As of right now, you didn’t want to continue the conversation, but you knew you had to. Tom was waiting for you back home, and you needed to do this for him. Taking a deep breath, you decided to continue on with your story.

----

Terra glanced down at her watch and suddenly jumped to her feet. “Crap! I have to get going home! It’s late! Amy, can you walk me home? Please? My dad’ll kill me if I’m not home soon!”

Amy groaned before standing up, shoving her notepads into her back pack. “Yeah, yeah. Come on. You coming with, Y/N?”

You shook your head, smiling at the two of them. “I’m gonna do some more studying and then I’ll walk home. I live right down the street any way. Have fun, loves.”

The two gave you a small look before looking at one another. They seemed to communicate silently, judging what to do. Terra’s eyes were pleading with Amy to just leave, so that’s what they did. With one last glance, the two disappeared, leaving you alone in the library.

While studying, you kept getting the uneasy feeling that someone was watching you. Something just felt so wrong. But every time you looked over your shoulder, there was no one there. So you just continued to study until it became late.

----

“I-I started walking home after I finished... And I-” Your phone started to suddenly ring in the middle of your sentence, causing you to practically jump out of your skin. You cautiously looked down, staring at the picture of Tom’s bright smile looking back at you. “Sorry, it’s Tom, can I-?”

“Of course. I’ll be here when you’re done.” Dr. Carmichael smiled warmly at you. Visibly, you relaxed as you got out of your chair and excused yourself from the main room, closing yourself into the small bathroom that was apart of his office.

You placed the phone up to your ear once you answered, relaxing against the door. “Tommy?” you asked, crossing your arms across your midrift. “What’s happening? I’m in the middle of therapy and-”

“Oh crap, I forgot.” He groaned on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, darling. I was just calling to say I’ll be home early but I forgot you had therapy and you won’t be home when I get home and-”

“Love,” you interrupted, trying to suppress a small giggle as he awkwardly tried to make excuses. “It’s okay, really. Is there anything that you needed? Was there any reason of why you called?”

He sighed on the other end. “I think it’s better for in person. If you want I can pick you up once your done at therapy. How long do you have left?”

“Around 25 minutes or so. So see you then?” you answered. You rested your head back against the door, trying to relax. Just what did he need to tell you that needed to be said in person?

“Yes, love. Sounds amazing. I have to go now.” Before you could say anything, the line went dead on his end. You stared at your phone for a moment, curious as to why he suddenly hung up on you. However, you didn’t have time to really process why when your therapist knocked on the bathroom door.

“Y/N, are you quite alright? Should I cancel the rest of the session?” he asked, sounding genuinely worried.

You sighed, pocketing your phone in your back pocket. “No, no. I’m coming out now.” You opened the door, meeting Dr. Carmichael’s kind brown eyes. “Sorry, Tom was calling to tell me he was getting off early. We should, um... probably get back to the session. He should be coming to pick me up soon.”

His warm smile was the only response as he lead you back to your seat, gently urging you to sit once more before sitting opposite of you. “I’m ready when you are,” he said, once more holding his pen and pad of paper to copy anything you might say.

----

The night air was chilly as you bundled your clothes tightly to your body. The air, despite being so chilly, was still. A low fog hung low to the ground, making it near impossible to see your feet or the sidewalk underneath. The only light seemed to come from passing cars and the fluorescent yellow street lamps placed every couple hundred feet.

While walking, your foot kicked something large. It sent you catapulting into the sidewalk. Your hands flew out, trying to catch your fall and resulting in multiple scraps along your hands and forearms. You glanced behind yourself to see what had tripped you up when you saw something you never thought you would ever see in your life.

On the ground was Terra, her mouth opened in permanent shock. Her eyes were wide open, staring straight into the sky yet seeing nothing. Her skin was pale, even under the bright yellow street lamps.

Her throat was cut open cleanly, blood dripped out of her open wound. Her hair was dyed from the blood now pooling on the side walk. Your throat seemed to constrict, and you couldn’t make a sound. You desperately crawled over to your friends body, holding her tightly.

Tears stung in your eyes as you stared down at her unseeing eyes. You finally screamed, holding her tightly. A car pulled up beside the two of you, the driver jumping out.

“Please! Call the police!” you shouted desperately, holding your friend. Your tears finally spilled from your eyes are you stared into her lifeless eyes. They seemed so blank.

While the person called the cops, a shout came from farther away. You glanced over your shoulder and saw a young woman standing in the ditch, staring down at something that you couldn’t see because of the thick fog. “Oh my God! There’s a dead body!”

Numbly, you moved away from Terra, following the sound of the woman’s screams. In the ditch was Amy, her dark hair tangled with sticks and blades of grass. Her eyes were just like Terra’s, cold and lifeless, staring at nothing. You screamed, covering your mouth with a bloody hand.

You crawled towards your friend, cautiously running your fingers across her now pale face. Her mouth was wide open, and inside you could see a bloody piece of paper, folded small to be discreet.

Cautiously you removed it, unfolding the piece of paper. On the slip was a note that chilled you two your bones.

Happy Halloween, Y/N.

----

You purposefully didn’t tell your therapist what the note had said. You simply told him that the note had your name written on it.

A knock pulled you from the memory, quieting your words. The secretary from outside peeked her head inside. She looked awkward, her bright red hair pulled up into a bun. “Mr. Holland is here to pick up Miss L/N.”

You nodded, numbly moving from your seat. Your therapist seemed a little stunned from your story, but you only felt numb. “T-Thank you... I guess. I’ll... be back next week.”

Your voice seemed to pull him from his thoughts that he had previously been engaged in. He forced a smile before standing up, offering his hand. “Yes. Of course. I hope you and I can work next session on unlocking new information on your life.” Before you could contemplate anything, he offered you a smile. “Ah, and Y/N? Happy Halloween.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, you nodded. Dr. Carmichael seemed completely unfazed by his comment. He took his seat once more as you left his office.

Sitting in the lobby was Tom, still in uniform from work. A grim look was settled over his face until his beautiful brown eyes fell on you. He quickly jumped to his feet, enveloping you in his arms. You hid your face in his shoulder, still reliving the memories you had just gone through moments before. Your body was rigid. Not even his tight embrace could help you relax.

“It’s okay, love. I’m here,” Tom mumbled, running his fingers through your hair to try and attempt to calm you down.

You shake your head, relaxing into his arms. “I just wanna go home. Please.”

He nodded, his chin resting on the top of your head once he was done. “Okay, okay. Let’s go home, darling.”

----

The ride back to Tom’s was silent, filled with the quiet music that Tom had put on in an attempt to fill the silence. It didn’t really work.

He pulled into the driveway of the house. The gentle sound of the motor came to a stop, ending the music as well. You clambered out of the car, dragging your bag with you as you practically ran into the overly spacious house.

The house had been a gift from one of his aunts who had passed away a couple years ago. Before hand, the two of you had been living in an apartment near your college. Now, at the ripe old age of 24, the two of you were living in his dead aunt’s house that was far too big for the two of you. Not even Tessa could fill up the space.

You opened the front door that opened straight into the living room. From the back of the house, you could hear the patter of Tessa’s nails on the hardwood floors. A few moments later, the blue Staffordshire Bull Terrier came bowling towards you. Before she has a chance to knock you over, Tom’s strong arms wrapped around you, keeping you upright as the dog came jumping in an attempt to lick your face.

“Hey- Hi Tess.” You knelt down next to the pup as she licked your face. You scratched her ears, trying to calm down her excitement. “I know. It’s the day of the party. Aren’t you excited, girl?”

Her tail wagged in excitement as she turned her attention to Tom. You watched the two interact for a moment before giving him a hard look. There was something that he wasn’t telling you. Something that involved his work day.

After a minute of getting attention, Tessa trotted away in search of her next snack. You leaned against the back of the couch, crossing your arms over your chest. “So? What happened today?”

Tom sighed, leaning against the couch as well. His eyes were hard as he looked forward. “Y/N, you remember Jacob? One of my old college friends. He was supposed to be coming to the party tonight.”

“Yeah, I remember Jacob. Batalon, right? Wasn’t he doing local theatre or something like that?” You shrugged your shoulders, glancing at Tom’s side profile. “What about him?”

“He’s dead.” His voice was hard as he shifted uncomfortably, staring at his feet now. “He was found dead around 3 in the morning. There was a note in his mouth.” Tom pulled out his phone, pulling up a photo on his phone.

You stared at the screen. The picture of a piece of paper covered in blood. On the note were words that you thought you would never have to read again in your life.

Happy Halloween, Y/N.

Tags:

@thedaydreamingwriter @hollands-poppet @hollandroos @starksparker @peeterparkr @dodie-y3llow @youreafangirl-harry @spidey-pal

#tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland headcanon #tom holland blurb #tom holland #spooky story #halloween story #the past is for the past #series #collab #thedaydreamingwriter #hollands-poppet

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thisgirlsays22 · 6 years

Link

Chapters: 13/? Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Levi/Eren Yeager, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Eren Yeager Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, canonverse, In Universe AU, Canon Era, Reincarnation, Surfer Eren, Pining, Manga Spoilers, Angst, Slow Burn Summary:

Between Titan and human, unconscious and conscious, Eren finds he can access a future world.

Thank you to my betas @attraversiamo19 & @erensjaegerbombs and to my readers/cheerleaders @dreamxxdream @ageha-sakura.

You can also read below the cut:

Eren sat down next to Levi, shoulder to shoulder on the couch, brimming with excitement.

“What is it?” Levi asked, setting aside his work.

“There’s someone on this forum who says that they also remember the ‘Lost Titan Years’.”

Levi raised an eyebrow. “And you believe this random person?”

“I don’t know. Maybe!” Eren nudged Levi. “You and Mikasa had the nightmares. Hanji freaked when she started learning about the Titans. It’s possible there are more people like us out there.”

“But they could also just be full of shit,” he pointed out, nudging Eren back.

“Well, yeah, I guess. They could have gotten most of this information from the right history books, but still. It’s a lead. At least now I had more to search for than ‘Titans’.”

“True.”

“The last message they posted was from about a year ago, but hopefully they’ll still see my response.”

He was glad Eren seemed more relaxed, happy even, but this was how it often went. Eren would get caught up in something temporarily exciting and then grow despondent again when the high wore off. It was why for months Levi kept thinking, if I could just help you figure out what you want to do... why he’d seized on the idea of Eren going back to school when he’d expressed an, albeit brief, interest. It had only seemed to frustrate Eren more in the end, though, so Levi had been left unsure how to help him.

Levi had the same inclination to let their earlier conversation go--which he knew he had to stop doing from many discussions with his therapist. Whatever the other Levi and Eren had stirred up, they needed to address it at some point. He just didn’t quite know what he wanted to say.

“How did things go with Farlan?” Eren asked. Levi was actually a little surprised he’d remembered to check in given how focussed he was on writing his next forum post.

“They were fine. He didn’t seem convinced things were alright, but I wasn’t about to tell him what's going on.” What a fucking awkward conversation that would be. By the way, you’re dead in that other world. Good to see you alive, man.

“Oh. Are you mad I told Armin?” Eren’s mouth tugged down into a worried frown.

Levi shook his head and put his arm around Eren. “No. That was your call to make, and I’m glad you have someone else to talk to. Why did you tell him, though?”

“It’s going to sound strange.”

“Try me,” Levi said.

“When I saw Armin the other Eren’s memories it reminded me of how things used to be between us. I remembered how supportive he can be.” Eren sighed. “It was impulsive, but I just felt like maybe it could bring us closer together again. And maybe I can put that big brain of his to good use.”

“That doesn’t sound strange at all.”

Eren gave him a small smile, then said, “I’m glad you talked to Mikasa yesterday.”

“Me too.”

“I wish,” Eren started haltingly. “I wish that you’d had each other growing up.”

“Then we wouldn’t have had you,” Levi pointed out.

“I wish that you’d had each other growing up...and still somehow had me too.”

Levi gave a short laugh. “Yes, well. That very specific wish is sweet but pointless. We would have just been two kids with awful nightmares.”

“When you put it that way, I guess it wouldn’t have made much of a difference.” Eren didn’t look reassured, though.

“Any idea how long we’ve got until we’re body-snatched again?” Levi asked dryly, changing the subject.

“No idea,” Eren replied.

“We’re both just sitting ducks then.” Levi wondered how they’d been so lucky that the sudden appearance of the other Eren and Levi had never caused them any harm. He certainly hoped it would carry on that way.

Eren nodded. “I’m sure they’ll be back soon. We’ll just be...careful in the meantime.”

“That’s all well and good,” Levi said. “But when does this end?”

“I don’t know, but there has to be some reason they’re coming here. Something we can do that ends this.”

Levi sighed. “We keep looking then.”

“We keep looking,” Eren agreed.

They fell into a rhythm over the next few days. Eren mostly wanting to discuss leads, the latest messages he’d sent to his mysterious new contact, wondering if there was a way they could meet. If he wasn’t updating Levi, it was Mikasa, Armin or Hanji, and eventually Jean--“He’s my husband, ” Mikasa had finally snapped. “I told him everything weeks ago, we’ve just been waiting for you two dopes to give me the all clear.”

Things between Eren and Levi felt good most of the time. They hadn’t exactly left the conversation on a bad note, but there was something unfinished hanging over them, and the fact that Levi wasn’t certain what it was left him off-kilter.

Seeing Eren so intent on helping their counterparts kept Levi from trying to distract him. It had been a long time since he’d seen Eren so enthusiastic, focussed. He could hang back for a little longer, give them both time to separate these two other lives that had invaded their headspace.

At least Eren wanted Levi caught up in his plans too. It pleased him every time Eren gave him another instruction for what to do if the other Eren showed up without Levi. Every time they thought of new things to show their counterparts. Every time they shared an overlapping memory from the other world.

Eren heard back from the person who claimed they remembered the Titans, their previous life. After writing back and forth to one another, Eren agreed to a video chat.

“They’re travelling right now,” Eren said over their morning cups of coffee and tea. “They’ll contact me when they’re back.”

“Shit,” Levi said. “You want me on the call too?”

“Yeah, definitely. They said that was fine. I’m thinking we get the others over too, but just have them off-screen.”

“Why the fuck not? Use the family group chat while you’re at it.”

“I know you’re being sarcastic, but I feel an obligation to Jean to do that. He’s pissed at me.”

Levi leaned back in his chair, taking a thoughtful sip of tea. “Hm. Tell him that I fixed his bad sink repairs. He can be mad at me instead.”

“Can I? I think that’ll work. Jean can only stay angry at one person at a time.”

Levi waved a hand and said magnanimously, “Sure.”

“I’m going to put another pot on before work. You want more tea? We have to finish working on our notes.”

They had different plans for if the other Eren, Levi or both came at once. For instance, if both came, Armin had suggested they leave post-it notes around the house with instructions for how to contact someone.

In the meantime, all they could do was wait.

It was two weeks until the other Eren returned. He seemed broody, his presence pulling the plug on the near-manic enthusiasm of Levi's own Eren.

“No other Levi this time?” he asked.

Eren’s face clouded. “No.”

Levi could guess the source of the misery, and a pang of guilt shot through him. Could he be blamed for the transgressions of another life? Apparently he could from the way Eren was eying him warily.

“We’ve been keeping notes for you,” Levi offered. “To see if any names or things stand out.” He went to retrieve the notebook from their bedroom. “Unless my Eren’s in there right now and can show you himself.”

“No, I don’t feel him like last time. Maybe because we’re not drunk?”

“Probably.”

Eren looked miserable, and no matter which Eren was in his body, Levi couldn’t bear to see it. Especially knowing he--in any form--was likely the cause of it.

“Would you like to go somewhere?” he asked, recalling the awe the other Levi had experienced at seeing where they lived. “We can bring the notes.”

“Sure, I guess. Where?” At least there was a flicker of interest even though his eyes were still downcast.

Levi ran through a mental list of all the places he could take Eren, and he remembered how intrigued he’d been by the photograph of the ocean, how his own Eren could be soothed by its presence.

“To the beach.”

Eren looked at him blankly. Levi still hadn’t gotten used to explaining what every little thing was. “The ocean is there,” he clarified.

Eren’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Ah, now I’ve got your interest, Levi thought. “It’s not too far away, but I’m going to have to explain what a car is.”

“Uh, okay.” Eren looked nervous but followed Levi outside where he listened with his usual intensity as Levi spoke.

He showed Eren how to buckle his seatbelt, and then they were on their way. Levi was careful not to drive too fast, lest Eren get carsick. If the body you were borrowing was used to riding in cars, but the soul inside wasn’t, did you still get carsick? Levi didn’t particularly want to roll the dice with that one.

He explained what the radio was, and he even played some of the songs that his own Eren liked, an experiment of sorts. And yes, shitty taste in music seemed to translate over lifetimes. “This is weird, but kind of nice,” he said of some early 90s dance music. Levi winced.

As they neared their destination, the salty ocean air drifted through the cracked car windows, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Eren’s brows knit together.

“What’s that smell?”

“The ocean.”

Eren pressed his hands to the glass, craning his neck. “Where?”

“Just over the bend,” Levi told him, and sure enough, the ocean appeared before them, waves breaking in foamy ruffles against the shore. The sea was calm and languid tonight.

Levi pulled the car over at the lookout point. Eren had once driven them here late at night, climbed into Levi’s lap and made out with him until some drunk teenagers showed up, tapping on the car window and making kissing faces at them.

The last of the light clung to the sky, the tide just coming in and covering the sand in blankets of waves. Eren got out of the car and walked over to the ledge. His hands clutched the metal rail as he looked down at the sea in quiet awe.

“I wasn’t ready to come back to your world,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “But I knew I had to. So one day back home we could see something like this.” Eren turned to face Levi, tears on his cheeks.

Levi ushered him over to the car where he’d left the trunk open. He’d owned his ugly, boxy car for over a decade, and he and his Eren had sat at the edge of the trunk under the stars countless times over the years.

“Take a seat,” Levi said, patting the space next to him.

Cautiously, Eren did as he was told. Levi noticed that he even wiped his tears the same way as his Eren, with the back of his hand. Angry, frustrated, defiant.

“Why didn’t you want to come back here?” Levi asked.

Without hesitating, Eren replied, “I wasn’t ready to see you again.” The ocean breeze blew his hair softly into his eyes, and Levi stopped himself from reaching over to brush it away.

“So you talked to him then?”

Eren gave a short, miserable nod.

“I saw what happened between you,” Levi said. “After you’d been rescued from that...cave.” That strange memory kept coming into his head--Eren shirtless, in chains. The violence of it all gave him chills. It came to him now in nightmares too.

“He must have thought I was so pathetic that night,” Eren said bitterly. He spoke towards the sea, refusing to look at Levi.

Eren was wrong. The other Levi had sensed a kindred spirit in Eren, someone he could whisper secrets to in the quiet of the night.

“No. He understood.”

“Maybe.” Eren shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve spent so much time trying not to think about that night. I couldn’t figure out why he’d let me stay. Pity maybe.”

“I can tell you with certainty that whatever kindness he showed you was never out of pity.”

Eren scowled. “How could you possibly know that? It’s different between you and your Eren. He shared a similar memory with me, but the way it turned out...It’s not the same.”

“In some ways you’re right. But I think we have more in common than we realised.” The saltwater breeze blew back towards them again, and Levi breathed it in deeply. “So what happened when Levi returned?”

“He told me that nothing could happen between us.” Eren’s scowl deepened. “But then he hugged me, and it reminded me of what Eren said. That he wouldn’t just do that for anyone and I--I kissed him.”

Levi’s eyes widened. The kid had balls to kiss his superior officer.

Eren continued, “For a second, I thought he was going to let me. It seemed almost like he was going to kiss me back. But he really doesn’t want me...” Eren trailed off with a defeated sigh and gazed out at the sea again.

“I think he spends a lot of time trying not to think about you,” Levi said slowly, and Eren’s head jerked towards him. “I mean, you can understand his position, can’t you?” Those two probably shouldn’t be together. No matter the pull between them.

“Yes. I just wish things were different.”

“Maybe they will be someday. You don’t have to give up forever.”

“What do I do next then?” Eren asked. A challenge in his voice.

“Don’t leave him,” Levi answered. “If what you have is just a short-lived crush or lust, it isn’t worth fighting for anyway.”

Eren’s eyes narrowed, shoulders tense and defensive. “What do you mean?”

“It might not seem fair, but if you run away, he’ll think he made the right choice, that he did you a favor.”

That year without Eren, after he’d turned him down, he’d thought Eren must have been happy. Imagined him off at school making new friends, going to parties, maybe even falling in love. Never considered that Eren’s longing, lonely ache might have matched his own.

And Levi had most certainly felt an identical ache in the other Levi’s heart. He had felt such depths of sorrow and pain, beyond anything in his own comprehension, and even just the sight of Eren in this world had eased it.

“Be a friend to him,” Levi suggested. “The choice is yours of course, but that’s what I recommend. Even if it’s going to hurt sometimes until it gets easier.”

A seagull squawked overhead, a lonely call in the night, briefly crowding out the soothing sound of the waves. Eren stood and walked over to the edge of the lookout point, eyes fixed on the blackening ocean below.

“Is that how it was for you two?” Eren asked.

The answer was complicated. Eren had put so much distance between them, Levi had thought for sure he’d imagined their friendship. That he’d imagined that they were family.

“Yes and no.” Levi tilted his head back to look up at the last pink gasps of sunlight. “I don’t know what Eren’s shown you about his mother.”

“Not much,” Eren said. “Mostly happy memories. But I know she died.”

Levi nodded. He stretched his legs out, toeing at a pebble beneath his feet.

“I met Eren, his mother and Mikasa when he was about sixteen.”

At Eren’s puzzled look Levi added, “Mikasa and I weren’t raised together. I didn’t even know I had a sister until Eren found me and introduced us. For so long, I wished I had a family and then suddenly Eren showed up and changed my life.” Suddenly, Levi had felt he belonged somewhere.

“Mikasa is your sister?” Eren repeated, eyes going wide.

Surprised, Levi said. “Oh, yes. We have the same father. It’s not the same for your Levi?”

Eren shook his head.

“Huh. Interesting.” He filed that information away for later. “Anyway, as I got to know Mikasa, I got to know Carla and Eren too. He wasn’t very subtle about having a crush on me.” Levi rolled his eyes fondly.

Face red, Eren stared intently out at the glittering sea as he listened.

Levi crossed his arms. “One day he kissed me, told me how he felt. I told him no. He was about to start a new phase of his life, and I didn’t want him to miss out on things because he was worrying about me.”

“I don’t understand what you mean by ‘new phase’.” Eren tilted his head in question.

“It’s common here for people to go away to school for their studies. Usually when they’re about eighteen. You meet a lot of new people, study, work, build a kind of life for yourself there,” Levi explained. “I’m a decade older than Eren, and I’d already lived that part of my life. It wasn’t something I could share with him.”

Eren’s expression turned dubious. “No offense, but that doesn’t seem like a very good reason.”

Levi shrugged. Of course you’d think that at Eren’s age. “Maybe.”

“Did you change your mind in the end?”

“Not exactly. His mother got sick and he moved back home. I moved a little closer too, so I could help.” He’d have done anything for any one of them. Carla, Mikasa, Eren. His family.

Sadness washed over Eren’s face. “He showed me some of that. Her dying. It still hurts.”

Levi knew then that Eren was speaking for himself too. Carla’s death in that other life had been violent, horrifying. There was a small comfort knowing in this life she’d been granted peace. He wanted to reach for Eren, both Erens, and hold him.

“I know,” Levi said softly.

“So how did you and Eren...?”

“There was no big conversation about it. You stayed and I stayed, and we just were.” There’d been no choice to make that time.

At first he’d been disappointed that Eren had never gone back to school, but he’d respected the decision and selfishly revelled in the fact that Eren had stayed, that he’d moved into Levi’s home not too long after. More and more of his things appearing in Levi’s spaces, tucked in and around as though there’d been a place for them all along.

A contemplative silence stretched between them. Levi wondered if his Eren was listening, what he was thinking.

“So you think he’d want to be my--” Eren paused, as though trying to remember a long-forgotten word, “friend?” He gave Levi an odd, incredulous look.

“Yes.” There wasn’t a doubt in his mind about that.

“Okay,” Eren said. He stood back again and walked towards the railing to stare out down at the sea. Levi heard him quietly murmur, to himself again, “Okay.”

Levi texted Armin and Mikasa, and they met them back at the house a little while later, Jean too.

“I’m going to pretend you meant to message the family group chat,” Jean said darkly when he and Mikasa arrived.

Levi sighed, but at Mikasa’s glare said, “Sorry.”

Jean waved a hand. “It’s fine. I just want to meet this bizzare-o, Eren.”

“Yes,” Mikasa said stepping inside, “Where is he?”

Levi took them through to the living room, and he and Jean watched as Eren and Mikasa met.

“Hi,” she said, moving towards Eren. She lifted her arms, unsure.

A smile spread across his face and he stepped towards her too. “Hi,” he said, and then they embraced. “I saw you here that one time. Before I understood what was going on.”

“I remember,” Mikasa said. She sounded like she was holding back tears. “God, I was so worried about him. I still am, but at least I don’t think he has a brain tumor or something.”

“I don’t know what that is, but it sounds bad.”

She laughed, one of those shaky pre-cry laughs. “Oh, this is Jean. My Jean.”

Eren peered past her and Jean hesitantly made his way over to them. “Hey,” he said awkwardly. “It’s, uh, good to meet you...other Eren.”

“You too,” Eren said, sounding unsure. He glanced over at Levi as though he held the answers. Levi gave him a smile that he hoped was encouraging.

“Anyway, I’m not waiting for Armin to get here,” Mikasa declared, breaking the awkward silence. “I have questions.”

And they discussed them all. What Mikasa remembered from her dreams, what it was like growing up together in both of their lives. She didn’t shy away from the horror of the other life, and it seemed like Eren appreciated her matter of fact approach.

Jean hung back, only interjecting with a question or two. Once asking, “So you and I aren’t close?”

“Not really,” Eren said. “You’re not always so bad, though,” he added politely.

Jean looked perturbed but fell silent again, letting Mikasa resume her questions.

“We’re not siblings in Eren’s world,” Levi interjected when she asked what it was like for the other Mikasa to have the captain as a brother.

“Really?” she said, startled. “It’s so weird to imagine us not being siblings.”

“You didn’t even know I existed until you were eighteen,” Levi said.

“Fine. It’s hard to imagine knowing you exist and you not being my brother,” Mikasa clarified, rolling her eyes.

Eren’s brows knit together. “It’s harder for me to imagine you being siblings.”

Mikasa turned back to Eren. “And you said Jean and I aren’t together either?”

Eren shook his head, not looking too pleased at the prospect. “Like I said, a lot’s different.”

Levi snorted. “An understatement.”

“Whatever,” Jean said lightly, “I loved Mikasa for years before she fell for my charms. I'm sure it's the same there.”

“Jean,” Mikasa said, “Sorry if I wasn’t ‘charmed’ by my younger brother’s friend gaping at me like a fish whenever I walked in the room.”

“I didn’t do that!”

“You did! I liked you when you grew up and asked me out like a normal person.”

“Aw.” Jean smiled fondly at her. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Eren looked miserable, and Levi gave him a commiserating look.

Once Armin arrived, it all started again from the top.

“What’s Erwin like in your world?” Armin asked after he’d exhausted the lines of questioning about himself.

“He’s a good leader,” Eren said, looking a little perplexed. “Kind too.”

Armin gave a happy sigh, and Levi fought back an eye roll.

“Hey Eren, is your buddy Armin dating your commander?” Jean asked mischievously, picking up on Eren’s confusion.

Scandalised, Eren said, “What? No!”

Mikasa laughed at Armin’s blush and said to him, “I’m sure if you ask Erwin nicely he’ll do a bit of roleplay with you.”

“Stop,” Armin groaned, covering his face.

“You brought this on yourself,” Jean put in.

Eren looked at Levi in abject horror, but Levi just shrugged in reply. At least Eren wasn’t brooding anymore.

Though he kept a watchful eye on Eren, Levi kept his distance and let the others lead the conversation. He hoped he’d been able to give Eren some comfort, some clarity with his earlier advice. On their journey home from the beach, Levi had given Eren the few updates he had and told him to return in a few weeks.

Now all he could offer was distraction until Eren returned home, and seeing the way he smiled as Mikasa and Jean described their wedding, Levi took quiet pride in the fact that his plan seemed to be working.

After everyone had left, Levi and Eren sat together in the living room with a deck of cards between them. It had been a long time since Levi had played cards--he’d needed to go rummaging around one of Eren’s many boxes full of junk in order to find them.

“No, you can’t lay that down,” Levi said. “The number of wildcards can’t outnumber the others.”

“Right, yeah.” Eren sighed, picked the cards back up again and finished his turn with a discard instead.

“You’re picking up on this fast,” Levi said. “You should teach your friends back home how to play.”

“You think so?” Eren asked, a hopeful note in his voice.

Levi drew a card from the pile between them. “Yeah, I do.”

A small smile played on Eren’s lips. “I think that’s a good idea. If I can remember the rules, I mean.”

The day had taken a more peaceful turn, but Levi struggled to relax. A melancholy air hung between them, and if Levi could feel it, then certainly his own Eren must be feeling it ten fold. He was in the belly of the beast, so to speak, stewing in memories and emotions. Now that Levi had experienced it for himself, he suspected Eren’s return would be difficult.

Still he longed for it. He was ready.

#ereri #ereri fanfic #levi x eren #eren x levi #snkartists network #fic: difficult to know #my writing #snk #aot

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