#will hate me for expressing myself in a way that isn't positive and perfect | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

petruchio · 8 months

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hope this isn't a weird and irrelevant reply to your personal post but honestly i really get what you mean. tbh i've been there too. i get how being in a place where you're confident in some aspects of yourself and doing enviable (?) things can be pretty isolating, especially if you're (perceived as) a woman, you feel like you're good at [insert some skills that matter to you], and you generally like the way you look. it can feel like you lack empathy because you don't share some of the insecurities that people around you experience and bond over (though you may be struggling with something different that they don't get), it can feel like you can't tell if you're a good friend or not because others talk about you in terms of what you've accomplished or what you have rather than who you are as a person, it can feel like your positive emotions aren't real because they're atypical and viewed as "unrelatable" idk. i feel like loving yourself and believing in your abilities is a net good but not a substitute for being around people who actually relate to your experiences. for me it's essentially feeling likable but not understandable (or understood), and ime it's something that isn't "solved" by having a lot of friends. it makes sense if you feel like that's not enough. not sure if any of this is actually similar to what you're going through, but i hope you get the chance to be around people who Get It, and i hope you feel less alone soon. you seem like a genuinely kind person on top of being great at writing/analysis -- i love the way you write about the things you're excited about. wishing you all the best <3

it's not weird or irrelevant AT ALL! it honestly always does make me feel better when i come on here and speak about something i'm struggling with and other people say, hey, yeah, me too. especially when the thing i'm complaining about is feeling alone, it's comforting to know that other people feel the same way. like, we're all lonely together, which makes us less alone in our loneliness.

and yeah i think you're right -- confidence is one of those weird things where the more you work on it, the more difficult it can become to relate to other people. people are always telling me i'm so confident and asking my advice on things and i'm always like... idk how to tell you to just stop caring what people are thinking. i mean, obviously i do care what people think of me, but maybe the problem is that because i'm my own worst critic, i can't imagine anyone hating me more than i already hate myself, which paradoxically means that i assume everyone loves me? or maybe it's because i can't imagine anyone genuinely giving a shit about what i do, so it's easy to just do whatever i want. because it's not that i don't care what people think, but just that i pretty much assume they aren't thinking about me, so why would i bother trying to impress them? (like some of my friends will describe in detail the logic behind their instagram story posts. and i'm just like... do you really think other people are noticing this? do you really think people care that much what you, some random person, is posting? it's kind of crazy to spend so much time thinking about yourself through the lens other people. just post if you think it's funny, or don't. nobody is actually thinking that much about you.)

but to your point, i feel like that is kind of where a lot of the loneliness comes from. because people describe certain insecurities or thought patterns that they have, and i'm just like yeah i truly cannot relate to that, or yeah, i would never do that. and when i do express things i'm struggling with, people act so shocked and never offer any kind of support because they're like "but your life is so perfect!" (which is INSANE! nobody has a perfect life! and i know it sounds like the most obnoxious problem ever, like oh my life is so great that nobody believes me when i say i'm still inexplicably sad, but it is a really isolating and lonely existence!!) and then i guess it kind of becomes a cycle where people say or do certain things, i don't relate to them at all, and then i wonder why i'm still struggling so much even though i'm honestly doing fine, and then i feel guilty for even struggling or feeling down because i don't really know what else i can do to get better, since again, i'm objectively doing fine.

i get what you mean about feeling likable but not understandable. recently i was on a second or third date with someone, and i had this weird out of body experience where it was like, i could see myself doing everything right -- i could see that he was totally into me and that i was saying all the right things and laughing at the right times and making the right jokes, but i didn't feel like a person? i knew i could make him like me, and that it wouldn't even be that hard, but i knew he would never actually know me, not even if we kept dating for years. he would always have just "liked" me, like you said. it was a really weird and uncomfortable feeling. i came home and wrote in my journal "sometimes i feel like i'm so good at pretending to be a person that i don't feel like i'm actually a person at all"

SORRY for these long rambling answers. i guess i'm feeling some type of way about my inability to function normally lately. being 24 is just weird i guess. it's uncomfortable and awkward and frustrating, and so much of it feels like this sense of cognitive dissonance between being really good at acting like an adult but still feeling like you just want to scream and cry and throw things like a toddler but you know you can't. i guess someday it will all make sense. or maybe it won't. but i'll keep writing about it either way <333

#answered #anonymous

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runthepockets · 7 months

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I've been thinking a lot about "the war on masculinity" today and I came to this conclusion: I don't believe there's any grand war being waged on it, or that men are being "pussified", or whatever, but I do have reservations and resentment toward anything that boils down to "if men would just embrace their feminine sides and paint their nails and wear pink and show their soft sides more, everything would be perfect!" and nothing beyond that.

Look. I like stuffed animals, and chick flicks. There was a point in my life where I was a "boy with long hair" (I had dreads and cornrows till I was like, 14) I tell my little brothers and my dad and my roommate and my friends and pretty much everyone I love in my life that I love them and miss them and am proud of them and when I'm sad or insecure like, every day. I'm chill with dudes who like makeup and skirts and pink stuff, and wholeheartedly believe there's merit and letting these guys know they're as sexy and desirable as any flannel wearing, beefed up dude. I'll admit that there was a point in my life where I was that of your standard homophobic middle school straight boy where I turned my nose up at / mocked guys like that, but now I'm older and wiser and learned better and I have no ill will or condescending remarks or anything to say toward them. I know all that soft stuff pretty intimately, and feel no shame in admitting anything of it.

That said: I still kinda hate the idea that in order to be seen as "nonthreatening" I gotta divulge all of these things about myself. I won't say it's a large scale issue, or whatever, but I do sense the hesitation when I see people recommending that men who worry about their positions as patriarchs under patriarchy and what that means for the women and kids and gay people in their lives, who have never explicitly expressed any prior interest in experimenting with their presentation or interests or genders, simply "accept the feminine side they're so obviously in denial of" as the solution to combatting the capitalist white supremacist patriarchy and the rigid gender roles they're beholden to rather than, like, advising those guys to pick what they like about their current interest / presentations and shirking off all the bits that come off as chauvanistic (IE: I'm a heterosexual, working class dude from the south. I like guns, I like fancy pocket knives, gritty rock music, I like old school muscle cars and 90s pickup trucks and doing shit with my hands. I'm also black and a huge nerd, and am fully aware that these subcultures are very gatekeep-y toward women and gay people, let alone myself as another straight dude solely because of the color of my skin, so I just treat everyone that shows any interest in them the same as I would any other dude.) and simply proceeding on as you were before.

Again, I think it's great that men are very openly wearing skirts and painting their nails and watching magical girl animes, and stuff. That shit is wicked, and I know the occassional "friendly reminder that it's ok for boys to be soft" or "I love boys who've undergone the trials and tribulations of unpacking toxic masculinity, I feel so safe around them" post is helping more than it hurts, and generally isn't the grander opinion society draws to and needs to be said as a result. But also.....idk man, you can't be telling me the only way to escape hegemonic masculinity as a man is by being more like Harry Styles. Or by telling girls you listen to Pop Music and cry over Disney movies. Like even in a world without patriarchy, that's not going to be most men. Even under patriarchy, that's not all women. That's not a sustainable mindset. This can't be all there is. Surely there's a way to enjoy action movies and archery as a man without alienating the marginalized people around you or having to compromise yourself.

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mediapen · 2 years

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❤️‍🩹 | did you see Carlos’s interview with the BBC… (emphasis mine)

“I had to reinvent myself in many ways.”

“I am not proud, because I am not ahead. The day I am ahead in the statistics is the day I will be proud.”

“Every time I do an interview and say my positives and I read them, I say: 'Ah, this sounds super-arrogant.' Maybe I go more towards the humble too much and stay in that way—modest. But whenever I see something a bit arrogant, I kill myself for it.”

“I am relatively cold-blooded in many aspects of life…Sometimes maybe too much. And I don't show maybe my tension, passion. But it is also something I work on.”

i did!! (very brief initial thoughts in tags) and i immediately filed it away with gq in terms of its Weight. sure, a lot of it isn't new, but it's a sportsperson interview. nothing's ever new. the language is, though. the language is insane.

but your emphases are like. yeah. yeah. exactly. all of it. like i said, the strength of the language just sticks for me. repeatedly talking about reinvention. 'i kill myself for it' who the fuck says that to a journalist lol.

BIG fan of calling him a thoughtful perfectionist. succinct. dead accurate. all this self-reflection and self-criticism all just reads like he's very concerned about... not even being misrepresented, necessarily, but the fact that HE can't express himself the 'right' way - in his OWN eyes - and he has some driving need to fix that. and maybe his critical close reading of his own interviews is a product of that whole culture of sports journalism and fan consumption where like three outlets get granted an interview and the rest quote the juiciest scraps without attribution or context idk. it's just WILD as a SPORTSMAN to come back to your MEDIA appearances-slash-existing-on-camera and say oh i didnt perform these specific attributes in the right way i'm gonna work on that. spends half his time in that interview going yeah yeah *I* know my worth i don't care about what anyone else thinks and i won't bring attention to the good. btw here's everything i hate about me for free take it or leave it. really truly the thing about carlos is he can't be good unless he's perfect.

#he just screams dont ASK dont LOOK at me i'm not DONE yet put me back in the oven i'll go beep when i'm ready!!!!!!!! when i'm PERFECT!!!!!#btw i still haven't read the whole gq interview. still CANT read it. do with that what you will #& everything he's said recently has been like. coded to establish himself in opposition to his father. scream. MUCH to say carlosnation #❤️‍🩹 anon #answered

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marsduality · 1 year

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TikTok by @Relationship_anarchy

[beginning of transcript]

How to develop Secure Attachment in your relationships using the HEARTS acronym that Jessica Fern coins in her book Polysecure.

Okay last week we covered the H, which stands for "Being Here with Myself," this week we're covering the E, which stands for "Expressed Delight."

Personally Expressed Delight is my favorite way of developing Secure Attachment, um, because it's so primal, it's so primitive. Like, I think of babies , you know, the way people express delight when they see babies and they make these cute little faces at them and make cute little sounds and just give them like all their attention and just like, adore them. That's what I think of when I think of Expressed Delight.

The practice of pro-actively Expressing Delight towards yourself whether you're like, looking in the mirror and you're like, "Wow, I'm looking cute today." Or like, I don't know, if you did something courageous today and you're able to just notice like, "Yeah, you know what, maybe my life isn't perfect but I showed up with courage today."

These are examples of Expressed Delight and the idea is just you have a positive sense of self and you're expressing that outwards. Every single human being that I have met on this planet has some form of negative self-talk come up in their heads. And it's natural, right, because, well, we're born without these voices right, but its natural for us to internalize our environment. So like, we learn this negative self-talk from outside but then it becomes internalized and we start repeating it back to ourself.

So the practice of Expressing Delight in yourself is actually like, stretching this muscle of cultivating positive sense of self worth, and actually like, being able to not only see who you are but truly appreciate who you are in the world.

Man, when I started this journey of like, developing Secure Attachment - its still an ongoing journey for me by the way - um, like, four years ago I had horrible self-talk. I wasn't sure if I wanted to be alive, to be quite honest with you. Like um, I had actively hated myself, it was really intense. Um, but one of the biggest life hacks that has helped me in my life is understanding that you can believe something until you become it. So it's okay if it doesn't feel true to you right now, like actually you can program your beliefs by first starting with your actions. There's always gonna be a lag, right, but if you start practicing Expressing Delight in yourself, eventually your brain will start to catch up and be like "Oh yeah - we are pretty awesome, we are worthy of love, we are worth celebrating, we are enough. And actually, we are thriving."

If you are looking for a way to implement this in your life, here is a fun challenge for you to try on:

At the end of the day, before you go to bed, look into your eyes in the mirror, see yourself, and acknowledge three qualities in yourself that you embodied that day.

[end transcript]

Link for Part 1

#Secure attachment #Attachment style stuff #HEARTS #relationship_anarchy #how to develop secure attachment

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thearcadianwild · 7 months

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I hate having the fawn response. I hate that every interaction that is less than positive puts me on edge. I hate that the few times I do understand my feelings, if I express them, I fear retaliation. I hate that I learned to fly under the radar, to avoid questions because not having an answer wasn't acceptable. I hate the little things I've noticed about myself. I hate that I walk quietly to not be heard. I hate that I instinctually go the long way around to avoid being seen to avoid having to answer questions. To have to have a reason for having fun. I hate that I was not allowed privacy, that I haven't been allowed privacy. ("Are you going out?" "No" "Why are you dressed up?" "Because") Because I like it is never enough. Because I want to take a picture isn't enough. It's weird. It's odd. ("I want to see your make up" "no" "why?" "Because" "why?" "Because i said no" "but i want to see it" "no") my interests aren't enough. Even if I like it. Even if it brings me joy. It's weird. It's odd.

I hate that I cannot cry around others because I have to take care of them first. I was distraught the day my uncle died, but my body didn't let me cry while I was around my brother and dad. It wasn't until I was in a separate room, cuddled by the dogs that I started crying again. I hate that I can't just be sad or mad or upset without being asked why. I can't be neutral without being asked why. ("Why are you mad?" "I'm not." "You look mad.") I hate that I can't cry until I'm on my own. Until I'm in the shower or in my bed.

I hate that I have to be perfect. I have to always know. To always understand.

#vent #I'm feeling bad in this Dennys tonight because i got hit with a wave of fear

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sillylittlerock · 9 months

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so sick of my body. so sick of trying to shop for jeans but not eve petite ranges fit because my legs are so short but my hips and thighs are so wide. things are either too long or too tight. there isn't a gap between my thighs like all my friends have and even when i starved myself for a year that didn't change. my thighs splay out when i sit down so i have to lift my legs slightly to stop this happening. the hair on my arms is darker than everyone else's because it's dark enough to see but not dark enough for my mum to let me shave it. my leg hair grows back so quickly i can't keep up. my skin is dry and flaky and red no matter how much water i drink or what moisturiser and skincare i use. my mascara always looks clumpy and messy, my eyebrows are untidy, my teeth are wonky and sticking out. my chin's too big and always, ALWAYS covered in pimples no matter what i do. but i can't complain. i can't complain because "you don't need to worry about your legs, you're really skinny otherwise!" and "at least you don't have acne" and "no, i promise you're pretty!" and i HATE IT because i feel so stupid and dramatic but i just can't stand it. but most of all i hate how society treats us all. i hate that we have to be skinny and have white teeth and perfect clear skin and be a certain height and weight and look good all the time, every day, all day. and god forbid we age or gain weight or break out. because that's just so unacceptable. and so we are taught that we have to be perfect and that we're ugly if we don't look a certain way, and by the age of eleven we hate ourselves and our bodies and our faces. and we go to school and wish we looked like someone else. we try to buy clothes online and feel insecure because the models look so much better than we do. we watch body positivity influencers and feel worse because their message applies to everyone except us. and when we try to express our anger and frustration and insecurity, people assure us that we're skinny, or pretty, as though that will fix everything, but the problem isn't that we're not skinny or pretty, the problem is society tells us that we're worthless if we're not. and i'm so fucking done with it.

#tw eating issues #tw ed #tw body dismorphia #tw rant #tw vent #body image #body neutrality #sorry about this is just had to vent #tried to buy jeans earlier and nothing fit ahaha #so i spiralled a bit #oversharing #a bit #idk #sorry

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movedtoferinehuntress · 9 months

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Baroness, what was it like being 'raised' by Silco and having Jinx as a foster sister? How does your Zaunite family compare to House Kiramman?

Caitlyn spun around in her chair, her head leaning back as she glanced over at Miss T. "Bold," She whispered, as she waved her finger for Miss T to come closer, encouraged by her deputy who took her shoulder and pushed her down into a chair in front of her desk. "Not sure why you believe you are privy to such information, but I'll entertain. No one really asked about what happened after I fell into that strait and found myself down in Zaun," Caitlyn said, as she waved her hand back as her Deputy stepped back, standing by the door; the only way in and out for escape.

"It should have been a culture shock, we are taught in Piltover that Zaun is this big, scary, monster, with no rules and just lives in chaos. Perhaps some of that is true, it's a very violent nature, but it's not senseless. Piltover likes to make themselves look so pretty in the light of their own monstrosity. Piltover isn't so different, they just put a mask on to hide the monster they are," Caitlyn said, as she picked up a switchblade and started to spin it in her hands. "Jinx was perhaps my first friend in Zaun. I never had friends in Piltover, I punched the people who made fun of me and then I was ridiculed for protecting myself. My mother would lock me away in the house and I never got to be me. Jinx didn't treat me like that, in fact, I almost felt like she took me under her wing even though I was older. What I saw so many years ago with the violence of Zaunites now became something I could embrace. Jinx encouraged it, and I thrived in it. I finally felt as if I belonged, as if… I mattered. No longer were my wings clipped, my beak taped shut and caged like a pretty little songbird," Caitlyn said as she stopped twisting the blade and slammed it into her desk.

"House Kiramman locked me away, they wouldn't let me be anything but their perfect little Kiramman daughter. I was to be molded in their shape, conformed, to be exactly like everyone else. I hated it," Caitlyn sneered, as if poison dripped from her tongue and the bitter anger glistened in her blue eyes. The shadow ran over her as she spoke before the neon lights that were briefly obscured came back into view and Caitlyn's eyes focused on her target in front of her. "Piltover is about control, if you do not fit into their mold, shaped by the councillors who control the city, then you are nothing. No form of expression, no individualism. The Kirammans did not care about me, only that their daughter took the position of heiress apparent to continue with the manipulations and lies. House Kiramman is not my family, and I will never associate with that again,"

A soft breath left her lips, as talking of her old family brought out bitterness and betrayal on her lips but then a smile replaced her thoughts as she waved her hand to the side. "With Silco though, he never once tried to cage me. In fact, his support and encouragement of my skills made me realize just how valued I was. I wasn't an heir or a pretty bird, meant to be seen but not heard. He would take me to meetings, cultivating my ability to see what others do not. I would shadow him, but never felt overshadowed. The chem barons never once blinked an eye at my way; perhaps because I was Piltovan or maybe because I was a child. That came with an advantage, one I eagerly embraced. I listened to him, took in everything he had to say; he was as observant and his ability to read people matched my own," Caitlyn reached over to grab a cup of tea, lifting it to her lips to take a sip as she watched Miss T right now, seeing how she reacted, what her eyes spoke. Language was not just words, it spoke in the body and the way one reacted. Setting the cup down, she gave a sweet smile again and waved her hand toward her with her palm up. "He was more of a father than Tobias or Cassandra could ever be. He could have easily killed me when I came down here lost and alone. From what I know now, I wouldn't blame him. A piltovan child of money and luxury? Why wouldn't he? Yet here we are, and everything I am is because of what he offered to me. Never by force, never by demand. He didn't mold me like a piece of clay, he guided me and encouraged my development. It's why my office reflects his, and why I take on a similar position," As Silco was a kingpin, she was a mob boss. As she read the habitus of people, silco did as well. She reflected his political rule in so many ways, she has her assassins while Silco had his shimmer monsters.

Caitlyn reflected on the man who raised her, and she didn't regret it.

"Now, the question Miss T, is what are you going to do with this information? I'm not sure it best if you walk out that door, so you better start telling me what you want with this truth," The smile slid from Caitlyn's lips, shadowed now with a glint of darkness as she stood up to lean over the desk, staring down at the other.

#[muse] caitlyn — interactions.#[muse] caitlyn — answers.#[mob boss verse] — chem baroness of espionage.#shimmerbeasts

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thoughtswithsophie · 2 years

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revealing: too much of me

Society continuously reminds me how big my body is or how big it once was. How well I fill up my skinny boyfriend's sweatshirt that I took from his closet, it's cute that I thought it would fit. Or how much my fat is disturbing my neighbours on the plane when I swear, I'm contorting myself to only take up the space of my seat, but how dare I have only reserved one seat. Society will constantly bet on how long it will take me to gain all the weight I've lost or how greedy I am when they hear my stomach growl without knowing it's been 8 days since I ate my last apple.

I constantly have to pay attention to how solid the chairs are in classrooms and conference rooms. I need to make sure that I sit near the door that is hopefully in the back, because God forbid I have to pee during class; I wouldn't want to interrupt everyone with my fat body. And gym class, she won the most flexible contest? She was probably lying. Did you see how fat she is? A therapist seems like a promising career for her, not too much physical activity. I'm sure she was bullied, so she can relate. Oh, a sex therapist? A sexologist? Wow, she is pretty for a fat girl. I've heard fat women are freaky. Poor girl is deprived. She can't get her own man, so she has to get a career in sexuality. It goes on and on and on… even our closest friends can behave as though these struggles are personal, not social (Dark & Aphramor, 2022). Fat phobia is so deeply entrenched in society that its perpetuation is normalized and even hoped for. You wouldn't want to dare embrace your fat body because you would be glorifying obesity. The shame of these comments and embedded hatred of fat bodies in society has lingering effects and are amplified based on the amount of non-conforming identities one holds, whether it'd be race or gender presentation. Fat bodies are categorized in limiting boxes that restrict behavioural norms of what we can and cannot accomplish.

Not only is fatness dictating what one can do as a hobby or career, but so does race. White supremacy refuses to associate blackness with success. Lizzo, a successful fat black woman, is constantly bashed for her size and criticized as over the top. She is hyper-sexualized – as society does with black women. While most oppressed groups and white women experience a lack of inclusion due to size, class, disability, etc., comments of hate towards Lizzo majorly come from white men or boys. This could represent their fear of losing power and giving a platform to a fat black woman, which expresses fear of blackness and fatness. It is their tactic to repress in hopes of eliminating.

Let’s look at Rachel Wiley’s piece, For Fat Girls Who Considered Starvation When Bulimia Wasn’t Enough (2015). She had dreamed of being a ballerina but constantly saw her body as too fat to accomplish this. Whether it had been said to her by her mother or society, Wiley purged herself in hopes of one day being small enough to become a dancer. This notion of needing to be a specific size to be entitled to roles such as dancers is socially constructed to keep fat bodies from getting positive attention. One's body size must remain thin, or else it isn't deserving to accomplish powerful things. Later, when she was told her perfect teeth – the only thing her mother said was perfect about her – would be damaged from purging, she starved herself as she had to find other ways to reach her goals. This very well-written piece portrays how eating disorders are normalized for fat bodies. It also demonstrates how fatphobia wishes to harm and inflict pain upon our bodies. It rather see us suffer than live in a society where bigger bodies are appreciated.

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Relationships with female members of my family have always been unhealthy and hard to maintain. In the previous post, I talked about my grandmother's wish to pay me for my weight loss. This was not a single event but rather my entire life. I know my time in Toronto has been successful when I get "complimented" on how my face looks skinnier when I return home. I, amongst many other fat girls, have very surfaced level relationships with thin parents. This expectation and admiration of slim bodies carry a lot of shame. Let's look at Khloé Kardashian; she comes from a very successful tight nit family. I am not saying she has a surfaced level relationship with her entourage, but they seem to focus immensely on body image, which correlates with a thin normative ideal. She was bigger than her sisters and was bullied for her body. She got plastic surgery to lose weight, and people still attacked her image, saying she didn't look like herself anymore.

These narratives damage fat women's sense of self; we are dammed if we do and dammed if we don’t. Our entire existence feels like it doesn't belong to us as we spend our life changing our body for our acceptance – a shell that contains our spirit but fails to be recognized as something temporary.

Lucy Aphramor (2022) explains that she was educated as a dietician and found that it normalizes fatphobia as well as body shaming (p. 4). These structures idolize a white skinny and pure culture, alienating and assimilating anything outside their ideals. Body shaming culture is built on medical systems that evaluate the worth of bodies, also creating eating disorders. I remember I was 9 years old when I had my first appointment with a dietitian. A tall skinny blonde woman shamed me for having 3 meals a day with snacks in between. I absolutely adored salads, but she refused to believe me because the narrative says fat girls don't eat healthily. As the weeks and appointments added up, I developed an eating disorder, though I didn't know that was what was happening at the time. Either dissociating from my body and binging because if I disconnected, the shame wasn’t as painful, or not eating for days. I often didn't eat until my homework was done, and even then, I counted every calorie. This idea that women need to have a small frame as it is part of the feminine ideal bleeds into all areas of social resources. I have never experienced healthcare where my body size was not used to explain the pain and discomfort I was feeling during my visits. I have endured severe illnesses due to physical abuse and trauma but have been told to lose 10 pounds, and I would feel better every time I entered the emergency room and doctors’ offices.

I want to speak of a part in Rheonna Nicole’s The Fat Girl (2016):

"Mama afraid her mini-me will be larger than life, so she make her play basketball

Scared she would fail

Too late she already scoring triple-doubles

Black

Overweight

And female."

She relays the hardships that fat women experience in a normalized fat-phobic society while speaking as a Black woman also experiencing racism. Her mother was terribly afraid of her daughter's size, forcing her to play basketball which white supremacy labels as a black male sport as they hold labels of being wild and untameable. This is a stunning comparison to Black fatness as animalistic, feeding into dominant racist tropes about Black women and their dehumanization. I have briefly discussed the fetishization of fat bodies in a previous post, but Nicole (2016) speaks of her increased fetishization because she is Black. Colonial notions of Black female bodies oversexualize them while saying they are sexual deviants. She speaks to how her mother's lack of appreciation towards her body and fear of fatness represents her inherent failure as she represents 3 incredibly oppressed identities in society.

I include blackness in this blog post, as Black cultures have helped me appreciate my body. As I mentioned in my first post, moving to Toronto was a cultural shock for me as a fat woman. This was the first time I had experienced life surrounded by people from different cultures, and the first time I realized my presence in classes, musical events, and art shows was appreciated. I was expected to show up as myself, a French, Queer, Fat, musically inclined woman – for the first time in my life, I had experienced acceptance of all these identities I represented. Again, recognizing I hold significant privilege for being white, this acceptance meant a lot after coming from a small, oppressive, conservative town. Despite their constant exclusion from society as the colonial ideology ignores all fat bodies, especially Black women’s bodies. They so kindly accepted me as they understood what it meant to be bigger, have curves and be sexualized in a patriarchal, fat-phobic society. Although Black men could still fetishize my fat white body, they appreciated me and saw me beyond the limits of my curves. I speak of these unique experiences as they have allowed me to immerse myself in an excluded culture; cultural dissociation made me feel more at home.

I want to bring in Annette Schlichter’s Do Voices Matter? (2011) in this conversation. A society that excludes us from employment avenues and opportunities, hobbies, medical resources, and accessibility also holds an expectation of how we should physically behave and carry ourselves as fat women. Fatness is associated with laziness, an unmanaged body, and a lack of elegance. Our voice matters on an extreme end as we are taking up too much space. We have to avoid being ‘too’ loud, but we can’t be 'too' quiet either because then we're seen as insecure, and when this happens, comments are made about our bodies and how much better we would feel if we only lost 10 pounds. Our voice should be assertive, so people take us seriously, as society fails to see fat women as responsible and ambitious. So, must be assertive but can’t be too assertive because then we’re a fat woman taking up too much space AND being a bitch or a bully: "Who does she think she is? She's fat; she should look at herself first before giving me attitude." Which involve stereotypes of the angry fat black woman, the sassy black woman with attitude, or the loud manly fat body of colour. As a fat white woman, I recognize that my race gives me the privilege, so I don't have to suffer racism. Not only do we have to adjust how we react to or perform our identity around people because our existence makes society uncomfortable, but we are forced to contort ourselves into boxes that don't feel familiar to us.

I want to be surrounded by people who understand and respect my experiences and existence. I want to be honoured as both fat AND beautiful, not beautiful for a fat person, nice for a fat person, quiet for a fat person, or in shape for a fat person. I learned that I showed up differently once I was no longer ashamed of myself. With the help of other beautiful, strong, independent, loving, intelligent, capable fat women, I have allowed myself to love my body as I strive to make patriarchal, white supremacist, fat-phobic, colonial systems uncomfortable with my presence. Us fat women need to unite in love and use our powerful voices, regardless of preconceived notions, to dismantle oppressive systems. I live to dismantle these structures by embracing my beautiful queer, fat, femme identity.

Here are beautiful beings that show how fatness and femininity can be embodied in everyday life. From unapologetically being themselves and 'calling out' fatphobic, racist, and sexist comments to speaking and sharing their musical/artistic talents, embracing their interracial relationship publicly, and making content promoting fat power and confidence.

Jess Kelley @Therealmrskelley

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Vanessa Duchelle @Tresduchelle

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Simone Mariposa @simonemariposa

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A post shared by Simone 🌺🌻👑🦋 (@simonemariposa)

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Dani DMC @Itsdanimc

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References

Button Poetry. (2015, Nov 30). Rachel Wiley – For Fat Girls Who Considered Starvation When Bulimia Wasn’t Enough [Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jw_NRdAdlio

DMC, D. [@itsdanidmc]. (2021, October 1). The woman who does not require validation from anyone is the most feared individual on the planet. ITS ME. IM HER. [Instagram photograph]. Retrieved from https://www.instagram.com/p/CUf9BNUvbj-/?utm_source=ig_embed&ig_rid=d3049c31-bd43-49e2-af08-fd25ce555a99

Dark, K., Aphramor, L. (2022). Fat Politics as a Constituent of Intersecting Intimacies. In Fat Studies: An Interdisciplinary Journal of Body Weight and Society, 11(3). DOI: https://doi.org/10.1080/21604851.2022.2045789

Duchelle, V. [@tresduchelle]. (2022, October 20). En plus d’avoir des nouveaux vêtements, comme cette chemise, @boutiques.clairefrance a aussi un nouveau compte Tik Tok (@boutiquesclairefrance) et le 24 octobre prochain, il y aura un tirage d’une carte-cadeau de 100$ parmi leurs abonné.es!! Perds pas de temps, abonne-toi. [Instagram Photograph]. Retrieved from https://www.instagram.com/p/Cj6faDarNGh/?utm_source=ig_embed&ig_rid=c6537e84-1efc-4eed-9d36-0fb69ec7aef4

Kelley, J. [@therealmrskelley]. (2021, October 6). Ok I need y’all to freak out about these dresses with me. This Target haul turned out so much better than I expected it to!! Which piece is your favorite?! [Instagram photograph]. Retrieved from https://www.instagram.com/p/CUsiJkXFedd/

Mariposa, S. [@simonemariposa]. (2021, November 2). The South is just too good to me. Spring 2022, I’ll be an ATL shawty for good [Instagram photograph]. Retrieved from https://www.instagram.com/p/CVy4_TIpnOH/?utm_source=ig_embed&ig_rid=ee042d21-241a-49e9-ac85-3eb95f7a7413

Schlichter, A. (2011). Do Voices Matter? Vocality, Materiality, Gender Performativity. In Body & Society, 17(1), 31-52. https://doi.org/10.1177/1357034X10394669

Spencer, C. (2021, Aug 17). Music Star Lizzo Breaks Down Over Racist and Fat-Shaming Slurs. The Hill, Changing America.

Poetry Slam Inc. (2016, July 7). Women of the World Poetry Slam 2016 – Rheonna Nicole “The Fat Girl” [Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8RUt6-_hBpg

#Youtube #Instagram

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steelycunt · 2 years

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i so need your opinion on this - what was lyall lupin like as a father to remus ? the fandom seems so divided on his character i'd love to hear your thoughts!

HIII OMG!!! was so pleased to see this ask come through become i LOVE talking about this guy and especially how similar i imagine him and remus to be. god. okay. under the cut i love talking about this and repeating myself and failing miserably to be concise in my responses!! as always--disclaimer that im in no way calling my interpretation correct or most true to canon, it's just what i've settled on xox

i agree there's a BIG difference between the way he's written (less so with hope, though it does still vary), and there's a bit of a spectrum ranging from perfect, accepting, repentant father who renounces his past attitudes which led to The Bite (A), and horrible, evil monster who wants nothing to do with remus or what he is even as remus gets older and starts school, and essentially wishes he were dead (B). i've read both of these! but my opinion lies roughly in the middle.

version A, for me, lets lyall off the hook too easily. remus was targeted by greyback because lyall was a prejudiced man; the quote we've got is ‘soulless, evil, deserving nothing but death’ if you want to treat pottermore as canon. realistically i don't think that that prejudice he harbours towards werewolves dissipates the second his son is bitten. it's going to stick around, and though it might not manifest in him rejecting remus as his son after the bite, he hardly becomes a perfect parent after greyback 'teaches him a lesson', so to speak. hell, he isn't even a particularly good father. i imagine his relationship with remus to be strained: remus is always going to be a walking reminder of the biggest mistake of lyall's life, and thus arguably his biggest source of guilt, anger, sadness. he loves his son fiercely, but has no idea how to express that--an inability/reluctance to communicate emotions that he passes down to remus. also, from what we've got from canon (next to nothing), he's a man with a temper. i think he also passes this to remus. realistically i find it difficult to believe that they could have a perfect relationship once lyall realises--maybe i was wrong to say that stuff about werewolves, since ive got one for a son now! it's too simplistic. that is going to have an after effect, both in the way lyall looks at remus and the way remus comes to view his father as he grows up and finds out why he was bitten. to some extent, lyall uses this to convince himself remus probably wants to keep his distance--he must hate me, he has reason to hate me, it's better this way--which establishes a bit of a barrier in their relationship (especially when remus is a teenager).

on the other hand, i also don't think that he was B: flat-out terrible, or evil, or disgusted by his son once he was bitten. i imagine lyall being a strict father (a further strain on their relationship) in as much as he was the one most terrified of people finding out what remus was, which in turn led him be overly harsh on remus about keeping his condition at school secret, staying away from people, keeping his grades up, because he thinks that's how remus is going to have the best chance at life and he knows its his fault that he suffers so much. he considers it his responsibility to make sure remus has some sort future, and as far as he is concerned that means working twice as hard--he knows how society sees werewolves, because he was in that position, he held those views himself. as remus gets older this results in them arguing a lot, because getting angry with your son because you love him and you're terribly, terribly frightened for him isn't an acceptable way of expressing that love. it's pretty fucking poor. he's a coward. to some extent, remus gets this from him too.

remus is the spitting image of him. lyall sometimes finds that too much to bear. remus inevitably wonders if the reason his father is distant is because he still hates what he is, deep down/he doesn't see remus as a 'proper', loveable son because of his attitudes towards lycanthropy, whereas its actually more because lyall sees so much of himself in remus that he's never going to be quite able to forgive himself.

#anon #telegram #r #the lupins #does any of this make sense. im absolutely shattered but i was so excited by this ask that i had to answer it b4 bed. anyway goodnight!!#also makes it very interesting to picture their dynamic once hope is dead. she holds the family together how do they function #around each other without her. god id love an excuse to write this man hes like The Original Pathetic Lupin omg #need to write him meeting sirius as The Boyfriend....christ

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n1kolaiz · 3 years

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ENTJ + INFJ DYNAMIC

BSD MANGA CHAPTER 54-57 SPOILERS

Chapter 54 introduced Mushitaro Oguri, and his background involving Yokomizo was ever so intriguing to me. So unfortunately, here I am.

Mushitaro and Yokomizo's dynamic:

The 'Commander' meets the 'Idealist.'

Alright, I won't go into the details about the case of Yokomizo's death, because there's no way in hell I can explain it fluently at all. So if you need further reference to what these few chapters are about, popopretty's post would elaborate on the details and whatnot.

Before I start, here's a bit of little introduction to both individual characters:

MUSHITARO OGURI

Mushitaro appears to take a lot of pride in his ability, which contributes to his arrogant complex altogether. He had his own desires and goals, and lived out his days just to fulfil them.

His ability is called the 'Perfect Crime,' which allows him to erase any trail of evidence pertaining to whatever crime he had committed. Hence, he is also known as the 'infallible Detective-killer.'

Until Ranpo proved him wrongヾ(❀╹◡╹)ﾉﾞ

His personality type is most likely 'ENTJ,' the 'Commander.'

- ENTJs are known to have exceptional leadership skills. They are confident in themselves and what they do; basically, they don't have the tendency to second-guess what they are capable of. This explains Mushitaro's ambition to achieve his ends, and his ability goes the extra mile of complimenting his success rate greatly. Whether his motives or the end results were morally good or evil, it didn't matter to Mushitaro— as long as his wishes were fulfilled.

"With tyrants and demons, I'll make deal with a demon. That's in my nature."

- They're also quite outspoken with their opinions. It's a fairly minor detail, but this shows why he wasn't afraid to express the distaste he had for mystery novels to Yokomizo— including the extravagant ideas and serpentine stories his close friend based his life upon and discussed with him.

- The subtle insensitivity mixed in with an ENTJ's preference of logic over emotion highlights one of their core weaknesses: which brings us back to Mushitaro's ability to kill his friend. Say you were to put a person with a deeply compassionate heart, who's also very well in-tact when it comes to identifying emotions and being empathetical to other's feelings: would that person be able to kill a friend they'd known for so long? For the sole reason of making his last mystery novel a deathless enigma? This is very subjective perspective, but I believe that if Mushitaro was more of an emotionalist rather than a strategist, things would have turned out different for Yokomizo's eventual fate.

Side note: His insensitivity did, however, find its limit when he realised how devastating it was to have killed his own friend with his hands. Even though there's a wide scale that measures how insensitive a person can be, they are, in fact, still human beings capable of feeling. Killing someone dear to you is no easy task; there is a breaking point for the hardest of hearts.

SEISHI YOKOMIZO

Yokimozo, also known as Kindaichi, was a mystery writer who was very particular about detail and being exclusive, especially when it came to his works. His last wish he pursued to achieve before a terminal illness took his life was done by formulating a 'mystery that transcended reality.'

"I hate regret. So I've done whatever I've wanted to do. Up until now, it's been a satisfying life. But now… I've been given a time limit…Before then, I have to complete the ultimate mystery."

His personality type is identified as 'INFJ,' also known as the 'Idealist.'

- INFJ's are deeply creative and artistic, but they express it in various different ways. For Yokomizo, he portrayed his brilliant artistic skill through his writings revolving around mysteries and their compelling depths. The fictional character's namesake was also a mystery novel writer. Yokomizo was pretty well-versed with how mysteries worked and how their details ravelled themselves into elegantly, well-established riddles, which only added to his natural flair of writing.

- Generally, INFJs are reserved, but incredibly idealistic. Yokomizo was seen to be very abstract in his idea of thinking, and this is due to the fact that INFJs have a thing for pondering about life and the meaning behind everything.

"Mushi-kun, I bet you're laughing at me for destroying myself for the sake of mystery. But if that's the case, maybe there's no such thing as unshakable values. Maybe it's up to us to decide what to put value in and what to live for. After all, we have the right to turn our own decisions into our entire world. It is, foolishly enough, the greatest luxury afforded to mankind."

- As for their weaknesses, some INFJs are very hard to get to know. They are mysterious at times, which prevents them from being flamboyant with their thoughts and opinions. Yokomizo had a very lighthearted, mystifying nature, which made him a very interesting character altogether. Despite having a high regard for their intimate relationships— INFJs can be quite private. Mushitaro vaguely points out his self-contained, introverted mannerisms in this panel:

Now, I'll get to my point.

ENTJs and INFJs don't ideally match up, but when it comes to general friendships, there are a few details that suggest an accomodating dynamic between the two personality types. These qualities emanate from Mushitaro and Yokomizo's friendship with each other.

Opposites attract in most cases, correct?

Well, in this case, ENTJs and INFJs have a lot of similarities:

intelligent

intuitive in thinking

determined

goal-oriented

But the more numerable contrasting qualities is what really brings out the agreeable traits between Mushitaro and Yokozimo. Think of it as a system where two opposites mutually keep each other in check:

1. Mushitaro bases his life on the gaining his own needs and wants, and is very firm in his sense of realism, while Yokomizo is more focused on the deep, complexities of life itself. This may come off as impractical to ENTJs, but also compliments their coordination with INFJs. Realism limits idealism, but idealists can also expand the boundaries realists place themselves in.

2. INFJs accept people and ideas as they are, not willing to put others down just to prove themselves right. Yokozimo's tolerant behaviour stands in contrast with how authoritative Mushitaro is, especially when it boils down to his arrogance— he isn't afraid to spit his pride right into his opponent's face.

Kneel, detectives! I am the king of crime! No one can force me to sin and repent!

Just for laughs reference^

So it's safe to say that because Yokomizo had an acquired sense of serenity and open-mindedness, he was able to tolerate Mushitaro's extravagant, subtle histrionic characteristics, which were laced with his superior complex.

3. In the manga, Yokomizo speaks and converses with Mushitaro in a way that suggests that he is careful with his words. INFJs are gentle and generally sensitive to the needs of others, so they tend to be careful with what comes out of their mouths. Mushitaro, like most ENTJs, are quite blunt. This points back to how insensitive they come off, even if they don't actually mean it. So when it comes to Yokozimo explaining tales of mystery to Mushitaro, Mushitaro doesn't hesitate to mock Yokozimo; but because of how understanding Yokozimo is, he doesn't take Mushitaro's opinions too seriously to the point of discounting the value of their friendship, because he knew Mushitaro didn't use his words with the intention to harm.

If you were to place a more dominant persona in Yokomizo's position, I doubt that that person would be able to tolerate such behaviours. Then again, this is crucially subjective.

I suppose the main thing I wanted to point out was how ENTJs and INFJs balanced each other out by cancelling out each other's extreme traits, and keeping each other in the middle of the equilibrium altogether. But another thing I'd like to point out to sum up Mushitaro and Yokozimo's relationship was this: the fact that Mushitaro had to kill his own friend to grant his dying wish. Dying for someone or by someone's hands is easier than killing someone, especially if that someone is dear to you, no? I guess that's the part I can't fathom— it was the type of relationship that stood out way more than I had expected. Say, the roles were switched, would Yokomizo actually kill Mushitaro? Or would Mushitaro think of such an incomprehensible way to die in the first place? Or what if these two friends had different, more superior traits that coexisted in conflict all the time, would Yokomizo even depend on Mushitaro with such a task?

The speculations are endless, or maybe it's pretty straightforward. Though, I hope this made sense.

Okay, I'm done rambling for now. Thank you for reading!

#bsd #bsd analysis #bsd characters #bungou stray dogs #bsd spoilers #bsd manga #bsd mushitaro #bsd decay of angels #decay of angels #rats in the house of the dead #.daydreams

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aelin-queen-of-terrasen · 4 years

Text

chapter - one | beautiful disaster

Full Masterlist

Beautiful Disaster Masterlist

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I watch the door, awaiting his arrival.

Cardan struts into the building with his eyes fixed on his phone. He looks as unimpressed with everything around him as the last time I saw him. His clothes are ironed to perfection, the crisp collar of the black shirt barely covering most of his tattoo, save for the serpent's head that peeks out from beneath it. I'm convinced his outfit alone is worth more than the annual salary I receive from Balekin.

He looks up at me and the force of my hatred hits me like a brick to the face, all my plans feeling impossible now.

"Shouldn't you be somewhere else, licking Balekin's boots, pleasing him and all, Jude?" he sneers. There's so much disdain between us, it feels impossible that it would ever be otherwise.

I will myself to ignore his barb. I'm used to much worse insults, and to retort might increase my chances at failure. But I'm drunk on my resentment at his position; he has everything I ever wanted, and yet he laments about it. His presence makes me reckless, makes me want to do things I shouldn't do.

"At least I'm capable of pleasing him." I tell him with a small smirk.

His rage is prominent on his face now, the mask of boredom gone. He looks so heartbreakingly beautiful even when he's angry, it seems unfair. I try to dredge up some pity for him. He has a brother who is hell-bent on making him a copy of himself, another brother who hates him, an indifferent father and a scheming harlot for a mother.

Yet, did Madoc not raise me to become a mirror of himself? Surely, he can't resent me for something I do not have.

But he does. I see it in his eyes everytime he looks at me, how unworthy he thinks me of everything. The feeling is mutual, the hatred between us as intense as it is unreasonable. It's for Dain, and for the gang I belong to, that I bother to look at him, to earn his trust.

I step forward, deliberately putting pressure on the heel of my left foot. The near broken sandal gives out, and I fall into Cardan's arms.

His coal black eyes burn into mine with an intensity I do not expect. I am so sure that he'll drop me, but his grip remains firm as ever. His phone falls onto the ground with a loud thud but he pays it no mind. For a moment, all his attention is directed on me.

It feels as wonderful as it's scary.

When I pull away, my heart pounds loudly against my chest. "Balekin wants you to see him as soon as you arrive."

"Of course he does," he mumbles something else, then walks off.

Cardan's phone lies on the floor, right where it fell earlier. I allow myself a small, triumphant smile. I am quick to retrieve it, limping away with one show broken and remind myself to find an extra pair to change into before I arrive at Dain's mansion.

I find Lilliver the first thing when I enter. "Unlock this one for me, then bring it over; you have thirty minutes."

Dain is neck deep in paperwork when I knock on the open door.

"Ah, Jude," he looks up with a grin, "one of these days, you should listen when I tell you to walk right in, don't knock."

His eyes move over my body, expression morphing into concern as he assesses me. To save him the question, I say, "I'm fine, he didn't suspect a thing. Should I be offended you don't trust your own second-in-command's abilities?"

I slide into the chair across from him. He still looks unsure, so I add: "He may loathe me, but he is no murderer."

Dain's expression darkens a little, the goofy grin vanishing from his face. "He was still raised to be ruthless and cruel. Forgive me if I worry about you, Jude," The words sound like a lament, and his voice is softer when he continues, "It's such an inconvenience to be worried you might get hurt because of me."

"I appreciate that," I tell him, lips twitching up in amusement, "but if it came down to it, I could kick his ass."

"I know you can." Dain talks with so much conviction, it's impossible not to feel as if I'm invincible, though I'm not.

He clears the space in front of him of all files, then looks at me expectantly. Rolling my eyes, I climb atop the desk, legs resting on either side of his chair. He stands between my legs, leaning forward. He presses his lips to my jaw, leaving a trail of kisses down my throat.

"We need to, ah, talk about the—" he nips at a particularly tender spot on my neck. My body archs into his touch, giving him better access. I can't supress my moan, more grateful for the soundproof walls than ever—"Oh, Dain—aboutthe shipment we're..." The rest of my words dissolve into a loud moan when he nips at the spot with his teeth, his hands sliding up my thighs, hovering over my jeans' waistband.

"I'd rather not talk about it," he simply tells me, hands roaming everywhere but at the spot where I want them.

"What do you, ahhh, want to talk about then?" I ask him, knowing the answer.

His lips hover inches away from mine, curled into a fiendish grin. "I don't want to talk at—" he is interrupted by the sound of something crashing on the ground and a muffled curse.

I pull away immediately, feeling as embarassed as Van looks, if not more. "I'm sorry, I thought you'd want to—ah, it was urgent, I didn't think you'd, ahem, I don't..." His words grow more garbled with each moment that passes.

Taking pity on him, Liliver interrupts, "Bad timing? We can come back later."

"No, we'll have a look now—unless Jude wants otherwise?" All eyes turn on me, still on the desk with my legs parted, hair mussed and a flushed look on my face. I'm sure there's a hickey on my neck, adding to my embarassment.

Dain looks amused at my condition and I know he did it on purpose. I want to slap him on the face for it. His eyes shine with mirth when he looks at me. "Jude, love, will you mind terribly if I ask you to sit on a chair for a few? Though of course, my lap is available—"

I scramble off the desk and slide a chair towards him, taking a seat before he can continue. Liliver gives us a knowing look, and I have no doubt my face has turned scarlet. It's one thing to have everyone know you have a 'friends with benefits' thing going with your boss; it's another to be caught doing it.

Van slides the phone I stole towards Dain, who passes it to me. "Take whatever information you can find, and have someone drop you off—"

"That's not necessary," I assure him and take my leave, rifling through the contents in his phone.

As predicted, Cardan isn't as given to secrecy. I transfer all the files with ease, have the phone locked and ready to be returned and still a half hour to spare. I'm not surprised by how much Balekin keeps his brother in the loop, or by Cardan's disinterest in all of it. What does surprise me is the business acumen he seems to have. He is clever with his words, creative with his ideas and efficient in their execution. If I wasn't dead set against him, I'd have been impressed.

I wait until I know he'll be outside his office to come with his phone, and I am surprised to find Madoc with him. I hesitate for a moment, but decide to charge through. I can't wait too long to return it, lest I draw suspicion.

He looks surprised to see me outside, but then he blinks and the expression is replaced with one of casual boredom.

Madoc regards me with suspicion, eyes narrowed and a small crease between his eyebrows. He says, "Jude, what are you doing here? It's an off day—"

"—I know," I tell him, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "But if he had his way, I'd have an off day for the whole year. I wanted to see if there's something around here I could do."

Madoc throws a cautious look towards Cardan, as if to make sure he's not displeased my casual censure of his brother. I could care less what Balekin thinks of me, he has never liked me much after all. I have no idea what I did to deserve his scorn but it's always been that way, and if I wasn't his loyal second-in-command's daughter, he won't have me here at all. He doesn't trust me very much.

And with good reason, I suppose. I've been spying on him almost ever since I joined, after all.

Cardan only raises a groomed eyebrow at me, as if to ask why I'm here. He must be in better spirits, because his expression is lacking the usual bite to it, though he looks impatient to leave. That might be more because of Madoc than me. Madoc has made no secret of his dislike towards the youngest of the Greenbriar brothers.

"Your phone," I extend it towards him. "It fell down this morning, when I tripped." I ignore Madoc's questioning look.

Cardan accepts his phone with a little shrug, but then there's a furrow between his eyebrows and I'm scared he has figured out that I stole information from it. I hold my breath, willing my hands not to tremble as he turns his assessing gaze on me. When he looks up at me, I feel like he can see every terrible thing I did, and it makes me more vulnerable than anything else.

He steps closer, forcing me to take a step back and repeats the process until I'm backed up against the glass wall of the building.

His hand comes to rest around my throat—a threat and a warning. "I know what you did, Jude. And there will be consequences for it." I can feel his breath in my ear, and blood rushes up to my face. There's nothing human in his expression. I'm afraid of his grip on my throat, the vile creature reflected in his black eyes but most of all, I'm afraid of the warmth I feel where his skin brushes against mine.

"I-I don't know what you're-what you're talking about," I stammer out.

"Don't you, Jude?" It seems impossible that he could be any closer, but he presses in anyway, and his grip tightens. His body presses against mine and all thoughts fly out of my head.

I shut my eyes close, and when I open them again, I realise it was imagination.

Cardan is looking at his phone still, but Madoc gives me a strange look. His eyes fix on the lovebite on my neck. I curse myself for not hiding it before.

My father's gaze travels from me to Cardan and back; it takes everything in me not to shout that it's not what he thinks at all. I bristle under his disapproving glare, choosing to ignore it too. Let him believe what he does. His assumptions are a thousand times less explosive than the truth. What would Madoc do if he found out where I spend my off days, which gang I work for? I shiver at the thought, distracted enough that I don't notice Cardan's gaze until he clears his throat.

"Thank you," he tells me, but somehow, he manages to make it sound like an insult. Before I can reply, he stalks off.

I hate how intoxicating his presence is, how he makes me writhe and tremble and crave for his attention, but hate it when he gives it. I have to remind myself I'm the predator, not him. This is my game, and I'm the one pulling all the reins. I hold all the power here. The repeated thoughts do nothing to erase the vision in my head, of his eyes, cruel and gleaming with hatred, and his grip on my throat, warm and painful and restricting my lungs and that tone; god, the mere thought of that chilling, ice cold gaze sends shivers down my body.

But this is my game, and by the time I'm done with him, the tables will turn.

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Let me know if you'd like to be tagged. Also, I'm trying new things: first person pov, a little touch of smut, and a new writing style. Feedback is invaluable rn, through anon asks or comments or whatever way you feel comfortable!

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marshmallowprotection · 3 years

Text

Kait Reacts To The AE 8/?

Hi! These reactions are written out every time a Chatroom opens and it’s done over the course of the day. So, you’re watching me react in real time as it is for me. So, Spoilers AHOY. Expect Another post like this later today, there is just too many chats to put it all in one post. So, hey, if you click this, you’re opening yourself to spoilers, you make the choice.

[11:11]

Well, I knew it was coming but I didn’t want it to be coming. Rika comes into the chatroom and lets us know very clearly once more that nothing can change and that we need to accept that. She said that Prime Minister is coming tomorrow in preparation for... he expects to make sure the boys don’t fight him. I’m not really sure what he wants apart from that and I don’t want to. My worst fear is murder but clearly, he is going to use them as puppets and keep them holed away like Rika’s toys. It’s like we’re living in her godforsaken dollhouse.

She notes that Saeyoung isn’t trouble. He’s drugged. Saeran... she points out that he ran once, he may run again. She and V are clearly suspicious of what he is doing since he came with nothing, and both note to me that maybe it’s just their nerves and he’s really given up because he knows “there’s no other way to get through this.”

It’s not much to note. I’m just annoyed. I don’t want to even expend the energy on her or V anymore. I’m checked out with them and I’m not even bothering. It just isn’t worth my energy. I’m never forgiving them. I’ve already made my mind pretty clear on that subject. I just cannot. And, trust me, it’s about to get a whole lot worse. She and Saeran are back from the Agents and the Visual Novel is about to start.

And let me tell you that I nearly dropped my phone when this happened. I could feel myself already suffocated to see this. If I thought that I was hurting when we saw what happened to Saeyoung, I don’t know, this is a million times worse or at the very least, on the same fucking level of unsettling me to my very core. Well, it’s this moment that I know that I’m clenching my fists at my sides and using all my strength not to lash out at Rika. I don’t know how I would handle this. I don’t know. I don’t know how I would keep my level head that I normally have when I have to confront these traumatizing things.

I think in the end, I’d just cry because I can’t do anything.

Yes, Rika straight-up tied him up by the ankles. Yes, he is lost is a in triggered daze. Yes, I’m fucking upset. She tells him that he should get used to this for the time being but she’ll let him go when things are “perfect and she’s sure that he will behave.” She leaves.

I can gently nudge him and he snaps from his stupor as quickly as I can and he snaps out of it only to breathe a sigh of relief because we’re there with him and he can find solace in that fact. I know that we’re about to have a really serious talk but I’m trying not to fixate on the abuse of him at Rika’s hands.

He’s relieved. I’m momentarily relieved. He says that he’s able to feel calm in spite of this storm because of this. He’s just so happy to see us again. He’s still bothered by what he has gone through, but he does look a lot more at ease with the unease in his heart. At least, I know that he’s okay. He’s not suffocating by what I feared that he was, but I think I’m more upset about it than he is. He admits that his mother used to do this to you, and I know he’s mentioned it before during his route but... seeing it is....

A lot different than hearing about it. And that’s when he drops the biggest fucking fear I’ve had into my lap.

He hates this. But, he feels like he has to do this. He is going to... sorry, I’m still. I’m still crying right now it’s really hard to type. He said that he can’t get out of this, and that he wants to get Saeyoung out of here so at least he can be free and that we can continue living on. I don’t want that, but you can’t reason with him, we’re both crying. He wants us to hear out the plan because... this is what he wants to happen because he doesn’t see another option.

These brothers are going to be the death of because with how selfless they are. I can’t even really call them out about it. I would sacrifice myself just as quickly. I guess we’re all stubborn and have that in common. Saeran explains that Vanderwood helped him escape, and that they went back to Jumin. Jumin took members of the former intelligence team and formed his own group in a single fucking day with Jaehee at his side. Jumin is the one that told Zen to lie and make sure that nobody would know about this. Vanderwood and Saeran got into the agency but—

Saeran only had time to hack half of it.

His plan is that Saeyoung, once freed, should be able to finish it and be free from his chains. I... sorry. Everyone is awake with the RFA now. Jumin is still risking it all for us. Everyone is risking so much for Saeran, Saeyoung, and me, and I just... I’m sorry.

I don’t want to leave him. I tell him but... he’s resolute. He say that once Saeyoung is able to take down the agency, Saejoong will lose his power and they will be able to do whatever they can to right the wrongs committed against the RFA. I’m literally bawling at this point, and I’m asking him what is going to happen to him when we leave him behind because—

Rika, V, and everyone else that is against us are going to destroy him once we get out of here. They’re going to hurt him. They’re going to—

I can’t. I can’t. I can’t I can’t do this.

Saeran, please.

Who had “Send Kaitlyn in a fucking bawling mess because he said what he said during V Route when Ray blew up the fucking building because he felt like his life was worth nothing anymore but he couldn’t fucking leave without telling us that his love for us would never die,” on their fucking bingo card because you jus won the game.

I cannot express into words upset I am. This was beautifully written but I don’t want to leave him. I had to stifle my own sobs because it’s so early in the day and I didn’t want to wake up anyone and say that my fictional boyfriend just did this to me. There’s so much that I want to say about this but... I can’t. I’m just so in a state of being overwhelmed. I wasn’t okay after V Route. I sat there for a long time after that happened. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I can’t right now either. I love this man so much, I hope he knows that.

Please, this isn’t the end of you.

Please.

There’s a call with Zen after this. They knew. They fucking knew what he was going to do but they didn’t tell me. They’re expecting me. Zen tried to cheer me up and say that we’re going to save him, he knows that Saeran means everything to us but he wants us to stay positive because fear only festers and gets worse as it grows. I called V after because I needed to hear what he had to say. Once again, he threatened me being “polite” about it. He said that he does not want me to get hurt but... It’s implied every fucking time.

I’m done with you, Jihyun.

He tries to force me to talk about everything but I bite my tongue and basically tell him to fuck off. I’m done. I’m so fucking done. I’m checked out and I cannot stand you. Burn if you want to burn, Jihyun, but I’m not going to let you burn Saeran and Saeyoung because you’ve given up on everything and turned your fucking back on everything.

[12:48]

So. Hey. This was a short one. Rika pointedly is back to her bullshit. She's just... trying to make him.think and agree with her that the past is in the past but it isn't. Just because Saeran was willing to say he doesn't hate someone doesn't mean that he is willing to forgive someone who has continued to hurt him time and time again in his life.

She's fully denying things and telling him to act like a child. She wants to live in willful ignorance of her own misdeeds and pretend her dollhouse life she's planning is going to be perfect for him... for Saeyoung. It's not. Saeran is actually doing this with a lot of grace and care. I know he's sad and resolute. I know. But, he's not going to crack here. He has resigned himself but he wants to enjoy the time that we do have together for as long as we can do so.

Saeran points out that she must feel lonely and hurt herself after what she's gone through and how things went at Mint Eye since it was taken down the minute she left with V. He's offering a small shred of sympathy but it ain't much, trust me. He's trying to distract Rika and V so a lot of this is him playing a part. He calls right after this one and we talk a little. We talk about how strong he has become and he thanks me for being there for him even though I remind him that he saved himself from hell. He notes I'm too humble, that we make each other strong.

He says that I'm an angel for being kind to him and sharing my love. He days our love is like a soft white light, pure, and easy to see. We talk about what Saeyoung may do when he leaves, but I end by saying that he'll be sad without him there. Saeran says sadness will pass. That it will be okay. He will send his love to me in my dreams time and time again. I'm having an aura migraine right now and I think I sparked it by getting so upset. Haha. I offer to check on Saeyoung, he heard something?

Rika and V are out shopping. Rika notes that she cannot stand how Saeran is acting. She doesn't at all want to deal with this... kindness? She wants him to be silent and do as he did when he was a child and nothing more. She literally wants to pretend that it's ten years ago. She is that deep into her selfish desires and she refuses to see anything but this. She darts off to grab fruits and we pause on V. I don't know what the hell is going on in this thick skull of his and at this point I am not even trying to gauge.

He knows he's wrong. I don't care what he thinks he's playing at anymore. He knows that he is a lot of ways in the wrong and buried his head into the sand again. At least you note that she will never change because she refuses to admit that she hurt other people. She would rather play house and pretend.

I hope you're happy with the outcome, V. No matter what you think you're doing, you're wrong here.

[14:07]

A lot happens here, honestly. This chatroom is spent with Saeran. It's a private log where he is repeating what he just said to us. That we will need to leave him and leave with Vanderwood and Saeyoung as soon as possible while he is distracting Rika and V. He doesn't know how he will do it but he's going to do it for as long as he can because he wants us to get far away before anyone can stop us. I point out that I don't want to leave and that Saeyoung, if awoken with the antidote, will not leave him behind. He says that we need to lie if we have to do it. He just needs us safe. He thinks this is the only way. I can't really argue with him, but. I'm clearly distraught and he knows it. He wants us to stay as close as we can to each other until the last moment we have.

He says that even if he suffers, he will feel okay when he thinks of me. He repeats what he said earlier and now I'm still upset. In this context, he says first and past love for himself. He isn't at all talking about us. I'll get to this, there's a call with Yoosung after this and he's having a crisis. He is shocked and upset. He says that the entire time he caught up to speed on the recorded work that they did, he saw Saeran so passionate and in love that he is envious. He wishes he could be loved like that because he isn't sure he's ready for love of that caliber yet. He says that it's so strong that it transcends anything and everything that he has. He is not selfish. He is selfless in the way that he loves.

And he's crying, I'm crying, we're both crying about this. He says to enjoy what time I have with him. Then, he asks if I know what is fueling him. I answer, the freedom of his brother. And, Yoosung sighs, "Your happiness is what he is putting first." Everything, all of this, Yoosung says that he is willing to die if it means I can live on happily.

But, I know I'll never truly be happy without him and we both just. Crack.

As far as the Visual novel goes, Rika leaves and then V gives us another kind gesture laden with threats. It's all about Rika. It's always about Rika. He warns Saeran that he better fake a mask for Rika because she could lash out. He wants this to be peaceful times ahead for Rika. He doesn't want more conflict but I say that he cannot bend Saeran to his will. Saeran agrees. He says that no one will bind him and he will not lose himself no matter what they do or say to him. His freedom was earned by his hands and nobody will rob him of that.

V says that he's decided to be trouble now, and Saeran says that V is clouded by an obsession to be an adult. I add that Rika is playing Peter Pan because she wants to live in a world of terrible falsehoods. V paused, "Do you think I can become an adult once things settle down, even though Rika cannot?"

No answer.

He realizes Saeran isn't budging. And he says he'll have to try another way.

Yoosung and Zen are together, and this is right before he called me crying. He's just so broken up about how unfair all of this. How they should be doing something and Zen agrees. Yoosung says that Saeran is going to die tonight if they can't do something and I know that he isn't wrong and it's my biggest fear. If they don't have the two of them and if they cannot control either of the twins, they'll just kill the two of them the second they get the chance. Zen isn't wrong to say that we shouldn't think about that but Yoosung is always right when it comes to this regard.

Zen sighs, noting that he's gotta watch himself because he's starting to sound like Jumin. He is the one that wanted to run to us the minute he woke up. I trust that. He's broken up too, and I just don't know what I'm going to do next. They say they need to think.

They need to figure something out before... his love for me will be gone and he'll never get to be truly free with Saeyoung because he'll be dead. I really hope not, Yoosung. This is my worst case scenario too.

You get a text message from V as well, after. He says you know, Caterpillars build a home with a hard wall. I say, they make it so they can spread their wings and be free. He responds, I wonder if Rika and I just made our shells harder. I don't know if he's having second thoughts but no matter what he does at this point I'm not going to forgive him. He committed to this and he did this. There's no denying it. Even if you try to make things right at this point I'm still never going to give you a chance. You just don't deserve it in my eyes. The Others May think differently but I really doubt it.

There's no mending your melted wings.

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helloalycia · 4 years

Text

black mercy // kara danvers

summary: when you're exposed to black mercy intended for Supergirl, you find yourself in your perfect dream world. You just didn't expect it to hurt so much.

warning/s: mentions of implied homophobia and losing your family.

author's note: this hit a lil too close to home lol

masterlist | wattpad

"Kara? You home?" I called out after entering her apartment with the key she gave me. "I've got food!"

When I got no response, I closed the front door and set the takeout on the kitchen table. She'd told me to meet her here, so where was she?

I was about to go and check her bedroom, but I stopped when I saw some weird glowing plant-looking thing on the floor by the couch. Curiosity got the best of me and I edged closer to it, wondering what the hell it was.

I screeched when it suddenly leaned towards me, knocking me off my balance and sending me into a tunnel of black.

–

I woke up to my alarm going off and out of instinct, I stretched my arm out and smacked the top of my clock. It took me a moment to open my eyes, as usual, and I reached across the bed for Kara, but she wasn't there. My eyebrows scrunched together as I finally opened my eyes, only to widen them instantly at what I was seeing.

"What the..." I sat up immediately, taking in my surroundings.

I was in my bedroom, back at home. The one I grew up in. The one I had lived in until four years ago, when I came out to my family and they kicked me out. Huh?

"Y/N? Darling, are you up?"

I felt my heart drop to my stomach when I heard my mum's voice from downstairs. It had been so long since I'd heard her talk to me without hatred in her voice...

"Mum?" I jumped out of bed cautiously, but when she called my name out again, the little kid in me forgot about questioning what was happening, and instead led me to opening my door. "Mum?!"

"You're awake, great. Do you want eggs? I'm making them for Haris," she called upstairs.

I moved to the bannister, desperate to see her face, and leaned over to see her standing at the bottom of the stairs. I froze as she smiled up at me like nothing had happened. Like she hadn't screamed in my face about how I was a disgrace to my family, to my religion. Like she hadn't told me she hated what I had chosen and she hadn't kicked me out without warning.

"Well?" she asked again, and I felt my mouth go dry.

I couldn't form a response as I straightened up, taking a step back. I was standing in the corridor of my upstairs childhood home. My mum was calling me, asking me about breakfast that she was cooking for the brother I hadn't seen in four years. Something was definitely wrong.

–

"Sshh, she's waking up now..."

I blinked my eyes open slowly, feeling a headache coming on. I tried to sit up and felt someone help me. When I looked up, I saw it was my mum sat beside me, smiling with concern.

I felt my breathing pick up again, shaking my head. If this was a dream, it was the most realistic dream I'd ever had.

"You fainted, Y/N, how are you feeling?" my mum asked, squeezing my hand gently.

"I broke your fall in case you were wondering," a familiar voice spoke, and I turned my head to see my brother, Haris, sat on the chair opposite me.

"Haris," I breathed out, eyes wide with shock.

"You're acting weird," he commented, leaning forward to take a better look at me. "You must have really hit your head."

I began to look around with panic and confusion, noticing I was downstairs now, in the living room. What the hell was happening?

"Okay, I can't find an ice pack, but there was a bag of frozen vegetables that should do the trick."

I stood up, backing away now, when I saw my dad entering the living room, holding a bag of frozen vegetables. When he noticed me, he brightened up.

"Oh, you're awake, honey," he said with relief. "How's your head?"

I looked between the three of them with disbelief. They were staring at me as if I was the strange thing here, as if I was acting insane.

"What the hell is going on in here?" I said, shaking my head. "This... this can't be real. You guys... this... this isn't real!"

"Baby, what are you talking about?" my mum asked with concern. She stood up and moved forward, resting a hand on my head as if she was inspecting it.

I wanted to back away, I knew I should have. This wasn't real. But as soon as she touched me, my breath escaped me and I felt like a little kid all over again. She was staring at me like an endearing mother, not even an ounce of hatred present in her eyes. I didn't realise how much I missed that until I had it again.

"You can't be real," I said, forcing myself to push her hand away.

"Usually I would make fun of you, but you're starting to worry us," Haris commented, standing up and moving forward to rest a hand on my arm. "You okay?"

I shook him off, stepping away. "No! This isn't real! What is happening?"

"Y/N–"

"Where is Kara?" I asked, looking around as if she'd suddenly show up. "Kara?!"

"Who is Kara?" Haris whispered loudly to our parents.

I glared at him. "Kara is–" I stopped speaking when the words escaped me. I blanked for a moment, furrowing my eyebrows. "She's..." I racked my brain desperately, until finally it clicked. "She's my girlfriend, Kara is my girlfriend!"

"You have a girlfriend?" my mum asked me, slightly confused.

I was growing agitated as I clenched my jaw. This wasn't real. If it was, I wouldn't be here.

I stormed off, making my way to the front door and leaving the house, expecting to find an exit to this insane dream I was having, but nope. I was still at my house, standing on the front porch and staring out into the street.

"Y/N, if you're acting weird because it's the first time telling us about your new girlfriend, you shouldn't be," my dad said, and I turned around to see he had followed me outside. "It's great that you've got a girlfriend! We'd love to meet her if you want us to."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, cocking my head to the side as I watched the man before me smiling my way.

"You... you what? You're okay with me being gay?"

"I thought we went through this already," he said, a little confused. "We hugged, cried and said it didn't matter, remember? Like a year ago?"

I thought about it, wondering if I had genuinely had a brain injury at this point. Would I know that though? Probably not. Either way, I was confused about this. They were supposed to hate me. I hadn't see them since... wait, since when?

"You should come inside and we can have breakfast together," my dad continued, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and leading me back inside the house. "Might make you feel better. What d'you say, Y/N/N?"

I glanced at him, expecting him to laugh in my face and call this a joke. I could only remember him as an angry, bitter man, refusing to utter a word my way. Yet here we were. It felt so real that I almost believed it was. Maybe all that stuff I was remembering hadn't happened. They were okay with me. They still loved me. I had my family back.

–

"This isn't a fair game," I pointed out to Haris, trying not to laugh. "You're tall and lanky. You take up half the net."

Haris rolled his eyes playfully. "Just have a go, come on."

I sighed dramatically before setting the football on the grass and backing up. Taking a deep breath, I ran forward and kicked the ball the hardest I could. It flew forward and I was confident it would go in, but one stretch of his arm and Haris had blocked it.

"For fuck's sake," I muttered as he laughed.

"Language!" my mum called from the barbecue.

I spun around and saw my parents stood side by side, cooking burgers on the grill. I smiled at the sight, even if my mum was giving me a knowing look.

"Sorry," I apologised, before looking back to Haris. "See what I mean by unfair?"

"Go and get my goalie gloves from the table by the door and we can switch positions," he said, giving in.

"Why do I need gloves and you don't?" I asked, quirking an eyebrow. "You doubting my skills?"

He chuckled. "No, but you have a tendency to rat me out to mum when the ball hits your fingers and hurts. Remember last time?"

I laughed and began to walk inside. "Fair point. Give us a second."

"Forgetting something?" my mum called out when I walked past her.

I stopped and looked at her, seeing her pat her cheek jokingly. I playfully rolled my eyes, but headed to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm coming right back," I informed her knowingly.

"Do you have to be leaving to show me you love me?"

"So dramatic," I mumbled, but a smile was on my lips as she laughed.

I headed inside and to the table by the front door, spotting Haris's goalkeeper gloves. As I picked them up, I heard a knocking on the front door. I dropped the gloves and went to answer it, wondering who could be stopping by at dinner time.

When I opened the door, I noticed a blonde headed woman looking around with a puzzled expression.

"Er, can I help you?" I asked with confusion, gaining her attention.

She met my eyes and widened her own, immediately moving forward and pulling me into a hug.

"Oh Rao, I was so scared," she got out, mumbling into my shoulder.

"Er..." I paused as she pulled away. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

Her blue eyes softened as a frown appeared on her lips. "No... you can't be in that deep already. I went straight to Alex. You can't have forgotten already..."

I shook my head, feeling uncomfortable. "Forgotten what? And who is Alex? Who are you?"

The blonde swallowed hard as she refused to break our gaze. "Y/N, it's me, c'mon. It's Kara. Your Kara."

"I don't know a Kara," I said, shaking my head and already making a move to close the door. "Sorry–"

"Y/N, no!" she cut me off, barging through the door roughly, entering my house.

I widened my eyes, growing angry. "Hey, you can't just come in here without permission! I'll call the police if you don't leave!"

She didn't seem the least bit concerned by my threat as she stopped with surprise, at the bottom of my stairs. She looked around slowly, as if taking everything in with great caution.

"This... this is your parents' house," she said with realisation, eyes focused on the family photos hung on the wall. "The house you grew up in."

"What the hell are you going on about?" I asked her, before shaking my head and pulling the front door open wider. "Look, you need to leave."

She met my eyes with apologetic ones. "Your perfect fantasy is here. Which means they're here too. Your family..."

"Who the hell are you?" my dad asked, and I realised the three of them had entered the hall with defensive expressions. He looked to me with concern. "Honey, are you okay?"

I nodded as the three of them stood by me protectively. "I'm good. She just barged in here. She won't leave."

"If you don't leave, we're calling the police," Haris threatened, glaring at the strange blonde.

The blonde ignored him and looked directly at me. "Y/N, I'm so sorry I let this happen. I really am. I didn't think... Rao, this isn't good. Look, you have to listen to me. This isn't real. None of this is real. They aren't your parents!"

I furrowed my eyebrows. Why would a complete stranger just come in here and say all of that? Why would they tell me this?

"Get the hell out of our house," my mum growled angrily, stepping in front of me. "You don't know anything!"

"Y/N, please listen to me!" the stranger continued, her voice pleading as she stepped forward to get to me, but Haris stood by my mum's side. "You're trapped here because of an alien parasite called Black Mercy. You're its host and it's making you think this is your perfect reality so it can trap you here, but it's not!"

"Alien parasite...?" I questioned with the utmost confusion.

"Don't listen to her, honey," my dad reassured, resting a hand on my shoulder.

"You're leaving now," Haris said angrily, grabbing the blonde by the arm.

She tried to budge, mumbling, "Damn it, no powers," before attempting to resist his strong hold.

"Get her out of here," my mum told him, moving me away so he could lead her to the door.

"Get off me– Y/N! Please listen! You have to get out of here yourself! You have to resist it yourself otherwise you'll be stuck here and I can't get back to you!" She tried to get out of Haris' grip, but he was using both hands now, almost dragging her to the door.

I felt myself growing concerned for her wellbeing as he tried to pull her out of here, but she was fighting her hardest to escape his grasp and get to me.

"You have to come back to us, Y/N!" she yelled, tears escaping her eyes. "Come back to me, your girlfriend, Kara! Remember? We live together and we love each other and you are my world and I can't lose you!" She managed to escape Haris' grasp and run towards me, but my dad kept her at bay.

I felt my mouth drying out as she watched me with a broken expression, blue eyes glassy with tears.

"Nia and Alex and Brainy and J'onn, they're all waiting for you back home!" she shouted, shaking her head. "I can't get you out of here, but you have to listen to me and reject this world. Please!"

I watched as she was being dragged to the door by my brother and father, and it was as if something had suddenly clicked, because I remembered who she was.

"Kara!" I shouted, my eyes widening with realisation.

She stopped struggling as a grin appeared on her face. "Yes! It's me! You're remembering!"

I felt my breathing grow heavier as they pushed her out the front door and slammed it shut. I ran forward to go to her, but they stopped me.

"Y/N, you can't listen to that crazy person!" Haris said, before waving his goalie gloves in the air. "C'mon, we were having fun!"

I shook my head, trying to push past him. "Haris, just let me past–"

"Honey, we've got a barbecue to get back to," my dad said, a smile on his face as if he hadn't just kicked Kara out.

I stepped back, shaking my head, about to argue, but I bumped into my mum.

"Darling, we made dinner, we shouldn't let it get cold," she said, resting her hands on my shoulders.

I looked between the three of them and saw the excitement on their faces. But none of it was real. The love they were showering me with, the nostalgia of it all, it wasn't real.

But Kara was.

"I would do anything for this to be my reality," I said, feeling my throat close up. "All I ever wanted was to have you in my life. To approve of who I am."

"We do," my mum said, caressing my face.

I leaned into her touch, my eyes growing blurry because of the tears forming. "I wish that were true. God knows what I would give for that to be true." I let go of her and shook my head. "But it's not. Because this isn't real."

"Y/N–"

I closed my eyes as tightly as I could. "This isn't real. I know it isn't. So let me go! It's not real! None of it!" I breathed out before shouting, "Let me go!"

When I opened my eyes again, they were heavy, like bricks were sitting on top of them. I forced them open, looking around and seeing the medical room I was in. I wasn't in my house. My parents weren't here.

"Y/N!"

I sat up slowly, seeing Kara speeding towards me.

"Kara, wait–"

But Kara ignored Alex as she moved forward to embrace me. Her tears soaked my shirt and she held on tight as if I would disappear. I stopped paying attention after that, trying to understand that I was no longer with my family. They were gone.

Kara pulled away and I felt her eyes on me, but I didn't meet them.

"Kara, give her a minute," I heard Alex say, pulling her back, before mumbling, "Remember how you felt?"

My mouth felt dry and my eyes were aching as I held in tears. I tried to maintain my breathing as I looked up to Kara and Alex. Brainy and J'onn were there, too, quiet and in the background.

"What just happened?" I asked, my voice raspy and ready to break at any second.

Nobody answered at first, probably debating between them who would speak. Finally though, Brainy spoke up.

"You were exposed to an alien parasite called Black Mercy. It's purpose is to find a host and make them dream of their perfect fantasy world whilst slowly killing them. Kara went in after you, managing to coax you out of it."

I nodded to show I'd heard him, but I was still trying to process it all. My family still hated me. They didn't want to see me. They pretended I didn't exist. Nothing had changed.

Except I knew what it could have been like if they had accepted me.

"Can you all get out, please?" I asked, finally finding words.

"Y/N–"

"Now, please?" I cut Alex off with an empty stare.

She nodded slowly and everybody began to leave. Kara hesitated, torn between staying and leaving. Only when Alex tugged on her arm did she finally join them in leaving.

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to regulate my breathing, but it kept getting quicker and quicker as I subconsciously imagined the world I'd just been ripped from. I squeezed tears out and opened my eyes, half-hoping to see my family again, but I was still sat in a medical bay at the DEO.

My breathing was becoming impossible to control now, speeding up, along with my heart rate. Tears were uncontrollable as they flooded from my eyes, making it impossible for me to see clearly.

All I kept thinking about was how I would never have it. I would never have them in my life, loving me and being there for me and treating me like they used to. It was a dream. An impossible one.

I was shaking, my head tucked in between my legs as I tried to stop hurting myself by thinking about it, but I couldn't.

I felt arms wrap around me and instinctively tried to shove them away, but I soon realised it was Kara and let her hold me.

"I'm sorry," she muttered hoarsely. "I'm so sorry, Y/N."

She rubbed my back soothingly and stayed with me as I cried it all out, mumbling incoherent things. She didn't question me or make me explain anything, she simply stayed with me and unknowingly reminded me what I had here, in my reality.

Eventually I stopped crying, but I stayed there, not wanting to leave her warm embrace. It would make it all real, everything that happened. I would have rather just stayed here in my little protective Kara bubble. But I knew I couldn't.

"How did this happen?" I asked Kara, my voice cracking.

Kara swallowed hard. "I found you in my apartment. Somebody who knows my identity, an enemy, was targeting me. But it got to you instead. Alex is still trying to find out who... I'm so sorry, Y/N. I never meant for this to happen."

I lifted my head from her chest and met her eyes. "This wasn't your fault, Kara. I don't want you blaming yourself."

Kara smiled sadly. "I should have kept you out of this. Kept you safe."

I rested a hand on her cheek and stroked it with my thumb. "You saved me. If you hadn't come after me, I'd still be there."

A tear escaped her eye and she pulled away, wiping it with her finger. "I thought, for a moment back there, that I wouldn't be able to convince you. That I'd lost you for good. Your perfect world was having your family back... I can't compete with that."

I didn't know what to say because now that I thought about it, there was a chance I could have stayed. I could have given in to the part of me that wanted to believe it was real, and eventually I would have.

Instead, I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her in for a hug. I closed my eyes and revelled in her comfort, glad I hadn't made the mistake of staying.

When I pulled away, she rested a hand on my cheek and met my eyes with her determined blue ones.

"I love you so much," she spoke gently. "I need you to know that."

"I do," I said, resting my hand on hers. "I love you, too, Kara."

She looked between my eyes as if trying to find some doubt, and I sensed the nervousness in hers.

"You never need to compete with that," I said to her with as much reassurance as I could. "I picked you. I'll always pick you."

"But you want them, too, and I can't give you that," she said with disappointment.

"They don't want me," I reminded her, my eyes stinging a little. "Deep down, I guess, yeah, it would be my perfect world. Having them back. Isn't that all any kid wants?" I sighed, my jaw hurting from clenching my teeth unknowingly. "It doesn't mean anything. I've dreamt about it before. The only difference is, this time it felt real. That doesn't mean I don't love what I have now. That I don't love you. Because I really do, Kara."

Kara nodded, but she still seemed hesitant. I didn't blame her. I'd almost lost her to an alien parasite.

I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers, closing my eyes as she began to kiss back. It wasn't long, but I hoped she understood the truth to my words – that I truly loved and appreciated her. The despite everything that had happened, despite how much I wished my family would magically call me back and tell me they loved me, I still wanted Kara. And I always would.

We pulled apart breathlessly, eyes locked.

"I love you," I told her simply, offering a small, broken smile.

She mirrored my expression, before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"I love you, too," she whispered before hugging me again, tightly and desperately.

I closed my eyes and hoped that when I opened them, I'd still be in her arms.

I was.

#supergirl x you #supergirl imagine #supergirl x reader #kara danvers imagine #kara danvers x you #kara danvers imagines #kara danvers x reader #kara danvers #melissa benoist

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witchysleepingbeauty · 3 years

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Hi, Reversed✖️ here. I really would like to hear your opinion on how to sort out this difficult and sad situation

I can't deal with it alone anymore, especially to analyze it objectively

So um my parent, in front of a guest, took out their anger on me ie screaming, totally losing it, cursing me out coz I took a half min to fetch smth (I was already doing smth else for them) aka huge, nasty reaction. This was def not coz of the delay in the errand btw

Started ranting real ugly, getting louder and angrier (in front of the guest yay me right?😄) Ik my parent (P) has underlying issues (pain in their body which they always refuse to get treated for at a hospital whenever I suggest so (and if I offer to massage or bring an Ice pack I get passive aggressive snide remarks for 'pretending to care and be helpful'))

Any way screw that. My point is Law-related. so in this ugly rant (in which ofc parent brings up shite about me, personal effing shite), they shouted how I have 'no goal' in life bla bla among other things

Per EIYPO, is this a reflection of their own limiting beliefs/issues (eg lately all they do is complain with venom abt how things never turn out okay and how 'everything's messed up' etc. So it definitely could be how they feel)... OR is the, somewhat humiliating rant, an indicator of my inner reality and deep buried assumptions?

Tbh l want to cry, especially coz ik they're being like this coz of bodily pain, and ik they're not feeling great being like this either

Sadly, I'm getting triggered. Up until last year, I used to be in a very dark place. I'm working on my self now, and for the most, I'm better equipped to deal with my personal issues (the Law helped me realise how assumptions, thoughts could help me see a point in living; aka it gave me hope). Now even limiting time with P isn't enough. I tell myself idc what they keep saying about me, but I can't stop them (I mean if I talk back, it gets worse yk? If I try to explain, I hear this classic one "Oh so YOU'RE perfect right? You're the only perfect person in the world"... Yeah, it gets old real fast)

It's lame, upsetting. I don't wanna fall in the deep end again. Btw I've always been the one who's listened to P when they want to vent or wanna discuss their interests (even if I'm not that interested, coz ik what it's like to not have anyone interested in ur likes lol). Point is, is their behavior (the screaming outbursts and insane cussing + sometimes I do shudder at their scaring-the-yk-what outta-me expressive hatred of my existence - which they themselves have acknowledged btw aka I've heard them tell others how I've made them negative and unhappy... 😐), So is their behavior reflective of their own assumptions about me OR is it MY deep-buried assumptions reflecting in them?

I don't get it. On many damn occasions they've told me I'm the one who's at fault for 'everything' and, you'll like this one, "how I deserve being treated like this"... I've even asked them what I've done to them, but my P has communication issues (which I've taken as smth to learn for myself so I'm happy I could be mature enough to realise what's healthy and unhealthy communication, work on this and be better), which means, unfortunately, it's tough to get a straight answer back other than defensiveness, accusing me of criticising them bla bla nvm that's the old story (and by old I mean literally old), so idk

Like... Eff it all huh? I try to focus on myself and different aspects of my life, minimize confiding stuff about me, learned to not rely on them too much but idk. It's starting to affect me a lot, you understand right?

As I type this, I realise I'm REALLY hurt by P's shouts and their tone of NOT love. I forgive them for their rants, but how can I feel it in my heart that they don't hate me?

Working on your self concept and learning to love yourself after years then being treated like this insanely messed up my mind. What's the point? I'm getting all those old feelings back. It was so hard to yk, stop living in the dark. Eff me ig. Anyway, EIYPO, mb I gotta persist more on setting boundaries? Allow myself my feelings then move on?

Thanks so much, love

Reversed✖️

Please, nothing abt moving out. I already have distanced myself, unconsciously I now realise, from them. I'd really appreciate it if I could understand how to feel better regarding this situation by changing my concepts, or assumptions or at least understand why I'm so affected

First of all I am so sorry you have to go through this every day, I know you’re a beautiful person and it’s not your fault and you do not deserve it.

Now let’s talk about the law. Everything you see in your reality is a reflection of your own inner world. You create everyone and everybody, nobody can have a belief that you haven’t created them to have.

Also I see a lot of limiting beliefs in you “my parent is in pain and they take it out on me”, “my parent has communication issues.”

I know it’s not the easiest thing to deal with but if you want to change the situation you need to stop attaching these labels to your parent and instead changing them to something positive.

I am not going to tell you it will be easy because we are talking about years of trauma and abuse, however I do want to encourage you to not allow them to treat you like that, physically speak up and also to really consider moving away from that person.

I hope this clarifies some things and I wish you the best. If there’s anything else I can help you with feel free to message!

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