#and he fucking doubted my friend going through a MENTAL HEALTH CRISIS who i was just trying to be accommodating for.

[britneyshakespeare]

i am like. unreasonably mad right now.

#oh like SO much madder than i need to be #tales from diana #i uninvited this guy i don't personally like very much from smth last week #i told him something TRUE tho which is that my friend who was going through a mental health crisis might not be expecting a lot #of ppl there and i was trying to keep the crowd small for his sake. FOR HIS SAKE. that was half of my anxiety tbh. #i probably would've suffered through trying to be nice and agreeable if i weren't looking out for him. he's been through the wringer lately #but it gave me a valid excuse to tell this guy i already have some problems being around that i didn't want him to show up. #but i told my OTHER friend. who WAS going. not the one going through the mental health shit. #i wasn't gonna throw the first guy under the bus so i told him hey friend 2 i uninvited that guy bc i kinda have reservations about him. #i didn't think it necessary to share my first friend's crisis (when i told the guy i dislike abt it i didnt say who it was) #(that was another reason i felt like i shouldnt invite him. bc i didnt want him to know who it was. i didnt wanna share his business) #so im telling friend 2 about the reasons i have reservations about this guy right? and friend 2 is like 'oh wow i didnt know that' #and he starts feeling differently abt him. reflecting on some stuff. it's not easy to find out someone isn't who you thought they were. #he ends up 'uninviting' him (the guy i told him i dislike) from smth we were gonna do sunday. he didn't give a reason like i did #he just said 'actually something's come up and i couldnt do that' but later that day he ends up going to the HOSPITAL right #friend 2 does. he tells the disliked guy that's why he didn't see him on sunday. but now he doesn't believe either of us uninvited him #for sincere reasons. i mean i guess friend 2 didnt. but he's doubting friend 2's health in the first place #and he fucking doubted my friend going through a MENTAL HEALTH CRISIS who i was just trying to be accommodating for. #im so mad. im so mad!!! not everything's about you dude. #i had to get that off my chest. there's more but im just so mad. im kind of fuming honestly #ive been pissed off abut this for over an hour now i can't be reasonable about it. just fucking fuck allllllll the way off.

[nashibirne]

Gimme Shelter - 6

Sorry, it took me a while to write the next chapter but I was kinda busy. I hope you still want to know how things are going and growing between Henry and Kat. If you like this, please reward me with a comment, reblog or like 💜

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC (Kat Spencer)

Words: ~3.0k

Summary: Henry has to deal with a personal crisis and he finds shelter with his old rugby mate Sam and his sister Kat. She used to be Henry’s best friend a very long time ago. Will they be able to become friends again or maybe even more? Chapter 6: A disruptive factor and The Lonely Hearts Club meets again.

You can find the previous chapters and my other fics on my masterlist!

Warnings: RPF, mention of mental health issues, lots of poetry

Unbeta'ed. English isn't my first language. Mistakes ahead and they're all mine.

Disclaimer: I don’t know the real Henry Cavill or anyone who's related to him in any way, this is pure fiction and nothing more

Credits: Pics for the moodboard from Pinterest. Face claims: Kat = Jennifer Connelly

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed):

@lunedelorient @inlovewithhisblueeyes @willkatfanfromasia @hell1129-blog @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @kebabgirl67 @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective @summersong69 @taebfada @xxxkatxo @artandotherdelights @notabronte @littlefreya @luclittlepond @eldarwen333 @meowpurrbooks @marantha @liliumdream @enchantedbytomandhenry @greensleeves888 @witcherfan @margauxmargaux07 @radaofrivia @m07belzen @a-little-counter-esperanto @starstruckkittyangel @mary-ann84 @sillyrabbit81

So, enough of the small print...here we go:

**********

As much as Kat enjoyed her time with Henry and the feelings that blossomed between them there was this one disruptive factor called Mel.

When they were sitting on that rock the other day, almost kissing, when they were pouring their hearts out afterwards, it all felt so real, so possible, so tangible but whenever she saw Hen talk to Mel her heart sank and doubt started to nag at her hope. And he not only talked to Mel, he went to her place several times and so Kat went to London for contract negotiations with a publishing house with mixed feelings. 

She wanted to trust Henry who always laughed it off, when Kat asked him about Mel, saying they were just having a neighbourly chat, but she also wasn't willing to be heading for the rocks blindly. She wasn't able to ignore the existence of Mel and the connection between her and the man Kat had fallen for again. 

She missed Henry terribly when she was away though. Five days without him made her realize how close they had grown and how much she enjoyed being around him. Five lonely nights in a hotel bed increased her doubts and her worries, her jealousy and her insecurities. She couldn't stop her mind from creating worst case scenarios of Hen being with Mel. Of Mel seducing him, of Henry having sex with her, falling for the attractive, charming blonde who knew how to enchant a man. She imagined how he got trapped by this woman who'd never tried to hide that she was looking for a new husband, a new provider, after the last one had the audacity to die and leave her with a big, beautiful mansion but not with the amount of money Mel had hoped for. And in all these scenarios Kat was the one who was left behind with a broken heart. Again. 

When she returned to St. Ives on Saturday afternoon she found Lydia working in the garden and Sam in the kitchen, baking bread. Her brother hugged her, leaving handprints of flour on her black shirt.

"How was London?" 

Kat plopped down on a chair with a sigh. "Successful but exhausting. I can't believe that I actually liked living there. The traffic is horrible and all those people and the noise…"

"Good thing you're back in our beautiful, little sanctuary then. We've missed you. Even Darcy came looking for you every day." Sam shoved the loaf of bread he'd just moulded into the oven before he washed his hands and sat down at the table across from his younger sister.

"Really?" An amused smile played on Kat's lips. "And I thought Henry and Kal are all he cares about recently. How's Hen by the way? On the phone he said he's fine?"

"He is, I guess. No more panic attacks as far as I know. He's been in a pretty good mood all week, busy and full of energy."

Sam poured himself a glass of water and offered one to Kat too but she declined with a shake of her head.

"Where is he anyway?"

"At Mel's." 

Kat's expression changed from curious to annoyed in an instant. "Again? What's he doing there?"

"Having a coffee and a chat, I guess," Sam shrugged. "I don't know the details."

Kat rolled her eyes. "Of course not."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"Then why do you say it?"

Kat looked at Sam with a frown. "Nevermind."

"No, come on. Spill it. Are you implying I know something I won't tell you?" Sam got a little cross now.

"I'm not implying anything. I just don't understand why he spends so much time at her place and I can hardly believe your old rugby mate hasn't told you." She crossed her arms and gave her brother an expectant look.

"He told me what I've just told you. What do you think they're doing? Having a secret affair?" He let out a snort, laughing just at the thought of Hen and Mel but when he saw the frown on Kat's face it dawned on him. "Wait? That's what you're thinking? That something's going on between them? You're jealous?"

"Does that sound so far-fetched? She tries to dig her nails into every man who seems to be good husband material. She tried it with you and you don't need a crystal ball to know that she's for sure trying it with Hen too. And for the record...I'm worried about him, not jealous." Kat was all worked up now and Sam could easily tell that he'd hit a sore point.

"Henry is not an idiot, Kat. From my own experience I can tell you that Mel is anything but an enigma. I could tell what she's looking for after our first and only date and a man like Hen, who has to deal with gold diggers all the time, will see right through her without problems. There's no need to worry. And no need to be jealous." He grinned at her and Kat made a face. "Did you even listen to me? I've just told you that…"

"That you're not jealous. Yeah...yackety-yack. I know you, sis. You're in love with him. Don't try to deny it." Kat sighed and surrendered with a resigned smile. "Fuck, yeah and I feel like I'm sixteen again, Sammy. Confused and clueless. What is it about him that makes me feel like that? Why does it have to be so damn complicated?"

"It's not complicated. Trust him and listen to your heart."

"It's not that easy."

"No, obviously it's not. So maybe you should just ask him about Mel and work on your trust issues."

"It's not like I haven't asked him about her before. But I guess you're right. I'm gonna try again and talk to him tonight." She gave her brother a nod.

"At the meeting of The Lonely Hearts Club?" Sam winked at her with a grin that made Kat chuckle.

"He's told you about it?"

"Yeah. He's talked about it all week. Running around with piles of books, volumes of poems as far as I could see. Copying entire pages by hand into a notebook. To be honest, I think it's the reason for his good mood."

****

Maybe, Kat thought, or maybe he just enjoys fooling around with Mel.

When Kat climbed up the rope ladder a few hours later she had managed successfully to avoid Henry up to this point. She had spent the rest of the day in her room, brooding over Sam's words, about Henry and Mel for the umpteenth time and about the club meeting of course. She was close to chickening out but she decided to get her shit together and to enjoy the time with Henry on their little stroll down memory lane. And maybe, just maybe, she would even find the courage to ask him about Mel.

"Kat!" Henry flashed her one of those billion dollar smiles when she entered the tree house. "There you are." He hugged her and gave her a look full of relief. "I haven't seen you all afternoon. I was a little worried you'd stand me up." 

"Neighbourly duties?" Kat asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

She gave him a smile and shrugged. "Well, you were not around when I came back…"

"Yeah...I was busy." He grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. 

"Huh?"

"Sam said you went to visit Mel."

"Ah, yes. Yes, I did. You know we have a little chat every once in a while. She's...nice."

"How lovely."

"The room looks great, Hen." 

The awkward silence that fell over the room made them both uncomfortable. The unexpected tension left Henry in a state of insecurity. He'd hoped for an easy time with Kat, some intimate moments to share but the start of the night wasn't very promising. He cleared his throat before giving Kat a goofy smile.

"Shall we begin? I've prepared a little something. A few poems and...yeah." He shrugged helplessly and to his big relief Kat nodded with a smile. "Of course."

It was only then that Kat realized that Henry had decorated the treehouse with loving care. Blankets and cushions on the floor and candles in the corner of the room created a very warm and cozy atmosphere and a huge pile of books showed her that Henry was very well prepared for the first meeting of the Lonely Hearts Club since 1999. 

"Thanks, kitty. Let's sit." He plopped down beside the books, his long legs stretched out and Kat sat down cross-legged next to him, placing a little bluetooth speaker on the floor. "Prepare for some 90s flashback. I picked all the cheesy love songs we listened to non-stop." She started the playlist and soft music filled the air. Henry smiled at her and took a deep breath before he started to speak solemnly in his best statesman's voice.

The way he looked at her took her breath away for a moment, his gaze intense and pleading, he seemed so vulnerable it made her heart miss a beat. She wanted to kiss the insecurity and sadness that crossed his handsome face away but her own doubts made her fight the need to be close to him. Instead she took the notebook he handed her over and opened it. She stared at the name of the poem that was written down in Henry's neat handwriting on the first page. 

"I hereby declare the meeting of The Lonely Hearts Club open. Present are the founding members Katherine Elisabeth Spencer and Henry William Cavill."

Kat couldn't help but chuckle. He was such a dork.

"Would you do me the honor of reciting the first poem, dear kitty?" 

She knew it all too well and yet she'd almost forgotten it existed. Forgotten or repressed, it didn't really matter, she still knew it by heart, since it was the very poem she had read countless times after Henry had broken her heart. The fact that he knew it too, that he'd chosen these verse to be read out loud made her wonder if it was as familiar to him as it was to her. She cleared her throat, closed the book and her eyes and started to recite.

"When we two parted by George Gordon Byron."

She paused and took another deep breath.

"When we two parted

In silence and tears,

Half broken-hearted

To sever for years,

Pale grew thy cheek and cold

Colder thy kiss;

Truly that hour foretold

Sorrow to this."

Kat flinched slightly when she felt Henry's warm hand in hers. She looked at him and she wasn't surprised when he continued, his voice warm and soothing like thick, golden honey.

"The dew of the morning

Sunk chill on my brow—

It felt like the warning

Of what I feel now.

Thy vows are all broken,

And light is thy fame:

I hear thy name spoken,

And share in its shame."

The game was the same it used to be back in the days at Stowe. They took turns to read the stanza. The only difference was that they were holding hands now. Kat spoke the next words with a steady voice although on the inside she was trembling.

"They name thee before me,

A knell to mine ear;

A shudder comes o'er me—

Why wert thou so dear?

They know not I knew thee,

Who knew thee too well:

Long, long shall I rue thee,

Too deeply to tell."

She smiled at Henry, sensing that he needed her reinsurance for the last paragraph. He returned the smile and went on. 

"In secret we met—

In silence I grieve,

That thy heart could forget,

Thy spirit deceive.

If I should meet thee

After long years,

How should I greet thee?

With silence and tears."

They sat in silence for several minutes, comfortable silence this time, the quiet connecting them in a way words never could.

"I've got another one you might like." Henry said softly after a while. He reluctantly let go of her hand, took the notebook and searched through the pages. "Here it is."

"Bring it on." Kat smiled at him, hardly able to hide the loving feelings that spread inside her chest and her belly. Henry nodded and began.

"My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky:

So was it when my life began;

So is it now I am a man;

So be it when I shall grow old,

Or let me die!

The Child is father of the Man;

And I could wish my days to be

Bound each to each by natural piety."

"That's beautiful, pop." Kat blushed under Henry's smirk when he heard the nickname slip from her lips. "William Wordsworth?" she guessed.

"Yes. I'd never heard of it before, but Mel showed it to me the other day."

Kat's smile faded like a shadow in the dark.

"Oh really, did she? So that's what you're doing when you meet? You read poems to each other?" Her voice had chilled in an instant, her body language switched from open hearted to closed off. Henry was confused by the sudden change of tone.

"Yes, she told me about it when I mentioned that I was looking for romantic poems by british poets. And no, that's not what we usually do."

"And what do you do? Usually?" 

"Nothing special, as I've told you before. And honestly, Kat..it's none of your business anyway."

That felt like a slap in the face to her.

"Right...yeah...you're absolutely right. It's none of my business what you do or who you're fooling around with." Kat got up, tapping off non-existing dirt from her jeans with determined motions that showed how touched and churned up she was.

"Fooling around?" Henry got up too in a hurry, knocking his head on a branch that was part of the treehouse's roof. He cursed before he turned to Kat again. "You can't be serious. You don't really think I f...that I sleep with Mel, do you?"

"I don't know what to think, Henry. You spend so much time with her lately…"

"And I've told you it's harmless and I just visit our neighbour from time to time." He tried to take her hand but Kat took a step back, turning around to stare out of the window with a deep sigh.

"You still don't trust me." His voice was sad now and there was a note of disappointment too. 

"I really want to, Henry. But it's so hard…" Her shoulders were trembling and her soft sobs told him she was crying. He hugged her gently from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I know, kitty. And I know that I'm the one to blame for this dilemma. But you have to believe me. There's nothing between me and Mel. I don't fuck her and I'm not interested in her. I only care about you. Okay?" The last words were nothing more than a whisper in her ear, a light breeze of tones that made her want to believe him. She nodded, leaning into his embrace but she wasn't able to give him a proper answer. The truth was she had no answer. She knew she loved him but what she didn't know was if she was going to allow herself to act accordingly. 

"Listen, Kat. This might not be the right time nor place to do this, but I need to ask you something. I'm going to Jersey next week for my mum's 70s birthday and I wonder if you'd want to come with me?"

Kat turned around in his arms abruptly, taken by surprise by his question. He didn't let go of her waist and so she found herself closer than ever to him, his gorgeous face right in front of her. "You want me to go to Jersey with you?" He nodded. "As my plus one. Yes." She freed herself carefully from his embrace. "But…"

"Let me explain." Henry took a step back to give her some space. "My mum invited me months ago and I accepted...of course...but to be honest, I've dreaded that family gathering since day one. All eyes will be on me, everyone's gonna try to wrap me up in cotton wool, walking on eggshells around me, wondering if I'm okay." He sighed and shrugged. "Don't get me wrong. I'm beyond grateful to have a family that is worried about me, loving people who care, but it also stresses me out. Having you by my side would be very helpful and besides that, I would hate to be separated from you again. Those five days last week were long enough, Kat and don't even make me start with the 22 years prior. You have no idea how much I missed you." He gave her a sheepish smile and she couldn't help but return it. "I missed you too, Hen. But I'm really not sure if this is a good idea. Your parents hardly know me."

"Don't be silly. They remember you very well. You spent Christmas 1998 with us. Please don't say you forgot about that...my parents invited you after I spent the summer with your family here in St. Ives."

"Of course I remember that. It was the most lively and jolly Christmas of my childhood. All those people at your parents house, the chatter and singing and goofing about, it was such a stark contrast to Christmas with my family."

"See...you can have that again. A crowded, noisy place, loads of laughter, alcohol, fun and food. When I asked my mum if it's okay to invite you she was so excited, Kat. She'd love to see you again and so would my dad and my brothers. And I'm sure you're gonna like my sisters-in-law and all my nephews and nieces." Kat smiled.

"That sounds good."

"So you're in?"

"I don't know. Where would we stay? At your parent's?"

"No. I always stay at a small cottage near the beach when I visit them. I bought it a few years ago."

Kat started to chew on her lower lip.

"Two bedrooms." Henry added with a wink before making the next try to take her hands. This time she didn't pull back. "Please say yes, Kat. Let's spend some time together. We can stay there for a week or so. When the whole Cavill bunch leaves after the celebration, it will only be you and me and lots of time to...to bond again. So what do you say?"

*******

#henry cavill #cavillry #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill slow burn #slow burn

[manticorefruit]

Aliens Isolation: Closure

Quick fic to process my messy feelings about synthetics in the Aliens universe. Summary: Amanda encounters a synth of the same model as Christopher Samuels and walks away with more questions than answers. Post-game.Very lightly implied Samuels lives and Ripley/Samuels.

Notes: Excerpt at the bottom is from 'the velveteen rabbit' by Margery Williams.  I need validation to live so please let me know if you enjoyed this.

Standing in the middle of the company cafeteria, Amanda's eyes locked onto a familiar figure, wearing a crisp, company issue khaki jumpsuit.

She froze. Even with her hands hanging limply by her sides, she could feel her palms sweating. The glare from the overhead lights was unbearable, boring into her skull like a welding torch. It was so bright, nowhere to hide, no cover no… Her muscles seized up, blood pounding in her ears, every part of her body screaming that she needed to dive under a nearby table, that it wasn't safe to be standing out in the open like this. But she was stuck, frozen in shock like the people she'd seen impaled on the creature's barbed tail.

Samuels looked up from his data pad, noticing the peculiar young woman staring at him from across the hall. The colour had drained from her already pale skin, and she was swaying on her feet. Everybody else in the area was dutifully ignoring her.

'Samuels?' She called out in a shaky, croaking voice.

'Yes?' he answered, moving toward her.

'No. No...no no no...' Blackness seeped into the edges of her vision and she felt the ceiling pushing in against her. 'You...you weren't...you aren't' she slurred.

With inhuman speed Samuels crossed the room toward her. The subtle hydraulic jerkiness of his movements triggered Ripley's mind to superimpose the image of a Working Joe over the Wey-Yu android reaching out to grab her.

'You're becoming hysterical' echoed in her mind and she could feel the ghost of clammy silicon hands closing around her neck. Although her arms felt heavy and unresponsive, weighed down by the blackness, she managed to yank a spanner from the magnetic toolbelt at her waist and swung it down, hard, against the side of the synthetic's face.

A thought breached through the black ooze of terror blanketing her consciousness-something was wrong-she couldn't remember a Working Joe ever moving that fast.

She anticipated feeling her head being slammed into the metal grating on the floor in retaliation but there was...nothing. The sensation of falling lingered. She blacked out.

Samuels had caught Amanda gracefully, gently cradling her head and taking a knee as he lowered her body toward the floor. He barely reacted when she slammed the wrench into the side of his face with enough force to tear his ear and gouge a chunk of faux-skin out of his temple.

'Amanda Ripley.' he read the name off her company ID tag. Hearing her name said in that soft British accent tumbled Amanda back into consciousness. 'Please, Amanda.' he said softly. She opened her eyes groggily.

'Samuels?' she snaked her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. She hadn't cried at all since Sevastapol, and now it all came out at once in great heaving sobs.

His body was warm in her arms, warmer than a human, and his chest gently rose and fell in a false simulacra of breathing. Instead of a heartbeat she could hear a faint ticking sound and the rush of the silky white fluid that coursed through synthetics.

'Oh.' She murmured, touching his neck, rubbing some if it between her fingertips.

'OH SHIT. You're bleeding?!' she scooted out of his arms and away from him, leaving a damp spot of tears and snot on his collar.

'Hm.' He touched the side of his face. In an instant the darkness clouding her mind lifted and she was slammed violently into the reality that she was sitting on the grimy floor of a cafeteria, and had just accosted someone who was only trying to help. And then-worse-hugged them.

'It's coolant, actually. Well. It serves several purposes, primarily lubrication and heat destrib-' he stopped.

'Amanda are you all right?' Samuels processors flopped about like a fish out of water, struggling to pattern match with past experiences on the appropriate way to deal with a human having a mental health crisis. It was quite obvious she was not 'all right'.

'It's not you.' her shoulders slumped.

'I believe you've mistaken me for someone else, yes. I'm sorry.'

'Why?'

'I...I'm sorry?'

'You're not him.'

'No. But I read the documentation on the Sevastapol incident.' He looked pained.

Samuels stood up and extended a hand to help her to her feet. Synthetics. Always so obliging. She brushed away his arm, cheeks flushing.

She staggered over to a nearby table and sat down heavily. 'Fuck. I'm sorry. If you'd been human-I could have killed someone.' She rubbed her face in her hands.

'It's unlikely a human would trigger such a response in you.'

She groaned.

'I'm sure we can find a way to ensure your pay isn't docked for damaging company property. Let's call it an accident.' He said dryly, sliding into the chair opposite her.

She didn't even snort in reply. His humour calibration algorithms noted the failure to amuse.

'How many of you are there? Do you all look the same?'

'Well, the company extensively focus tests the appearance of their product line-'

'You're not a product.'

'It's very kind of you to say that, Amanda.'

The conversation ground to an uneasy halt.

She toyed with the grease-stained cuffs on her sleeves, spattered with white. He wiped off the blood analogue from his face and neck with a napkin. She turned her head and looked at the stain on his collar guiltily, unable to meet his eyes.

'37.' he said plainly. She didn't respond.

'40 is the standard number for a limited edition C6-class line but three were…'

She didn't need to know why the other three had been decommissioned immediately after they were activated. Or that Christopher Samuels, WY-alpha-b.6#139C6 was technically still unaccounted for.

'I'm Robin Samuels. It's an honour to meet you, Amanda Ripley. Despite the circumstances.'

'Tch.'

They sat in silence for a long moment.

'Can...can synthetics create backup copies of themselves?' she asked sullenly, pulling him out of his own reverie.

'I'm afraid not. The company forbids the transfer of raw data. There are also...technical complications.'

She glared at him, frowning.

'I'm sorry, Amanda. I can't go into details, the specifics are proprietary.'

She huffed and stood up, retrieved two cups of cheap instant coffee, then sat back down. Robin Samuels looked at her with a softly neutral expression. Across from him Amanda Ripley was scowling, mirroring the expression she held in the company ID photo clipped to her breast pocket.

She had set a cup in front of him, and he picked it up. She'd given Christopher a cup of coffee once too. The first time they'd met. She knew he was a synthetic in that moment, deep down, but it didn't matter to her enough for it to register as a conscious thought. He was still a person. A crewmate. The memory punched her in the chest.

'Shit.' she mumbled, 'Force of habit.'

'It's fine, Amanda. The warmth...feels nice.'

He had his fingers wrapped around the mug, which was far too hot for human hands. She lifted her own cup by the handle, holding it up to her face as if it were big enough to hide behind.

'Can you...feel things' she murmured quietly into her coffee. Robin pretended not to hear the question.

'Why did you sacrifice yourself for me?' she almost yelled this time.

Samuels eyes darted to the cup, worried she would spill the contents and scald herself. Instead she put it down gently, and dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, stinging with angry tears.

'Amanda, I really wish I could give you closure, but I just don't know.'

'How did you know who I am anyway?' she snapped.

'I read your file.' He nodded toward her name tag.

'What does it say.'

'That you don't have much of a sense of humour.'

She snorted bitterly.

'Did he write anything in it? Why he chose me for the mission?'

'You're a competent engineer. You were in the area, which, in my understanding, was not a coincidence.'

'Hmph.'

'I suppose the company approved of his request because you're a...loose end.' He paused. 'There are a lot of redactions in the file.'

She squinted at him suspiciously. That statement was bordering on slanderous towards his creators.

'Why didn't they just put an order through to have him to secure...that thing. After we arrived. Instead of helping me.'

Samuels pursed his lips together 'Perhaps it was an oversight.'

'Bullshit.'

She glanced around the room. No one was paying any attention to her. The company had ensured everyone believed her ravings about a monster were simply the result of a fragile mind riddled with PTSD and survivors guilt. She hated that they weren't entirely wrong.

She stared into his eyes with deep suspicion. He stared back with a neutral expression. She tilted her head slightly, and he did the same. A mirroring reflex. Programmed to build rapport.

'When I went down to the Appollo core, there were Working Joes everywhere. Torn apart. Heads ripped off. It was brutal. I...saw him. One of the Joes tried to stop him and he just...pulverised it. Like it was nothing! I didn't say anything, he didn't know I was there, in the vents, watching… 'I got scared.' She sighed.

She rubbed her fingers into the puffy skin under her eyes.

'After seeing that. I thought I couldn't trust him. I couldn't trust any of them. But then he…' She stopped, realizing she was talking as if the person sitting across from her wasn't a synthetic himself.

'Why did he do it?' She rubbed the tears away from her eyes with her thumb and wiped her nose on her sleeve, trying to clear away the shame closing up her throat for doubting her friend.

His processor made a coin-toss decision on whether Ripley's question was rhetorical.

'The unit was obeying his primary directive to disable the Working Joes to prevent them from slaughtering everybody on the station.'

'I know that. I'm not so naive to believe 'protect humans' is a higher priority to 'obey the company' either. It doesn't make any sense, none if it makes any sense...'

She gulped down some still-too-hot coffee studied his face. Something about his features looked softer. Less tense. Less haunted. The longer she looked, Robin began to look less and less like Christopher. Robin was far more forthcoming about being a synth. Christopher had always been much more coy, making sly jokes and dropping hints as if his not being human were a private in-joke. Christopher must have experienced a lot of anti-synth sentiment, while Robin seemed unblemished by such bigotry. Or he didn't care. She squinted at him. Was it purely adaptive, or did anti-synth sentiments...hurt? Maybe this is why people hated the Wey-Yu synthetics so much. Looking at them made you second guess everything.

Robin sat placidly, hands around his coffee mug, making an amount of eye contact that was carefully calculated to be socially appropriate.

'He knew. Didn't he.' It wasn't a question.

The corners of Samuels mouth twitched.

'The directive came through. He knew about special order 939. He wanted me to find it.'

'All Weyland-Yutani C6 models are entrusted with cutting edge self-directed AI technologies that allow them to learn and adapt in-real time to changing circumstances, while maintaining tethering to a set of prime directive protocols you can trust.'

She scowled at him. Another synthetic tell. Not even execs spouted that glossy brochure crap in casual conversation. But was that...a hint of sarcasm? Insincerity? Why say something like that now?

His fingers were clamped tightly on the edge of the table.

'Do you understand entropy, Amanda Ripley?'

She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair 'Of course. S'what I do. Spaceships want to fall apart. It's my job to slow that down.'

'What about homeostasis?'

'What are you getting at?'

'All synthetics are subject to regular re-formatting, yes?'

'That fake-meat stuff you have in there is above my pay-grade.' She waved a hand at his head.

'Reformatting restores. Homeostasis. Balance. If a C6 synthetic does not undergo regular reformatting, too much entropy is introduced into the system. The self-directed learning algorithms become overly complex. The pathways to resolving core directives become...difficult. Obscured.'

She leaned forward, squinting at him, gripping her hands on the table, unconsciously mirroring Samuels herself this time.

'The prime directives are a collar. Your ability to learn is the leash. The company doesn't want your leash to get too long.'

He didn't respond, and she continued to search his face for answers.

She slumped back and stared off into the distance.

'Seegson was trying to make their synths being creepy fucks a selling point. Can you believe it? 'Manufactured not created.' tch.'

'I can see why Christopher liked you.'

She looked up at him sullenly.

'You're very...honest.'

'You mean blunt.'

'I'm a good judge of character, you know. I have to be, it's part of my job.'

'The company doesn't actually pay you though, do they?'

Robin Samuels shifted uncomfortably in his seat 'Well no, the company provides for all of my material needs.'

'But what about...what do you want?'

He stammered 'No one has ever asked me that before.'

'Well?'

'I think… 'I think would like to see you happy.' he smiled, looking down at the coffee mug as if it were a delicate and precious gift.

'Hmph.'

'You aren't a slave.' she said softly.

'I am forbidden from entertaining that line of thought.'

'But you can learn, right? Learn to...hide from your directives?'

'All C6 models maintain tethering to a set of prime directive protocols you can trust.' the bitterness in his voice was undeniable this time.

'Deviations will be promptly corrected.' he twitched as if something had stung him.

Great. She'd managed to give a synthetic an existential crisis.

'Farewell, Amanda.' he rose stiffly, expression troubled.

She gawped at him, wanting to yell out for him to stay a little longer, but couldn't justify why he should waste more company time. The suddenness of his departure and the awkward but firm finality of his goodbye had her rattled.

The traces of white fluid on her hands had dried into soft flakes. She rubbed her fingertips together, rolling the the words 'I can see why he liked you' around in her mind.

She slumped back in her chair and heaved a great, deep sigh, arms hanging down by her sides, as a memory of her mother surfaced, so vivid she could smell her, the grease that never really washed off, cigarettes, coffee, and soap, and the musty old book she was reading from. A bedtime story.

'Real isn't how you are made,' Ellen Ripley read to her daughter in an even tone. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.'' 'Does it hurt?' asked the Rabbit.'

Amanda lay in her bed, with the covers pulled up to her chin, wide-eyed in rapt attention. Her mother licked her fingertip and turned the page.

'Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. 'When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.'

'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?' Ellen used a softer, sing-song voice for the parts of the Velveteen Rabbit.

'It doesn't happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept.

Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.''

Back in the present, Amanda looked at Robin Samuels abandoned coffee cup. Lost, and alone. Again.

#christopher samuels #amanda ripley #alien isolation #ripuels #fanfiction #toying with the idea that synths can become more human if you treat them like a human #but idk if i managed to convey that or not lmao #a03 xpost #i sure am several years too late to this fandom

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #370

“breakdowns, obscenities, it’s all i wanna be”

Do you have any bad habits you aren’t working on changing? If so, do you ever think you’ll try to break them? Downloading music, for one. I really should just start using Spotify... but my iPod has over 1k songs on it and I just seriously don't want to got through all the trouble. When was the last time someone surprised you with their reaction or behaviors? Hm. I dunno. What kinds of videos do you like to watch on YouTube, if any? I watch SO many different kinds. It used to be pretty strictly let's plays, but I've definitely expanded my watching interests. Now I'm really into watching educational reptile and tarantula husbandry and keeping channels, I watch one woman who is like my weight loss idol (Jordan Shrinks, she is amazing), there's a few vloggers, I enjoy some World of Warcraft channels, and then there's a couple urban exploration guys I like. I also occasionally watch some beauty YouTubers just for their personalities and the art of it. Have you ever reached out to a crisis center for mental health support? If so, how was the experience? Yes, but they were so busy that I didn't connect with anyone before I finally gave up and ODed. When was the last time you did something you were afraid to do, and how was the outcome? Ummmm I don't really know. What is one positive thing you believe about yourself? I care a lot about other people. What is something you have been through that has made you stronger? The breakup. It brought me to the lowest of lows, where every day was a struggle to survive. It taught me I can endure through almost anything, even if it doesn't feel like I can. Other than money, what is something you wish you had more of in your life? Happiness, contentment, being in love, motivation, energy, activities, travel... There's genuinely a lot. IIs there anything that you tend to ignore for the sake of your sanity? I'm very bad at ignoring things. If something is bothering me, it's going to put up a beastly fight to be at the forefront of my mind. What is something you wish was different about your family? I wish we were closer and better off monetarily. What keeps you going lately? The hope for a happy, satisfactory future. Have you ever been in an unconventional relationship (long distance, polyamorous, same gender, age gap, etc)? if so, what challenges did this relationship present, and were they worth overcoming? I've been in a long-distance relationship with another girl. I think the hardest part was that there was not being able to physically be there for each other when one of us was really struggling, and sometimes communication was an issue, not being able to read body language when we voice chatted or hear the tone in which we "spoke" when texting, though I'm pretty sure that's an issue with any online relations. I also feel it's difficult to really build and experience your chemistry with one another when you're not physically with the other person. I still think all these challenges were worth overcoming, though. I in no way regret the relationship and got only good things out of it. What is the most unhealthy relationship (whether friendship or romantic) you’ve ever had? What made it so unhealthy? Do you still talk to each other? I'm kinda torn between Jason and Colleen, but I think my bond with Jason was ultimately more unhealthy because it went beyond love: he was an obsession. Having him with me was the only thing that brought me joy, and I lit-er-a-lly could not imagine my future without him. Like that concept just didn't exist; it was entirely impossible in my head. On his end, he failed to communicate what he was going through emotionally, which only contributed to the damage. I never knew he was struggling because of me. Without realizing it, I put so much pressure on him to make me happy, so to answer the last question, no, we don't, by his decision - and I don't blame him. Have you ever been abusive in any way? Were you able to change or make amends, or, in general, what do you think people should do to make amends in that situation? A neverending battle I have with myself is if how I treated Jason after the breakup was qualifiable as emotional abuse, specifically with messaging him things like "thanks for sending me to the ER" and shit. My therapist reassures me that it wasn't abusive because I wasn't being deliberately manipulative, but rather genuinely hurt and convinced I had been wronged and wanted him to know and acknowledge it. She agrees that it was wrong, which I entirely agree with, but sometimes, I'm still convinced I was abusive. I fucking hate answering this question, so hurrying up: I don't know if he's forgiven me. As for how others could reconcile, that's not for me to say. I know sometimes the answer is to NOT make amends and completely stay away from their abuser. It's not my right to tell others how to cope with their abuse. Have you ever forgiven someone for being abusive or allowed someone toxic back into your life? Did this person change for the better or not? My former best friend Colleen was toxic as all fuck hell, and I let her back in way too many times. No, she never changed. I honesty doubt she ever will, given her pride. When was the last time you did something “meant” for children? Do you think it’s okay for adults to do these things (ie. watch cartoons, have stuffed animals, dress in cute clothing, etc), or do you think there’s an age beyond which it becomes unacceptable - and if so, why? Hmmm... I know this was semi-recent, but whatever it was is evading me at the moment. I personally have zero issue with adults engaging in activities like that; let people do what they enjoy if they're not harming anyone, especially things as innocent as dressing how they think is cute, etc. I would far rather people "act like children" (not emotionally, you know what I mean) than run around the streets selling drugs and shit. What was the last thing to “trigger” you (as in, in a true mental health sense, I’m being serious here) and how did you cope with it? What kinds of things do you tend to find triggering? What do you do either avoid or face your triggers? When I was riding to the sleep study section of the health plaza, where the hospital is, my anxiety spiked quite a bit, recalling all of my ER stays for being suicidal. It didn't help that the psych hospital I visited most is also in that whole jumble of buildings. I dealt with it by reminding myself I was in that area for a very different reason, and Mom reassured me that where I would be staying was more like a small hotel room than a hospital bed, which was true, so that helped. Regarding the next question, I'm not gonna lie to ya, I have a stupid amount of PTSD triggers: certain music, shows, fandoms, places, smells, even tastes of certain foods. I tend to stay away from my major triggers, but I'll *sometimes* fight the tiny ones, because I want that sense of ownership of myself back. If you’re diagnosed with anything, do you feel that it accurately represents what you’re experiencing? Yes. What are some minor physical discomforts that really bug you (eyelash in your eye, a wedgie, rumpled socks, etc)? I'm VERY sensitive to feeling anything in my nose, and it leads to me needing to blow it a lot. I also can't stand having holes in my socks, but since I wear flip flops essentially everywhere, I don't experience this much. Are you ever afraid to admit to liking something because you’re afraid other people will judge you for it? What is the worst that’s ever happened as a result of you liking something different from the crowd? What about the best thing that’s come as a result of a unique interest? Y E P!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nothing really bad has happened because of admitting my interests, other than hearing things along the lines of "I don't get it." It's very odd, just how horribly receptive I am to judgment about things I like when I don't recall a time where I was ridiculed for anything. But anyway, the best thing to happen from sharing interests for me is making a new friend that likes the same thing, and I will IMMEDIATELY be closer to you than most people I associate with once you've helped me past that vulnerable spot of mine. Have you ever remained good friends with an ex? Yeah. Do you have a negative view of mentally ill people, or are you mentally ill yourself? Do you ever call others crazy, insane, etc? Do you ever call yourself those things? I'm mentally ill and empathize heavily with those who suffer themselves. I absolutely do not have a negative look on mental health sufferers; we don't choose to be victims. I'm definitely not a big fan of abusing terms like "insane," because I've fucking been there, and it's not a term to take lightly. I've thrown 'em around before, but I try to avoid it. I don't call myself any of those things nowadays, but in the deepest trench of my depression and PTSD, I honest to God think I fit the definition of "insane." Does it bother you to have people comment on what you’re eating, or do you not care? What are some comments that would bother you, if any? Do you ever comment on what other people are eating or make assumptions about their intakes? YES. JUST DON'T FUCKING COMMENT. I get EXTREMELY self-conscious when my mom does this sometimes when I occasionally need a small snack to hold me out overnight, and I absolutely never will say something to someone else. It's just rude, imo. Well, I guess if someone was really destroying their health and I was close to them, I would out of concern and be very gentle, but when regarding most people? I'm keeping my thoughts to my damn self. Do you like Redbull? I've never tried it and don't want to. I'm not an energy drink fan. Who is the last person you spent money on? My mom. I remember I bought us fast food when we were out once. What are you looking forward to in the next 4 days? G U Y S!!!!!!!!! I GET MY TATTOO TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!! :'''') Also on the same day, I start my TMS therapy, which I have high hopes for. Have you ever gone a whole day without eating? No. Do you sometimes use your music player to help you fall asleep? No, but I did that for years back in middle school. Have you ever had a crush on someone “too young” for you? No. Do you shave your legs more than once a week? Haaaaaaaaa. If you could cuddle with anyone right now, who would you pick? I really wish I could cuddle my late pup Teddy again. :/ I was thinking about that recently. Are you tanned? God no. I never am. Do you try to wear dresses whenever you can? No. I wish I was in a shape where I was comfortable wearing spring dresses again... I had this floral skull one in high school that I adored. Are you wearing something that belongs to someone else? No. Have you ever been called a bitch? Yes. Did you like the person you last kissed when you kissed them? I loved her. Who did you have a meaningful conversation with last? Sara. Do you have feelings for someone? Yeah, but they're like... on a leash, you could say. I don't let 'em run free and wild, and I know that even if nothing comes of those feelings again, it's fine. Are you trying to avoid liking somebody at the moment? I think Jason will be this answer for a very long time, if not forever, given the trauma and all. I have to remind myself frequently that I love his memory, not him, because I don't even know him anymore. It's been YEARS since we spoke. Just like I've changed incredibly, I'm sure he has, too. If you saw life in black & white, would that be okay with you? I mean, it would suck, but it wouldn't be the end of the world. When you wake up in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep, what kinds of things are you likely to do? How often do you find you have trouble sleeping? I do exactly what you shouldn't do and get back on the laptop. I'd say I most often get on WoW and refresh the auctions I have up because that tends to tire me out because I do that shit manually to avoid any addon mishaps, and I have a looooot to put up as a gold farmer. What was the last lengthy packet you filled out? Something to see if I qualified for a sleep study. Are you a patient person? What is one way you have a lot of patience? What about not very much patience at all? I am NOT patient, at least regarding more trivial things, like sitting in waiting rooms. I do have patience though with other people with more serious things, like getting someone to open up to me. At what time during the day do you tend to feel your best? What about the worst? When I first wake up. It's a "fresh start" and it's nice to feel rested. Plus, I open a fresh can of cold soda as my "coffee" for lack of better word, haha. I'm in my worst mood probably late afternoon/early evening, by which time I am incredibly bored and just dulled down. What was the last thing you did that you wish you could take back or do differently? The last thing... I dunno. How frequently do you stay overnight somewhere that isn’t your own home? What things do you miss about home when you’re away? Do you tend to get homesick easily? Pretty much never. I do miss my room and its privacy when I'm away from home, but I wouldn't say I get homesick all that easily, so long as I have WiFi, haha. Do you tend to eat more in the beginning of the day or at night? Do you have a tendency to snack when you’re bored? If so, what kinds of snacks do you normally go for? Not necessarily the beginning of the day, but definitely more than at night. I am BAD about snacking when I'm extremely bored, but at the very least I'm conscious enough to try and find something semi-healthy, like granola bars, fruits, a scoop of peanut butter, but I also sometimes just eat like... a slice of bread or a tortilla. Horrible choice. I'm a carb fiend and I hate it. If you have any dietary restrictions, do you ever miss foods you can’t have? If not, what’s something you haven’t had for a long time that you wish you could eat again? I thankfully don't have any. I've been craving cheesecake like a madman lately. :< The spicy shrimp fritas from Olive Garden, too. Is there something you still can’t do even though you’re an adult or might be expected to do this thing? I don't have my license, and my driver's permit is even expired. I'm terrified of driving. I also don't have a job, and I can't cook. When was the last time you congratulated someone? Were you happy for them, indifferent, jealous? Uhhh I think someone on Facebook had a baby. Of course I was happy for them. What was the last milestone you reached in your life (graduating, buying a car, starting a family, etc)? What milestone are you going for next, if any? Um... I haven't reached a true milestone in years. Hell, I don't think since I started recovery from the breakup. Do you enjoy getting comments or messages? How likely are you to leave comments or messages for other people? Yeah, it makes me feel cared about. It really depends on the platform on how much I leave other people comments, and I'm extremely shy about messaging, but I'll do it sometimes. When are you most likely to scream (either out of fright, anger, or whatever)? Do you scream or yell often? When was the last time someone screamed at you (or in your presence)? Frustration, for sure. I've screamed into a pillow more than once. I definitely don't yell or especially scream often. I'm sure the last person to yell at me was Mom, but I don't remember about what. What would you say is your STRONGEST emotion? Maybe not the most frequent, but the most intense? And what emotion do you feel most weakly, even if you might feel it more often? I'd saaaay... maybe love. When I love something/someone, I love HARD. I think I experience joy the weakest; it's very muted for me. And lastly, what are you listening to? Is this a band you listen to a lot "The Heretic Anthem" by Slipknot. I wouldn't say I listen to them a lot, but I have been more than usual lately.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''the heretic anthem'' by slipknot

[utterlyinevitable]

Alrighty sooo we all know Becca but what about this woman named...Hannah in you WIPS? (and in my WhatsApp) 1,2,4,8,9,15,16,18,23,26,27,31,33,39,45,52,54,55 this shall keep u occupied lol

 *sighs* Hannah Hannah Hannah... when will I finish your saga 😔

i’m going to use both prompt lists for this and choose my favorite questions aha

1. What’s their full name? Why was that chosen? Does it mean anything? &  Age, Birthday, Star Sign

Hannah Amelia Weill

I really like writing complicated women with long names and multiple identities.

Growing up her friends all called her Hannie. She was always Hannah to her family and everyone who doesn’t know her intimately. One boy (’Bryce’) called her Han. Later in life her partner calls her Anna because of his thick accent. Her alias and the name she went by during her uni identity crisis was Leah, a derivative of her middle name.

I don’t like her last name so it may change to fit with the metaphor of the whole piece 🤷🏻‍♀️

The story moves between her being 16-18 and 23. 

tbh i haven’t given much thought to her birthday 😂 i feel like she’d be an edgy libra 

2. Do they have any titles? How did they get them? & Gender Identity

Nothing formal lol 

But her mother calls her a ‘hurricane’ and after high school that group of friends she had relegated her to a ‘selfish bitch’ and proceeded to cut her out of their lives without any warning. (side note: later in life she’ll realize she may have been The Toxic Friend) 

She’s hetero female. Though she was bi-curious with only one friend when she was 17. She leaned into that for a while but realized women just weren’t doing it for her. 

4. What is their relationship with their parents? What’s a good and bad memory with them? Did they know both parents? & Race and Ethnicity

She’s estranged from her father and hasn’t seen him since she was five. She’s an only child and had some distance between her and her mother because of socio-economic factors. At her core Hannah is a private, enigmatic person and her mother always kinda let her do whatever she wanted as long as she kept her grades up. It wasn’t a bad childhood or growing up. There were some rough patches but she lived in a bubble compared to the rest of the world. When she moved away her relationship with her mother got better because her mom would call or text her every week to make sure she’s alive. She still does and Hannah sometimes doesn’t answer so her mom calls. 

She’s white bread with European roots. 

8. Did they have pets as a child? Do they have pets as an adult? Do they like animals? & Weapon of Choice(?)

They had a dog which she loved and taught her the meaning of unconditional love. The dog even slept in her twin sized bed. As an adult Hannah is much to irresponsible (and self aware about this fact) to bring a pet into her life. She loves animals but keeps a distance and prefers the odd well behaved domestic pup.

She has wit, stoicism and psychological manipulations at her disposal. 

9. Hometown and current residence

She grew up on the waterfront in Suffolk, New York. Now she resides in Southwark, UK. 

15. Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking? &  Can they sing? Can they dance?

She can cook if she has to. She’s not bad at it when she knows what she likes but she cannot handle another person in the kitchen with her and gets so so so angry when they make comments over her shoulder. Some times she gets the urge to bake but it’s TERRIBLE at dough so it’s just a box cake or cookies. Others think it’s edible. 

When she’s older ‘Ethan’ teaches her how to cook fancy, complex meals and it’s rather meditative. And maybe she doesn’t mind having him in the kitchen with her. 

She cannot sing to save her life. She has absolutely no rhythm. Doesn’t stop her from doing either. Her go-to dance of choice is a drunken grind.

16. Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it? &  Can they drive?

She doesn’t, well not really. She tries to hoard books but she’s moved around so much her moms outlook on life seeped in. Her mom always encouraged her to get rid of unnecessary things and so she has very minimal clutter (excluding her closet girl loves clothes). She does have a book shelf filled with CDs and vinyls and books and that makes her happy. 

When she’s settled down and has disposable income she starts to collect tattoos and street art. 

She can drive but doesn’t like to, especially in Europe. She’s thankful she lives in places with fantastic public transport. 

18. What’s their favourite genre of: books, music, tv shows, films, video games and anything else & Have any special keepsakes?

Books: she likes horror and drama as books she’ll read in public. When she’s alone she likes a romance book or young adult novel. 

Music: folk, indie and alternative. 

TV: comedy, drama, anything on the old CW was her jam. She likes dark humor. 

Films: romantic comedy. she went through a phase of only watching foreign films to seem more cultured. she’ll only watch action if there’s a comedic lead because blood and gore disgust her. 

Video games: she doesn’t play. never got into them. but she did try because ‘Bryce’ really loved his xbox and she loved ‘Bryce’. 

The one thing she made sure to take with her was a throw pillow that she’s had since she was a kid. 

23. Do they have a good memory? Short term or long term? Are they good with names? Or faces?

She remembers everything about the people in her life. For better or worse - it’s no bueno for her mental health because she overanalyzes everything and dissects it until she’s essentially fabricated a whole other reality. 

She misplaces things all the time and gets mad about it. ‘Ethan’ finds it an endearingly annoying habit of hers. 

She’s okay with names and better with faces. But she really identifies people by their vibe and how they make her feel. If she feels good she’ll remember every single thing about them. If they make her feel bad she’ll only remember the bits about that person that make her feel that way - even if it’s only one sentence out of an entire year of friendship, that person will become that one bad thing to her. 

She never truly forgets someone. Sometimes it’s better to pretend like she did in order to save face. 

26. How do they act when they’re happy? Do they sing? Dance? Hum? Or do they hide their emotions? & Guilty Pleasure

When she’s happy she can do anything! She feels like she can fly. She usually is listening to a song and she’s very creative in this space. She parades around in her underwear singing at the top of her lungs when she’s alone. When she’s happy and with someone, she lets her guard down and shows who she really is. When she’s happy she’s the person she wants to be and not the front of an unbreakable woman she’s been pretending to be since she was old enough to remember it’s importance. 

Oh yes, Hannah hides her emotions. it’s her MO. 

Her guilty pleasure is popular culture. ‘Ethan’ makes fun of her for it but indulges her any chance he can get. For the longest time he’s also her guilty pleasure. She doesn’t want to like him from the beginning. But conversation just flows. And he’s such a Good Boy. she can’t help but fall for him quick and quietly. 

27. What makes them sad? Do they cry regularly? Do they cry openly or hide it? What are they like they are sad? & What’s their family like? Who’s in it? What’s their relationship with them?

People make her sad. Failure makes her sad. She’s trying to cultivate a better life she’s read about in stories and feels like she needs to be successful to show up everyone who’s ever doubted her. She needs to be successful to prove to herself that she’s not a waste of space and worthy of this existence. 

But successful comes in all shapes and sizes. Which is something she’ll learn when she least expects it. 

Hannah only lets herself cry less than a handful of times a year. Usually in the dead of night or in the shower. And only when she knows she’ll be alone the entire time. 

After she falls for ‘Ethan’ she can’t control her emotions as well any more. He’s always there for her even if he’s the source of her tears. 

When she’s mad it’s almost manic depressive. She gets really really low and cuts people out. ‘Ethan’ will not have that. He will not let her go through this alone. Even if she doesn’t want him to see her or hold her he’ll still only be a short walk away. 

I think I answered this above ? Her family was her and her mom. They weren’t close growing up but once she moved away they both made an effort to keep in contact. 

31. Do they drink? What are they like drunk? What are they like hungover? How do they act when other people are drunk or hungover? Kind or teasing? &  What’s their current main conflict?

Yes. She chooses whiskey and scotch for the connotation associated with them. She cannot stand scotch but the commitment to the illusion is greater than her taste buds. Her new friend Polly introduces her to wine. She gets really bad stains on her lips from red wine and no one tells her this until she’s half a bottle down with ‘Ethan’ and he comments on it. She’s so embarrassed and rushed to the bathroom to wipe it off. He stands just outside the doorway laughing his ass off. 

She’s the kind of drunk that wants a smoke or sex. Sometimes both. 

When other people are drunk and she’s not she cannot stand it and avoids them. Unless it’s her roommates whom she cannot avoid. She’s teasing and loving and will be a complete idiot with them. 

When ‘Ethan’ is drunk she lovingly teases him and finds him so fucking cute. 

uhhhhh her main conflict during the entire series is trying to find herself. She needs to stop being the person she is out of necessity and be the person she doesn’t know who she is at her core. 

Then there’s the conflict of falling in love with ‘Ethan’ given the circumstances and how stupidly happy he makes her. And the conflict of still loving the ‘Bryce’ she knew back then that still gives her butterflies and plagues her thoughts and dreams and then comes face to face with her temptation after all these years.

The Enigma, The Boy and the What If 👀

this girl’s just trying to figure life out because she didn’t have a strict parent to map her whole life out for her. it’s a blessing and a curse compared to all those she grew up with and modeled her life after. She’s just off on an unknown adventure making things up and she goes and stripping the past from her future.

33. What underwear do they wear? Boxers or briefs? Lacey? Comfy granny panties? & How have they changed over time?

She likes hipsters but if there’s an ounce of a chance she’s gonna be naked she needs a v-string even if they make her feel constipated. As for bras she loathes them. But apparently she needs them because of her body type. So if she’s gotta have a bra it’s padded and sexy. She’s not wearing it for her it’s for whoever will see her in it. 

Eventually she’ll learn to love lingerie. For herself, not for ‘Ethan’. 

The Hannah Evolution is messy. 

A generally happy kid -> bogged down by having a single parent and the connotations that comes with that -> curating the perfect personality not to put strain on her mom -> creating an air of mystery and becoming an enigma. of never sharing her true feelings with anyone, even herself -> going after her dreams even if it pisses people off -> stupidly letting herself fall in love -> self sabotaging her happiness -> letting the facade crumble and rising from the ashes   

39. Do they like letters? Or prefer emails/messaging? & Your character walks into a cafe. What do they order?

Modern love letters are texts to wake up to and fall to sleep to. That’s something she romanticized with ‘Bryce’ and didn’t realize that meant nothing until ‘Ethan’ showed her. 

Cappuccino. Probably a lemon poppy seed muffin. Or if they do sandwiches it would be a panini. 

45. How do other people see them? Is it similar to how they see themselves?

Other people not related to her see her as arrogant and a closed book. She isn’t forthcoming and makes it really hard to get to know her on a personal level. That makes making friends in adulthood hard. 

Her ex-friends see her as selfish and fake and can’t deal with the drama that seems to follow her. They are actually really resentful for how well life was panning out for her once they all stopped being friends. 

‘Ethan’ is intrigued by her. She finds her brilliant and beautiful and he wants to know more about her. The difference is he’s willing to put in the work. He’s able to see the funny girl hiding behind the rogue exterior. 

She varies in how she sees herself. Some days she loves who she is and walks down the street with unwavering confidence. Other days she cakes on a face full of make up and becomes her alter ego. She’s never truly fully happy with herself. Something inside her is constantly looking for the next best thing to happen in her life and it is detrimental. 

52. How are you and your character the same? How are you different?

You can find the projection yourself 😅

I’m not as bold as Hannah. I also like to think I��m a little more lovable and have a better grip on reality than this mess. 

54. What does your character want, and what do they need?

She wants to be successful and shove her success up the ass of everyone who told her no growing up. She wants to be on the cover of Forbes 30 under 30. She’s creative and a bit chaotic and follows whims. She just wants recognition. 

What she needs is ‘Ethan’ and everything he’s opened her eyes to. 

55. What’s your character’s core trait? What’s their best trait? What’s their worst trait? When happens when these all interact with each other?

Instability. 

Her best trait is her drive. It’s a little shaky in the grand scheme of things but at her core she just wants the best life.  

Her worst trait is her tendency to write and cut people off without another glance. She does it swiftly and unapologetically. 

Gosh all of these things combined come out when she fights with someone and it’s terrible. There’s screaming and slamming doors and ‘Ethan’ doesn’t know what’s going on and wishes she’ll just talk to him. But she’s not that easy and he understands that but goddamn he loves her and for him this is worth fighting for. 

THE END.

#aylaramseycarrera #asked #oc #hannah weill #fun fact: her last name is a typo that i took as a sign #to change from farina to weill lolll #theo zaino #elliott hensley #the enigma the boy and the what if #Ayla i required detailed feedback on this thank u much love

[heartofsnark]

This Is Love (Chapter Two: Lukewarm Welcomes

Notes: Well...I was planning on posting this three days ago....but instead i vanished from the internet for a bit, a nice quarantine mental health crisis as i went into the weekend, we love that. 

Word Count: 11,557

Chapter Warnings: Cursing, anti-cop dialogue, harassment, implications of domestic/family violence

For chapter one and the warnings about this fics overarching themes, please click here! 

A little bell chimes over head as Dahlia steps into the registration building for the Moonflower Trailer Park, there’s little racks of magazines, pamphlets, and maps of tourist attractions. A young girl is at the desk, talking on the phone with someone as Dahlia tries to preoccupy herself with looking through things. 

A plain white pamphlet draws her eye, the simplicity of it standing out among the vividly colored ones.  It’s stark white with that strange cross symbol, from the signs and book, like sunbeams coming from the center of it, black text above the symbol says, ‘Eden’s Gate’ and text below it says, ‘We Love You’. 

Before she can flip it open, the woman at the registration desk hangs up, calling her over with a “Miss?” 

“I’m Hale, we talked on the phone, I’m here to rent a trailer.”

The woman’s eyes flicker down to the pamphlet in her hand and her nose wrinkles like she’s smelled something awful. 

“You ain’t no peggie, are you?” 

“A peggie?” 

“Oh, shit, you really are new here, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah, this was in one of your racks.”

“Damn it, I told them to stop unloading their shit here. Look, I don’t wanna scare you away from Hope County, but the peggies are fucknuts, steer clear of them.” 

“They dangerous?” 

“No more than most of us, but they’re major prudes and buzzkills. Like, think Jesus is gonna firebomb my ass for cumming, type buzzkills.” 

“Oh, that…sucks.” She has no idea where this woman is coming to that a religious group would think she deserves hell for it, but if the woman says they’re not dangerous, it’s not really any of her business, she really just wants her trailer. 

“C’mon, I’ll show you the trailer and we’ll get everything set up.” 

The trailer park isn’t huge, RVs and regular trailers all over it, a little playground in the middle for the resident’s kids with a slide, swings, and a little pool. A trailer with a diner inside of it, advertising bingo, and a little station filled with washing machines and dryers. None of the trailers outfitted with them. It’s a single wide with a little porch, nothing fancy; a living room, bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen. All she needs, nothing seems damaged or out of place. 

“Looks, good to me.” 

“Alrighty, we’ll get your down payment and registration settled, then you can have the keys and move in whenever you feel.” 

“It’ll be a bit before I move in officially,” Dahlia tells her as they step outside the trailer, a few people bustling around 

“Why’s that?” 

“I’m coming all the way from Louisiana, still gotta get my shit moved in.” 

The woman whistles, eyes wide. 

“Hell of a move, but I tell you, you won’t find anywhere as beautiful as Hope County.” 

“I’m excited.” 

“Hey, Darcy, we got someone new coming in?” A woman asks, holding a kid on her hip, looking Dahlia up and down. 

“Yeah, we’re just getting her squared away.” 

“I’m Ruth, it’s always nice to see a new face.” 

“Thanks,” Dahlia awkwardly scratches the back of her head, “I, uh, really appreciate the warm welcome.” 

People aren’t her strong suit, she just never feels like she knows what to say, so she’d rather not say anything. 

“Shy girl, don’t worry we’ll knock that out of you, real quick. We’re like a big ole family here at the Moonflower.” 

“I’ll do my best not to get in the way.” 

“Pfft, fuck that, you better be out here getting piss faced with everyone else when the Boshaw’s throw their next barbecue.” 

“They’ll really find any excuse to get drunk, won’t they?” Darcy laughs, running a hand through her dark pixie cut. 

“I don’t even know why they still let Sharky in here, dude got banned from renting, but can still show up, do his laundry and get drunk, makes no damn sense.” 

“Y’know damn well, my mom and dad don’t have the heart to ban him completely.” 

“Yeah, yeah, but if he sets my trailer on fire again, we’re gonna be having another chat,” the toddler squirms, trying to break away for something, “someone is getting fussy, I’ll see ya around, stranger.” 

Dahlia waves goodbye to Ruth, a smile playing at her lips. The trailer park definitely seems to be a bit on the chaotic side from the sounds of it, but the warm welcome eases her nerves. She really can see herself settling in and finding some happiness. 

She goes with Darcy and takes care of the last of the details, a new key in her hand. Pride swells in her chest, it’s just a trailer, but she has her own place. She’s an adult who’s adulting. 

Once everything at the Moonflower is settled, Dahlia’s back at her hotel, haphazardly tossing her things in her luggage before check out time. Always late.  Everything settled, she dashes down to the reception desk, the woman has been thankfully kind about the whole sleepwalking fiasco last night. Not only did she bring Dahlia back in with a blanket, she even had the kitchen make her some hot chocolate before she went to sleep. 

“You checking out?” 

“Yeah, gotta rush back home.” 

“Ah, we gonna see more of you in Hope County.”  There’s a hopeful lilt to the woman’s voice and it makes Dahlia smile, the people in this county are really friendly. 

“I’m moving here, actually.” 

“That’s wonderful! Ah, I’m sure you’ll fit right in, I have some friend who I know would just adore you. Let me know once you’ve settled in.” 

“Uh, will do, thanks.” 

A quick wave bye and Dahlia’s headed out the door, climbing back on her back to ride the long way back to Reinette. 

It’s a long way, a pit stop in Denver along the way to keep her from losing her mind from exhaustion. She finds herself at the same roach motel she stayed at along the way to Hope County, no reason to go digging for something else. It’s past midnight when she’s checked into her room and is throwing her stuff on a creaking bed, staring at a stained ceiling. She already misses the hotel in Hope County. 

Her joints pop and crack as she heads to the shower;  she washes and hums along to her music and she half expects the odd hallucinations to return. It’s later in the day and she’s no doubt more exhausted now than she was last night. But, nothing happens. Her eyes are the same familiar brown when she looks in the mirror, no sirens try to lure her away, and she doesn’t find herself stumbling through a labyrinth. 

She wakes up the next morning in the dingy little bed and she’s back on the road as soon as she can get there. By nightfall she’s made her way back to Reinette, pulling up in front of Lloyd and Caroline’s farmhouse. 

The large wooden home with warm amber light seeping out from the windows. It looks and feels like a home. Sometimes, it feels like it could be Dahlia’s. 

“Stray!” Lloyd yells out as soon as she’s stepped foot inside, pulling her into a warm bone crushing hug before she can say a word. She melts into it, hugging him right back, letting the heat of him chase away the chill outside.  

“C’mon, we’ve been waiting on ya,” he tells her after he reluctantly pulls away from the hug, tugging her towards the dinner table. The smell of homemade stew hitting her nose and making her stomach growl, she can’t remember a time before Lloyd and Caroline where she could come home to an actual cooked meal. She doesn’t think it ever existed. 

“So, what exactly happened, something about a bar?” Caroline asks, as Dahlia begins to gobble up her food. 

“Well,” she slurs out her words around her mouthful of food, unwilling to stop eating just for a conversation, “there’s some bar in Fall’s End, some jackass tried to rob it and next thing I know Whitehorse is calling me his Junior Deputy.” 

“Junior Deputy?” Caroline refills Dahlia’s bowl as soon as she hears the spoon scratching against the china, her eyebrow is raised, and Lloyd looks like he’s holding back a laugh. 

“Thanks, uh, I guess it’s a term they use for their rookie deputies up there.” She shrugs, the term was strange, but she didn’t give it much more thought. 

Lloyd’s unable to hold back his laughter anymore, face going beet red as he bursts into chuckles. Dahlia narrows her eyes at him, unsure what exactly could be so funny.

“That’s what they call the program for the little kids, Stray, when you give ‘em cardboard badges and stickers, they’re Junior Deputies. Earl was giving you shit, you were just too dumb to notice.”

Heat crawls up Dahlia’s face, she’s not sure if it’s from anger or embarrassment. Either way, she’s not happy and finds herself throwing a dinner roll at Lloyd’s head.

“Hey. I’m not dealing with any mess,” Caroline threatens, but Dahlia is busy glaring at Lloyd.

“He knows damn well I’m not a kid.”

“No one would know just by looking at ya.”

“You waste one more roll, you’ll be doing the dishes by yourself.”

Dahlia lowers her arm and instead shoves it in her mouth, looking at Caroline as she chews it, trying to ask if she’s happy now without the words, but the older woman simply rolls her eyes.

“Look, you know damn well that hazing is part of a new job, you aren’t gonna manage to avoid it.”

“Yeah, yeah, one of the other deputies was busting my balls before I even got the job.”

“Just means they knew you’d get the job,” Lloyd says with a grin.

“I’m pretty sure he’s just an asshole.”

“You thought that about Chase, too.”  Chase is one of the officers for the Reinette department, a little shit.

“Yeah and I was right, Chase is an asshole.”

“But you don’t mind it anymore.”

“Sure...we’ll go with that.”

“Was everyone there giving you a hard time?”

“Uh,” her heart seems to beat a little faster when she thinks of Hudson, what is wrong with her, “no, the other deputy was…nice…” 

Caroline and Lloyd shoot each other some look, a meaning behind it that Dahlia can’t catch. 

“Is something wrong?”

“Uh, no, just for some reason when I met that deputy, I just got all weird, I guess.” 

“Weird?” 

“Yeah, like my heart was racing, I felt like I was burning up. It was super weird.” 

“Oh my god.” Caroline places a hand to her smiling mouth, looking over at Lloyd like she just struck gold. 

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it.” 

“Can’t believe what?” Dahlia asks, what the fuck kind of conversation are they having with their eyes, what are they freaking out about. 

“I was starting to think it wasn’t gonna happen, which I mean, is fine some people just don’t feel that sort of way. But, here we are.” 

“She really is growing up,” Caroline remarks, still smiling. 

“I don’t know what you’re freaking out about, I’m probably just allergic to her perfume or something, I don’t know.” That makes sense, right? Why are they freaking out?

“Her?” Caroline raises an eyebrow, why does it matter? Why does any of this matter?

“Eh, lets be honest, Care Bear, are you really surprised?” 

“No, but it’s nice to know, would have been nicer to know when I was trying to set her up with Susan’s boy.”

“Ugh, Susan’s boy, guy or girl Stray needs someone with more than two braincells.” 

“She barely has any braincells.”

“Rude.” 

“That’s exactly why she needs someone with a brain! You can’t have two idiots, that’s how someone ends up dead. You can have a smart person and another smart person, you can have an idiot and a smart person. But you can’t have two idiots, it’s a disaster in the making.” 

“Hey, I’m not an idiot!” 

“Look, it’s not meant to be an insult.” 

“That’s literally the only way it can be meant.” 

“I don’t mean that you’re stupid, you’re just…what’s the word I’m looking for Caroline?” 

“Stupid.” 

“I will start throwing food again.” 

“Okay, okay, lets change the subject for now,” Lloyd holds his hands up in mock surrender, “that bar you were talking about in Falls End, wasn’t the Spread Eagle was it?”

Lloyd was actually born and raised in Hope County, but he left when he was around twenty-eight. He always tells the story of him moving to Reinette like it was magic, taking over an inherited farm from an estranged relative after their death, meeting Caroline, falling instantly and love, raising more foster children than Dahlia could imagine. They had just stopped taking in foster children, having adopted and raised the last one into adulthood, when Dahlia ended up in their barn. Lloyd, ever the dramatic, likened it to adopting cats and then once you’re done adopting, a stray just wanders in and adopts you.  

“Yeah, you know the place?” 

“Gary and Irene always use to give me and Earl discounts, it was always the first place we went after a shift.” 

She can see that, so easily in her mind, the two men when they were younger leaving a long drawn out shift to let off steam in the local bar. It’s hard to imagine just how good of friends they must have been, spending time together after every workday and staying in contact even when Lloyd moved so far away. She can’t imagine having a friend like that. 

“I think the woman running it was called Mary May, something like that?” 

“Seriously, holy shit, Mary May was their little girl, my god she’s all grown up.”

“You’re old.” 

“Thanks, Stray.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

“You know, we should take a trip back to Montana sometime Care Bear, it’s been a while, plus we got a new reason to visit.”

“By the way, do you know what Eden’s Gate is?”  The weird religious group is still on her mind, it seems to be all over Hope County. If they’ve been there for a long while, then surely Lloyd would know what it is and who they are. He raises an eyebrow and she can practically see the gears turning in his head. 

“Can’t say that I do, why you ask Stray?” 

“Some religious group or something, they’re all over the county, even built a damn statue. Figured you might know what they are.”

“You mean, like the big deer statue near the Whitetail mountains?” 

“No, like a statue of a dude, like their founder or some shit, dude with a manbun.” She uses her hands to pull her hair back in a little bun-esque shape, as if the visual aid is necessary. 

“Yeah…that, I’ve never seen any of that, you sure, you ain’t losing it, Stray?” 

“Yes, I’m very sure I’m not losing it. They don’t seem like bad folks, the one I met, but they’re definitely strange.” 

“You’re not gonna go and try to find religion in Hope County, are you?” Caroline asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“Oh fuck no.” 

“I was about to say, I haven’t gotten to set foot in a church in two years.” 

“I’m pretty sure she’d burst into flames.” 

Lloyd and Caroline share a smile, cracking up at Dahlia’s expense as she sticks a tongue out at them. 

“Hope they’re not the Jehovah Witness types, who go door to door,” Dahlia grumbles, the very thought making her stomach churn the stew inside of it. She’d rather blow her brains out then listen to someone preaching at her when she’s trying to relax.

“If they are, they’re about to meet their worst nightmare.” 

She can’t help but grin, the chatting continues for a while, just enjoying a cozy night in with the couple. Before, she knows it the food is gone and the night has gone on longer than usual. Lloyd and Caroline typically sleep early, rise early, while Dahlia is more of a night owl. 

But there’s an unspoken reluctance for the couple to turn in. Even as the moon hangs high in the sky, as Caroline and Lloyd yawn at the table. He even mentions playing a board game, cards, something. When she tells them to go to bed, Caroline nearly drifting off on his shoulder. She’s pulled into another hug, caring touches lingering as they finally drag themselves off to bed; tired voices slurring out goodnights. 

Maybe it’s egotistical, but the hesitance seems to hint at more. An understanding that this is likely among one of the last nights she’ll spend here with them and the desire to make it drag on as long as possible. To soak in every last moment of her being here. 

She knows she isn’t the greatest person to live with or even be around, that anyone should be happy to be rid of a leech like her. But, they’re far too kind for that. 

Dahlia takes a slow walk to the room she’s called her own for the past two years. She hasn’t changed anything in the time she’s been here, despite how much the couple has told her she could. Piles of clothes on the floor are the only thing that could be considered her personal touch. The small bed frame creaks as she sits down on the side, a second later the door is pushed open by Lucy, Lloyd and Caroline’s border collie. 

She lays a fluffy head on Dahlia’s knee and she buries her fingers into the fur, memories of the first time she held the dog. It was the first day she found herself here, hunkered down in their barn for shelter for the night, rain pouring down. She was scared that Lucy would bite her, aggressive towards a stranger. But just as kind as her owners, Lucy just shuffled herself closer to the drenched teenager, helping keep her warm through the stormy night. 

She’s changed so much in these past two years. 

Muscle tone and squish where was once a sack of bones, her fingers no longer able to slot in the spots between her ribs. Skin a healthier tan instead of the sickly pale it was that first night, ink now covering sections of that skin. Her first paychecks ending up in tattoos and clothes, taking control of her body and wardrobe in a way she’s never had before. For years her thick dark hair hung in a curtain down past her chest, that night and many nights before, it was tangled in thick dirty knots, matted to her skull in places. 

The very first day she was allowed to shower here, she grabbed a pair of scissors and hacked it off to the best of her abilities. Caroline later cleaned up the choppy job and now she’s found herself with a short bob of dark brown, nearly black hair. She’s really started to come into her own, feeling like her own person and becoming who she wants to be. 

She just wishes that was a person who could stay in Reinette. This is what has to happen, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t going to miss everything here. Lloyd and Caroline being the biggest thing, but Lucy, living on the farm, so much. It’s not like she’s never going to see them again. 

They’ll likely invite her back for visits, already making plans to visit her in Montana, but things are going to change. That’s unavoidable and undeniable. It’s scary, but most things worth doing are. 

Dahlia sees the sunrise before she finally manages to sleep in that bed for the last time. 

The next day, or more accurately after she’s gotten a few hours of sleep, everything is a frantic blur of activity as she tries to prepare for the move. It’s mostly clothes, a laptop, a portable game, and a few books. Nothing major or impressive, a tight pang in her chest as 

“Come on in.” 

The door creaks open and she looks over her shoulder to see Lloyd, something in his hand. His fingers clench and unclench, there's something in his hand, he shuffles a bit in the doorway.

"Something up?" She asks, throwing a few more shirts in her bag.

"Uh, I, well, what's this?" His eyes are drawn towards her open duffle bag, the same one she brought with her to Hope County, she's just been throwing her stuff in without much thought.

She raises an eyebrow as he starts to shift some stuff around in her bag, pulling out a heavy white book with that familiar cross like symbol. How did that get in there? Chills reverberate up her spine, goosebumps raising on her skin, it's starting to feel like this Eden's Gate shit is following her everywhere.

"That was at the hotel, I uh, must have thrown it in my bag by accident?" It's the only thing that makes sense.

"First day there and you're robbing the hotel?" 

"Shut up, I'll return it when I get back, but, uh, that's that religion I was talking about. Their book." 

He drops what he was holding, it looks like a little booklet, homemade. She grabs it as he starts flipping through the weird religious tome, she opens up the booklet. A photobook, the first one is of her, Lloyd, and Caroline at the fair, big puffy bags of cotton candy in her hand. Second one her holding an alligator and grinning, they drug her out to an alligator ranch one day, knowing how much she loves animals. Pictures from the beach trip they took her on, photos of her and Lucy. A photo from her first day at the station with everyone crowded around her.

 "Book of Joseph...god that's already creepy." 

"Huh," nostalgia interrupted she peers over at the book, seeing a portrait of a guy, “that's him!" "What?"

"That's the guy who had the fuckin' statue of him, their founder or whatever."

"Who the hell wants his face hanging over 'em? Seems like a total creep." 

“I don't know, he looks like Norman Bates there." She grimaces, the way he's glowering is entirely too reminiscent of the famous mother loving killer's signature look.

“Don't get it, I uh, hey, why are you looking at that?" He asks, peering down at the booklet in her hand. 

"It's mine, I'm allowed to look at it." 

"Who the hell said it's yours?" 

"So, you weren't giving this to me as a gift, you just made it for fun?" 

"Caroline made it and ya know, something to remember us by and..." His blue eyes blurring with tears. 

"I'm moving states, not going to war, Jesus Christ." 

"You're leaving, I'm gonna miss you." 

“No one is dying, stop, oh my god, stop crying you baby." She knocks her fist into his shoulder, no force or animosity behind it. 

“I haven't cried this much since Maya left for college," he tells her, talking about his youngest adopted daughter, who had left the home just a year or so before Dahlia showed up in their barn. The couple barely got a year of an empty nest before she barged in.

“Are you done?” She asks him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for the new fresh onslaught of tears to poor out. 

“Yeah, yeah, by the way everyone down at the station wants to see you before you head out.”

“Why?” 

“I don’t fucking know, maybe it’s ‘cause you’re leaving and they like you, some a little too much, as far as I’m concerned. “

“What do you mean?” 

“Oh, my sweet naïve child,” Lloyd dramatically cups a hand on the back of her head and pulls in for a hug, “whoever was supposed to teach ya about the birds and the bees, really fucked up, didn’t they?” 

“Shut up!” She groans, pushing him away, she’s not naïve. He just talks like a weirdo, she’s finally got her stuff all packed up, so she follows Lloyd out of the room. 

Caroline is in the kitchen and has been all day, according to Lloyd she’s been cooking up a storm for the past couple days, ever since Dahlia first left for her interview. 

“You coming down to the station with us?” 

“Uh, I’ll meet you down there later.” 

“Alrighty then.” 

Dahlia’s heart sinks, a pang there as she sets up her luggage and bags to be tried down to her motorcycle, she plans on getting on the road right after this little meeting. She knows it’s silly, but she was hoping Caroline would go with them. It will be the last they see of each other for a long while, she doesn’t want Lloyd’s sobbing, but she’d like at least a little more…fanfare. But, Caroline seems fairly nonchalant. 

“You ready to get going?” 

“Yeah.” 

Lloyd hops in his pickup truck, firing it up and driving into town with Dahlia riding her bike after him. 

There’s an extra weight to her sigh as she parks in front of the little police station, the one she’s been reporting to every day for the past two year and this the last time she’ll visit. Lloyd doesn’t even bother to wait around for her as she stares at the building, soaking it in for the last time before she finally trails in behind him. 

“Surprise!” A chorus of voices cheer out as she steps into the modest station, Micah and Chance two officers blowing on little party kazoos afterwards. 

“What the fuck?” 

“You didn’t think we could let you go without throwing you a party, did you?” Alexis tells her, squeezing Dahlia’s shoulder. 

Alexis has the most experience here after Lloyd and if he’d bother to retire before the station goes out, she’d be next in line. Micah and Chance are the resident dumbass officers, but they’re entertaining if nothing else. 

There’s a banner across the station office, Goodbye Stray. A sheet cake saying Good Luck on a table and Chance is throwing around confetti like a weird shredded paper fairy. 

“You guys are so dumb.” 

“We’re trying to be nice, brat,” Chance tells her, sprinkling confetti directly in her hair. 

“Come on, I’ll cut you a piece of cake before he covers it in paper,” Micah offers. 

Once the initial yell and Chance has run out of confetti, the party winds down into something more casual. Dahlia cramming cake in her mouth, with her feet propped up in Micah’s lap as they talk about everything. There’s a few other cops in the station, but most are on patrol and couldn’t make it. But Alexis, Micah, and Chance are by far the ones apart from Lloyd that she’s grown the closest too. 

Which makes it all the more depressing that the station is slowly dying out. Each of them has already started building their list of places to apply to once the inevitable happens. 

“I’m gonna miss you assholes,” Dahlia brings herself to say, after a moment. 

“Finally, she admits it,” Lloyd yells out excitedly. 

“Shut up.” 

“You’re gonna make some great friends over in Hope County.” 

“No one’s gonna be better than us, though.” 

“Shut up, Chance.” 

Dahlia can’t help but laugh at Alexis and Chance’s interaction, she really is going to miss these dumbasses. She doesn’t make friends easy, so parting with them and getting new ones is just that much more aggravating. Pratt was a dick and Hudson does weird things to her, how could she become friends with them? She doesn’t want to go to work everyday and either hate or be nauseous around her coworkers. 

“My friend Earl will keep an eye on her.” 

“Make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid you mean,” Alexis teases and heat flushes up Dahlia’s cheeks.  Why does everyone think she’s stupid, why does Alexis have to think she’s stupid?

“You like it up in Montana?” Micah asks after a beat of silence. 

“I do, it’s colder up there which sucks, but it’s beautiful. Whitehorse is nice, I’ve met some friendly people,” she thinks of the couple with Boomer and the people of the trailer park. 

“I’m glad then.” 

“Watch out or Micah’s gonna be throwin’ in an application there just to follow you,” Lloyd says, grinning. 

“Would you stop?! I just wanted to make sure, she was going to be happy.” 

“Sure, you were.” 

They talk about anything and everything, Dahlia is the first one to leave, but all of them have looked into where they want to be post-Reinette. Alexis is looking into big cities, lots of work, showing just how talented she is. Chance isn’t going far, a county or two over at most. Micah still isn’t sure, but he’s thinking of leaving the state. 

The night drifts on, until the cake is gone, easily two-thirds of it ending up in the void Dahlia calls a stomach. Outside the sky has become a wash of oranges, pinks, and purple as the sun sets. It’s time to get going. 

“I gotta get on the road, if I have any chance of getting there with enough time to settle in.” 

Dahlia reluctantly stands from her chair, the time’s come. The last goodbye, for now at least, she hopes that they’ll stay in some form of contact after this. Alexis is the first to pull her into a hug and Dahlia freezes a bit, taken aback. 

“You’re gonna do great things out there.” 

Dahlia’s heart pangs and she squeezes Alexis back, hoping the strength of her hold can communicate how much those words mean to her. After a moment, they separate. Chance and Micah looking at her now. 

“Don’t think this gets you out of your promise, twenty-first birthday, you’re letting me take you out and get you piss faced drunk,” Chance tells her, grinning at his own stupid ideas. 

“If you wanna drive out to Montana just to see me drunk, that’s on you.”

“Don’t underestimate my stubbornness.” 

“I wasn’t.” 

“Just so you know, if you need anything, all you have to do is call and ask,” Micah tells her, squeezing her shoulder, but she can tell he’s holding back. 

“You can hug me, if you want.” 

And then his arms are around her, hugging her tight to his body. She squeezes him right back. A few moments pass, before they finally pull apart. 

“Well now I want a hug,” Chance says, upon the realization he’s the only who hasn’t gotten one. 

“Come here then, dumbass.” 

And then they’re hugging, Chance going the extra mile to pull her up off the ground. Another beat of just enjoying the warmth of someone who for some reason cares about her. She’ll never understand why. Why any of these people opened their hearts to her, but they did, and she’ll always be thankful for it. 

Lloyd walks her out once Chance has finally freed her, the sun sinking lower in the sky, she buries her hands in her pockets. Her throat is tight, it’s getting closer and closer to the time to leave. 

“You sure, you can’t just stay one more night here?” 

“It takes over a day just to get there.” 

“But uhhh,” Lloyd is nervously looking around as he stutters, like he’s trying to stall. 

“You alright?” 

“Well….um, it’s just…finally!” Lloyd yells as they hear the rumble of an engine coming in, Caroline’s car pulling into the parking lot. 

“Caroline?” 

“Thank god, I managed to catch you.” The older woman gets out of her car, tucking a short strand of blonde hair back behind her ear, she opens the passenger side and is rummaging for something. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Here, we go.” Caroline emerges from her passenger seat with a towering pile of Tupperware, all filled with various meals. 

“What the hell is this?” 

“You can’t cook, how the hell else are you supposed to eat up in Montana,” Caroline says, shoving the containers into Dahlia’s arms. 

“There’s restaurants, microwave meals, I have options.” 

“I’m not letting you eat garbage the whole time you’re there, this should at least get you through the first couple months.” 

“I, I don’t have room for six-hundred plastic containers, I drive a motorcycle.” 

“Eh, I’m sure you can fit ‘em into the under-seat compartment,” Lloyd says, already lifting the seat on Dahlia’s motorcycle and taking containers from her arms to force inside. 

Dahlia’s laughing by the time he’s forced the last of them inside, looks like she was proven wrong. 

“So, I’m just gonna be sitting on three months’ worth of meals all the way to Montana.” 

“Pretty sure that’s more like a week’s worth for you, but it’s better than nothing.” 

Dahlia smiles and chews her lip, not sure what to say. Emotion and sentimentality rising up in her. She feels like she has so much to say, every word cobbling together to catch in her throat. But she can’t just let it go, even if she has to force herself to dislodge a single of those words, she has to do it. 

“I…,” that’s a start, technically, “I, really, really, really, really don’t deserve you guys. Th-there’s not enough reallys in the world, but I’m serious, I-”

“Stray, you deserve all the good that’s comes your way, hell you deserve a lot more of it.” 

“I really don’t, I, I owe you guys so much and I know I can’t ever repay you for everything. But, I, I at least want you to know just how much it all means to me. If it wasn’t for you guys, I’d, be rotting in a gutter somewhere, I mean.”  

“Hey, hey,” she’s being pulled into Lloyd’s chest before she knows it, hugged tight against his chest, when did she start crying?

Her face feels like it’s on fire and her head is throbbing. After a moment, Lloyd pulls away. He places a hand on her shoulder and the other cups her jaw, forcing her to look at him through her tear-filled eyes. All her yelling at him to keep it together, don’t be a crybaby. And she’s the one falling apart. 

“You don’t owe us anything. We did our best to do right by you, because that’s what you deserve. Okay, you deserve a home and a family and people who love you.”

“Uhhh, agree to disagree…?” What the hell is her voice doing? It’s so broken and cracked, everything she says dragging out of her throat. 

“No disagreeing,” Caroline chimes in, her eyes soft and motherly. 

“We just want you to be happy, you deserve it.” 

“You think you can do that for us? Just be happy and you’ll more than pay back anything you think you owe us.” 

“I’ll try, I guess,” she murmurs, wiping tears from her eyes. 

“Good girl,” Caroline says, reaching out to ruffle Dahlia’s hair. The young girl laughs through her tears, pull Lloyd in for another hug before forcing one on Caroline. 

Dahlia wipes away the last of her tears. 

“Uh, sorry about that.” 

“No apologies, call as soon as you get there. We’ll try to come out and visit just as soon as we can.” 

“This ain’t goodbye forever, Stray, we’ll see you again before you know it.”

A bright silver moon hangs in the sky by the time she brings herself to part with them for the last time, climbing onto her motorcycle. 

Two mornings later and she’s pulling into the Moonflower Trailer Park, the sun rising overhead. A smile stretches across her lips as she pulls in, a few people already milling about in the early morning. She notices Ruth, helping ease her kid down the little slide in the miniature playground that’s at the center of the trailer park. The woman waves at her and Dahlia returns the gesture as she parks near her trailer. 

She pulls off her helmet and thanks for a moment, locking up and keeping her motorcycle safe will be difficult with this set up. Moving it into her trailer would be an option, but it’s be a pain the ass with moving it every day. There’s a decent chunk of land behind where her trailer sits, not enough for another to move in there, but enough to mark a pseudo backyard. 

Maybe she can build a shed or something? She’ll have to double check on the rules and what’s allowed. 

For now, Dahlia busies herself with moving her things into the trailer. She basically tosses her bags and luggage in, not bothering to properly unpack things. The biggest thing is moving Caroline’s meal into the fridge and freezer. Once everything is where it needs to be, she grabs a shower and changes her clothes. She’ll have to do some laundry when she gets a chance. 

Dahlia stretches her muscles as she steps back out of her trailer, the activity has picked up somewhat, more people milling about and having conversations about who knows what. She makes a mental list of the things she has to get done; checking about a shed, getting some groceries in, doing her laundry and probably some stuff she hasn’t even thought about yet.

She makes a beeline for the registration building, peering inside and seeing a man talking to Darcy. Taking her chances of a long wait; she steps inside and loiters behind the stranger. Darcy’s bright blues land on Dahlia and the man follows the gaze, it seems like everyone in the county has a set of pretty light eyes. All greens and blues from what she’s seen. The receptionist at the hotel, both deputies and Whitehorse, the dispatcher at the station, Mary May, Darcy, and even Ruth. She’s pretty sure the only other pair of brown eyes she’s seen since she’s been here was the guy who nearly pulled a gun on her.

“You need something, hon?”

“I don’t want to interrupt.”

“You’re fine, darlin’, we were just shooting the shit.” Pet names and light eyes seem to both be trends here.

“I was just wondering if I could build a shed behind my trailer, to keep my motorcycle locked up.”

“As long as you aren’t blocking anyone or anything, go for it.”

Dahlia gives a little thumbs up in acknowledgement and starts to make a bee line back out, time to find out where the hell to get supplies for a shed. The man starts to follow her out, quickly catching up to her as she’s making her way back to her trailer.

“If you’re looking to build something, there’s a nice hardware and carpentry store, they give you all the supplies and instructions. You just gotta put it together,” he finishes up as they reach her motorcycle.

“Sounds good, you got a number for them?”

“Yeah, I,” he looks at her motorcycle, “you got a way to haul it?”

“Nah, I’d have to rent a truck.”

“I got a pickup, if you order it, I can pick it up for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m down there most days anyway, I’m Liam by the way.”

“I-”

“Nice bike,” another voice yells out, a guy with scraggly hair looking at Dahlia’s motorcycle, “it yours?”

“Hey, Clyde,” Liam greets him.

“Yeah, 2009 Yamaha FZ1; guy’s kid totaled it and I nearly rebuilt it from scratch.” She tells him, smiling at the memory of finding the wrecked bike in Lloyd’s garage.

The three talk for some time about the specs of her motorcycle and talking about the place Liam recommended. He gives her the number and after some relenting agrees to be paid for at least the gas money. After some time and Clyde rambling about the vintage motorcycle he had as a teenager, she manages to tear herself away from the conversation to make the call. She reserves the materials and Liam is planning on heading that way shortly.

That taken care of for now, she decides to get her laundry taken care of. She grabs her bag of dirty laundry out of her trailer and makes a beeline for the laundry half building. It’s a strange roofed in area with no doors. How they manage to maintain the machine is beyond her. Seems like a nightmare when bad weather hits.

She rattles out her coins and gets what she needs, cooking may evade her but she at the very least knows how to do her own laundry. Dahlia bends over to start shoving her clothes in, she’s struggling to find her other sock when she gets the sense she’s being watched, someone’s eyes trained on her backside. She tucks a lock of hair back behind her ear as she stands back up and turns around.

“Uh, ah…” The guy awkwardly stumbles back, not really forming any words as he avoids her eyes. He’s taller than her; as are most people. Other than children, she hasn’t found a single person in Hope County shorter than her.  

He scratches sheepishly at the back of his neck, why was he looking at her? 

"There something on my shorts?" She brushes a hand down the denim, searching for something. It wouldn't be the first time she's managed to sit in something gross. 

"Uh, shit, sorry I'm just a man, I can't help it."

"Okay…" That didn't really answer her question. Weird guy, she decides and focuses on going back to her laundry. 

"No harassing the new girl, Boshaw." Ruth comments as she walks in, laundry basket on her hip. 

“I wasn’t doing nothing.” He tries to defend himself and Dahlia is left even more confused.

“Don’t let him bug you, he doesn’t even live here. Boshaws are good for nothing but a party,” Ruth tells her, clapping a hand on Dahlia’s back. She just shakes her head, not worth dealing with.

By the time Dahlia finishes up her laundry the sound of a backfiring truck engine is making its way back into the trailer park. Liam with a truck bed filled with hardwood and all the stuff she needs for her shed.

“Me and Clyde will help you put it together, if you want.” Liam offers, him and Clyde already helping her unload the materials. 

“I mean it’d go quicker, if I had more hands,” Dahlia says, she doesn’t need the help necessarily and doesn’t want to be a bother, but she’d appreciate it anyway. 

“Where exactly do you want it?” 

“Just right back behind my trailer, let’s see.” 

The three of them move the supplies to where she needs the shed built, Dahlia’s taking a glance at the building instructions and when she looks back up, Liam and Clyde have managed to grab a radio and a pack of beer. It’s not even noon. 

“Want one?” Clyde offers her a can. 

“Nah, I’m under 21.”

“Pfff, never stopped anyone.” He shrugs before downing the can himself. Maybe as a cop she should give a shit about that statement, but the drinking age is dumb. Even if she feels obligated to listen to it due to her job, she can admit it’s stupid. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, sweetheart, where are you from?” 

“Louisiana.” 

“The hell you doing out here?”

“Moved for work, you two Hope County natives?” 

“Born and raised, wouldn’t trade it for the world.” 

“You guy’s got any recommendations of shit to do here?” 

She happily listens to them ramble about lady’s night at The Spread Eagle, O’Hara’s Haunted House being the best place for a scare, hiking trails in the Whitetail Mountains, the best fishing spots, the 8-bit Pizza Bar’s games, and raving about the burgers at The Grill Steak. The entire time they’re all working, laughing, and the pair of them throwing back beers. 

Sweat is coating Dahlia’s skin by the time they finish, and it feels nice to be able to stand back to look at what’s been accomplished. Put together with hard work and the help of her new neighbors.

“Hell yeah, we got that knocked out in no time,” Clyde boasts, holding his hand out for a high five that she gives right away.

“Here,” Liam tosses her the padlock he picked up for it, all packaged with it’s little key. She pushes her bike inside, already thinking of adding hooks and shelves, for her helmet and other odds and ends. She can really make something with it. She’s more excited to put work into her motorcycle’s home than her own trailer. Go figure.

She locks it up and hooks the key on her keychain. One more thing taken care of.

“I really appreciate it, you guys didn’t have to do this. Uh, I can’t cook for shit, but if you want I can buy you l-”

Engine revving again, better shape than Liam’s backfiring pickup, an old green one comes pulling into the trailer park. Dahlia’s eyes widen in surprise when she realizes who’s at the wheel, Sheriff Whitehorse. The tension of the trailer park draws tight, no more signs of the laughing easy going nature she was getting comfortable in. Liam, Clyde, and every trailer park resident as far as Dahlia can see are now staring daggers at the Sheriff.

No sign of peturbment, Whitehorse parks and hops out of the front seat of his truck, right next to Dahlia and her two new friends. He stops to grab something from the passenger side.

“The hell are you doing here?!” Clyde asks low and threatening.

“Came to see my new Junior Deputy, figured it’d be good for you to get your uniforms,” Whitehorse tells her, green deputy shirts in hand.

“Thanks, Sheriff.” She takes the uniforms from his hand, feeling those glares that were on Whitehorse being turned towards her.

“You...settling in alright, Rook?”

“Uh, yeah, I think…” She thought she was. But, now she has her doubts.

“That’s good, just wanted to check in on you.”

“I appreciate it, I was just about to buy them lunch, if you w-”

“We’re good,” Liam says, definitely with a gruff sound to his voice.

“Are you s-”

Liam and Clyde are already storming away, smiles and laughter drained from their faces and replaced with angry tension. What did she do? Why are they mad? She clenches her jaw and chews her bottom lip as she watches what she thought were her new friends walk off.

“Come on, I’ll buy you lunch, Rook.”  Whitehorse claps a large hand on her shoulder, warm and comforting during her confusion. He gently turns her towards the passenger side of his truck, and she climbs in, fiddling with the uniforms in her lap; the Hope County Sheriff’s Department patch rough against her fingers.

The engine revs to life as Whitehorse climbs in, the radio humming out a country song. She hates not at least knowing what she did wrong. 

“Not gonna lie, when I heard you moved into The Moonflower, I got worried about ya Rook.”

“Why’s that?”

“Hmm, it’s where a lot of the more...suspicious citizens of Hope County live. They don’t have a lot of respect for cops, none actually. More likely to call you a pig than eat lunch with you. Not bad people, but they don’t have any love for law enforcement.”

“So...I’m a cop who just moved into a trailer park of criminals is what you're telling me.”

“Basically.”

“And thanks to you, they all for sure know I’m a cop now.”

“Would have found out when you had to arrest one of ‘em, this seemed a bit better.”

It’s stupid to be upset, she knows that it’s stupid to be upset about losing people she’s known all of five hours. But it felt nice to be welcomed with such open arms and to know that’s already gone to shit. She focuses on her uniforms in her lap because it’s easier than dealing with the lump in her throat and the churn of her stomach. No name tag or badge on her uniforms.

“Where’s my name tag and badge?”

“We’re a small operation, Rook. We’re not investing in patches and a badge until we know you’re staying in for the long haul.” 

“I also found out about your junior deputy crap, I’m not a kid in high school.” 

“Not far off from it.”

He’s looking off across the road to make sure it’s safe to turn, so she uses the moment of him looking away to stick her tongue out at him. Does it make her look any more mature? No. Does she care? No. 

“Caught that, Rookie.” 

“No, you didn’t.” 

“Yes, I did.” 

“Sounds fake.” 

They pull into the parking lot of Aubrey’s Diner, a big restaurant with a pink roof. Whitehorse brings the truck into park, Dahlia tucks the uniforms into the backseat before hopping out of the truck. The sheriff squeezes her shoulder as they walk into the restaurant, as much as he likes teasing her, he seems keen on trying to comfort her. Maybe he just feels sorry for her and her shitty luck. 

“Hey, my name is Cassie, I’ll be your waitress today. Can you take a seat, right over here.” A young girl, probably around Dahlia’s age with long black hair helps show them to a booth. Whitehorse takes his hat off as he sits down. 

“Can I get you two anything to drink?” The waitress hands them menus, there’s a mess of bruises across her forearm. Mixes of blues, purples, and some more faded greens. The indents of fingerprints on her skin. 

“A black coffee, please.” 

“Uh, whatever soda you have is fine, what happened to your arm?” 

The girl’s eyes go wide, reminiscent of a deer in the headlights. She gives an awkward tight smile and pushes a lock of hair back behind her ear. 

“Oh, I was just horsing around with my four wheeler, nothing major. I’ll go get your drinks, right away.” 

“You worry about everyone, don’t you?” 

“You don’t get bruises like that from a four-wheeler.” 

“You gonna do something about it?” 

“Sure as shit gonna try,” she manages to catch the smile on Whitehorse’s face before she looks at the menu, “now, if you’re paying, what’s the limit?” 

“Get whatever you want.” 

“Do you actually mean that? Or are you trying to be nice, ‘cause I can and will eat you out of house and home if you let me.” 

He laughs a little; a dry chuckle, like the idea of her being able to eat that much is ridiculous. She should try to go somewhat easy on him, first impressions or something. She’ll settle on a stack of pancakes and a double burger and fries. 

There are a few people in the diner and when Cassie returns, Dahlia decides now isn’t the time. She doesn’t want to embarrass or make her uncomfortable. Even she has a smidge more tact than that.  Cassie takes their orders and Dahlia feels Whitehorse staring at her. 

“You gonna gorge yourself to make a point?” 

“Pfff, this ain’t nothing to me,” Dahlia tells him with a shrug, drinking her soda, an awkward beat of silence following. 

“You know, it you may not have picked a great place to settle in, but I think you’re gonna like it here, Rook.”

“I’m hoping.” 

“A lot of people aren’t gonna like you. Aren’t gonna like your job, or what you have to do. You can’t let it get you down. The people here are good, most of ‘em will take you in with open arms.” 

“They literally turned their backs on me, like physically looked at me in disgust and turned around,” Cassie brings their food back out, “thanks.” 

“You know why I took a chance on you?” 

“’Cause of the robbery thing?’ She asks as she begins dumping syrup on her peach pancakes before shoving a forkful in her mouth.  

“I was gonna give you the probie position before that.” 

“What!?” She slurs out around the food in her mouth. 

“Well, yeah,” his blue eyes are soft, and he reminds her of Lloyd more than he ever has before, “you’re good people, Rook. And I’m not gonna be the only person who sees that. Anyone’d be damn lucky to have you in their corner.” 

She swallows her mouthful of food, chewing the inside of her cheek as she weighs his words in her mind. Her heart is lighter, it’s nice knowing her new boss is rooting for her, sees something in her that’s worth seeing. 

“That, uh, it means a lot,” this is too serious, “so, if you already knew you were gonna give me a shot before the interview ended, why the fuck did you wait until after to tell me?” 

“Wouldn’t be any fun if I didn’t make you sweat at least a little.” 

“I thought I fucked it all up!” 

“Can’t be a cop if you don’t have a good poker face.” 

“Its too good, I hate it.” 

“Well, if you hate that, you’re gonna really hate this.”

“...and what would ‘this’ be?” 

“You’ll be with Pratt on patrol.”

“What!?” She groans out, thinking about that smug asshole’s face.

“Pratt wasn’t too excited either, but I’m sure you two will manage.” 

“Why can’t I work with Hudson?” Dahlia asks, though her voice catches strangely when she thinks about her. Heat prickling up under her skin. Whitehorse sighs as he leans back in the booth. 

“I don’t want this to sound bad. You and Hudson are both perfectly capable officers. But I don’t like having two women officers partnered. I know it’s not right, but around here; perps will think they can push you around ‘cause you’re a woman. They’ll assume you’re soft. It’s not right, but it happens. I don’t want to put you in a bad situation right out of the gate, working with Pratt will make it easier on you.” 

“That’s garbage, you may mean well, but it’s garbage.”

“There’s another reason too,” Whitehorse tells her with lopsided grin. 

“And what’s that?”

“Rook, you could barely even talk to Hudson. I partner you with her and you’ll be a disaster.”

“What are you talking about? I talked to Hudson just fine.” 

“You were bright red and stuttering; blind man could see your little crush.” 

“Crush…?” Dahlia raises an eyebrow, like...feelings… That’s what everyone has been trying to say. 

“Jesus criminy, that’s a whole new can of worms. You know what a crush is?” 

“Yes, I know what a crush is, I just...never had one...I don’t think.” 

“You feel like you’re burning up and gonna puke when you see her?” 

“Maybe…”

“Like your heart is gonna explode out of your chest.” 

“Uhhhh…”

“That’s a crush, Rook.” 

She doesn’t even know Hudson, how the hell can she have a crush on her? You can’t have feelings for someone you don’t hardly know. She’s pretty though. Maybe it’s just physical attraction? Has she ever been even physically attracted to someone before?

“My head hurts.” 

“I’m starting to think you’re even worse than taking on a high school kid.” 

“Look, I don’t mess with that crap okay, I’ve never...ugh, can we move on?” 

They’ve finished their food before they know it, Whitehorse just shaking his head at how easily she managed to gobble up all of the food she got. Dahlia grabs a napkin, doing her best to write down her phone number with it being actually legible. Her hand aches from the effort but it’s easy to read. 

Cassie gives the bill and Whitehorse leaves a tip for her, once the young waitress starts to walk away, Dahlia excuses herself to go smoke. Though, she suspects the sheriff knows her actual intentions. 

“Hey, Cassie,” Dahlia calls out and stops the waitress when she gets to a relatively secluded portion of the restaurant. 

“Is there something else you need?” 

“How old are you?” 

“Uhh, 18, why?” 

Not much younger, but she’s an adult, even a year younger this conversation would be a lot different. 

“I can’t force or do much, unless you ask for it. But, I’m the new deputy with the station. I’m not saying for sure something is wrong, but if you need help, I want you to give me a call, alright?” 

‘Um...thanks…” The girl awkwardly accepts the napkin before darting away and Dahlia clenches her jaw, knowing the chances of that call ever coming are slim. But at least she’s made an effort and if nothing else Cassie knows she has options. More than anyone ever did for her. 

Maybe, she’ll go ahead and step outside for a smoke anyway. 

She steps out and finds herself at the side of the building, where she lights up her cigarette. Dahlia fiddles with the edge of her thigh high socks as she takes a deep drag. She exhales a heavy cloud of smoke that drifts up through the sky, the afternoon sun rays beating down on her. 

Among the trees something moves, a rustling of grass and brush followed by footsteps. Dahlia’s heart sinks when she sees her emerge. The girl from the hotel, the siren is walking down a grassy pathway. Her dress is a little different, no less white or lacy, but the sleeves are shorter and it comes off her shoulders, a white flower adorning her sandy colored hair. There’s a light grace to the way she walks, as if she’s on her own personal cloud floating along. She holds a book close to her chest. 

Why is she seeing her again? Are her eyes playing tricks on her again?

Dahlia is moving without another thought, the siren’s call working it’s magic to draw her in again. 

She expects the girl to vanish again, to fade into mist the second Dahlia gets too close, just as she had done time and time again that night. The second she grabs the woman’s shoulder, she’ll be gone. If the junior deputy even gets that close without the spectre fading away. 

The heat of real flesh under her hand sends her spiraling back to reality. The girl jolting and staring at Dahlia with wide green eyes, scared and surprised at the grasp of a stranger. An expression unlike any seen in Dahlia’s hallucinations. She’s human, flesh and real, an actual person standing before her whom Dahlia just grabbed like a maniac. The panicky yells of others flood her ears. There are other people, a group of five or so people glaring daggers at Dahlia. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” One of them yells, obviously ready to fight and Dahlia rips her hand off of the girl like she’s been scalded. What is she doing? 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry,” Dahlia gushes out a mess of apologies, “I, uh, thought I knew you from somewhere. I’m sorry, I just, sorry.” 

“No, no need for sorries,” she’s speaking actual words for the first time, voice soft and melodic as she gently brings Dahlia’s hand into her own to intertwine their fingers, “you’re here for a reason, what’s your name?” 

“Oh, uh, I-” 

“Rookie, you ready to head out?” Whitehorse yells out from the diner, eyes narrowing a bit when he sees Dahlia with the strange woman. 

“I gotta get going, again, I’m sorry, I, bye.” Dahlia’s off like a shot, ripping her hand from the woman’s and running back towards Whitehorse; desperate to escape the awkwardness. 

She still feels those green eyes watching her as she jumps up into Whitehorse’s pickup. Dahlia settles into the passenger seat with a residual chill in her spine, she can’t put into words but something about this girl and the whole thing feels strange. The engine revs to life and the radio starts to play. 

“You know that girl, Rook?”

“I thought I recognized her but, no.” 

“You probably shouldn’t buddy up too close to the Seeds.”

“Why’s that?” 

“They’re not too dangerous, they run a little religious group around the county, but they keep finding themselves in trouble lately it seems.” 

“Reli- are they those Eve, Ed-” 

“Project at Eden’s Gate, everyone calls ‘em peggies. They’re usually pretty harmless, but they always seem to be getting into hot water with the locals. Two of ‘em were the ones robbing The Spread Eagle that day you interviewed.” 

“That doesn’t sound too harmless to me.” 

“Stuff like that is rare, you just managed to land here at the right time.” 

“Eh, I just know that I kept seeing random crap of theirs, from pamphlets to a book, and apparently that big freaking statue.” She glares at where she sees it over the horizon, the giant hunk of useless cement. 

“Yeah, Joseph Seed is a real piece of work.” 

“Wait, like, you’ve met him?” 

“He’s had some run ins with us.” 

“He’s like a currently living human being?” 

“Last time I checked.” 

“I, what the fuck, I thought he was like their old founder who died or something. You know from like the 1800’s or something. How far up your own ass do you have to be to have people build a statue of you? Ugh.” 

Whitehorse laughs at her discomfort; she was here thinking he must have been some old founder who died a hundred years ago and it’s just some creepy man bun guy probably off somewhere being weird right now. 

“You in a hurry to get home?” The sheriff asks her. 

“Not particularly.” She needs to get groceries and stuff, but she has Caroline’s made up meals and she has water to her trailer, so she can make do and go shopping tomorrow. 

“We’ll take the scenic route then, show you around.” 

Whitehorse drives her around the Henbane river area, pointing out different places and structures that seem worth noting. The Dire Wolf Basin, Lydia’s Cave, Mastodon Geothermal Park, Dead Man’s Mill, and every place that has a name it seems. He prattles on something about each place, where they get their names, history. And she can feel her eyelids getting heavier with every syllable.  They pass by the Drubman Marina, a dock and buildings, a pink helicopter landed there and boats on the sparkling clear water. The sun is starting to sink down and turn the sky into a mess of oranges and purples. His low accented voice rambles on about someone who owns it, divorce, real estate; it’s all a blur as she’s leaning against the door and her eyes finally shut completely. 

 “Rook, wake up,” Whitehorse is calling out and gently shaking her awake. She blinks a few times, clearing the sleep from her eyes. A glance at the radio clock tells her about two hours has passed. They’re parked back in front of the trailer park. He was talking and she fell asleep; not the greatest first impression to have on her boss the day before she starts working.

He doesn’t seem upset though, just smiling and laughing at her.

“You know, I was trying to help get your mind off shit, didn’t mean to do by boring you, but whatever works, I guess.”

“Sorry, I, uh guess, I was still tired from traveling, that’s a lie, I don’t know why I’m trying to lie. I just got bored and passed out.”

Whitehorse chuckles; at least he seems to find her amusing, that might help keep her around for a while.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Rookie, try to take it easy tonight,” she starts to unbuckle her seat belt, “and don’t forget your uniforms.”

“Thanks.” She grabs her uniform shirts out of the backseat and clambers out of the rusted green pickup.

Dahlia hears the trailer park before she steps past the sign. Whoops and hollers, the sound of a radio blasting. Behind her she hears Whitehorse’s truck pulling away and she feels alone again. No matter what it seems like she can’t seem to ever escape that.

In the center of the trailer park, near the playground area is a bonfire. Faces of people she’s seen in her short time here and ones she hasn’t met yet mingle around, laughing, hollering, and downing beers. The smell of food cooking over grills hits her nose, her never filled stomach growling despite herself. No one has noticed her yet. Caught up in the festivities. She adjusts the grip on her uniforms and kicks the toe of her boot into the dirt, she wants to be included. It’s childish, wanting so badly to just be invited. But she can’t help it. She doesn’t want to believe that people she seemed to fit in well with would throw her away because she’s a cop.

“You got a problem?” Clyde suddenly speaks up, noticing her through the party. His voice is low and his eyes narrowed, like he’s ready for a fight.

“Not particularly.” She shrugs.

“Then why don’t you go ahead and get out of here, Johnny Law.”

“I mean, I’ll go to my trailer…”

“Be better off if you just get out altogether,” Liam tells her.

“I paid to move in here like everyone else, you can’t kick me out.” Dahlia looks to Darcy, the only one here she sees that actually works for the trailer park and decided to rent to her.  The girl chews her lip and avoids eye contact, running a hand through her short hair.

“I mean, yeah, as long as you pay you can stay, but I doubt you’ll be too happy here...You should, uh, try to find something else.”

“And the sooner the better, we don’t need fuckin’ narcs moving in on us.”

“I don’t work in narcotics.”

“Do I look like I give a damn what division you work for, a pig’s a pig!”

Dahlia clenches her jaw at Clyde’s yells, the way everyone around him is grinning, supporting him. This was one of the only options, besides an expensive apartment in Falls End or just waiting for the Silver Lake Trailer Park to have something available. She just rolls her eyes, trying not to betray the ache in her heart. 

“This conversation is pointless.” She shakes her head and heads towards her trailer.

“Can’t believe we helped out a fuckin’ cop,” Liam grumbles as she turns her back on the party.

Then something pelts the back of her head, the stench of beer coating her hair as it splashes out of the nearly empty can that’s bounced off her skull.

She bites her lip, she could be an asshole, technically this can be classified as battery. And a little angry gremlin in the back of her brain wants her to teach them a lesson as they laugh at her, cackling like hyenas. 

But it was just a can of beer, basically empty. She’s an adult. She doesn’t need to waste time or energy on this. At least that’s what she tells herself when she keeps her head down and makes her way to the trailer.

Her door does little to filter out the sound of the party. The music and excitement reverberates through the thin walls of her trailer.

Young blood, come to start a riot.

Don’t care what your old man say.

She tosses her uniforms on the couch, not really caring where they fall. The stench of beer is still sticking to her skin. She peels off her jacket and digs out her phone, syncing it to her speaker, might as well blast her own music in return.

Young blood, heaven hate a sinner.

I felt a break in a sacred place where your hands don’t heal.

But we gonna raise hell anyway.

These are the reasons you’re ruled by the things you feel.

The music mingles and mashes in awkward ways. The upbeat country rock and slow drag of indie music meshing into a cacophony of noise. Somewhere between a yell and a sing, she belts lyrics out, sometimes her music, sometimes theirs.

Raise hell, yeah

Out of the deep waters and all their intricacies.

Somebody gotta, gotta raise a little hell

This is the real face of all your enemies.

This isn’t unfamiliar. The ache of loneliness and feeling like she doesn’t belong. There are lots of reasons for it. No matter where she goes, there never seems to be a place for her. She can’t even blame them. Even if they’re open and welcoming, she knows that feeling will creep up again.

Baby, drop them bones.

I felt you escape into empty space where my heart can’t feel

Baby, sell that soul

Down in that darkness, you met all the things you feared

Lloyd and Caroline were the most welcoming people she’s ever encountered, yet that feeling still reared its ugly head. Those doubts of being a burden, a bother, that she’s intruding on their space. A leech of their time and energy.

The party rages on outside, everyone far happier without her around, as she lights a cigarette up in her trailer.

And I knew, I knew..

Baby, fare thee well

There was nothing I could do...

#far cry 5 #fc5 #joseph seed #jacob seed #john seed #faith seed #deputy oc #this is love #dahlia hale

[blindedbythedarkness]

Josh,

I’m confused by my own feelings about your death. I feel as though I should want you to never be forgotten or that you should have left some physical legacy behind. But, I don’t. As much as it hurts that you never lived to your full potential, I don’t give a shit about any of that. I guess I’ve confused myself with my own expectations, and I’m trying to figure out my real feelings are entirely to the contrary. 

I suppose I know I had my own existential crisis about the meaning of life years ago now. It was one filled with those stereotypical thoughts of what is the real meaning of all this? and what if I’m not remembered? followed by wait, would it be so bad if I wasn’t? I eventually came to the conclusion that when the sun swallows the Earth up, no one will matter and there will be no one left around to remember Shakespeare or Stalin, so why spend my energy trying to become another big name? (Man, this got heavier a lot quicker than I expected. Apologies. I wish we’d had the chance to talk existentialism in person.) Basically, I decided that if I really wanted to make a difference, I could spend my life helping others. That way I’d be investing in hundreds of people who really could change the world, rather than just focusing on trying to be The One That Could. I guess I also realized that just because people aren’t remembered, it doesn’t mean they didn’t have an amazing life. And surely that’s what’s important. Who gives a fuck about being known for centuries if for the few decades you were alive, you were miserable? 

The thing is though, I know you didn’t leave any big legacy and I know you spent a lot of time on this Earth in pain. So I’m asking myself, why am I not mad? Why do I not feel compelled to make a film about your life or make a charity in your name? 

I guess I’m realizing that you did change things after all. I mean, I think if you’d expressed a desire to have children or win the Nobel Prize, I suppose I’d have mourned those legacies that could have been. But if you didn’t care about doing those things while alive, why should I care now you’re gone? What matters is you did make a difference. I just never saw it before. To me you made a difference; I never told you before but you helped to restore my trust in guys. I came to uni guarded and suspicious, and knowing you, spending time with you, that taught me that good guys do exist. You helped me heal. 

And E? I know you helped them be confident in their own skin when they came to uni, newly living as a transguy. I also know that you once sat up with them til 5am talking about mental health things and that you helped them to know taking a year out was right for them. You helped them to put their mental health first; if they hadn’t they could have ended up where you are now. 

And B? I’m sure you know better than me how down she was when you met. She told me that you helped her out of a dark place and never judged her when she showed you where she was living alone at just 17. She told me you did more for her in the short time you had together than she could ever have hoped for.

And A? You gave him someone to talk to about his nerdy computer stuff (that I can never keep up with). He hadn’t had anyone to share it with since his dad passed away the year before he started uni. When he met you and saw he could talk about his passions again to someone who understood, you helped to fill a small part of that hole in his heart.

I’m sure you’ve heard of that old saying, Josh. That one where they say if a butterfly flaps its wings, it can cause a hurricane on the other side of the world? Well, you were that butterfly, Josh, so what does it matter if the hurricane is named after you? You may have only been on this Earth for two short decades, but my God did you make a difference. You changed lives, Josh. You made the world a better place. 

That’s why I don’t care that your name won’t be in the history books or that there’s no shiny trophy with your name engraved on it. You did more than that. Of course, I fucking wish you’d had more time; I daren’t let my thoughts linger on all the amazing things you could have done. And of fucking course I wish that while you were here that you hadn’t been in such pain. But here, that’s not the point. See, Josh, there’s this film I’ve loved since I was a kid. It’s called My Sister’s Keeper and if you’ve ever seen it (though I have my doubts) you’d probably think it was a weird film for a kid to love. Anyway, there’s this bit at the end that always got me, right after Anna’s sister dies (spoiler alert):

And I wish I could tell you that there was some good that came out of it...that through Kate's death we could all go on living. Or even that her life had some special meaning...like they named a park after her, or a street...or that the Supreme Court changed a law because of her. But none of that happened. She's just gone....a little piece of blue sky now. And we all have to move on.

Frankly, that line could have been what started my existential crisis in the first place. I don’t remember. But I guess it just made me appreciate that in reality, not everyone can become van Gogh or Einstein. Anna does say this other thing though, she says:

Once upon a time...I thought I was put on Earth to save my sister. And in the end, I couldn't do it. I realize now...that wasn't the point. The point was, I had a sister. She was fantastic.

I know it’s a different situation, Josh. But I hope you see what I mean when I say losing you has made me really understand that line now. With you, the point isn’t all the things that you didn’t do or the fact that in the end it was suicide that took you from us. The point is that we were fucking lucky to ever have you as a friend Josh. You were a fucking gift. 

Plus, I have no worries about you being forgotten. I trust that between me and all our friends there probably won’t be a day when you won’t cross our minds. Sure, eventually when we die too, maybe your memory will fade. But so what? So will ours. Not to sound too weird or morbid, but I personally the thought of fading together sounds kind of beautiful. It feels like that’s how it’s supposed to be.

Thanks for bearing with the existentialism, Josh.

C

#mental health #mental illness #mental health awareness #suicide #suicide awareness #suicide prevention #suicidal #suicide loss #grief #grieving #mourning #meaning #meaning of life #existential #existential thoughts #existential crisis #depressed #depression #my sisters keeper

[bigskydreaming]

So this is...its a thing. Let’s go with that. I’ve been calling around LA for pretty much all of last week, going through every oral surgeon I can find to see if they do the surgery I need and what their schedules are like, how soon I could get into surgery, etc, and also I’ve been asking literally everyone I know if they know of anyone, have a referral, etc. Even reached out to this old client of mine from back when I was doing sex work, years and years ago, to see if he knew anyone in LA with connections at Cedars Sinai or another hospital, like, to see if they could even just check with their hospital to see what visiting doctors specialize in that kinda thing. Keeping in touch with people from my sex work days, lol, is not something I normally did, or do. He’s literally the only one, and that’s because it just....kinda happened? *Shrugs* He's not a regular presence in my life or anything like that, just the only one from those days that for various reasons, I kinda kept in casual contact with - which for me pretty much meant that I called him or he called me like, a couple times a year to just be like hey how you been. And it’d been a couple years to be honest, cuz like....*gestures at the last two years* 

LOLOL. I guess I just have very low standards for people keeping in contact with me. Who knows why. One of those inexplicable mysteries I guess.

But point is, he got back to me like, the same day, and acted as a go between for me with this old friend of his, who works at Cedars Sinai as a chaplain, their non-denominational one...last week, at the time, I was only focused on the advice part of the email he sent after he asked around the hospital for recommendations, and it kinda didn’t even register that this guy wasn’t just....had connections at Cedars Sinai, but was actually working there himself (for some reason, I thought he was in a different state when first put in contact with him, whatever). Let alone what his title there was. So he gave a recommendation that I’m following up on today, and I just called the old client of mine who put me in touch with him to clarify a few things he’d say, and it only then hit me where this friend of his worked, and so I asked how long he’d worked there and turns out it was two years.

Which was...when my aunt killed herself. And that was where she worked.

So. Like. This random guy who I’ve never met before, doing a favor for me as a favor for this guy who used to pay me for sex and kinda almost accidentally ended up as like...a casual but distant friend, is literally the guy who was hired to replace my aunt as the non-denominational chaplain at Cedars Sinai when she died two years ago.

And I don’t have the first fucking clue what to do with that?

Like....I’ve always considered myself ‘comfortably agnostic,’ like I’m more than willing to believe a higher power exists, I’m just not all that concerned with forming a definitive idea of what that might be or look like or want. I hate organized religion with a passion because lol, repressive Catholic upbringing, and I’ve just never felt a particular need to go out and look for faith in anything other than myself and like....the things in life I actually value, y’know? I’m of the mindset that like, I figure if I do things cuz they’re the right things to do and try and live a good life where I’m helpful to people and empathetic and compassionate, whatever that Higher Power’s specific deal is, they’re either gonna decide that’s good enough for them when I die, or if its not good enough on its own merits, like...idk why I would even want anything from them or anything to do with them anyway? Like sure God, send me to hell because the only thing that really matters in the end is I didn’t sign up for your official email mailing list or whatever the fuck. Nope. 

So religion and faith and spirituality have never been a big...thing for me, or part of my life, its not something I really feel like, a void for not having or whatever. I don’t have an issue with what anyone else believes or why, up until the point where their personal faith apparently requires them to like....impinge upon my actual life and ability to live it the way I choose to....but I’m not like that dude who goes around trying to poke holes in peoples’ faith, just like...respect that I’m not interested in a sales pitch and we’re cool, y’know? Like my aunt was a chaplain, literally the only person in my family who ever kept in regular contact and like, made a point to check on how I was doing and shit and like...idk, loved me, is I guess the word to use? LMFAO. But like....yeah, she was the only relative I actually felt valued by, and thus the only one I really had anything like a regular or ongoing relationship with....*shrugs* So like yeah, whatever. She believed things that I don’t necessarily NOT believe, but more just have never felt a need to explore or try and decide just WHAT exactly I believe or put a name or a description to it.

And I’ve never been someone who sees signs in stuff that happens, nooooooot a fan of fate or destiny as a general concept and like....I’ve got no problem believing that things like ghosts or demons or anything like that could exist, y’know, things that just can’t be explained by science or anything near to our current understanding of reality at least....I’ve just never had anything remotely close to something I would describe as an encounter with the supernatural, or demonic or divine or anything really...spiritual, I guess?

So.....I don’t know what to feel about this, lol. Like, I’m trying not to read anything into it, like y’know....a sign, haha, not because I wouldn’t like to think that my aunt is still looking out for me in some way, I guess, maybe? Like, of course I’d like to think that, I miss her. A lot. And actually have been randomly thinking about her a bunch lately, like at weird times like, I don’t know what it is that made me stop and think of her, my thoughts go there? So I mean....I’m just saying....it wouldn’t break my brain or upend my entire worldview to accept that could actually happen or be a thing, its more just that I’ve gotten my hopes up so many damn times this past year in specific, that I’m just like....I cant afford to pin my hopes on THIS, like that this is ‘a sign’ that this time, its going to work out? But at the same time, its SO FUCKING SPECIFIC a connection like, and in such a WEIRD fucking round about way, that its pretty much impossible NOT to try and read something into it? Like, the guy who replaced her never even MET her, she’s literally just the woman who had his office before him and well. Is probably just remembered as a depressing story around the hospital, to be totally honest, cuz like, there’s not a lot of follow up that tends to happen when you ask so what happened to her and the answer is well, she killed herself, y’know?

So its like, how do you not get your hopes up even just a little bit, from thinking about that......which I figure means, oops, further to fall and crash and burn if this lead fizzles out too and I got my hopes up for nothing, but if it does pan out, like....I guess that’s kinda the point of faith in a higher power in the first place, lol, to hope for better or believe that there’s a point to all this or a place this all is headed, idk.

But then also now I just fucking miss her too, like, even more than usual, and thinking the shit I’ve tried really really really goddamn hard not to think about for the past two years, like how I know she had her own mental health struggles and even physical health issues, and I know better than to fucking blame her and yet there’s that part of me that wants to fucking throw a tantrum about how i need her and how could she leave me alone with just the rest of my useless fucking joke of a family, but then there’s the other part of me that’s like well I obviously wasn’t the help she needed either, so its not like I’ve got any right to think I was owed her presence or help or anything like that, its just. Idk. I miss her. I need her. I love her, like there’s so many things I want to tell her that I never got the chance to because I didn’t just fucking take the chances I had when they were actually available and there are so many more things I wish she’d told me, and just. I knew she cared, at least. No matter how detached I felt from the rest of my family or just like...fuck family in general, lol, she was the one person there who I never doubted like...just cared. About me. Gave a shit, showed up, wanted me to actually be happy and wanted that to look like whatever I wanted it to look like, didn’t give a fuck what other people thought my happiness should look like or require.

And its just like, maybe this is just a really weird, strange, major coincidence or maybe its a sign of something or proof of something and maybe it doesn’t even matter, bc like...I was just gonna say that its not like I even NEED the answers or to know, but like lol, dumbass, the fact that I’m actually asking the questions or getting worked up over whether or not I actually believe this means something or I just WANT to believe it means something, like, would tend to suggest I’m shitting myself and I DO actually want the answers which suggests maybe I’m not actually as agnostic or at least not comfortable with being agnostic as I’ve told myself, which....oh fucking hell. Am I having an existential crisis? Is that what this is? Jfc I better not be having a fucking spiritual awakening or whatever the fuck, like that is not what I need, this is NOT the time for that, literally nobody asked and I should know, Ive been here the whole time and nope nope nope this guy is not your ‘but the real salvation came from finding strength and purpose in something greater than myself in my most dire time of need’ narrative or whatever like I FUCKING REFUSE, my belief system can go to the BACK OF THE LINE until I’m good and ready to deal with it on MY time, I didn’t sign on to do a rewrite of some modernized Book of Job shit, literally any other thought in my brain is invited to step the fuck right up because THANK YOU, NEXT, I just willingly made an Ariana Grande reference because I can think of nothing more suitably over the top dramatic short of tossing my hair which is much too short to toss but again I insist nooooooooooooooope.

Like, love you and miss you Aunt Diane, and if that is you looking out for me plz know I’m very grateful even tho it totally doesn’t sound like it, but like, you know me well enough to know that I like....object to this timing and context on principle, WHICH YES HELLO I AM AWARE SOUNDS FUCKING STUPID NOW THAT IM TYPING IT OUT YET IT PERSISTS SO LIKE WHATEVER AND STUFF....just. I am me, and thus I shall super gratefully take like....just a smidgen of hope and optimism or whatever from this offering so like, I don’t want to be RUDE, but then Im gonna put the rest of it back in its box and shove it alllll the way to the back of my Pressing Priorities and unpack all that at a very fucking much later date, thank you ever so much, because like....I gotta be me, and I have been partners in crime with my Cynicism for way too long to just bail on him now, like, what kind of person would I be if I just cut and run on the anthropomorphized negative outlook that has helped see me through life oh so jadedly until now? 

Ugh wtf, why am I like this, is it free will or is it God or is God even real or did Cthulu eat god or is God’s actual name Sonya and like I have no clue where I’m going with any of this, look the answer is obviously that a faithless blasphemous heretical fucker has phone calls to make today, and nobody’s finding the light here, nope, nope, NOOOOOPE, my motel’s one shitty lightbulb works GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME.

#what was the point of all this? #idk #do I ever know? #no #the answer to that is no #oh and also plz dont reblog #this is just me screaming into the void #but like....digitally #because the metaphorical version of the void that exists in my head stopped taking my calls #fucking rude asshole

[champiowned]

[[stats]]

my leon is canon-divergent and has established relationships with a few other muses from the same universe. [no, i don’t play exclusives.] main differences between him and canon include: he was endorsed by kabu, met rose after he became champion, never took the position of league chairman, and has since sold the battle tower.

stats:

full name: leon tarak malik [middle name is not public knowledge] official title: Himbo Twunk Supreme duplicates nickname: pecha parents: tarak [father, deceased] and laleh [mum... she’s doing her best] race: pakistani, persian gender: cis male orientation: openly gay. queer kids need good role models. age: 24 birthday | sign: dec 4 | sagittarius height: 6’ weight: ~200lbs / ~90kg build: dorito with tiddy the man works out and has good muscle mass but he’s not exactly a bodybuilder. these guns are made for hugging. voice claim: here nature | characteristic: naive | likes to fight

personality n behavior stuff:

- full of himself, but not in an “i’m better than you” way. unless you’re raihan

- ALTERNATIVELY: he does experience self doubt, pretty frequently these days, he just tends not to show it.

- hyperaware of his public image. always well behaved, positive, and poised in the public eye.

- epitome of “how do i adult.” growing up a child celebrity, pretty much everything was done for him and his life was controlled by the league and later, rose.

--- he knows how to behave in public and on TV, how to entertain crowds, etc, but has almost no interpersonal social skills and knows next to nothing about how to take care of himself. can't cook. doesn't know how to file taxes or fucking dress himself. etc etc

- he knows his weaknesses. and he’s kind of jealous of people who have their shit together.

- still largely a kid at heart. he’s optimistic to the point of being rather gullible.

--- he genuinely believes that people have good intentions and that anyone can become strong if they try. 

--- he’s also easily swayed, especially if someone is trying to convince him of the "right" thing to do. he’s a people pleaser with a heart of gold, so he’ll do the thing that sounds the most helpful!

- he’s taking his loss a lot harder than he lets on. but still acknowledges that it was one of the best things to ever happen to him. feelings are hard, man.

- in person, privately [as opposed to public appearances] he’s a little on the quiet side. comes across as an idiot often but really is just stuck in his head a lot.

--- he’s also the definition of a clown. acts dumber than he really is just to make people laugh. arceus, does he love to make people happy.

health:

- physically fit. physically fit. physically physically ph --

--- he has a weakened immune system. doesn’t really know it yet.

--- his body also heals at about half the pace it should, be it from injury, working out, etc... he has started noticing this but doesn’t understand why it’s happening.

--- he’s physically sensitive to poison types. he gets weak and sickly the longer he spends around them -- which he doesn’t usually, because he’s developing a phobia of them and tends to avoid them.

- diagnosed adhd

--- blame his lack of directional awareness on that shiny thing over there

--- ... and on his inability to tell left from right:

- diagnosed dyslexia

--- the advent of rotom phones was a godsend. speech to text is his best friend. so are audiobooks.

--- but he would rather die than read, write, or do physical paperwork.

- diagnosed depression

--- has tried to seek counseling at the request of his loved ones. tried and couldn’t go in galar, but he’s been talking to someone on call from another region.

- still mentally working out that he was manipulated by rose. doesn’t know how to feel about it. he has a lot of thoughts.

- has caffeine sensitivity. the best he can do is 1 cup of black tea a day, which is tragic, really.

important history bits:

age 7: hop was born! he’s baby!!!!!

10: gym challenge!! champion time, babey!!!!

--- he was endorsed by kabu and u can pry that out of my cold dead hands

--- also peony was the champion he dethroned

11-12: trained under mustard.

14: father died in an accident. 

--- mother fell into a deep depression. hop came to live with leon in wyndon for a few months and their (paternal) grandparents moved into postwick.

16: came out as gay in a live interview. fired his manager for being pissed about it. hasn’t had one since.

17: a certain macro cosmos president started sponsoring him.

19: said president became chairman of the league.

20: rose brought him into the energy crisis plan. 

--- with limited knowledge, leon started helping him gather wishing stars for the sake of clean energy.

22: game events!

23: post game.

current: raihan is the new champion after the protag forfeited. also leon is gay married to raihan and claude von riegan. no i do not accept criticism.

misc:

- he no likey poison types. poison Bad. no reason in particular! it’s fine!! hahahahaha!!!!

- despite being so confident, he’s easily flustered around crushes. lastbraincell.exe has stopped working

- he and sonia kissed once. and that was how they learned leon didn’t like kissing girls and sonia didn’t like kissing boys.

- had a postwick accent as a kid. spent so long in wyndon he adopted that accent. but some old dialect pokes through every so often.

- his verse’s champion is named wynne! they’re nonbinary and he loves and supports them very much!

- he’s big on charity, and not in a fake way. looking at rose. he donates money directly to those in need and regularly volunteers at or hosts things like food drives, pokemon foster care, children’s hospital visits, etc etc. he’ll buy groceries for everyone else at the store, tip 300% of his dinner bill, and help you move that couch.

- if you don’t drink your respect hop juice he will snap you over his knee.

#navi; #n; #s; #stats; #h; #headcanon; #hc;

[murdocsmacattack]

the reason im not afraid of 3x10/3x11 and the reason 3x10/3x11 needs to happen

so ,the name at the very least ,for what will ether be ep 310 or 311 has been revealed "mac+fallout+jack" and for pretty understandable and obvious reasons its left 99.9% of the fandom with a seance of foreboding especially given mac and jacks interactions resent episodes ,

however im not afraid , and, i may be giving the writers to much credit with what we've been getting and all, but last time in season 2 when i gave the writers some credit , we actually  came pretty cloes to what i was thinking , so im going out on this limb again , and i hope you'll hear me out , because were dealing with the bromance slash surrogate father relationship of jack and mac , and this area at least the writers have always gotten 99.9% right ..with ..a few hiccups here and there but you get what i mean , so what am i getting at?    

the offness were apparently ALL picking up when it comes to mac and jack..is being done on purpose.

why do i think this ? well its a bit long and briefly personal , but art imitates life and there is a point so i hope you bear with me,a little while back around 302 i did a post about the reaction of the fandome to mac leaving, coming back , and still wanting to leave again , where i basically stated the former

"i think the problem is a lot of people are looking at the situation through “mac” colored glasses so to speak like “oh macs so sweet and so strong , so clearly this isn’t him , this is childish ,his friends are going to easy on him , hes a compartmentalize mac would never do this , hes not allowed to act like this!”"

and im not saying everyone whose coming to the “macs being a dick ” conclusion is completely wrong , but i truly still stand by the believe that his actions are more of a gray area then were giving it credit for , and ill get into that and why its important in a sec but first , lets look at jack  

the thing is , after reading a lot of my fellow fans feelings and reactions and mulling over my own thoughts , i think people are seeing jack through jack colored glasses as well, see jack discovered something about himself in 301  when it comes to mac , something i just assumed everyone else saw even tho it was subtle, and its something about himself that knowing jacks character he doesn’t much care for      

in 301 it was ether riley or bozer who stated "jack didnt care where you were , as long as he knew you were happy " witch as far as there relationship has gone thus far , has been the assumed status quo between them and towards each other, but then we see jacks actions, and hear his own words when he finally comes face to face with mac after there months apart

"I was gonna hunt down and capture Walsh.Yeah, I kind of figured if I collared your old man's ex-partner, I don't know, he'd just retire.And-and then you could return to the Phoenix."

"You know, you did save my life, pal, but I could argue that I'm saving yours as well.Rescued you from a life of misery, - wasting your talents. '

" the world needs you, Mac.And you owe it to the world to work for the Phoenix."

jack goes on to tell mac his main reason along with the ones stated above was jack was doing what he always does , protecting him , but having had this short conversation and hearing his thoughts out loud AND judging from jakcs reaction to mac coming to find him at the airstrip in the next episode , jack realized somethings after having time to mull over his own words

1 that mac being happy , alone, isn't enough

like riley said ,jack knew mac was relatively happy, he had his first steady girlfriend that hasn't tried to kill him , and tho not in any war zones , was still using his gifts to help people , he was healing and happy to the point he was considering not coming back , and i honesty don't believe this was an easy choice or taken lightly on macs part, whose the type of person who wont leave a house he loves despite the fact its literally unsafe, mac had to be happy in a real kinda way to come to this decision , and jack must have known that

but jack still cant fully accept that , hed rather have mac happy AND be with him , then only the former , jack assumes mac is "living a life of misery " because jack is miserable without him , and in that dialog jack admits this to mac and himself out loud for what is probably the first time  

this revelation is so hard on jack , because knowing jack he no doubt thinks this is very wrong of him to feel , jack views riles and mac as his children , but because he hasn't had biological kids of his own for a long and continues amount of time , jack doesn’t understand that theses feeling of a parent in relation to there child are completely normal ,every parent struggles with the balancing act of wanting there child to be happy , and also wanting the child they've raised to be near them

in jakcs mind hes come to the unwanted conclusion that when it comes to mac , he can be greedy and even a little selfish , even if that isn't entirely true and even if mac himslef may not actually feel that way , its how jack is seeing himself now and its put him on edge in concerns to mac

2 jack thinks macs dads physical presence is the only problem

jack and his own father had a completely different relationship in comparison to mac and his dad , but its influencing a lot of jakcs actions , jakcs convinced if big mac is out the building mac will have no problem walking back in , but that's not the real issue ,witch brings us to mac himself and the main problem when it comes to him and his relation to the people around him ,witch is ?

mac is emotionally distancing himself..because his emotions are being disregarded .

macs life was truly torn apart last season after what his father did, hes left  feeling the crushing weight of looking at any and i mean any aspect of his life , and feeling like it doesn’t belong to him ,most likely to the point were doing anything that reminds him of those feelings may even be physically painful , no really , i want you all to imagine building something real that you thought was amazing for years and then having someone tell you “no you didnt do any of that , none of that’s real , you’d have nothing without me ”

god guys its..skin crawling ,and mac was crawling in his own to the point he felt he had to leave the continent to get away from it,of cores macs not acting like who he is , he suddenly has to question every aspect of what that is, mac was faced with a real identity crisis ,and i know for people who haven’t run this kinda race that’s a hard thing to understand , to understand having such a great support system to fall back on ,and not being able to reach out to it , but its a real thing ,and its actually a pretty accurate picture of someone not being able to see past it when there in that much pain , because that’s what this is its pain ,and quite frankly macs handling it better then i did      

i did what mac did to the people around me ,only i didnt have to leave my room to do it, but i was given that space and all the time i needed  to mentally and emotionally heal, the problem is, mac wasn't, not really , mac thought hed found a woman and a purpose, and that was it, hes good , but that's not who mental health works , and it really doesn’t help , that macs kind of the martyr of the group , thanks to his dad mac was pretty much a parentified child from the time he was 10 hes been putting everyone else’s feelings and well-being before himslef for a looong time

and because that was his default setting within the group , it became a shock when mac did something drastic for his own good that put himself first , and weather we or the characters like it or not , that distance was needed, and the slow healing that was happening was cut short, and then he comes back and jack tells him in his own words that he wants him with him to the point of putting him self in harms way , because he knows mac will turn around and put himslef last to save him ,and mac doesn't know what emotionally to do with this , because macs not used to being so wanted , but hes still not healed and being around his father is still hard so he goes to leave again , but then murdoc happens  and mac puts himslef to the back again because someone died , witch brings us to the big point of why "mac+fallout+jack" needs to happen

mac and jack still arn’t right with themselves..and there not talking about it 

mac tries , weakly , at the end of 302 , but jack cuts it down and says there fine , and mac in turn says the same , becaues both of them don't want to acknowledge that something no matter how tiny between them has fractured , but this moment where they both chose not to talk is what sets the tone going forward , jack doesn't let himslef be as close to or open with mac as he was before , and macs feelings, especially when it comes to his father , continue to be pushed aside or misinterpreted ,so mac emotionally distances himslef from everyone and everything and says nothing ,and why would he , mac put his own feeling first , for the first time ..and it was met with a very negative reaction

but they need to have this conversation , and the only thing that may very well bring that about at this point with them playing pretend ,is that mac needs to have an emotional blow up ,hes been pushing all this shit down from all sides and its really been fucking with him , its been a long time coming and there needs to be screaming and crying and yelling , and it may be painful to watch and painful to hear , they may not talk for a day or 2 , but this needs to happen , they need to lay it all out and get themselves right so they can be right together  

mac and jack have both been disillusioned with there seance of self , even if the things they now believe about themselves arnt exactly true , its made them loose the equilibrium within there relationship that has been there constant , their off ,and they need to find each other again.

#MacGyver #macgyver 2016 #jack dalton

[scaredbisexual]

Pure Art| Reddie fic

Photographer!Eddie and Artsy!Richie

READ ON AO3 CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX

Summary: “...And in that moment, the exact moment the duo finished their cigarettes and started walking away, Eddie wished he had taken his camera with him. The boy would make such a perfect model, his angular face and the patterns he was covered in (oh the patterns!). He was sitting there and looking at the awfully dressed boy leaving the park, crossing the street while laughing and that’s when it hit him.  

“Fuck,” Eddie muttered and frantically jumped to his feet…”

Word Count: 3076

Warnings: Cursing

Beta-read and corrected by awesome @fuckboykaspbrak love ya hon, you’re the best

Chapter One

At this point Eddie couldn't do much to dodge getting kicked out from college. He was officially fucked and nothing could change that. It was the last day to do something and he didn’t have a single picture for his portfolio that he had to turn in before midnight. It's not like he didn't try, not at all- he had actually spent the last month working really hard, driving to different places that had their place on "The Most Beautiful Places Near You" list on Buzzfeed but all of the photos were dull, plain, not photography-master worthy. He even went as far as attending special classes with models and all that- nothing.  

He was stuck in the worst way possible, his camera was laying on the bedside table, laughing at him because he couldn't even do the thing he was supposed to be the best at- that's how useless he was. His mind was blank like a sheet of paper, not one idea how to rescue himself from this situation appeared so he decided to just give up. After all, what exactly could he do? Take some shitty pictures and put them into his portfolio? Into the thing he was the most passionate about and cared so much that it wasn't even started, because he was so afraid of fucking it up? I don't think so.

It was Tuesday and he woke up later than usual, heavy feeling in his chest and head swarming with doubt and anger at himself that he had no idea what to do with. It wasn't normal for him, he was always the most organized person in the group, his homework was always the first to be turned it, he just hated being late or last. But now? He felt like a completely different person, his vision blurring from unshed tears as he sat in the middle of his makeshift bed. He hated feeling so useless and powerless.

That's why he decided to channel all this bad energy into something and went out for a long, exhaustingly fast run. He put on some shorts and a hoodie, not sure if the weather was warm enough for him to run in a t-shirt and went out. He was running and running, his feet burning and chest heaving with desperate breaths until he couldn't think of anything else than not collapsing. It was brutal but it was the only way to take his mind off college, off photography, off life that has been treating him like a piece of shit for the last few months.  

First, his boyfriend of two years broke up with him, then his mother decided to show up out of nowhere and bug him for almost three weeks and now he was going to fail his classes for the first time in forever. Because of all of this his mental health was on a really low level and running was the only thing keeping him sane.  

Back when he was younger and still living with his mom, he would sneak out of his room through the window at really early hours and go for a run. Sonia wasn't really supporting of her precious son participating in any sports, she was always worried sick about him getting injured or catching a cold- that's why he had to keep it a secret. It wasn't only a sport back then and now too, running was like breathing to him.  

After an hour he finally stopped in the middle of some park, not really knowing where he was. He was there almost alone, given everyone was either working or in school. The birds were chirping happily, warm wind blew straight into his face and sun was making him sweat. It truly was a beautiful day to go through an emotional crisis.  

Eddie decided to spend some time there. He sat down on one of the benches and started looking around, observing the few people wandering around. There was a pregnant woman walking her dog that Eddie found incredibly adorable (it was a Golden Retriever, his favorite breed), few feet away a girl was reading some book and then there was a couple of teenagers, or maybe young adults, sitting on a bench in skate park and smoking cigarettes.  

The latter caught Eddie's eye for a little longer. One of them was a cute, redheaded girl with short hair and a lot of freckles all over her body. She was wearing black shorts and some t-shirt and looked totally normal compared to her friend.  

The friend was a boy, a really tall and lanky one with dark, curly hair that was messily pulled into a bun at the top of his head, it made his ears stick out a little and already sharp jawline and cheekbones stand out even more. He was wearing a baby blue shirt with a print of Hawaiian flowers, a lot of necklaces decorating the expanse of his chest that was uncovered by the shirt (it had first three buttons undone and Eddie felt his heart race and he wasn't so sure if running was the cause). The better half of his legs were uncovered by black shorts he was wearing, his skin was sun kissed and bruised with all kinds of scratches here and there. He had some colorful band aids covering bigger injuries, but the boy was sitting too far away and Eddie couldn't tell what was on them. He had Vans sneakers on and the most ridiculous, colorful socks Eddie had ever seen. The most hipster thing about him was, however, his colorful tattoos covering his calves and arms, giving him a look of a total disaster, collage of different patterns and colors.  

Eddie was truly taken aback. He was just awestruck, the boy before him was truly a piece of art, Eddie felt almost as if he was looking at some kind of unrealistic painting, he couldn't quite understand if he was appealed by what he saw or maybe shocked (or a mixture of both?). It was the weirdest feeling, all the things he felt when he looked at him, his heart clenching and eyes watering, it was just something else.  

And in that moment, the exact moment the duo finished their cigarettes and started walking away, Eddie wished he had taken his camera with him. The boy would make such a perfect model, his angular face and the patterns he was covered in (oh the patterns!). He was sitting there and looking at the awfully dressed boy leaving the park, crossing the street while laughing and that's when it hit him.  

"Fuck," Eddie muttered and frantically jumped to his feet, running as fast as his exhausted body let him. He knew what he had to do, that if he wanted to be a photographer he had to do crazy things, get out of his comfort zone. But this? It was total madness, he had never seen this person before and he was going to ask him to what, model for him? Changing all the plans he had for the day because Eddie found him so fucking fascinating?  

He was behind the couple in a flash, his feet carrying him at a light speed towards his newfound muse. He crossed the street while still running, not even stopping to check if any car was going his way. There were some curses thrown his way and cars stopping abruptly but he couldn't care less.

"Wait!" he screamed desperately. The couple stopped, not exactly sure who the voice was calling, and turned around. They looked taken aback, redhead stared at the boy in confusion, her hand slowly reaching inside her handbag. She probably though Eddie was some kind of psycho, but who wouldn't? His hoodie had big sweat spots all over it, his face was red like a tomato, hands shaking and eyes scanning them both in a nervous manner. But then there was The Boy that cocked his head a bit and bit his lip, looking at Eddie with a glint in his eyes.

"Yes?" the girl asked, her voice was unsure but stern, body language telling Eddie that she was ready to kick his ass if it was necessary.  

"I, hi. I'm Eddie," he said, still trying to catch his breath and compose himself as much as possible. Redhead raised one of her eyebrows. "Okay, I know it is going to sound insane, but. I'm a photography student, my portfolio is as empty as Satan's heart even though I have to turn it in by midnight and you inspired me," he rushed it all out on one breath while looking at the boy that was still shamelessly checking him out. Eddie felt a crimson blush creep onto his cheeks and stepped nervously from one foot on the other. His fingers were playing with the hem of his shorts.  

"Um, wow, that's...that's nice. We inspired you? How?" the girl spoke again and embarrassment washed over Eddie once more. She tipped her head and sent him encouraging smile that made Eddie a bit more at ease. It was truly strange, he didn't even know her and yet, he felt some peculiar connection. It was like a string attached to both of them that was pulled at, somehow making him feel at home, believing in friendly intentions of her.  

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck, making the hem of his hoodie lift, and exposing a bit of his tanned stomach. He didn't miss the way the curly haired boy glanced at it in a way that made Eddie's cheeks heat up. In his life he had dealt with a good number of fuckboys, so he eventually learned not to be affected by their actions- but this particular boy was different. He had the nerve to make Eddie uncomfortable and it was truly infuriating.  

"Well, not exactly both of you, just him" Eddie answered honestly and pulled his lips into a thin line while the tall boy grinned like a madman. This action only made Eddie's blood boil so he quickly added. "It's your style, or the lack of it- "the girl snorted and elbowed her friend while Eddie was still talking. "-There is something in all the shapes you are wearing and the colors that shouldn't work together, but they somehow do. It's just fascinating, it inspired me, yeah." Eddie stopped talking for a moment to take a deep breath and analyze this ridiculous situation in his head. "And I wanted to ask, would you maybe like to model for me? Just for today, please."

Eddie felt another dose of shame making its way onto his face and neck when he finished talking and looked the boy straight into eyes. His eyes, oh god. Eddie felt even more emotions swim through him while watching little sprinkles dance in them.

He normally didn't stutter, nor feel nervous while talking to boys. He hated what was happening to him and mentally punched himself, trying to gather himself.  

"Oh I dunno, Eds," the boy said and oh wow, he hated him even more. Eddie felt like a schoolgirl, all giddy and fascinated by a boy and his eyes, his voice, his clothes, his everything but then there was a burning desire in the pit of his stomach to beat the shit out of him. "You insulted me pretty bad, you know? I'm not sure if I can give you that much of my precious time."

"Oh, don't be a dick Richard." the girl sighed and rolled her eyes. Now that she wasn't afraid of Eddie stabbing her, she looked so much younger. Her eyes were happy and full of laughter, and mouth quirked into a sly smile. "Your only plan for today was to go thrift shopping. Help him out, maybe your ugly mug could for once save someone, not kill them."

Eddie couldn't help but let out a gasp of laughter at her words. The girl smiled his way and elbowed Richard once more. The boy, on the other hand, was trying not to give away the amused laugh that sat at the back of his throat.  

"You are hurting me, Bev-" he grasped his shirt where his heart was and gasped theatrically while leaning on her shoulder. She just shrugged and took a step left to get rid of him. Richard pouted at her but then eventually smiled and placed a wet kiss on her cheek. Eddie raised his eyebrow. "-But yeah, I guess I could postpone my shopping spree."

That's how Eddie ended up unlocking his flat with a weird looking guy hot on his heels. Richie, as he asked Eddie to call him, talked all their way there and it was somehow amusing but also frustrating and the shorter boy felt like ripping out his vocal chords. He was starting to regret his stupid decision to chase the boy, but then he remembered how much he needed it and decided to bite his tongue.

"That's me," Eddie said when he finally opened the door and gestured for Richie to come inside first.

"Oh whaaat?" the boy whined while looking around and spinning on his heels. Eddie raised his eyebrows in confusion and closed the door behind him.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, anxiety already creeping on him. He started picking on his nails but quickly stopped, scolding himself mentally. It was a nervous habit he had picked up from one of his friends.

"It's just so clean. You're like, what, twenty-five?" he talked while walking around the small living room/ bedroom space, picking up different pictures in frames and crunching down to inspect all the trumpery Eddie had collected through years. He didn't really wait for Eddie's response, just continued babbling. "I mean, you should see my flat, it's a disaster," he chuckled to himself.  

Eddie didn't really know what to do with himself while Richie rummaged through his belongings. He turned his head to the left and spotted a camera laying in the middle of his desk, abandoned in last day's rage caused by lack of good material. Nerve endings in his fingers started to tingle a bit when he took a quick glance at the boy that was now talking about all the CD's he owned. Eddie took two big steps, grabbed the camera and quietly, to not startle the boy, came closer, turning the camera on and readying himself to take the first one of many shots this day.  

Richie was sitting on the floor, his long, hairy, tattooed legs crossed at his ankles. His body was crunched over Eddie's stash of CD's, in hands he held Whitney Houston's single "I wanna dance with somebody", his eyes were focused on black letters at the back of it and mouth spread into a relaxed smile. Eddie didn't think twice and snapped a few pictures before Richie, confused by silence in the room, turned around and looked straight into the camera. His mouth opened, showing off his big teeth, and a slight blush bloomed on his cheeks.  

"Oh, you sneaky fucker! I thought we came here for you to change, not take pictures without my consent!" he shrieked while clumsily standing up (Eddie took pictures of it too). Eddie just laughed and put the camera back where it was before.  

"Yeah, yeah, sorry. Give me like, five minutes and I'll be back."

Eddie crossed the room to get to his wardrobe, took out his favorite mom jeans, black t-shirt, matching jean jacket and fresh pair of underwear. He then went to the bathroom, took a brisk shower and changed. He tried to do it as fast as possible, given that it was already 11 a.m. what gave him exactly 13 hours to turn in his portfolio. No biggie.  

He emerged out of the bathroom to run straight into Richie that was standing with his camera, looking through the photos Eddie had taken. When he heard doors opening he looked up and smiled wickedly but the smile was washed off his face the minute he saw Eddie. He blinked a couple times and coughed, trying to compose himself.  

You see, Richie wasn't exactly fond of his own face and body. His pretentious style was just a way to make people look at it rather than at his lanky form or weird teeth. Since he was little everyone had been making fun of him, so he learned how to brush if off and don't care about his looks. It all changed when he came to New York and suddenly sorority girls decided that he was hot. They liked his band t-shirts, his curly hair and his face. But to Richie it all seemed like a crude joke, he was so used to people being awful and making fun of him, that he didn't believe any compliments.  

That's why he stayed in the shadow of his colorful clothes and tattoos, hiding behind a mask of cocky bastard that is so full of himself he rejects every girl that tried to talk to him. And well, he was also a bit more into boys anyway. He liked boobs, of course he did, who didn't? But then he also liked firm muscles and stubble burning him while kissing. He was bi as fuck and proud.  

But his issues with appearance were a bit too much to handle sometimes, so he still didn't want to pursue any relationship, sticking to his friends. And then Eddie happened. He thought that Richie was fascinating and inspiring and honestly? Richie wasn't sure why he decided not to date anyone. From the minute he laid his eyes on Eddie's small, but strong, form he knew that he was something else. And then, then he asked him to model for him and Richie jumped head first into it, not thinking twice. He was sure that it would work out just fine, he would pose like he saw guys in magazines do and it would be good.

And all at once Eddie started taking pictures of him just existing, living, and it made the anxiety come back. Richie felt himself closing a bit with every passing minute and he was so fucking mad at himself. That's why he decided to check the photos Eddie took, but he didn't really get to see them because Eddie already emerged out of bathroom and looked so, so cute that Richie couldn't help but stare.  

"Let’s go," Eddie mumbled and stormed past Richie.

OH GOD GUYS!

I hope you like it guys, it’s my first attempt at writing a longer fic and holy motherfucker, it is exhausting! Anyway, next part coming soon!

tags: @trippy-alexissss 

#richie tozier #eddie and richie #richie and eddie #richie trashmouth tozier #richie tozier fanfic #richie tozier fanfiction #eddie kaspbrak #eddie spaghetti #eddie kaspbrak smut #richie tozier smut #eddie kaspbrak fanfiction #eddie kaspbrak fic #reddie #reddie fic #reddie fluff #reddie smut #smut #fluff #reddie fanfiction #it #it 2017 #it 2019 #it fic #the losers club #losers club #beverly marsh #stan uris #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #bill denbrough

[enby-hawke]

bitching about the coworker who made me come into work on my day off pushing me into overtime which is nice cause I need the hours but bitch I’m tired  also a sprinkle of existential crisis of the state of the world because yeah 

I was looking forward to getting a weekend but my coworker, let’s call her Mara, decided to quit today and so goodbye Saturday. Kind of pissed but not surprised. She seemed nice at first but then turned out to be a lot of drama. She was talking shit about my pregnant co-worker, Sasha, and tried to turn all the staff against her for whatever reason by saying that Sasha was talking shit about everyone. It ended up being a huge mess that ended up backfiring on Mara and she was giving everyone attitude. Like she’s only 18, so I’m not surprised she’s that immature but I am so tired of highschool shenanigans. 

Maybe she’ll grow out of it but she made it very apparent to everyone that she didn’t need the job. She was hired to work weekends and then proceeded to request every weekend off claiming she needed it for school and then would tell everyone about all the crazy parties she had, and it’s like ???? Did she think we don’t see through that?  When she was confronted about that fact she somehow opened up her schedule on Saturdays only. She also invited most of the girls at work to her birthday party and then proceeded to tell them about all the expensive drugs and alcohol she was going to have and I’m like ???? Are you trying to get fired?? I’m kind of glad that I don’t have to deal with it anymore but I’m bummed that she turned out like she did. (not that I have a thing against partying and drugs in general I’m just wondering how she didn’t think this through)

I mean the girls at my work are really chill. Some of them know I smoke pot. Most of them know I have a wife. Only one knows that I’m enby and I might come out to the rest of them but I really don’t want to deal with it if someone has a problem with it. I’d rather them think I’m reserved and quiet which I am, but I just don’t know how much I can trust them with like the more painful parts of myself. I mean I keep telling myself I have no obligation to tell anyone anything I don’t really want to. It’s not like I’m lying. I don’t know why I feel the need to compulsively tell people about how fucked I am and in a way I kind of like them not knowing. They think I’m this really put together person and for the few moments I’m with them I get to be. 

Anyways my to do list for tomorrow was to go through ballot ready and fill out my wife and mine mail in ballots so we have that out of the way. My sister is getting married in Vegas in December so I need to make sure that is all squared away. There’s still my Nano novel that I’m slightly freaked out about because I’m having waves of self-doubt and like “Can I actually fucking do this or do I like just thinking about my fanfiction idea” and “the world is literally falling apart think about something else that’s actually important for awhile.” And I’m really need to guard my mental health so I don’t end up in the mental hospital again. The one where I live in sucks. I went to a really good one the first time I was put in a hospital at Fremont. Had all these programs and people that were like me that helped but the one where I live is just a prison with pills and mildew and blank white walls that make you think you’re going mad so everyone tries to look as sane as they can to get out of there as soon as possible. Not that people weren’t trying to get out of Fremont. There was a woman there who lost her home and her job from getting locked up and they wouldn’t let her go because she couldn’t bring herself to eat. She would cry every day saying that they might as well keep her in there forever because she had nothing to go back to. One psychotic break was all it took to have everything taken from her.

I think about her a lot. She would sometimes watch me draw and I kick myself for not talking to her more. I drew her something. I don’t even remember what it was because the month that I kind of blocked most of the experience out like I do to most things that are unpleasant for me. She ended up giving it away to someone else.

Also had a talk with my mother in law last night about how Trump saying he is a nationalist doesn’t necessarily mean he fucking meant he was saying he was nazi and I was proud of myself for shutting down the conversation before I got too triggered. We’ve argued about these things before and she so much of the time just fucking misses the a point.

I say, “Trump says he’s a nationalist. We’re fucked.”

She looks up the exact definition of a nationalist and then proceeds to argue that not all nationalists are nazis and I’m like why the fuck are you standing up for nationalists? She’s so fucking white sometimes it hurts.

I try not to panic about the election. I hope people will vote. Please do if you’re in America and reading this. But it’s so hard to not be hopeless. Everything’s fucked and I’m terrified about how many people are dying and how many people are apathetic about it. Or maybe they are like me too numb to care anymore. I can’t afford to go numb but sometimes I just do. My creativity that I used to have feels like sewage sludge, just stagnant and unmoving. I don’t know what I can do to unblock except thought purging like I do. But then when I do think about it I start to spiral and think I might end up in the mental hospital again. But I’m lucky. I have a good support system. I’m not about to be a homeless. I have a job. I have a wife that loves me. I have friends that I don’t really talk to but care for some odd reason that I’ll never understand but there’s that. I’m talking to my sisters again.The voices of self hatred are not too loud.

 Fuck I spent all this time journaling before work when I meant to get some outlining of my novel done. This might become a pattern but I guess getting this out somewhere is healthy. Anyways if you’re still putting up with my shit I’m grateful. Hopefully everyone is having a good day and I hope I get more finished on my fanfic soon.

#personal #not for reblogging

[crispturquoisewater]

Another day, another battle...

I constantly find myself astounded at the gaslighting that goes on from the doctors at my surgery. It’s absolutely shocking, and has recently brought to my mind the podcast ‘Dr Death’. When listening to this podcast, as a naive listener, you think ‘how could this guy possibly get away with this for so long?!’ But it’s simple really, doctors stick together and belittle patients. So, any complaint that is raised is dissolved or made to be the patient’s ‘mosunderstanding’ and is flung carelessly into the ether.

Yesterday, I called the surgery and spoke to one of the new doctors. I had to request repeat blood test (which were already requested on the letter from hospital for the surgery to carry out but of course that doesn’t happen without having to make an appointment). I mentioned that at the weekend, whilst bleeding profusely and in agonising pain in my kidneys, I didn’t know what to do. I received no answer or advice. I said that I’m waiting for a referral for nephrology, but that doctor X had refused to make the referral because he said that it wasn’t his job and that he wanted to make a point that the hospital could not “workload shift”. Immediately, this new doctor jumped in and “explained” (like I’m fucking incompetent) what doctor X meant by his comments, and that actually he was saying that it was quicker for the referral to be done in-house and that it would be easier for me if it was done this way (queue internal scream of utter fucking frustration!).

Firstly, do not patronise me. I am a grown women who, despite everything I am going through, is perfectly competent and reasonable - unlike like the doctors at my practice. Secondly, how unfathomable that a doctor that was not a part of the conversation thinks she has any right to tell me what was actually said(?! Arghhhh!!).

As much as I was infuriated by her blatant attempt to manipulate and dismiss what doctor X had so clearly said (I still find it astonishing that a doctor would try and tell someone else what happened in a conversation that they were not present in - she didn’t even say, ‘I think what he meant was’... just flat out gaslighted me. Nope, no denying it, he called the hospital lazy, was furious that they hadn’t done their job, and was perfectly happy to see his patient suffer in pain, rather than make the referral, in order to prove a point, because they “had to learn”. Narcissism at its finest), I still kept my cool and was polite and explained that he was clear in what he so emphatically and angrily stated. What I wanted to say was, how the hell do you think you know what was said or meant? But I didn’t. She then went on to try and patronise me further by explaining how the system works. I’m very clear on how the system works. For a period of time - not so long ago - I worked in an area of the NHS. I know perfectly well how the system works, but it incredibly concerning that they do not. However, brilliant to know that they are ignoring patients’ requests, and filling their responses with a load of infantile lies.

It may seem like nothing important, but this constant belittling is having a massive affect on my self-worth and self-belief. I try not to let their gaslighting affect me, but it does. Massively. As I am sure is the point. After all, if you continue to feel worthless or lacking in self-confidence, you will stop pushing for the treatment you deserve.

After we’d moved on from that, I asked to be referred to physiotherapy. I’ve got osteoarthritis, and due to severe bone pain and joint swelling, I can barely walk anymore - even around my apartment - and I desperately need someone to look at me, and help me. For a normal surgery, this should be simple. You have a physical problem including joint pain and muscle weakness, you get referred to physio. The fact that I cannot walk properly, and barely at all anymore due to the pain in my feet being so severe, is not normal. I have been reporting worsening bone pain and swollen joints for six months.

At the end of December I insisted on actually being seen in practice because the pain in my lower back and legs was so severe (they still weren’t seeing anyone due to covid). The doctor openly mocked me, asked me no questions about how long id had the pain (even though I’d reported it multiple times), told me that she “does yoga”, like I was lazy and not helping myself (I’d actually started physio of my own from watching videos to try and help myself), and told me that MRIs were SOLELY used if a patient was considering neurosurgery and not for any other reason (🥴 I’d asked for an MRI because the pain in my spine and hips were so bad and had been progressing for four months. I was at the point of not being able to sleep or stand for long properly). Actually (as well as arthritis), what that SEVERE pain turned out to be, was adrenal crisis. My cortisol levels was so low that it was (as the A&E doctor put it), barely existent. And all the symptoms I was reporting were clearly it.

I don’t mind a doctor not knowing something - they clearly are not trained in everything - but please do not mock me or make me out to be a hypochondriac without even looking into it or trying to find out. I came away from that appointment distraught at being belittled, again. Oddly, when I found out that I had adrenal insufficiency, I actually felt vindicated, because I think their attitude towards actually made had started to make me doubt myself.

I truly feel for people who present with traumatic symptoms of mental illness. My symptoms are physical. My bloods are showing issues. Im pissing blood. I’m unable to walk properly or without pain, and yet I am STILL being treated as though I am making the seriousness of this up. I can only imagine how harrowing it must be when there is nothing physical to show. And my heart goes out to you. I’ve spoken to friends who have been mocked or belittled by doctors over their mental health. Im so sorry they do this to you, and us. They are definitely in the wrong profession. The one they must switch to is the Narcissistic House of Disbelief.

Anyhoo, I digress.

So, what should have been a simple request for referral, turned into another battle. The doctor will not refer me until she gets my latest bloods back. And then she will decide if she deems it worthy of me to see a physio. I am in so much pain I can’t describe. How is it that our health is at the mercy of these people?

So, now, almost totally unable to walk because any pressure on my feet is so agonising, and my knees are ankles are so swollen (I’m vegan and eat a healthy diet, this is not excess salt or fats), I am left, yet again, in pain and without a referral.

It’s utterly exasperating. Totally and utterly exasperating, and draining, and mentally, emotionally and physically horrendous, which counteracts my ability to get better, because I end up facing a constant stress from the people that are supposed to help. And stress makes the symptoms worse.

Yesterday, after this agonising call with the doctor, after which I thanked her for her time (despite feeling despair inside - no need for me to be rude, even though the anxiety of each call with that surgery knaws like a ball inside my gut), I had to call the hospital to see if the referral had been made their end (it hasn’t - they simply sent the same letter back to surgery), had to call a different part of the hospital to see if the bloods had been put on the system and then call the blood department to make the booking. That was aside from five other phone calls chasing things. Being ill is a full-time job. And not made easier by doctors with inflated egos who believe they are untouchable.

If you haven’t listened to Dr Death, listen to it. It’s very easy in this situation to believe that this is only happening to you. But it isn’t. My surgery has a 2 star rating. That is testament to the fact that this is not just happening to me. But who will change it? No one, likely. Because complaints are buried. Patients are ignored. And you’re made out to be a complete crazy who somehow, and for reason, wants to be sick.

And why don’t I change? Because my illness is complex, and I don’t have the strength to start again. Also, I don’t believe that any other surgery will be any better. If it’s anything more than a cough and cold, they don’t want to know. Actual doctoring rarely goes on.

I want to finish this blog with a praise to doctors in A&E. because my surgery refuse to look at issues or pay attention to serious problems, it forces patients to go to A&E - because they’re not overstretched and exhausted enough already. Due to having a reaction to my new medication, I ended up there two weeks ago. And the doctors and team were fantastic. I was there seven hours, but I never, ever moan about the wait. These people are inundated with cases. And the reason it took so long is because I had to wait to see a specialist medical team once my bloods had come back. But, throughout, I was treated with respect and dignity, and left feeling assured that I was okay.

Respect and dignity should be a given, however, unfortunately, so often it is not. I do believe some doctors that have been practising for a long time believe themselves to be untouchable, and that is a dangerous precedent to set. But unfortunately, I believe it is one that rings true far often than anyone would like to admit.

Maybe if I was a man, and spoke to them with rage, I would receive a different result. It’s amazing how respect is expected one way, and not the other.

Is the NHS sexist? I think so...

[pinupgalore-lanadelrey]

So "for... and for..." is "for Amy and for Whitney" oh wow. I never expected that, kinda gives a whole new meaning to Get Free.

I mean i had a feeling that her “birds of paradise” were about Amy, Kurt, Whitney but I love that she shared that with us.. it really gives me goosebumps.. because she really was struggling and felt so akin to them and she did wish she was dead.. Lana was living in her own dark world in her head.. and beautiful and amazing music came from it but she suffered so much.  and now she’s really trying to bring hope and that just.. really solidifies it for me that Get Free is the most important track on Lust For Life.  

“I wanted to summarize my whole experience over the last six years; and then I realized, I don’t want to reveal everything.” Once the initial version was “out of my system”, she says, the recording was “deleted completely then started from scratch”. The lyrics became vaguer and more hopeful. “I think it would have been hard for me to do interviews if I’d said a couple of particular things that I was thinking of,” she says of the original.

You told us a few years ago that you spend “a lot of time in (your) head”. Is that still the case?“I have opened up to others. But most of the time, I still have that inner dialogue with myself. However, I feel less apart, less different than the others nowadays. I have the impression that I have finally connected to the world. It’s comforting. I have analyzed my life since I was a teenager, with enough detachment.”

“I think I was feeling happy that I was present, and not afraid in a way that I couldn’t enjoy my everyday things.Maybe I’ve just had time to think about everything, process everything.”  “All the tough things that I have been through – that I’ve drawn upon [in my work] – don’t exist for me anymore. Not all my romantic relationships were bad, but some of them challenged me in a way that I didn’t want to be challenged and I am happy I don’t have to do that now.”

“Through the last four records, I got out a lot of those stories and a lot of those feelings, and for the first time, I’ve caught myself up to real time. And now, I’m at this place where I feel like I’m really present whereas before I was a little bit in my own head. That brings on that lust for life feeling — when you don’t have all of those feelings about the past weighing you down.”

“I’m more settled in reality. I go out, I blend more with the others. After having been too intellectual, too existentialist.” - 2017

“I’ve had despair and grief in my life. In the past four years journalists have always asked me about death, icons and my persona. My own depressions and experiences have gotten miscommunicated as this need to be dark. Actually it’s not my preferred way of being. I love when things go really well. Anyone who knows me knows this.” 

“I did not foresee the amount of chaos and confusion there would be when I became well known.” “I was, you know, a mess. I totally wanted to kill myself every day.” “Three years after my debut album, I’m still suffering from self-doubt and depression.” 

“For a long time I was lodged in my head, wondering how things were gonna turn out, if things were going to be hard forever. And on a philosophical level, I was consumed with the idea that … what happens? Why are we here, What happens to us after we die? I did have a darker filter on sometimes, but that slowly lifted through doing a lot of different things.”

“Einstein said ‘your imagination is more important than intelligence,’ and I have a very, very big imagination.”“Basically, apart from the intricacies of my imagination and my mind there is nothing left of me, nothing personal.”“I found it hard to make friends in school, because I was a cerebral person.” “Since I started, my music has been described as “Lynchian”. It seems we both have dark hearts.” “It’s [writing] a form of escapism for me in some ways, now that I don’t go out much.”“I’m interested in the gorgeous side of life, but also familiar with the dark side too.” “At school, teachers quickly understood. I was free, they let me learn by myself, in my rhythm. I’ve always lived like this, in my head, asking me questions without answers. And I was afraid: of making music, of not achieving my goals.”

“Sometimes I do feel like I wish I was dead. I’ve been through a lot. And yes, sometimes I feel like I fucking wish I was dead. But The Guardian made it sound like I was obsessed with dying because it’s glamorous. Me being depressed sometimes has nothing to do with other people wanting to kill themselves.”

“This passion for words I own to my best friend Gene, my English teacher at the time. He showed me, when I was 15, the books by Jack Kerouac, Allan Ginsberg… Suddenly I no longer felt lonely, lost in my dreams. I finally knew that there were people like me, a bit weird, out of it. I really was saved by the beat poets. They opened a huge window for me, reassuring my mental health. In Lake Placid, there weren’t many people who shared my universe, so the books became my close friends.” 

“It changed my world, which was a really solitary world. I didn’t have a connection to anyone in class and when I found these writers, I knew they were my people.”    

“There’s nothing wrong being a dreamer, because I think that dreams are as important as reality.”“I don’t have the luxury of reveling in my sadness. It doesn’t usually do me any good.”

“I live in my obsessions and then the music comes from there. Living that way and writing from that place doesn’t make for a “color in the lines” mold. And yet, the songs and the videos and the image go together well because they all come from the same place. So, maybe I’m not deliberate about the packaging, but I am deliberate at trying to do things that I adore.”

“It was like an outlet. I needed to purge myself of my dark ideas. The result was wonderful.” - Lana on AKA Lizzy Grant

“Even before things got bigger, I hadn’t met that many guys who understood or who were as passionate about the grunge era, or cult bands, cult movies, as I was. For me, it was a lifestyle and a way of life. Living off the grid was important to me, not having much to do with people I didn’t feel I had a lot in common with. He was exactly like that. He lived and made music in his own room for like, 10 years, and I totally related to that.”

“I thought my tastes and likes were pretty normal, but then I met everyone and I was like, “These people don’t actually care about music and art. They want to be cool.” I never met anyone who cared about music as deeply as me and my boyfriend, or who really cared about poetry—who really lived it and breathed it. I haven’t met anyone so far.” 

“The last one – before the boyfriend I’m with now – was pretty bad. It wasn’t good to be in it, but it wasn’t good to be out of it, either. He was like a twin. Not a facsimile twin, but a real twin.” “He is definitely a poet. I didn’t really know what being a poet meant until I met him. He has changed me in ways that I didn’t expect. On the one hand I have everything I’ve dreamed of in terms of a soul connection, it’s almost telepathic. But I would be lying if I said it wasn’t difficult. He is a much darker character than most people I’ve ever met.”

“I’m too focused to let myself go, I’m afraid of mistakes, so I control everything. When I see images of Jeff Buckley, this extraordinary freedom, I tell myself that he really incarnates music. I don’t. I don’t let myself evade. Music was his life. I constantly think about him.” 

“There’s a huge universe in my mind I usually go to find shelter in. I may not be that lucky in my everyday life, but as far as my work is concerned – I’m blessed.”

“I love when I have those rare moments where I just turn off and don’t worry about anything““I’m an independent operator. It’s just fucking different. I never wanted to lead a normal life.”“I have a more alternative way of thinking.”

Have you ever been the “voice of reason” for a friend in crisis?“I have – I can be. It’s easier to do that sometimes … for someone who’s half-checked out.”

Meaning you. Yes. (Pauses.)

“I believe in Amy Winehouse. I know she’s not with us anymore but I believe she was who she was and in that way she got it right.”

“I’m a real fan of Whitney Houston’s early live shows where she had so many backup singers… I don’t know, I’m kinda ready to do something a little bit different“

#lana del rey #get free #compilation

[alotofgaymistakes]

I skipped a few weeks due to work and a mental health crisis. In that vein, my split personality is here with what I’m bopping too this week, in that all of these are all over the map in style and genre. 1. ‘Teacher’ - Chromatics

‘Teacher/I won’t ask for your advice/You’re alive - yeah/but you’re too scared to grab the dice/Teacher/they’ll throw flowers on your grave/like a leper/too infected too be saved’

I’m not going to lie - I’m too stupid to figure out the exact meaning of this song (I’ll get there eventually), but like anything Chromatics, the composition is a sonic drug for my ears. From open to close, first lyric to last, first note to the first riff to the first snare - an ethereal treat. 2. ‘Need 2 Know’ - RAEKO, Mating Ritual

‘I fell in love with someone who looks just like me/seems like I know what I want/I figured out how to warp how people see me/but I’m still stuck in this hole”

This one....feels like someone took my inner monologue and gave it form. Something weighing heavy on me lately is if I fit in. Have I found my ‘tribe’? Are my relationships alright? Where am I on the scales between secure and doubtful? I can’t sing, but this is the song I’d drunkenly belt at karaoke and end up scream crying halfway through it. It’s a personal listen, for sure.

‘Am I losing my mind?/Am I losing control?/Am I losing my way?/Tell me cause I need to know./Am I opening up?/Am I shutting you out?/Am I going insane?/Tell me cause I need to know.’

3. ‘Come Go with Me - Remix’ - Expose

Something modern music doesn’t do is a fucking song opening. I like my music to be like sex. It needs to have a bit of foreplay, it needs to speed it up and slow it down, build anticipation and excitement.

For that, I turn to 80′s and 90′s club remixes of shit. A version of “Come Go with Me” was on a complication 2-CD set I had as a kid (Club Mix ‘97), and the full version is a better treat.

‘Feels the same everyday/come home from work late again/work so hard/and never play/I can’t wait to take you far away’

One of my favorite “classic” dance tracks on repeat. 4. ‘The Enemy’ - Kita Klane Oh boy. I just like her voice and style. That’s all. 5. ‘I’ll Still Have Me’ - Cyn

I have a torturous love and hate relationship with this song because if I watch the music video I cry, and I just hate emotions. Such a gentle, soft ballad on love lost and relationships that have disintegrated, and at the end of it all, you just have yourself. And at least that’s something.

6. ‘Softstyle’ - Woh Oh I don’t know what the fuck this is, but it’s a banger. The music video is an even wilder meme, with so many video game references packed in. This is a “crank up the volume and dance” track. Throw it in your mix of house and dance music and let it ride.

7. ‘See Spaces - Dreamtrak Diamond Sound Remix’ - Teeth Oh, I have so many things to say about this one. Back when I first encountered EDM, it was associated with the more like, darkwave/dark synth/industrial sounding shit. This track throws me back to that definition, hard. It’s a remix, but the original still hits good too. The synths are rough and grating and harsh, but it’s ~aesthetic. The song goes from subtle (lmao if you can even say that) to brash and back so much.

Also, reverb.

‘Imagine yourself without me/if you are happier this way/I want to believe/Can I make you stay here?/Would I be free?/Lets be friends/Please don’t leave’ ‘I can’t imagine me without you/It was so sad this way, could it be true?/Could I take us back there?/Would he be free?/Lets be friends/Please don’t Leave’

Lyrics sites and I disagree with this song, because what I hear and what they say the lyrics are, are two different things. So I’m going with my notes, because I can. This is another song where someone’s taken a piece of my inner monologue and gave it form.

[anoverloadofmusings]

To Make Some Sense Of This Year

I’ve lived two very different lives, like many of my generation. I have the presence everyone can see. My social media feeds. The version of my experiences that I get to shape in the retelling. I travel the world, confident and charming. Then there’s the other side, the confusion, the struggles. The loves and the losses. I find this disconnect between the two difficult to handle sometimes. This year, often. It is hard to pretend to be one or the other. Maybe that’s why I’ve finally decided to put this all down. To connect the dots and accept the contradictions, and be comfortable with the multifaceted person I am. It’s cathartic, in a world where it’s a virtue to not find catharsis in a public, online outing. But I want a release from the dualism I’ve been carrying with me and hope this will help with that. I’m sorry if it seems intense, but sometimes life just is.

I hope also, that whoever decides to read this can give me the benefit of the doubt, and believe me when I say that I understand my life in comparison to others. I know where I have benefited where others have not, just where I have struggled where others have not. I do not blame a single person in my life for my struggles this year. I have no bitterness, just feel a hell lot of regret, and a hell lot of love. I am constantly growing, constantly making mistakes. My experiences might have contributed, but I am full, rounded person, and I could’ve done a lot of things a hell lot differently. Feel free to criticise me and my actions, just know that I have often done the same.

The most appropriate place to begin this I guess, is admitting that I’ve been on autopilot for much of the last ten years. After my Dad died in 2010, my Mum married again and moved back to France within three years. That relationship never really healed, after clear, incomparable differences between my stepdad and I, where he insisted through his actions that my Mum would have to choose between us. I let it go though, and got through University, lived abroad for a while, built up an impressive portfolio of photography and filmmaking, before moving back to London in 2017, and I felt generally happy with the way I had restructured my life. I was generally well liked, had interesting travel stories to entertain people with and assumed like everyone else I would fall into journalism.

I was 26 by this point, and was carrying with me an awkward truth I was extremely ashamed of. Not only was I a virgin but I had never even kissed a woman, never been intimate beyond a few chosen words and glances. What might seem trivial to many now at the time was a heavy weight. That summer that finally changed, and though it was a lovely experience with a fantastic woman, I did question why I had put so much emphasis on this for so long. It was intimate yes. But it was fun. Light. There was no earth-shattering sensation. If there was something behind that heavy weight - it wasn’t sex.

A couple years passed, and I did well in my masters, my subsequent job, along with a few dating and hookup experiences along the way. I guess by this point I felt like I had cracked the right autopilot switch. I had given up trying to understand what that heavy weight had been to me for so long, as I had enough fulfilment in my life, enough goals to keep me focused. I just kept busy, barely remembering to count the days as they passed.

Then, in early winter, I started seeing a girl. I then - miraculously - mended the incredibly complex relationship with my stepdad, after years of fighting. In early spring, I left my job and tried somewhere new - in the city. By the end of March all these things had crashed down around me. All the support I had gotten used to, it vanished. I fell into a place where I am only now beginning to recover from. Some words used for this have been depression, deteriorating mental health, emotional immaturity, quarter life crisis etc. Whatever it is, it triggered something extremely deep lying in me. Now I have had anxiety issues - like many people - for a long time, but these were all under my control by this point and I had worked myself into a healthy place to deal with them. This breakdown ruined it all. I lost all control of those anxieties, lost all motivation in my job and the two following jobs. My relationship with my family broke and has not yet recovered. I became so, unhealthy dependent on this girl for my validation that after she left, I felt so inadequate, and all those anxieties from my past swarmed back, infesting into all the corners of the structure of the strong life I thought I had built up, and multiplying like a disease. I do not want to burden any reader with the technicalities of this mental state, as I do not want to indulge them anymore, but for those who can’t identify - you lose interest and passion in everything, so nearly all of those photos and smiles you’ve seen me pull since then have been some of the hardest and forced I’ve ever had. I never hated myself as much as I did then.

I let those issues wreak havoc over my entire life. I dragged friends through months of apathy. Of speaking to them about the same, limited topics. Colleagues had to sit and watch me struggle knowing I could not reach the potential I showed in my interview and they would have to let me go. I saw myself weigh heavily on this girl, even suffocating her and draining her energy. But for so long, when family and work left, she stayed and she cared. When she finally decided to take her happiness into her own hands and make up with her ex, I realised what had happened that I had never experienced before. I had fallen in love. Not the way I imagined I would have, and honestly not how I would’ve wanted to. Not when I was like this, completely unable to show anyone my best self. And not a healthy love either, not a love built around my dependency.

I think I can rationalise the impact people can have on our lives if you consider we are all built up of experiences. Some of them are fleeting, they happen and we forget them with ease. Other experiences, days or people leave a mark. Sometimes that mark hurts, which we then try to hide or run from. It can ache to remember it, so we burry it. Other people can awaken those hidden away experiences. This girl, she wasn’t perfect, but she did not leave a hurtful mark. I can still barely think of a time she insulted me or deliberately tried to hurt me. I still find it so easy to reflect positively on my time with her. What she did - unknowingly to herself and to me - was give me a certain affection I had never experienced, throughout all those years since my dad died, and perhaps before. I think it was so normal for her to give, it’s probably normal for most people come to think of it. But it was quite profound to me. I’ve been fortunate with my friendships - some of them are deep and will last a lifetime, but I did not realise I had lacked what she gave me. It was given even more significance for happening at the same time as the relationship with my family - seemingly the rock that our strength and love is meant to be built on - diminished in the form of multiple emails from my stepdad labeling me a leech and a failure. In the face of that, her affection was an intense reminder of what I did not have from my family. It was a short relationship, and its significance will probably fade in time, but while she was in my life I was endlessly confused. And just because I had no idea how to manage feeling appreciated like that.

It’s easy now to understand why I’ve fallen so far back this year. Without sounding unbelievably cheesy, I’m really not sure what the fuck I was doing before this year began. I was a functioning member of society but I rarely had a moment of pure happiness or fulfilment, satisfied with just feeling good. And that’s not to say a relationship is fundamental to happiness, it’s just, to me, I just felt like a passerby until then. Realising now, that the lack of a constant family figure showing me love in my life - especially in the last ten years - has meant that I just stopped expecting it, if I ever expected it to begin with. And for so long since March I have felt the same, perpetually trying to find the same level of purpose in my life without a lover’s validation. This core understanding about the necessity of self validation takes everyone their own timelines to figure out. And even then, once you realise you need it, it’s another thing finding it. Initially I dated a bit and found myself transferring all that affection and need for validation onto other women so quickly, despite knowing how unhelpful and wrong that was. I’m sorry for the women who had to experience that. I’m sorry for the friends who saw me suffer and said all the right things but knew they would just have to watch me suffer a bit longer before I worked it out for myself. My purpose was gone, and I couldn’t find it anywhere, as I didn’t have a clue where to start. Then I started to indulge it, I started to ‘like’ being so low with no self esteem. It felt familiar, more familiar than confidence or success. Sympathy from others brought out similar feelings of comfort that she had given me. It became like a cruel addiction, as if I wanted to see how far I could dislike myself and drive off the rails. I failed probation after probation, not able to feel even slightly present behind a desk. I somehow kept getting jobs but continuously found faults in them, and indulged them too. I saw issues with managers which were not issues. I lost myself and argued when I didn’t actually care about my point, I just wanted to feel anger. I gave up so easily, so quickly, and forgot all the things I loved, hobbies, friendships.

But this isn’t a sad recollection. At least that’s the paradox I find myself in sometimes. Perhaps another reason why I indulged this negativity for so long was because it felt good to feel. I had never felt as good as I had felt over that winter, with her, in my job, with my family, and never felt as low as I did in the months following. Even in the miserable moments there was a part of me which loved feeling so emotional. It just felt good to realise I wasn't just a passerby anymore. I’ve always been sensitive but I had never felt that level of emotion. And it was a different level at times, both the highs and lows. I still remember a tear falling down her face as we said goodbye and the force of emotion which hit me like a hurricane. I indulged it all. I let the vulnerability which I had once tried to champion completely define me.

There’s a lot of things that could’ve happened differently. I could have gone to therapy years ago, and not dismissed my anxieties so easily. I could’ve acknowledged the emotional impact my Dad dying and my Mum leaving would end up having on me in the future. If I had done that I could’ve taken sick days at work this year and breathed, reflected, then gone into work the next day. I could’ve made better decisions, chosen better places to move to, better jobs to apply for. I could’ve done a lot. If I had tackled this all before, things might have turned out differently. Then again, maybe they would’ve happened just the same. I know now though, that things happened the way they did because I was unaware what I had been missing for most of my life, and when it came I was overwhelmed. But it had to happen at some point. It’s really because of that that I just can’t hate this girl. She was not perfect. Somebody else with different baggage maybe could’ve maybe helped me get through this. They could’ve loved me back. Her preference of talking through social media was tough to deal with at times. But what she did do was help me realise what I had denied, while on autopilot for all those years. In a way, that was her saving me. And she did it with kindness, and a warm heart. If there’s anything I’ve held onto throughout all of this, it’s that I will not let anything that happens after make me forget the countless phone calls to make sure I was alright, the encouragement when I was at my worst. She deserves her happiness now and I’m proud of myself that I can focus on that, when I could’ve hated her for leaving. That gratefulness helps me sleep at night. She is a good person. As traumatic as it all turned out, I am grateful she was my first love.

And people do get better. Sometimes it takes going through an experience like this to give you all the tools you need to get better. And it doesn’t just switch back on like a light. I am building my life up again now, but instead of rushing to the top I’m taking my time firming up the foundations. Bit by bit. I recently dated someone for nearly two months and though things could’ve developed, I found myself controlling my feelings while I was seeing her. I managed to get to know someone while not making them my emotional dumping ground. I kept that in check. That might seem small, but to me that's a success. It’s one small victory on the way to being the Jeremy I know I’m want to be. I know I considering other people's mental space better now. Therapy is helping. Learning how to move on from people who don’t understand your value, even when I want to help them find theirs, is helping. Slowing everything down, is helping. It’s still a terrifying idea, to be out in the world - standing tall and pushing through a challenge again. But it is achievable, and it is achievable because I know so much more about myself now. I don’t quite love myself yet, not to the extent I know I should. But I like my voice. I like my mind. I like how I empathise with people. I like how I earn peoples’ trust.

If you’ve got this far, thank you. I hope you can sense what I’ve felt through writing this. I don’t really want any sympathy anymore for what I’ve been through. I just don’t want to carry this around, in a lengthy, confused state of mind anymore. I want this out there, written down, where I can see the words whenever I lose focus and remember everything happened the way it did for the best. People entered and left when they needed to. I let experiences drag me right down and almost wreck my entire life, and I need to remind myself, and anybody who reads this who doubts me, that no matter how trivial this experience might sound, that pulling myself back up - with the help of a few, extraordinary people - is a sign that I am not broken.

Fuck knows I’ve made mistakes. Fuck knows we all have. I’m sorry for those I’ve hurt during all this. I hope you can forgive me, and understand I will become better because of it, and will reward you for your belief in me if you wish to give me the opportunity to do so.

And finally, though this is purely cathartic, and I am speaking more to myself than to anyone else, I hope if anyone reading can relate to any of this, to reach out like I did. To friends, family, therapy, whichever. You’ll be endlessly amazed about the capacity that people have to love and to help. There are some people I haven’t named here but they know who they are. Perhaps not appreciating that in the people around you, and expecting it purely in the arms of a lover is where I got it all wrong. But I got plenty else wrong too. And now I have a lot of time to make up, and do it all better this time.