#anyways i am so depressed. i cannot get up. why am i working a full time job.

[avatar-anna]

Aaaah i am so deep in my Harry feels and you write him so perfectly…

So i have a request !

Something i cannot get out of my mind are the lines from as it was “Answer the phone, "Harry, you're no good alone why are you sittin' at home on the floor?What kind of pills are you on?" … and maybe the reader just got home and she’s the one saying that to Harry? Idk …

Anyway i love how you write ❤️ stay golden !

Grief Fic, Part One

so, this turned into a really long fic that's full of angst (perhaps too much). part of me wanted to make it even longer, but i think i ended it at the right point where i could come back to it if people wanted me to.

Part Two

tw: mentions of death, depression, grieving

"Harry? You here?" you called, walking across the threshold of your friend's house. Looking down, you ruffled the hair of the little girl who came in with you. Her hands gripped the straps of her backpack as she skipped into the house, clearly not bothered by the band-aid on her knee or the cut beneath it.

She looked around and called out for her dad, who either didn't hear it or couldn't find it on him to respond. When the skip in her step faltered and a look of confusion and hurt began to creep onto her face, you helped her out of her backpack and said, "Why don't you go upstairs, kiddo? Change out of your uniform? We can decide what to do for dinner after. Your pick."

You hoped that the distraction of getting to pick what they ate for dinner tonight would be enough, but she still seemed rather subdued compared to how cheery she sounded as she talked about her day at school on the drive home. "Okay."

She scurried off to her room upstairs, leaving you alone in the big kitchen that hardly got used anymore. When the young girl was gone, you called out to Harry again, stepping further into the house. You eventually found him in his studio, but he wasn't working.

"Jesus, H. I can't leave you alone for five minutes," you muttered, picking the bottle of whiskey off the floor and screwing the cap back on before setting it on a high shelf where he wouldn't think to reach for it.

Harry himself was sitting on the carpeted floor of his studio, staring blankly at nothing in particular. This wouldn't be the first time you found him in a similar state, but each time you hoped it would be the last.

"Is Harper alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, she's upstairs," you said.

"Thank you for picking her up again today," he said, still not looking at you.

You sat down next to him, draping your arms over your knees as you crossed your legs together. "No problem. I knew you were supposed to be working today, which leads me to my next question. Why are you sitting in here alone? I thought today was a writing session?"

"Cancelled. Didn't feel up to it today."

Harry didn't feel up to much of anything these days. It was understandable, to an extent. You knew he was going through a lot, but it wasn't just him he had to look out for. Harper needed her dad, now more than ever.

"Was it...anything in particular?" you asked gently. Sometimes Harry got cagey when you asked him about his current situation. He would snap or get defensive or ignore you completely. You'd known him for so many years, but in the span of a few months, you had to relearn how to talk to him. "Yesterday you seemed excited to work."

Harry shrugged, which drew your attention to his narrow shoulders. He hasn't been eating, you thought. You quickly scanned his face, and looking past the obvious unkempt facial hair and dark circles, you noticed his features were more pronounced, eyes sunken in some. You thought he was doing better, you thought he was healing.

"Harry," you said when he didn't respond.

Ever so gently, you rested a hand on his arm. His skin was cold as ice, and pale. So unlike the warmth and sunny glow it used to carry. The person in front of you was a shell of the man he once was, and you didn't know how to bring him back.

"Do you know what kind of pills you're on? If they're not working, the doctor can prescribe something else," you said.

"It's not the pills," he murmured. "I just...I just don't know how to function without her."

So you're not taking them, you thought but didn't say. Instead, you gave Harry's hand a gentle squeeze. "I know."

"I don't want to function without her. I—I can't do anything else but exist, and even that's exhausting."

Harry's voice was heavy with emotion, his eyes downcast as he stared at the band around his finger.

You were aware of the dangerous waters he was wading into, and the pressure to keep him from drowning suddenly crushed your chest. You'd already said all the typical platitudes—it'll get better with time, she wouldn't want you to live like this, Harper needs you. Sometimes they were enough to get him out of the house or to sit down on the couch with Harper to watch a movie, but it would only last so long, and recently Harry's mood improvement would dwindle faster and faster. You did what you could to help by taking care of Harper and checking in on Harry everyday, but he was starting to scare you.

"Daddy?"

Your head whipped around to where Harper was standing by the door of the studio. At eight years old, she looked just like Harry with bright green eyes and dimpled cheeks and curly hair. But she looked like her mother too, and though it was nearly imperceptible, you saw the bob of Harry's Adam's apple when he looked at her.

"Hi sweetheart," he said, not standing up to go over to her.

Harper waited by the door, waiting for Harry to do more. To ask about her day or tell her about his or go over to her or something. But he didn't, like he was too exhausted to move.

"Can we—Can we go to the park? The sun is still out and I finished all my homework."

"Y/n can take you," Harry said.

"Or we can watch a movie? Or—"

"Harper, I think Dad is tired. Why don't we—"

"He's always tired!" Harper said suddenly. "He never wants to spend time with me or talk to me! Why are you acting like this!" She went over to Harry and began to shake his shoulders, her cheeks red and eyes imploring. "Wake up! Wake up!"

Harry didn't do anything at first, letting his daughter shake him and pound her fists against his chest. Your eyes welled with tears and your throat tightened as you watched, caught between pulling Harper off and letting her get her emotions out, half hoping it would stir something in her father. It didn't.

"I hate you! I want mom!" she finally said when Harry was still practically catatonic.

He said nothing, but you could see the tears in his eyes as she stormed off, flinching when he heard the door to her room slam two floors up. His shoulders shook of their own volition then, accompanied by tears and sobbing.

"She didn't mean it," you said, pulling him into your chest. Harry's grip was tight despite his lack of nourishment as he continued to cry, warm tears bleeding through your shirt. "She's dealing with this too."

"I don't know how to be what she needs," he sobbed. "I don't think I can."

Your heart broke for the two people you loved most in this world. You'd tried so hard to help Harry and Harper, to take care of her while he got back on his feet. But he hadn't, and now you felt like you were standing at a crossroads.

"I think it might be time to—" you stopped, getting choked up yourself, "to maybe go somewhere."

That got his attention enough to stop crying for a moment. "Go somewhere?"

"I've...looked into a couple places," you said gingerly. "Facilities. Where you can rest and get better and meet with grief counselors and groups. Get the help that you need, you know?"

When Harry's wife died, you obviously didn't expect him to bounce back right away, but you also didn't anticipate the state he was in now. Everyone grieved differently, you knew that, but his grief was all-consuming, slowly eating away at him and leaving him hollow. You did what you could to support him and Harper, but you had your own life, your own job, which was starting to become less and less understanding every time you left early to pick Harper up from school. You did it all happily and willingly because you loved both of them, but none of you could keep going like this.

"I'm not sick," he said. "I'm not an addict. I don't need to go to rehab."

"I love you, H, and I'm worried about you," you said. You put your hands on either side of his face so he had to look you directly in the eye. "Harper loves you, and she wants you to be her dad. You have so many people that love and care for you, Harry, and we all want you to be okay again."

"My wife died, Y/n. I'm never going to be okay again," he said, pulling away from you harshly, voice sharp. "How can you say that? You really think it's so easy? The mother of my child is gone, and she can never come back, and you what? You want me to just forget about her? Forget what we had? I bet you'd love that wouldn't you. That's probably why you've been so eager to 'help' Harper and me. Don't think for one second that you could ever replace her. So just go!"

It didn't matter that you knew this outburst was one of rage filled grief, but that didn't mean it hurt any less. You felt like you'd been slapped, like Harry had reached his hand into your chest and crushed your heart. That was never your intention. Harry was a friend, a dear one, but a friend just the same. And Harper was your goddaughter. You couldn't just sit by and let the two people you considered family fall apart.

But maybe you weren't who he needed.

"I know you think you'll never be okay again, but you will," you said quietly. "Because you love Harper, you will be. One day you'll stop resenting her for not being Sophia, and one day you'll stop resenting Sophia for leaving you. It'll always hurt, I know that, but one day it'll hurt a little less."

You stood up from the floor and smoothed your trousers, sniffling a little. Harry had gone back to staring blankly, but the tight clench of his jaw told you he was listening. "Bye, H."

You didn't leave right away. You made a phone call to his mom first, asking her to stay with Harry and Harper, not explaining why you couldn't be the one to check up on them anymore. Anne had asked you to keep an eye on the pair after she went back home after staying at Harry's place for a month. You'd already planned on doing so, but you agreed. Now the tough love needed to come from someone else. When Anne told you she was on her way, you went upstairs to Harper's room to check on her.

She was crying on her bed, her body curled into a ball around a stuffed animal. Sighing, you walked over to her and sat on the corner of her bed and soothed her back with your hand. "I know you didn't mean that, Harper Rose."

"Why is he acting like that?" she cried, not looking up at you. "Why won't he play with me anymore? Or take me to school?"

"He..." You didn't even know what to say to make this better. "Your dad is...sick."

"Like my mom was?" Harper asked. She sat up, her little face red from crying.

"Not—Not quite," you said, trying not to get choked up. Sophia had been a dear friend to you too. "His heart hurts so much that he can't, or doesn't know how to...function properly. Does that make sense?"

Harper nodded as she wiped a tear from her eye. "He's heartbroken."

"I think so."

She didn't say anything for a minute, as if she was processing that information about Harry. Then, "Does that mean I love my mom less if I'm not heartbroken like that?"

Her words made you pinch your arm to hold back your tears. It wasn't fair to Harper that she had to deal with all of this at a young age; she didn't deserve to have these thoughts or ask these questions, and selfishly, a part of you deep down felt you didn't deserve to answer them.

"No, of course not, kiddo. Your dad just—you and your dad loved her differently. And I think part of him is sad that you lost your mom and not just that he lost his wife."

"I don't understand," she said, her voice trembling. "When will he be normal again?"

"Do you think you'll feel normal again?" you asked her gently. Harper shrugged, more tears silently leaking out of the corners of her eyes. "People's hearts and minds react differently when someone dies. And right now, your dad's mind is telling him not to get out of bed or take care of himself or take care of you. It doesn't make sense to you or me, but it makes sense to him."

"Oh." Harper looked contemplative again, her eyes trained on the yellow patterned bedspread beneath her. Everything in her room was some shade of yellow—walls, curtains, lampshades, the sun behind the bedframe that Sophia painted—everything was made to feel warm and inviting. "What do we do now? How do we help him?"

"Well, what do you do when you're sick?"

"Go to a doctor."

"That's right," you said. "He's gonna go to the doctor, and the doctor will tell us what we should do. And in the meantime, you just keep loving your dad, okay? You're allowed to be angry and frustrated and sad, but never stop loving him. It might not look like it, but knowing you love him helps."

"Okay," Harper said.

"I called your grandma. She's gonna come stay with you for a little while while your dad gets better. She'll take you to school and pick you up and make you all sorts of treats with you."

"Why can't you take me to school?" she asked.

"I have to work," you explained. "But, if you need anything, you know my number. Just call me and I'll be there, okay? But you and Grandma will have fun, you always do."

You stayed in Harper's room until she fell asleep, smoothing her hair with your hand once more before standing up from the bed. You planned to stay until Anne arrived, but you figured you could tidy up and get the guest bedroom ready in the meantime. By the time she walked through the door, the guest room had been made up and the kitchen was squeaky clean. Harry never came out of his studio, or he went up to his room without you noticing but you were fine with that. You wouldn't have known what to say to him anyway.

You gave Anne the names of doctors and grief groups for Harry, and the name of a good child psychiatrist for Harper. You'd been meaning to set up a meeting for her, but you hadn't had the time, and it also wasn't really your place and you didn't want to overstep. Anne gave you a long hug before you left, thanking you for taking care of her family. Having someone hug you for once instead of the other way around was overwhelming, and you almost started crying right there in her arms.

But you held yourself together for a few more minutes as you pulled away. You promised to check in and help wherever and whenever you could, then you left, slightly relieved that Harry and Harper's well-being wasn't solely on your shoulders anymore and partly sad that you weren't able to help them more.

The first few weeks, you didn't come around the house as much, giving Harry his space. You met Harper at the park when your work schedule allowed it and had her over to your place for sleepovers when she asked.

Anne kept you in the loop, even when there wasn't much to report—Harper met regularly with a counselor and Harry didn't, Harper didn't wake up crying in the middle of the night as much and Harry still wasn't going back to work. Part of you felt like Harry needed more tough love than coddling at this point. You knew he wouldn't actually go to therapy unless you dragged him by the ear or eat something if you didn't sit with him until he was done. But it wasn't your place to dictate how he was helped, so you kept your mouth shut whenever Anne said he wasn't getting any better.

However, that all changed when Harry collapsed. He was so weak from not eating, he physically couldn't hold himself up. Or so Anne claimed. You didn't want to, but part of you thought there might have been some intention behind Harry's actions, or lack thereof. That was when you knew things had to change. If this were a movie, then that moment was the point of no return, and you weren't going to let Harry destroy himself anymore.

"If you get him in a car, I'll take care of the rest," you said to Anne the day after. She'd been apprehensive, but you insisted that this was the right choice. "He can't just sit alone on the floor of his studio all day. Either we do this now or his grief wins."

So it was settled. You didn't know how she did it, but Anne somehow got Harry up and in the passenger seat of your car. He clearly was not pleased by the whole thing, but with his lack of eating, he was no match for you or his mother.

"Where are we going?" he asked, arms folded angrily.

"My place."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not going to let Harper witness your path of self-destruction. You wanna die? You don't want to take care of yourself? Then you can do it at my place instead of in front of your daughter."

It was harsh, but Harry hadn't been particularly amicable these last few days. According to Anne, instead of catatonic, he was rude, his words sharp as a knife and just as cutting. His mother didn't deserve to deal with that, and neither did Harper, but you could handle him. Whether he liked it or not.

"Fuck you," he muttered.

"Fuck you," you replied simply.

Harry didn't say anything else the rest of the ride to your house, which was completely fine by you. You had a plan in place for Harry's stay, but you went over it again and again in your head, hoping it would work. You had Harry's meds, which he had not been taking, you picked out a grief group for him to attend, or one-on-one counseling if he didn't want to go to group therapy, you worked out a schedule that made sure Harry was constantly doing something rather than withering away on your couch. But first...

"You need a shower. I'm not living with you while you smell like that. And brush your teeth too."

"I thought you didn't care what I did," he said, begrudgingly following you into your house. It was much smaller than his, but that was for the better. It would be easier to keep an eye on him in close quarters.

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry. We all care about what happens to you," you said, leading him down the hall to your small guest room and bathroom were.

You gestured toward the bathroom when he set his small duffle bag on the bed, but he stayed where he was. "No."

"No?"

"You and my mum can drag me around and make me sleep in a different bed, but you can't force me to take medication, you can't force me to go to therapy, you can't force me to live," Harry spat. You took it on the chin, eyeing the way it seemed exhausting for him to just raise his voice at you. "I'm not a child, and I'm not one of your patients, so leave me the fuck alone."

"Lord, give me strength," you muttered to yourself before storming over to him.

You grabbed Harry by the collar of his sweatshirt and pulled him into the bathroom, where you promptly began to pull his layers off one by one.

"What the fuck?" Harry said, too surprised to fend you off, and too weak as well. "Get off of me!"

"You are a stubborn asshole," you spat, letting all the anger and frustration from the last few weeks seep into your voice. Once Harry was down to his underwear and socks, you quickly turned the shower on and pushed him in, holding your forearm against his chest as water sprayed both of you. "And selfish. You are a parent, Harry, you can't afford to fall apart, especially not in front of Harper. You can't do this to her. I won't let you."

Harry struggled against you, but not as much. He looked furious for having brought up Harper, though. But you kept going, needing to say everything that had been rattling around in your brain since he snapped at you.

"Sophia is gone, H," you said, voice gentle but firm.

"Shut up—"

"And it hurts. I can't imagine how much it hurts to lose your wife, but I—I know how it feels to lose a parent." Your voice began to waver, but you willed yourself to calm down. You didn't talk about it much, but you could relate to the situation at hand better than most. It was part of the reason why you helped Harry and Harper out so much. "Harper is strong and brave and charismatic. She's all the good things Soph was. Stop punishing her for it and celebrate it. She needs you, H. If you can't find it in yourself to get better for you, do it for your daughter. Don't do this to her."

Harry was crying by then, and you were too. Water sprayed the both of you, but he wasn't straining against you anymore. When it felt like he was starting to slide against the tiles to sit down, you didn't let him. "Don't do that," you said, using all your strength to hold him up. "Don't let it consume you. Lean on me if you have to, but don't—don't sit down."

To your surprise, he didn't. Harry let you give him a scrub down, starting with his hair and then sponging his body with soap. You left his briefs on for his sake. As a nurse, you were used to seeing every part of the body, but Harry was your friend, not a patient. When you were done, you left him to dry off with a towel and dress with the instruction to be in the kitchen for dinner in twenty minutes. You didn't have to say what you would do if he didn't come. Harry got a dose of how forceful you could be very quickly.

So he came out of his room, and the two of you ate in complete silence. You didn't mind the quiet and were content to let Harry figure out whatever was going on in his head. You did keep an eye on him, though, making sure he didn't push his food around and actually ate it. He did, thankfully; you really didn't want to have to spoon-feed him too.

"Tomorrow I set up a group therapy session in town. It's super confidential, so you don't have to worry about that, but—"

"No."

"No? Really? We're doing this again?" you asked, only half joking.

"I don't want to go to group therapy," he said, and you could practically taste his displeasure for it across the table.

"Well, I thought you might say that, so I also scheduled one-on-one counseling, though I thought you might prefer the group. Less opportunities to talk when there are multiple people in one session." You picked up and quickly washed your plate before setting it down on the drying rack. "Tomorrow's session is at ten. Let me know what you want to do before then, but you're going to one of them. Oh, and you're responsible for cleaning up after yourself. Night."

You left Harry to his own devices after that, deciding to get ready for bed. It was going to be a long few weeks, or however long to get your friend back up on his feet, and you were going to need all the peace of mind you could get.

Three weeks later, Harry was still irritable. You knew he resented you for making him do, well, anything, but he still did them. He went to his group therapy sessions and cleaned up after himself in the kitchen. He just didn't like talking to you. Or acknowledging you. Or looking at you. You were pretty sure all the anger he had about Sophia dying and having to take care of Harper alone was now directed at you. You didn't necessarily mind being his outlet if it meant he was getting out of the house, but it did get exhausting at times. And it made for a very awkward car ride.

"I...can't pick you up from group today," you said as you neared the building where Harry's group sessions were.

"What the hell am I supposed to do then?" he huffed, crossing his arms across his chest like a child.

You gripped the steering wheel tighter so as not to whack him repeatedly on the arm. "Are you really that much of a pampered celebrity that you can't use public transportation? Or your own two feet?"

"Well why the fuck are you signing me up for this shit if you can't take me. I don't even want to go to these stupid meetings."

In a split second, you pulled over and put the car in park. "Get out."

"What?"

"You heard me," you said, the frustration you'd been pushing down the last three weeks finally bubbling to the surface. You'd been patient, you'd done what you thought was right for Harry and his family, but you couldn't be his punching bag anymore. "I've been taking you to these meetings because I want to help you, because I want to help Harper, but you have...kicked and screamed like a child every step of the way, and I—I want you to be better. I want you to be able to handle your emotions in a healthy way, but I—" I give up, you wanted to say, but even you weren't that mean in the midst of your anger. "You're an adult, Harry. I can't force you to go to therapy, so don't. Get out. Do whatever the hell you want."

Harry looked at you for a moment, surprised by your outburst. His mouth was pressed into a hard line, his eyes roving around your face. Searching for what, you weren't sure. Maybe he didn't think you would ever actually kick him out. You gave him as good as he got when he snapped at you, but you never expressly kicked him out. You were pretty sure he was deciding if you were serious or not.

"Out!" you said when he still hadn't opened the door. Now you were going to be late to work.

"Fuck! Fine," he said, then he was opening the door and getting out of the car. It shut with a definitive slam, but you didn't wait around to see Harry glare at you as you rushed back onto the street.

Work sucked, which made your mood that much worse. You normally liked your job at the hospital. It was busy and made you feel like a zombie at the end of most shifts, but the work was rewarding, and you were good at it too. You ran the Labor and Delivery room like a tight ship, everything and everyone had a place. But tonight you were slammed, one issue after another for you to solve. Normally you could handle the stress, but your nerves had been frayed for weeks, and every minor inconvenience didn't feel so minor right now.

Nothing was going your way, patients' families were being bigger assholes than usual, and the charting system was being glitchy. Not to mention you were pulling a double shift, so it was safe to say you were tired out of your mind, irritated, and not as chipper as you normally were amongst the normal amount of stress.

"Y/n, have you taken your lunch yet?"

You looked up from the computer at the nurses' station where one of your coworkers was standing on the other side. "Look at this place, Miranda. When would I have the time?"

The Labor and Delivery wing of the hospital was full of patients, excited family members in the waiting room, OB interns, and nurses trying to maintain order. You could always expect a good number of people in this wing of the hospital, but today was more crowded than usual. In-laws that wanted to be in the delivery room were driving you crazy in a way that they normally didn't, and a surgical intern tried to talk down to you, which tried your practically non-existent patience. It was safe to say that your pink scrubs were very misleading about your disposition today.

Miranda narrowed her eyes at you. "It's thirty minutes."

"I can't. I have to get these charts updated because these idiots we call interns don't know how to—"

"Y/n?"

"God, tell me this is not happening," you muttered before looking up from the computer again. Harry was standing at the nurses' station next to Miranda, who was staring at him with wide eyes. "I can't do this with you right now."

"I know. I just wanted to—"

"I can take your bitching at home, but not here," you said, going back to your computer. Everything you'd felt this morning was still simmering in you, and you didn't want to make a scene at work.

"I just came to apologize," he said, his voice lacking the harsh edge it'd had since he'd been staying with you.

You shook your head and picked up a chart as you began to walk away. "Honestly? I don't have time for that, either, H."

Perhaps you shouldn't have been so flippant, but you were at work, for one. You got into a certain headspace to keep everything and everyone in order, and you couldn't compromise that on a hectic day like this, even if Harry had come to say he was sorry.

"But, Y/n, you still have to take your lunch!" Miranda said.

Stopping in your tracks, you turned back around. Your arms were crossed as you gave Miranda a look, but she just stared right back. She was always the one who looked after you while you looked after everyone else. Sighing, you walked back over to the nurses' station to hand over the chart on your hands. "Ten minutes."

"The law says thirty."

"Fifteen," you amended, then left before Miranda could argue with you. You heard footsteps behind you, and while you knew they were Harry's, you didn't do anything to stop him from following.

The break room was small, just big enough to hold a refrigerator, some cupboards, and a table with a few chairs. You didn't spend much time here, but it did see a lot of foot traffic despite its size.

Sitting down at the table, you rested your head in your hands, your eyes closing for a few seconds now that you let yourself have this short break. Your feet hurt and your head pounded, but you managed to stand up anyway and make yourself a cup of coffee.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, though you weren't really sure you cared. Not right now anyway.

"I wanted to apologize," he said right away, like he was afraid you weren't going to let him speak.

You laughed a little. "Oh? What for?"

You knew you were being difficult, but you couldn't help it. The way Harry treated you had all come to a head this morning, and the shit day at work didn't help your mood, either. Staring at him over the rim of your coffee mug, your heart softened the tiniest bit. He looked like a scolded puppy with his head tilted down and his hands behind his back. It was hard for you to balance the anger you felt for the way he treated you and acknowledge the fact that it was his grief that was making him act this way. There's no wrong way to grieve. It was something you knew and understood, but Harry's grief process didn't make your life any easier.

"I've been...horrible to you," he said, though he still wouldn't look at you. "I—I know you've been trying to help Harper and me, and all I've done was take everything I've felt out on you."

It was hard to find the right words to say. You didn't want to just excuse his behavior by saying he was grieving, but you knew he would never treat you the way he had been otherwise. But that didn't make it hurt any less.

"What made you come to this conclusion?" you decided to ask, curious to know the answer.

Harry smiled sheepishly and chuckled to himself in a way that was embarrassed more than amused. "Therapy. I went after you kicked me out this morning. Thanks for that, by the way."

You couldn't help but grin a little, at the very least because you hadn't seen Harry smile in months. "You're welcome."

"I'm really, really sorry, Y/n," he said once the air in the room sobered again. "I don't know if I could ever say it enough, or express how thankful I am to you for being there for Harper when I couldn't. I'm sorry for all the horrible things I've said and the way I've acted. I, um, I don't magically feel better, but for the first time since Soph died, I want to be."

You believed him when he said that. There was an air about Harry that seemed different than the last few months. And the fact that he was apologizing at all and seemed to have a small grasp of his feelings said a lot. And you wanted to believe him too, for the sake of his own health and happiness as well as Harper's.

"I know it was your grief that made you...act a certain way, but thank you for apologizing," you said.

"Things won't immediately go back to the way they were, I know that, but," Harry said, wiping the corner of his eye. "I wanted to take Harper out to dinner tomorrow night, and I'm hoping you'll join us."

"Not tonight?"

"No. I think I just want to go home and be with my daughter tonight," he said, sounding a little nervous and a little hopeful. "And I'm sure you're sick of me, so I thought I'd let you have a night to yourself."

You took a moment to look at your friend, really look at him. Harry's frame was still narrow, he was paler than usual, and the angles were still a little too sharp and pronounced, but his hair was neat and his eyes were clear, and he just looked different overall.

Standing up, you walked to where Harry was still standing by the entrance to the break room and threw your arms around him. A wave of emotion hit you the second his arms wrapped around you, and you couldn't help the sob that escaped your lips as you held him tight. He felt so frail, like he could blow away with the next breeze. It pained you to feel how everything affected him physically.

"You scared me," you said. Perhaps it was too soon to admit, but you needed to say what had been weighing on your heart since he collapsed. "You pissed me of and drove me insane, but above everything, I was terrified."

Terrified of losing him, terrified of not doing what was right by him or Harper, terrified that he'd never be the same. The fear of losing Harry to his grief kept you up most nights. More than the poisonous words or cold shoulders or childish behavior, you'd been so scared of every worst case scenario it nearly made you sick.

"I'm sorry I've put you through so much. You lost her too."

That made you squeeze Harry even harder. You'd known Sophia first and had been the one to introduce her to Harry. The three of you had been friends for a long time before Harry and Soph had even started dating, and you stayed friends long after. She wasn't your sister, but in a lot of ways she was family, and so were Harry and Harper.

Eventually you pulled away, wiping your eyes and stepping back from his embrace. You felt a little awkward, but lighter too, and hopeful for the future.

"So you'll come? To dinner?" Harry asked, his own eyes lined with tears.

Harry wasn't magically healed. He still had a long road ahead of him to be healthy again, not to mention mending his relationship with Harper. But you decided to believe that he was on the mend, that he was open to getting proper help and taking the right steps to manage his depression.

"It would be my pleasure."

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #hs angst

[pinnapop]

death of an author, reclamation, and you

"We never are what we intend, or invent 'Cause I make little lies and then I pull them apart Think something dark's living down in my heart And if I wanted to die before I got old I should've started some years ago digging that hole"

Brand New. "At the Bottom." Daisy, 2009.

Brand New was among one of my favorite bands in high school, and I still listen to them today. Their music is important to me and shaped a big part of who I am. Their lyrics about being tortured, burnt-out, and choking on the weight of your own self-perceived flaws are relatable! Their compositions ooze with a level of self-hatred that can only be genuine. It's utterly depressing, and I adore it!

That's not not the full story, though. Jesse Lacey, the vocalist of Brand New, is a sexual predator. This informs everything about how the music of Brand New is. It's self-loathing for a very good reason. I love Brand New. I condemn Jesse Lacey. These two statements coexist. I used to be a part of the /r/brandnew subreddit, and when the allegations against Jesse Lacey came out in 2017, many redditors of that sub were quick to claim "death of the author." After all, the band had broken up immediately after the news broke, and they had also cancelled their tours. Currently, the people using that subreddit mostly talk about buying old BN merchandise and discuss what their favorite concert memories were. Jesse Lacey himself confirmed that the allegations against him were true, so there isn't much debate to be had. The subreddit serves as a monument for fans who still enjoy the music, and as a platform to speak about it with like-minded fans.

In my opinion, claiming "death of an author" is a slippery slope. We can't always claim that Miku is the creator of Minecraft. But often, we see that that is the response people have when a creator is outed to be problematic; "I still like the thing So-and-So made, so I will ignore that the creator exists!" The reason that this worked for Miku Minecraft is because, by the time that Notch was publicly making transphobic comments, he did not own Minecraft anymore. The joke is quite literally that he does not own the thing that people like. He sold it to Microsoft, so he doesn't get royalties from it anymore. You can play Minecraft devoid of supporting its original creator. This joke works so well because it is an actual case of the death of an author! That's great and all for Minecraft, but what about other instances? What happens when we claim "death of the creator" erroneously? And why are we so obsessed with this concept anyway?

So like, back to Brand New... they released their last album, Science Fiction, back in August 2017. The allegations came out later that same year. I own all of Brand New's discography physically, including their last release. I bought most of it off eBay when I was 15. I was not supporting them post-allegations. But that leaves me with a lingering question- what do I do with all these CDs that I still very much enjoy the music of? From how I see it, there are two firm camps on this topic:

Camp 1: You know about Lacey's crimes now and his music cannot be separated from his actions. Solution: Throw your CDs away.

Camp 2: It's something you bought without knowledge of Lacey's crimes, so you should enjoy it anyway. Death of an author! Solution: Continue as usual.

I'm not fond of either of these answers. They come off as too polarized for a situation that is the entire Pantone swatch library of grays. "But, how are there any shades of gray when its clear that Jesse Lacey is in the wrong?" I want to provide some counter questions for you to think about:

What about the other people in the band? You might not be directly supporting the sexual predator anymore, but there are other victims here too- effectively his band mates lost their jobs overnight. (Another example would be LOSTPROPHETS)

Is it feasible to destroy each object you own because it was created under problematic circumstances? When or when isn't this the case? Does it apply to your cup of coffee? Does it apply to the clothes you wear? What about any product with palm oil in it? What about the hardware in your computer? If you look into any company, you're going to find some horrific things you don't like about it. The takeaway here is that it isn't beneficial to treat situations like these as black or white. I don't think that destroying my CDs is going to do anything to take away the abuse that Jesse Lacey caused. Nor do I think ignoring the context of his music will do anyone any favors. The music he made is a product of his crimes. To ignore that fact would be disingenuous to why people enjoy his music and why the music exists in the first place. There's another element here, though. I, and many others, are no longer monetarily supporting Jesse Lacey. You can't even officially support the release of Brand New's music anymore as their record label (Procrastinate! Music Traitors) doesn't even seem to have a functioning website anymore? Regardless, I wouldn't want to support his music in a way that supports him, anyway. Yes, I enjoy the music and the themes of it, but I do not want to be directly supporting abuse that happened BECAUSE he was a vocalist in a band. And I can safely do this with CDs that I bought secondhand, right? This is death of the author. So what's the issue?

I believe there is an issue when people claim “death of the author” far too quickly and scramble to reclaim the media for themselves. It’s an increasingly popular trend these days to pluck characters/concepts from an author deemed to be problematic. "I'll save [Character I like] from this shitty piece of media!", they claim. I don't think people realize how multifaceted in effect that is, though. For instance, if the author is actively making money from their creation, you can't truly "reclaim" a character from them. It's more like you're paying homage to them with fanart.

My best on-going example of this would be Floraverse. There are a multitude of reasons why people do not like the author/s of Floraverse, which I will not go into here. To put it simply, though, since its inception in 2013, many artists and writers involved with Flora either left or were kicked out. These artists either directly contributed to the art and worldbuilding of the webcomic, or were heavily influenced by it. To this day, there are many times someone links me to art on Discord and I’ll say “oh I remember that person, they used to be a Flora fanartist!” and the other person is absolutely floored that that artist was ever linked to Floraverse. Anyway… There have been multiple attempts at people trying to reclaim Floraverse from the author, and this never works out. Like, it really doesn’t work out. Any time that someone tries to reclaim Floraverse characters for themselves whilst condemning the author, that person is dogpiled by the Floraverse community. Which is a weird behavior for a CC BY-SA webcomic, but I digress. Here are some highlights:

In 2019, there was a thread dedicated to Redesigning Floraverse that immediately got taken over by Floraverse itself a month later.

An artist got harassed for multiple years (I think it was 2020-2023) for having an oc based on Beleth, a character in Floraverse.

Just 2 months ago, an artist got harassed for drawing fanart of the characters

Historically, reclaiming Floraverse characters from the author hasn't worked out. And I mean.. why would it? It's an actively running "webcomic" (I'll be charitable) and with an active community that supports the author's current works and views with their wallets. It's one thing to enjoy a piece of media with a problematic author and want to reclaim that media for yourself. It is another for this reclamation to actually be effective. Attempts of "reclaiming" Floraverse get written off as fanworks that the community dislikes. You cannot reclaim Floraverse characters as they do not exist in a vacuum. Listening to secondhand Brand New CDs does work in a vacuum; Jesse Lacey's career is dead in the water. The same cannot be said for reclaiming the art of Glitchedpuppet and co. Floraverse characters and stories are not divorced from the abuses they cause. Characters will be used as strawmen to abuse community members, past or present. Or entire works will be up dedicated to making light of your childhood trauma! These characters were made by an abuser, and will be used to abuse. That is a simple fact about Floraverse. Except... in that statement, I'm not even talking about Glitchedpuppet, the current author of Floraverse. I'm talking about Marlcabinet, the previous author of Floraverse. This statement does however, apply to both of them. Hey, wait a minute, that's weird! I've been talking about "death of the author" for this entire post, and I just said that reclaiming Floraverse characters can't work because the way the characters were used to abuse real people doesn't exist in a vacuum. So like, why does this work within the Floraverse webcomic itself? Marl is the abuser of Glip, but Marl is also the author of the majority of early Floraverse. Isn't the story itself, as it currently stands, an act of reclaiming characters used to abuse community members, minors, and any detractors? Then who is to say that those who contributed to Floraverse and were similarly abused are not also allowed this same privilege? Their real-world suffering is what fuels the comic. When I was 13-16, I adored a Floraverse character named Cayenne. His whole deal was that he was an autistic child slave and was horribly abused by everyone around him. Weird character to connect to, but he’s the character that made me figure out I had autism! I drew a LOT of fanart of this character and I even own a (gifted) life-size plush of him. The authors only ever treated him as a joke and it was a joke even within the Floraverse community that I was the only person who actually liked/cared about him. Sometimes I think about reclaiming him for myself. But I also don’t want to get harassed, and I know I could design much better things, and write better things. Conversely, I also think about how this is the exact character that made me get into contact with Marl when I was 16. It’s a heavy weight to carry knowing that this exact character was the reason I was almost in the clutches of a child predator. Glip personally deferred me to him. Reclaiming Cayenne would hold emotional value for me as a reminder of my triumph over a predator. Would it be wrong for me to reclaim an abused child character from a comic that abused me and many others as children? I've no clue. And I don't think anyone can answer that. I've waffled on it for ~2 years now. Reclaiming Cayenne would give attention to an individual that profits off abusing others, myself included. I'd say that reclaiming Floraverse characters wouldn't be a case of "death of the author", but the original creator of them was a child predator that's no longer on the internet. Floraverse is already practicing death of an author, and it is a shell of its former self. That being said, it is not a story that only has one author. Its other authors are still active, and these authors include every person that it has abused in its wake. After all, it's a comic that relies on you to know about its dramas with and traumas of real people. Tell me: Does a death of the author matter when its being written about you?

#text #brand new #floraverse #death of the author #abuse #grooming

[music-my-beloved]

A Hard Day's Night: A 16yo's (horrible) album review pt.3

A Hard Day's Night: Catchy, she's so nice! She's like, a classic. Wasn't there that movie made with this same name or am I tripping? Dude making these reviews is like, giving me carpal tunnel I've never typed this much b4 !! Erm,,, but yea :/ this song is just a classic that's all I gotta say !!!

I Should Have Known Better: Harmonica goes insane honestly. Uh this song confused me 😭 like. i'm stupid??? I don't know girls this one through me for a loop. At first I was like, "Dang this girl's a runner she's out with other guys '-'" and then for a brief moment I was like no, "Okay maybe she's loyal she's just stupid and doesn't know what to say when the guy compliments her or something" I'm leaning towards the second option but the title still trips me up like, I should have known better what is that supposed to mean 😭😭??? Likeee,, "I should have known better that a girl like you would run off with different men" or "I should have known better that a ditzy girl like you wouldn't know what to say when I told you I love you" ?? I'm confuseddddd. Maybe I'm stupid. Help me 😭😭!!

If I Fell: THE DRUMS!?? Hellooo?? They're so cute !!!! They're so faint yet full it's so.. uh girl idk they're striking a chord with me. Was there a looping machine ??? Was that a thing in the 60s ?? If not that steady hand work was AMAZING. Good Job Ringo! 👍 Anyway yeah I'm familiar with this song already, she's another sister to me I love her!

I'm Happy Just To Dance With You: This song has like, melancholic undertones 😭 it makes me depressed. Not like, super sad but it's like, "Once this dance is over, I'll still love you" or something like that. Idk she's just so sad :(((( but I actually really like this track ! She's so sad I love it!!!

And I Love Her: erm, she's a bit too slow and sweet for me! I can imagine that under the right circumstances this song would be an absolute banger and just get me in my feels but right now a loud english class probs isn't the environment for this music idk.. but uhhhhh yeah. I WASN'T bored per se just mildly amused by her.

Tell Me Why: Girlllll we're getting drama???? Why this girl crying 😭 and lying ?! 😭😭 I'll tell you what these girls are! toxiccccc !!! Is it the same girl or multiple?? Because omg it's actually insane these girls are crazy or this one particular girl is just an absolute mad woman I can't tell 😭😭 uh but overall it's a pretty energetic song it's pretty good 👍

Can't Buy Me Love: Okay I heard the first line or whatever and I was like, "sugar daddy :3" what. girl nevermind. He wants a girl who doesn't want material things from him that's so sweet!! Apparently Paul and John turned their backs on Money from their previous album but whatevs I get it. Sometimes people are in a mood 👀. Uh I liked the song but the girl could bark she was a little loud for me idk 😭

Any Time At All: This song sounds a bit more modern idk but oh em gee he's gonna be there for you! Not in like a romantic way (but it could totally be seen as such) but in like a friendly sweet way !! Super cute idea for a song. Unfortunately Bruno Mars has already capitalized on such an idea with that one song that I cannot remember for the life of me rn idk

I'll Cry Instead: Teehee this song is evil >:3 !!! Revenge is real and this girl is gonna be a victim!!! I love itttt it's so catchy and just makes you wanna bop your head along with it. 10/10 for her, she was exquisite.

Things We Said Today: A parting song 🤨 hmm interestinggggg. Girl they had A LOT to say in this apparently 'cause looking at the lyrics, it reads like a short story. I mean, I know that is technically what a song is but most of the time the songs read like poems this one goes crazy (and yes I know, some parts are repeated) but OMG she was a lot !!! Charming track but I didn't really groove with this one!!!

When I Get Home: okay when I read the title I thought this song was a threat I'm not gonna lie to you 😭😭.. it still seems like a threat to me. ALSO these songs need some gut to them !! These tracks have the potential to sound more angry but they won't do it and I'm trying to understand why. The Beatles have made some angry sounding songs before (but that's for a later albums) and they've all sounded fantastic. I get that the songs at the time (60s) were all lovey dovey and cute and not so aggressive but RAAHHHHH it's so frustrating to hear the same thing over and over again. But anyway yeah I feel like this song was just too repetitive for me :/ EDIT: okay listened to this song multiple times I completely misunderstood it but the rant is STAYING !!!!!

You Can't Do That: uh this girl's a runner !!! Quick someone get her, someone watch her 😭😭😭 this song is a pretty tame response to the knowledge that your girl is talking to other people. Also this dude is oddly obsessed with his reputation like, boy, reputation don't mean nothing if your girl doesn't even respect you that much ?? I don't know i've been mean with these reviews don't mind me I'm just crazyyyy this album review has been a mess 😭

I'll Be Back: this relationship is not healthy wut. He left her just to see if she would chase after him. You know what good on you girl 'cause that was a crazy thing to do on his part. Uhm overall (despite the weirdness in the relationship dynamic) I think it was the perfect track to close out an album with. It's not using all the tricks in the playbook but it's also not completely lacking either !! It's was also a very chillaxed song and not too overbearing. I liked it!! Probs won't listen again but idk I could totally be lying don't listen to me!

More Reviews on the way, next up: Beatles for Sale...

#the beatles #guys okay this review was a mess #school was beating me up #missed 2 assignments because of this #but don't worry my grades are still well!! #don't grill me #i'm literally stupid #george harrison #paul mccartney #john lennon #ringo starr #album review

[phoenixblack89]

Chapter 10 - The Secrets We Keep

Well its certainly been a hot minute since I posted a chapter. If ya follow me ten ya know that a unexpected, but otherwise welcome, pregnancy has taken up much of the past year. That whole shebang was very stressful which could b a whole episode of some soap opera with how certain members of my family went on about how I'd end up with post natal depression again and wouldn't cope with 2 kids etc. this person basically can go to hell...

Anyway that's taken up a lot of my energy and as ya can imagine i haven't had time to write or even read anything but I am finally in a place where I have the time, creativity and energy to write again and am already working on the next chapter of this so please keep ya eyes peeled.

As always - page breaker is by the awesome @firefly-graphics

TAG LIST: @lilythemadqueen @autocon23 @archerangel @littlegodzilla @pandora-writes-stuff @boondoctorwho @browneyes528 @darylsgirl @purple-serenity @fandomsaremykryponite

WARNINGS: Shane being a gaint tit, typical TWD gore, character death, foul language

Main Masterlist

SERIES MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Phoenix made her way to the camp fire as her stomach growled loudly. She knitted her eyebrows together in confusion as she saw Maggie shaking her head at Glenn from the porch of the farmhouse. She turned quickly to look his face as he received a nod from Dale. Glenn stood and walked to the centre of camp before he cleared his throat as everyone sat, gaining their attention. 

"Erm.. Guys. So... Barn's full of walkers." His voice quivered out.

"Ya know how to fucking ruin the day before it's begun don't ya Glenn." She scoffed as everyone slowly stared at the Asian man in shock, as he shuffled nervously from foot to foot. 

The group rushed towards the barn where Glenn said the walkers were. Growls and snarls could be faintly heard as the group gathered around the barn. Shane being curious, peered through the gaps in the slats into the dark building then startled back as one growled and lunged towards the smell of fresh meat. The walkers crashed against the door, making the chain rattle as the group took a step back in fright.

"You cannot tell me you're all right with this." He stated, shaking his head and pointing at the barn. 

"No, I'm not, but we're guests here. This isn't our land." Rick counted in his soft southern tones. 

"This is our lives!" Shane spat at his friend in anger. 

"Lower your voice." Glenn hissed as the doors gave another shake. 

"We can't just sweep this under the rug." Andrea sighed with a disappointing tone to her voice. 

"I would hate to agree with blondie but... We can't stay with walkers under 100 feet away." Phoenix huffed, pointing at the barn before shrugging. 

"It ain't right. Not remotely." T-Dog input quietly. 

"Okay, we've either got to go in there, we've got to make things right or we've just got to go. Now we have been talking about Fort Benning for a long time."

"We can't go." Rick snapped at his friend. 

"Why, Rick? Why?" 

"Because my daughter is still out there." Carol said breathily, giving Shane a look of disgust at such a suggestion. 

"Okay. Okay, I think it's time that we all start to just consider the other possibility." Shane laughed a little with a strange look in his eyes as he stared down the smaller woman. 

"We're not leaving Sophia behind!"

"I'm close to finding this girl. I just found her damn doll two days ago!" Daryl growled out, getting angrier by the second as the loud mouth former police man spoke. 

"You found her doll, Daryl. That's what you did. You found a doll." The man scoffed. 

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"I'm just saying what needs to be said. You get a good lead, it's in the first 48 hours." He half whispered to his former colleague, making sure that everyone else could still hear him. 

"Shane, stop."

"Ye being a dickhead Walsh." Phoenix growled, her hand going to her knife in anger. 

"Let me tell you something else, man. If she was alive out there and saw you coming all methed out with your buck knife and geek ears around your neck, she would run in the other direction!" Shane snarled into Daryl's face with a look of sheer disgust on his face. Daryl shoved at Shane as his anger got the better of him, causing the group to begin to yell at each other.

"Back off!"

"Keep your hands off me."  Shane hissed at Lori.

"Now just let me talk to Hershell. Let me figure it out." Rick yelled, trying to defuse the situation before it became a fist fight. 

"What are you gonna figure out?!" Shane spat, gesturing to the barn in question. 

"If we're gonna stay, if we're gonna clear this barn, I have to talk him into it. This is his land."

"Hershell sees those things in there as people... Sick people... His wife, his stepson." Dale spoke quietly, trying to get everyone to calm down. 

"You knew?" Rick gasped at the eldest group member.

"Yesterday I talked to Hershell." Dale said calmly, glancing at the group.

"And you waited the night?"

"I thought we could survive one more night. We did. I was waiting till this morning to say something. But Glenn wanted to be the one." The older man reasoned quietly as Shane glared at him in shocked anger. 

"The man is crazy, Rick, if Hershell thinks those things are alive or no -"

Phoenix scoffed at the noisy group before she walked around the side of the barn and looked up at the ladder. 

A Hayloft?

She glanced back at the rest of the arguing group and made her mind up and picked the torch lying in the grass up before her feet and hands pulled her quickly upwards. The smell made her gag slightly as she nearer the edge of the loft and looked downwards. The groaning mass turned their attention to her, broken and bloodied hands reaching upwards. She flicked on the torch she had grabbed and spun it over the creatures. 

"Oh shit." She gulped as she tried to do a head count. There was more than she expected there to be. How had they all gotten in here without people noticing?

Suddenly the beam of light landed on a smaller figure and her heart stopped.

"God no..." 

She turned and scrambled out of the hayloft and away from the barn as quickly as she could. As she reached camp, she leaned against a tree with her good hand and threw up all she'd eaten the last few hours. Her stomach feeling twisted and her heart completely shattered. 

It had to be her eyes playing tricks. It couldn't be her! It couldn't! Daryl had just found her doll two days ago! She wasn't in the fucking barn! She was simply lost out in the woods. 

No one noticed her throwing up or the tears streaming down her face. She fell to her knees gripping her hair tightly as she sobbed. Her rosaries fell from her shirt and she clutched them tightly in her fist. 

T-Dog was the first to notice the girl, who seemed to be in some distress. He nodded to Daryl and pointed to her. Daryl frowned and shrugged, he still felt guilty and was avoiding her. The most contact between them being when he had dragged her to Hershell. He shook his head at T-Dog and made his way to the house. 

Carl stood and frowned in confusion at Phoenix as she slowly stood. 

"What's wrong with you?" He asked curiously. She glanced down at him and walked away. Her hands itched, she needed to end the poor child's suffering for her mother's sake and the group's. It would destroy Hershell's trust in the group but to hell with that. Living with walkers less than 100 feet of them.

That wasn't going to fly. 

"Maggie. Hey, Maggie, just talk to me. Hey. Maggie." Glenn panted as he rushed after the girl, who finally paused and turned towards him. 

"Give me your hat." She held her hand out to him. "You said talk to you, I'm talking to you - Give me your hat." Maggie said quietly as Glenn handed her his hat before taking one of the eggs in the basket and placing it into the hat. Glenn looked puzzled for a moment before Maggie forcibly pushed the egg filled hat onto his ebony locks, the broken egg running down his face. 

"Why would you waste an egg like that?" He gasped flicking egg off his forehead. 

"I think it was rotten." Maggie snapped as she walked away. 

"Egg is good for ya hair Glenn. At least you'll have the best hair around here for a while." Phoenix chuckled as she glanced over her shoulder, continuing her way towards the farmhouse before spotting Carol sneaking around near the stables and heading, out of sheer curiosity, in that direction instead. 

"You can't!"  Phoenix heard Carol call out as she peered round the stable door.

"I'm fine." Daryl puffed out as he lifted a saddle down off the rack. 

"Hershell said you need to heal." 

"Yeah, I don't care." 

"Well, I do. Phoenix does too." Daryl's eyes flicked to the red head at the stable door before focusing back on the saddle. "Rick's going out later to follow the trail."

"Yeah well, I ain't gonna sit around and do nothing. Besides Rick can't track for shit." 

"Seriously Dixon?! You that pig headed that ye can't see ye need t' heal!? Ye really think I'd let Rick go out without me?" Phoenix snapped, her accent changing to a slight Irish lilt, as she entered fully, standing behind Carol and giving him a look. 

"Now ya talkin' t'me? Huh?" He spat in her direction before scoffing. "Mind ya own fucking business!" 

"No, you're gonna go out there and get yourself hurt even worse! We don't know if we're gonna find her, Daryl." Daryl paused and glanced at the grey-haired woman in shock. He couldn't believe he was hearing this from her mouth. "We don't. I don't."

"What?" 

"Carol....." Phoenix breathed in disbelief before glancing at Daryl. 

"Can't lose you too." 

Daryl threw the saddle in anger before clutching his side groaning. Carol rushed to his side and reached out to help but was brushed off.  "Are you all right?" 

"Just leave me be. Stupid bitch." He growled harshly as he limped away. Phoenix wrapped her arm around Carol's shoulders and smiled weakly. 

"He's just sore and upset Carol like a bear with a hangover. Just ignore him." 

"I know. Just wish he understood...." Carol said quietly, slipping out of the embrace and leaving the Brit to stand in the empty stable with her thoughts. 

"Come on in."

"A little light reading for lunch?" Rick asked, glancing at the bible beside the vet's plate. 

"Been working so hard lately I get my study in where I can." Hershell sighed, placing a bookmark into the holy book before gently setting it down on the table beside his plate.

"You know we can help you out with your work." 

"It's my field to tend." Hershell said quietly.

"We found the barn."

"Leave it be." Hershell said, his eyes not leaving the page. 

"Well, I'd like to talk about it, but either way... your barn, your farm, your say." 

"I don't want to talk about the barn. I don't want to debate." The man said finally looking up at Rick. 

"Not a debate, a discussion." Rick reasoned quietly. 

"I need you and your group gone by the end of the week."

Rick sighed heavily. 

"I talked to Dale. You and I have our differences with the way we look at the walkers. Those people, they may be dead, they may be alive. But my people, us, we are alive right now, right here, right in front of you. You send us out there and that could change."

"I've given you safe harbor. My conscience is clear."

"This farm..." Rick pleaded as he sat down. "This farm is special. You've been shielded from what's been going on out there. Dale said you saw everything happen on the news. Well, it's been... It's been a long time since the cameras stopped rolling." Hershell stood and walked away and Rick rushed after him to continue his plea. 

"The first time I saw a walker it was just half a body snapping at me from the ground. My inclination wasn't to kill it. But what the world is out there isn't what you saw on TV. It is much much worse and it changes you. Either into one of them or something a lot less than the person you were. Please do not... do not send us out there again."

"My wife's pregnant."

Hershell turned away from the window to look at Rick in shock. "That's either a gift here or a death sentence out there. If we were to stay we could help you with the work, with securing this place. We can survive together." 

"Rick, I'm telling you we can't."

"You think about what you're doing."

"I've thought about it." Hershell yelled. 

"Think about it."

"I've thought about it."

"Think about it again. We can't go out there." Rick said as he left the building. Hershell glanced up at Maggie, who turned away from her father. 

"He's right ya know." Phoenix sighed, stepping round the doorframe. 

"Miss Black. What do I owe the pleasure?" Hershell said quietly, standing and entering the kitchen. Phoenix followed slowly and looked at the old vet in quiet confusion.  "Ah... The same as Rick no doubt."

"There's a great deal of shit I've done in the past. You and I both know it. But this...." She scoffed, following as the man left the building. "Why keep it secret? Ya could've told us from the get go" 

"We all keep secrets do we not? You have yours.... You have them to keep you safe... From your group... from Rick and Shane...  I did the same."

"Mr Greene we ain't gonna go in there guns akimbo! This is your land and we'd of respected your decision." She spoke quietly, figuring that yelling would do no good. 

"Not all of you..." The girl nodded and sighed. "You are a woman of faith. I believe those people are sick and that God will deliver them into health again. Have you lost your faith? Do you not have any hope left at seeing the men you wish again?" 

"Faith is a fragile thing these days..."

"My offer still stands, regardless of whether your group finds out your secret. This isn't up for discussion anymore. This is my land. Its been in my family for generations."

"Mr Greene.... There are dead men walking in your barn. And one way or another...  This fucking shit is gonna end real badly."

"The same will happen if your group find out your secret. I'm asking you not to act so I don't have to Amelia..." Hershell said quietly, raising himself to his full height and staring the girl down. 

"If that is a threat, think about your decision sir. Some things need to stay in the dark..." She said quietly before turning away. 

"And some find glory in the light." Hershell said after her, returning to his work. Phoenix bowed her head and walked off slowly towards camp.

Neither noticed a figure step out of the shadows and fold their arms, shocked and a little confused about what they had just heard. 

"You're a complete bastard ya know that right?" 

Daryl glanced up at the feisty girl in front of him and scoffed. "Don't ignore me arsehole. I'll put ya on ya back and beat some sense into ya." 

"Yea, like to see ya try. Better yet, fuck off away from me." He growled deeply, his eyes daring her to even lay a single finger on him.

"Dixon.... What you said to Carol was outta line! When someone is loosing hope like that... You're supposed to make them find it again. Not blow up at them and hurt yaself!" 

"She's given up... Ain't nothin' gonna change her mind now." He sighed defeatedly. Phoenix crouched down in front of him and lifted his chin to look at her, ignoring his flinch. She smiled sadly at him before nodding slightly. 

"Then maybe... Its up to you to find something to give her that hope again. Anything to give her that little glimmer of light in the dark." Her eyes flicked down at the dried flower near his feet before patting his knee and walking away.

Daryl stood and sighed, watching as she walked towards Beth, who nodded eagerly at her. 

"Go get your cap. I'll wash it for you, okay?" Maggie said as she pulled dales hat off his head. 

"Do you know what's going on?" T-Dog asked as he walked up to the porch. 

"Where is everyone?" Andrea questioned as she walked beside T-Dog. 

"You haven't seen Rick?" Glenn asked the pair. 

"He went off with Hershel. We were supposed to leave a couple hours ago." Andrea replied softly. 

"Yeah you were. What the hell?" Daryl said as he and Carol joined the group around the farm house stoop.

"Rick told us he was going out." Carol puffed quietly, slightly out of breath from trying to keep up with Daryl's long strides. 

"Dammit. Ain't anybody taking this seriously? We got us a damn trail." Daryl snapped, waving his arm in the direction of where he'd found the doll a few days ago. "Oh, here we go."

Daryl walked up to Shane as the man walked towards the collective members of the group with the gun bat slung over his right shoulder. "What's all this?" 

"You with me, man?" Shane asked, holding out a shot gun to the redneck. "Phoenix?" 

"Yeah." Daryl replied, glancing at the Brit as she takes a gun out from the waistband of her pants and twirling it around her finger, as he took the offered shotgun. Shane nodded before turning to the rest of the group. 

"Ya had that all this time?" Daryl asked, cocking his head at the girl, who smirks in reply. 

"Time to grow up. You already got yours?" Shane said to Andrea over his shoulder as he passed by her. 

"Yeah." She said back quickly "Where's Dale?"

"He's on his way." 

"Thought we couldn't carry." T-Dog said confused as a handgun was placed into his palm. 

"We can and we have to. Look, it was one thing sitting around here picking daisies when we thought this place was supposed to be safe. But now we know it ain't." Shane said pacing in front of the stunned group before turning to Glenn. "How about you, man? You gonna protect yours?" Glenn glanced at Maggie before taking the shotgun from Shane.

"That's it. Can you shoot?" Shane questioned the elder farmer's daughter. 

"Can you stop? You do this, you hand out these gun, my dad will make you leave tonight." Maggie snapped, glaring at the angry man. 

"We have to stay, Shane." Carl spoke up as he walked towards his angry uncle. 

"What is this?" Lori queried as she exited the house and stomped towards the group. 

"We ain't going anywhere, okay? Now look, Hershell, he's just gotta understand. Okay? He... Well, he's gonna have to. Now we need to find Sophia. Am I right?" Shane whispered as he kneeled down in front of Carl.

"Huh? Now I want you to take this. You take it, Carl, and you keep your mother safe. You do whatever it takes. You know how. Go on, take the gun and do it." 

Lori pushed Carl behind her quickly and snarled down at the man for daring to drag her son into the madness. 

"Rick said no guns. This is not your call. This is not your decision to make."

"Oh shit." T-Dog exclaimed, his gaze drawn to the edge of the forest and the sight of Jimmy taunting a walker being controlled by a leash. The group all turned and gasped. 

"What is that? What is that?" Shane panted as he took off running towards the trio with walkers on poles got closer to the barn. 

"Shane!" Lori yelled after him as she and the rest of the group followed him. 

"What the hell are you doing?" He yelled bursting though the rusted gate. 

"Shane, just back off." Rick yelled as he corralled the walker he was controlling away from Jimmy. 

"Why do your people have guns?" Hershell snapped, his glare going to the Brit, who lowered her guns and slipped them back into their place. 

"Are you kidding me? You see? You see what they're holding onto?" Shane gestured towards the walkers in disgust. 

"I see who I'm holding onto." Hershell stated, his face a stony mask.

"No, man, you don't." Shane growled angrily, dodging the walkers outreaching fingers as Jimmy ducked away from the others. 

"Shane, just let us do this and then we can talk." 

"What you want to talk about, Rick? These things ain't sick! They're not people! They're dead! Ain't gonna feel nothing for them 'cause all they do, they kill! These things right here, they're the things that killed Amy. They killed Otis! They're gonna kill all of us!"

"Shane, shut up!" Rick yelled over the growls and hisses. 

"Hey, Hershell man, let me ask you something." He asked as he pulled his gun from his waistband and checked the chamber. "Could a living breathing person, could they walk away from this?" Shane hissed before shooting the walker in the stomach. Phoenix flinched at the noise and glanced at the rattling chain as Shane pumped 3 shots into the chest of the walker. 

"No! Stop it!" Rick snapped as he grit his teeth. 

"That's three rounds in the chest! Could someone who's alive, could they just take that?! Why is it still coming?" The angry man shot again and again.

"That's its heart, its lungs. Why is it still coming?" Shane shot another round from his clip into the walker. 

"Shane, enough."

"Yeah, you're right, man. That is enough." Shane took the final shot and ended the walker, Hershell dropped the leash and paled. "Enough risking our lives for a little girl who's gone!" Phoenix glanced away from the barn at Shane's words, causing T-Dog to give her a questioning look.

"Enough living next to a barn full of things that are trying to kill us!" 

"Enough!" Rick snarled, his grip on the catch pole sliding slightly. 

"Rick, it ain't like it was before! Now if y'all want to live, if you want to survive, you got to fight for it! I'm talking about fighting right here, right now." 

Shane smashed open the barn doors and backed off quickly as a group of the undead stumbled out. 

"Take the snare pole. Hershell, take the snare pole. Hershell, listen to me, man, please. Take it now. Hershell! Take it!"  Rick pleaded as Hershell stared at the guns pointed towards his friends and family. 

"No, Shane. Do not do this, brother."

"Wait! Don't do it!"  Glenn yelled. 

"Rick!" Lori shrieked. 

"Please!" 

Shane ignored everyone's yelling and broke the lock on the doors with a pick axe before throwing them open.

"Come on. Come on, we're out here." Shane taunted, backing away slowly from the barn doors. 

"This is not the way!" 

"Please!" Beth cried out as Patricia wrapped her arms around the girl. 

"Get behind me." Lori whispered, shoving Carl behind her and trying to shield him. 

"Come on." 

The walkers scrambled and growled towards the group.  Phoenix bowed her head as Daryl gave her a glance before raising his gun and taking aim. Tears fell silently down her cheeks as she knew what was about to happen.

Something she could have warned the group about. 

"Maggie." Glenn whispered to the young woman, who was clutching her stunned father as tears flowed down her face too. 

"It's okay."  Maggie whispered and nodded  at Glenn who raised his own shotgun. 

"Stay back!" Rick yelled over the shots as Lori pulled Carl to the ground and hugged him tightly.  

The group panted as the barn doors slowly creaked and a lone figure appeared, blinking at the sudden change in lighting. 

"Sophia?" Carol sobbed, rushing towards the barn to her daughter before Daryl grabbed hold of her around the waist as she collapsed to the ground. "Sophia! Oh no. Sophia. Sophia. No!" 

Lori grabbed onto Carl and pulled him tighter against her as her heart broke for the other mother of the group. Carl sobbed as he stared at his friend's corpse stumbled towards the group. Rick pulled his gun out slowly and aimed at the little girl's head. Silence over took the land as a single shit was heard. 

"Don't watch." Daryl whispered to Carol as she sobbed. 

"Sophia!" Carol wailed as Phoenix turned and ran before her body had even hit the ground. 

#phoenixbwrites #fera ingris #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd fanfiction #twd daryl #twd #walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfic #walking saints #daryl x oc #daryl x phoenix #the walking dead daryl #boondock saints fanfiction #connor macmanus #boondock saints fanfic #walking saints fanfic #twd x bds

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Hello! First time asking on tumblr!

I just wanted to ask about your thoughts between Edward and the last remaining furness engines that made it into BR days? Do you think he would be chummy with them cuz of the fact that they’re the last furness engines kicking around in the area, or would their be a divide due to them being “Sharpies”, if the whole feud between the seagulls (Well Seagull, singular) and the sharpies is even still a thing?

Ooh.

At the risk of a spoiler in the Nobby-verse... the Sharpie/Seagull feud becomes a dead letter (or more of a tired old joke) almost immediately after Grouping. Furness territory gets swarmed in short order by "foreign" engines who start taking over some of their assignments, the situation with management is uncertain, and the idiots by and large get their shit together real quick. They still bicker plenty ofc but they also show up for each other against outside threats instead of trying to undermine each other. By the '30s they probably refer to each other as "cousins" instead of "those dirty bastards."

So by nationalisation? Yeah, I think the 7 or so ex-Furness 0-6-0s and Edward would have felt positively about each other—it's nice to know it's not only your little spot of earth that still remembers all that lost culture. Chumminess, though, would have been pretty well precluded by distance. Edward only poked his funnel into Barrow occasionally and irregularly at this point, and the remaining 0-6-0s weren't even at Barrow—they were shedded up at Moor Row. So it's kind of a coin flip as to whether they ever ran into each other at all. If they had, though, I am sure the vibes would be  good. Perhaps bittersweet, but, look, by the early '50s these guys are all survivors. They've been through a lot. I think on the whole they'd appreciate it as a happy coincidence and would go home chuffed to tell their shedmates that they saw old so-and-so that day.

I have thought a good bit about these postwar years up in Moor Row and I like to imagine it was cosy. I mean it was a small, unimportant depot in the middle of nowhere but it was homey. Trainspotters often wrote into journals at the time about seeing some of the last pre-Grouping engines at Moor Row. It not only had the final ex-Furness engines but it also had a contingent of old ex.-Lancaster and Yorkshire 0-6-0s. Ha! I'd bet those two groups were also fierce rivals early in Grouping but by that point, hell. Again, they have all survived a Grouping, a Depression, a World War, and Nationalisation. They're all old and they just like to live a mellow life. All of them were scrapped by the end of the '50s but they'd gotten a pretty full working life. Judging by the notes people wrote into rail magazines at the time, Moor Row took great care of its engines. It was not a bad way to spend your last years and I like to think they were all friends.

And if someone brought in "Old Iron" to read to them? The incredulous laughter and the swapping of stories from four decades ago and the gossip about what an absolute looneybin Sodor was—it would have gone on for hours. ("Why do they have two major crises a year? It's only, what, 150 miles of network all told?... More like 200... aye, what a bleedin' circus... They dress it up for the stories, I reckon... nah, I was right across the bridge from them for 20 years. If anything they sound more sane in these books of theirs...")

So that's my personal headcanon.

That said, for fic writing purposes I have definitely experimented with the drama of, like, FC1 or FC2 trialling one of the last FR 0-6-0s on Sodor. And Edward being delighted to find another survivor! Only to be absolutely blown away when the pleasure is not reciprocated and, like, 52509 or whoever (who, mind you, would have been built after Edward had left the mainland anyway) just being like piss off, Seagull and Edward being gobsmacked. ... this is the year of our Lord nineteen fifty-two?? Surely you cannot be serious.

Obviously, James is the hero everyone needs here. No, I'm serious. That's a separate ask, I'll finish describing that fic idea one day.

#chatter #i really need a tag for furness headcanon at this point #ttte edward #thank you for the ask!

[astramthetaprime]

Sign Post on the Highway to Hell

You are Here. 

Okay so Christmas, not so fun.  As per usual, there was food.  I got to eat beef for the first time in forever, which was very nice.  And ham, which was really just a bonus.  The real gem of the hour was the scratch-made mashed potatoes.  From actual potatoes.  So yeah, my family as I’ve said before does one hell of a good holiday meal.  

Moving on, I said very little to anyone, interacted as little as possible, and thankfully avoided any further incidents.  Which, while not ideal from a Holiday as Produced by Hallmark, was acceptable from the standpoint of Not Causing Any Further Incidents.  

Anyway, so that happened.  I am now going to enjoy being Holiday Free until Easter.  Which I may be able to avoid, so maybe even until July 4th.  Time will tell.

The real trouble started the following Tuesday, when I started the new phone job.  

From time to time -- maybe once every month, sometimes more than that -- I wake up in the morning and immediately go into this ... I dunno what to call it.  I wake up and just immediately go into this horrible anxiety attack.  Like, I’m aware I’m conscious, and I feel my body literally switch from standby to full power.  It’s like someone’s thrown a switch and I turn on like a space heater, my body goes in a few seconds to blazing hot, I get this electric feeling all through my body, and I get instantly nauseous.  I go from asleep to my mouth flooding with spit getting ready to yark up my guts all over the bed.  I smell the most horrible smell, like a grease trap, and I swear it’s coming from inside me.  Like it’s coming up from my stomach and through my nose as I breathe and I smell it on the way out.  It can take me several minutes to get past all this enough to sit up and get out of bed, and I end up being nauseous, physically weak, shivering and shaking for the rest of the day.  This happened on Tuesday morning.  The very worst time this could have happened, starting a new job that I was already freaked out and anxious about.  

Today was the first day I’ve felt halfway back to normal.  And I’m still faintly nauseous.  Oh and did I mention that lately I get onto these crying fits and can’t stop?  Yeah, that’s happening too.  The last three days.  I cry at the drop of a hat these days.  I can’t seem to stop myself.  

And I’m finding it increasingly difficult to eat.  I just don’t want to eat anymore.  Which worries me since I’m 100lbs overweight and you don’t get that way by hating food.  But these days I have to force myself to eat.  It may be due to the nausea, I dunno.  But I was looking at a plate of two hamburgers last night and had to force myself to eat the first and half the second, and gave the rest to my dog.  Because I couldn’t bear to eat another bite.  

My best guess?  The extreme stress and anxiety of the last two to three months has hit a critical threshold.  Something has to give.  That something is my health.

“But AuntyP!” I seem to hear the masses cry, “Why don’t you go to therapy?”

To go to therapy requires several things.  First, that there are funds available for such an endeavor.  Second, that one has the time to devote to such an endeavor.  And third, that one has an appropriate therapist.  

There are no funds available.  I cannot afford to take the time off from work for such an endeavor.  And third, therapists who can deal intelligently with late-diagnosed adult autistics and our unique reactions to anxiety and stress are about as rare as rhodium-plated dewclaws on a fish.  In the midst of all this, the last thing I want is to shove my diagnosis letter and my test results under a so-called doctor’s nose and have to convince them I’m not BPD or “just depressed” simply to be dismissed and charged several hundred dollars for the privilege of denting his couch.  

“But AuntyP!” again I hear the masses cry, “Why don’t you get another job?”

Yeah, I’m trying that.  I’ll let you know.  Getting jobs has never been my strong suit.  Although I’ve seen that’s actually very common for We Happy ASD, so shout out to all my homies who have always been told we’re highly intelligent but inexplicably can’t get hired to drive pizza for Saturday nights during football season.  Hell, most Domino’s will hire bums off the street with vodka breath and needle tracks along every vein but friendzone autistics like it’s a national pasttime.  So yeah, it’s a continuing journey.  

Long story short... er... (looks up at preceding hundreds of words) 

It’s just... I’m stuck.  In a situation that is inherently hostile to my mind and soul.  From which I cannot escape since to simply quit my job will mean homelessness.  But which to endure will mean physical and mental upset on an indefinite basis, with no support available.  

Yeah.  “Incredibly intelligent” my pasty white saggy ass.  My brain isn’t saving me lately.  It’s throwing me under the bus.

#allaboardtheangstexpress #AuntyPTellsAStory #actuallyautistic #depression #stress #anxietylikewhoa

[christmasintheloonybin]

thought about engaging in consumerism this black Friday because I have wanted to buy a pair of black jeans for a long time (sad, impoverished life where I have to think long and hard before buying one pair of jeans but oh well). something about a deal actually repulses me I don't know why. I feel manipulated or something. it makes me want to buy a pair of jeans less. maybe growing up poor and resenting it, I despise a handout, I know a handout and a bargain are not the same thing, but I feel as if I cannot go through with buying a pair of jeans DISCOUNTED with my dignity intact. I would rather pay full price just to avoid feeling manipulated.

being broke has been good for me though, I realize all I really need in life is enough money for cigarettes. as long as I have cigarette money I am happy. small pleasure that goes a long way. I am cheap as hell when I'm broke, when I have money I am actually quite generous, I genuinely enjoy taking people out to eat buying things for people I like etc. not just with women its not a chauvinist thing. just people I like. but in general some part of me does feel ashamed and emasculated when I'm with someone, especially a woman, at a restaurant and I don't pay for the bill. I understand the arguing thing because it's genuinely humiliating. being broke I have also learned an important skill - going into a store without buying anything. I hate to be "that guy" in book stores or record stores especially, who go in for the vibes or to be seen there without actually sort of paying your dues. its disgusting! especially because these are niche and honestly irrelevant markets, so if you want to have book stores to stroll through and feel cultured at in the future, you better pitch in to keep them alive. but this is an important skill I believe still, to say "I don't really need this." and I realize, again, that I really need very little. just cigarettes. and food ideally. I'd choose cigarettes over food, though.

all this being said, i have a promising lead at a bakery, I just need to sort some things out with the community college I plan on attending first, lol. I think it would be nice to work at a bakery, even though it involves getting up obscenely early, I can't sleep and I wake up at around 5:00 anyways, so 3:00 or 4:00 wouldn't be a severe adjustment. it would prohibit me from staying up late but I have no social life so it makes no difference to me.

community college, I am obviously not super stoked about. but I already did a year, right after I graduated high school, and they have a program in place for transfers to the local university that everyone goes to, it's informally called "grade 13" because just about everyone goes there after high school, like as a default. I don't particularly care where I go, maybe I could transfer to a college somewhere else in the country, this might be a good idea, but the local college town is relatively close to where I live, I am familiar with the area, it's just more comfortable than if I packed up and moved to California or Texas or something. lol. but maybe that would be good for me. community college, depressing but probably a good halfway point between the proletarian and bourgeois worlds. if I went straight into regular university, with all these fucking teenagers I think it would be a very alienating experience. if I can ease my way in, it will still be strange when I'm in classes with people four or five years younger than me, but at least I'll be slightly more acclimated and I can just do my own thing. also I look young, so it's not that weird. my problem is more idiot kids who think they know everything. it's funny seeing young people now, I mean even like 20 year olds. they think they know everything but they're just kids. because I can remember being like 15 and thinking I knew it all. like I had everything figured out. just a product of aging I guess. of course, I have always felt this way and disavow my former self as an idiot, but the pattern continues, I'm sure in a year I'll think about the things I thought now and be embarrassed. this is life!

[crystalelemental]

Hey DeNA?  Why is Hoenn so rough?  I initially wanted to do this as an F2P run and it was not working out at all.  Granted, I had a busy day and am really irritable because of it, so less inclined to be patient with it like I otherwise have to be, but what is actually up with some of these stages?

Drake went first because I’m a moron.  “Oh, Condition 1 buffs physical, sure, I’ll definitely use that against the Ground-type AoE spamming Dragon man over Glacia.”  Stupid.  Honestly, it’s because I was fixating on beating him first in general, and the F2P strat involved saving half time to sync for Silver to explode Glacia into powder so she was off the table.  But yeah, this was rough.  Earthquake spam is a rough time for the sides.  Thankfully, my Hail on entry overwrites his Sandstorm on entry, so Winter Rosa stocks are up, baby!  I just wish Summer Steven were a bit stronger.  He barely misses the KO on the sides with sync, it’s really depressing.

Okay.  Look.  Anyone who pays attention to my attempts to break down stages has probably noticed, I miss some details every time.  This is, in part, because I don’t read the tips.  It’s also because enemies have a billion passives and sometimes I don’t run into them, but also I refuse to read the tips.  I feel like I can piece together what’s happening on intuition and experience alone, and it’s worked out.  But since the x2 skills exist, and are apparently always listed in the tips, I decided hey, I’m willing to try that out.  So I read the tips this time!  And against Sidney, they recommended Bede for like...everything.  The damage, confuse rate, reflecting status, and most notably, reducing his special attack to weaken his special moves.  Sidney’s almost entirely physical.  I think I saw Water Pulse one time.  So the one and only time I read the tips for advice...they fucking lied to my face.  Never again.  Anyway, Valerie gets to be the star because I love her.  This was a constant disaster, he’s so stupidly strong on the physical end despite seeming to be specially inclined.  He gets +2 special but literally never uses special moves!  I don’t get it!  What’s the joke?!  I hate this fight so much!

Glacia was Fire-weak, which in my book means Serena time.  It’s been a while since I used Kimono Jasmine too.  All these F2P clears are fun for challenges, but bad for the soul, because it keeps me away from the premium favorites.  But it’s Jasmine time now, baby.  The rapid-buffing special defense meant we were unbreakable.  We took half HP as a condition, and took Blizzard to the face without flinching.  Chad.

Speaking of chads, here’s your semi-regular reminder that Anni Lillie is still the shit, even if her damage isn’t great.  I went into this like a moron, going about my business, before remembering after setting Ghost Zone that they already had half time to sync, and that I implemented -2 sync cooldown.  I just powered her up.  But did that matter at all?  Fuck no, Anni Lillie took that sync thanks to Healthy Benefits 5, and cleared the stage first try anyway.  Goth Gals remain undefeatable, and Anni Lillie cannot be killed from full HP.  God I love them.

Last up, it’s a Water-weak stage, which means base Kris time.  Aaron is the support as always, but this time I played stupid.  How stupid you ask?  Apparently, really stupid.  I forgot to uncheck -2 sync cooldown, which is ill-advised.  But it turns out, Steven’s pre-sync move is Screech.  Which is a move.  Which means it can be flinched.  Which means Winona saved their asses by nailing that desperation flinch, and allowing Kris to kick them apart Washington-style.  Fantastic finish to an otherwise irritating run.

Overall, I’m giving the Big Dick Challenge award to Drake.  That AoE spam was brutal.  I know it’s partially my fault for using Winter Rosa/Summer Steven in mid-2022, but I love them, and don’t have better Ice-type damage dealers than Steven.  Sidney was a pain in my ass, but only because of the lying bastard tips telling me he was specially-focused.  Absolute liars.  Never forgive.  I want to give the wussbag award to Phoebe because of how hard Anni Lillie owned her, but it feels a little unfair.  Steven, frankly, barely did damage.  I imagine it was supposed to be harder and we kinda just lucked out on his AI pattern, but he really was an easy clear that wasn’t overly threatening, and would’ve been less so had I remembered to adjust my parameters.

#pokemon masters #champion stadium

[katbluecheese]

I have a dilemma.

I had my first therapy session yesterday with a new professional. Technically I think she's a social worker. But I don't know why I was assigned to a social worker because I specifically signed up for this service because I am already diagnosed bipolar and ADHD, and I'm seeking diagnosis for possible BPD and autism.

This is the second professional I have been assigned. I did not feel comfortable talking with the first one, just from setting up our appointment over the phone. This is a service that actually sends the professional to you. However, my home is not a place I feel comfortable speaking freely. With the first professional I couldn't even communicate to her that I needed to meet her somewhere like a park or something. She was more worried about having to pay a toll on a bridge to come see me, which wasn't even relevant because I don't live on the other side of that bridge.

Anyway, I contacted the service that set me up with the original therapist and requested someone else. It took them a second to find a new person for me. I had my first session with her yesterday. We met in a park, sat on a bench, and I cried my eyes out telling her how hopeless I've been feeling because of the narcissistic abuse I'm experiencing at home, at the hands of my mother. Because I'm also currently pregnant, I am unmedicated for my bipolar disorder, resulting in me being extremely depressed. I'm also concerned about subjecting my child to my mother's narcissistic abuse and potential physical abuse (because she did physically abuse me as a child) once he is born.

This professional responds by telling me to just block out what my mom is saying, to remember many people have it worse than I do, and to listen to music or go on walks (I have been having increasingly difficult mobility issues since becoming pregnant). She also wants me to make to-do lists in order to make my days more productive, to combat my bipolar depression. I explained that my ADHD doesn't executive function like that but I'd try.

This is where my dilemma lies. I don't feel like this was a productive therapy session at all. To tell me to invalidate my own feelings while being verbally and mentally abused, just doesn't sit right with me.

If I were to ask for a different professional, it would take weeks for a new person to be assigned to me. I have a tricky scheduled to work around because I have two jobs, and I'm responsible for getting my boyfriend to and from his full time job. He's epileptic and cannot drive. This lady was able to work around my schedule. She was even willing to meet me on Sundays. I don't know that anyone else would be able to do so.

Something just doesn't feel right with the whole, "other people have it worse," phrase being thrown around. On the other hand, maybe what she told me was sound advice and I'm just too lulu delulu to see it? Idk.

I need some help. I don't trust myself from a lifetime of being harassed for every decision that I make. Any and all advise would be helpful. I don't really have people in my life I can talk to about this sort of thing.

#therapy #i need advice #help me!!! #personal

[cryptic-rainfall]

I think my problem is that I can't half-ass anything even if I try. I'm either fantasizing about it ONLY or I am committing all the way. I just get so invested in my hobbies that I really want to try ambitious projects or I want to mod every aspect and I can't pull back and do the minimal amount.

Here's where the problem comes: I work full time, how extremely low energy, and am constantly fighting with fatigue and pain. If I go all in then I am basically signing up for disappointment and despair from not being able to do that much. Moderation is impossible, but so is going all in (due to time and energy restrictions), so I can't do any of the hobbies that I want to do.

I really really want to build my PC. It would be a great way to set myself up for future hobbies and personal endeavors that I've frankly been dying to get into. But it's my first PC build. I can't be out here building my dream mechanical keyboard and trying out switches and losing it over custom keycap sets. I can't be out here trying to mod my case (that would add an extra 2 days to this project at the least, and that's optimistic!). This stuff doesn't even involve the components of the computer! I can't be out here trying to balance bleeding-edge technology, my budget is $1500. I can't be out here trying to find compatible software alternatives on linux, I'm planning to dual boot anyway to figure that out after building everything! Why am I spending so long researching this now, I don't even have a computer in front of me! It's all fantasy until I build the computer, and I literally planned it so I can figure it out LATER.

I try to do these things in moderation, but before I know it I've fallen down another rabbit hole. And it's not that I don't want to be in that rabbit hole! I am so fascinated by what I find around me, I can't help but go deeper, with joy and glee and curiosity. The problem is that I don't have the time! If I want any form of this to get done for real in real life, I cannot be spending my time and energy in this rabbit hole. But I want to so much. But I just, don't have the spoons to get it all done. I don't have the time or energy.

So I either have to learn moderation (many failed tries, it's probably not happening), hope that a miracle occurs giving me copious amounts of time and energy (somehow I'm still clinging to this one even though it's the least realistic), or I have to give up on my hopes and dreams. And the problem with giving up is that. I can't. I've tried! I have told myself that it's better to give up; that it's my only viable option. But I keep getting up and trying again. So I don't know what the solution will be. Maybe I'll just be miserable in this limbo of hoping, getting excited and trying too much, and not actually doing anything. The cycle of depression, if you will.

#I either have to learn moderation #or I have to just give up #because I am not gonna get the time/energy to do all that I want to do #this is not a vent blog

[the-firebird69]

Watch "StarCraft II: Heart of the Swarm 8K Opening Cinematic [HighK AI Upscaled]" on YouTube

This is my genre and I am the queen of blades and I'm going to attack you to keep my husband from getting kidnapped and you'll rude the day that you awaken me to the fact you're going to do it we appreciate your talking today

Queen of blades

I don't belong in prison by anyone's plan that wants to get anything out of someone who skilled as I am at inventing. I feel bad for you you're never going to go anywhere Max

Zues aka Jim

I'm going to tell you this is so bad everybody I work with is spoiled and you're all stupid as soon as they're laughing at them and they're big fellows and see what they can do and it won't shut up just like retards

Mac

I also have to let you know Max that you control it most of the time and you're controlling dja at times and it's a wonderful thing no it's terrifying to a lot of people but a lot of your max just don't have it I'd like to them and they a bunch of them and they need to be repaired first cuz you're probably never be ahead of them anyways but still my hope my conversation was going to go like this I cannot bear it I cannot stand it I can't listen to it and I can't see the dead person saying it and not want to cut his head off immediately and s*** down his throat for all to see I can hardly hold myself back from lighting the stupid mother f***** on fire it's so freaking dumb and illogical. I launch attacks on them later I see them in the news sometimes and they're Max and they're just stone cold dead on a slab of the morgue because they're acting like children on purpose and thinks it's a romper room section here I'm trying to survive I don't have any money I'm surrounded by people who are desperate and running around stabbing people like you Max. You're a bunch of idiots and I don't believe that you're going to go anywhere I don't believe you're going to succeed I don't believe that Matt can pick it up and he's disabled if he was not disabled he would have a very difficult time. I want to Max to know that I'm not alone these people here do their best and they try they're handicaps most the time they're unarmed their armies are in tatters and we're not allowed to properly train but mine are different I have a personal Army they're very big and their means and they can come in clothes and rip you apart as a joke they can rip apart still submarines with their hands I don't want to hear this s*** from you a****** queers you go home and stick your head in a beer I'll stick your friend's head up your ass I don't care you want to bother me all day and all night with all these people you're going to pay like you are you should listen to Mac you're paying through the nose

Zues

We're not used to being talked to this way

Macs

So

Zues Hera

You don't understand what you're saying

Macs

You will not relent on me my goal is to survive only at this time you are so ridiculous you're making my survival very difficult and you're not helping at all you let me on my own so I'm on my own trying to survive why is that so hard to figure out there's so many people trying to kidnap me you sitting there laughing cuz you might kidnap me it's a f****** joke kidnapping is a sin on your side and you don't even understand that it needs to know it. But here it is underneath your cities are Galactus and Galactica mostly them the father and mother have them too but I have a lot of them and they're gigantic if you want DC to be depressed into the Earth 2 miles the whole area 20 by 30 or so keep on mouthing off like little baby kids to piss me off cuz I'm full of piss and vinegar to do what I can get away with and have Olympus make up for it you little f*****

Galactus Galactica

What are you saying is true there are these Giants and they lost the battle they went down under they're making them huge and regrouping and making tons of them and they defeated Tommy F and one of his largest armies of Jager and robots with ease and I don't want to hear from you s*** heads you're so f****** stoned on something what's wrong with you you're pissing him off more you wanted to counterbalance everything you haven't you haven't gotten to one of them you don't know what they are you're so f****** fruit cakey everything is fake big huge sharks are fake you see them every day so you're used to it giant bugs are fake so you see them everyday you're used to it you've seen mutants you have a mutant running the country practically you see her everyday you know what she is and you're used to it I guess you're going to see Galactus and Galactica and get used to it have BG sale you just going to look at it I suppose you're right you should just be the s*** heads

Mac daddy you f****** loses right now you going to fix your pain you f****** losers

You soon again something before I seem to do stuff like that and we're not doing anything nobody cares he's going to take advantage of it and he's smiling and laughing at him and making fun of him and pissing him off more as he's ripping us a new one like no one ever has in history he says I don't even have to you're going around getting rid of yourself and some sort of infight and other Max and other people's because you're a big mouth and he says that and it's true and we sound like Trump he says I got to get out of here but for real we are starting to really suck and we're doing stupid things that they do we can't stand it you see those things I'll tell you what are you so much we're going to cut him loose

Macs

I'm putting a hit on that Mac in any who are sided with him on that subject and it is a hit and it's stuff to ours I'm having Hera send it up

Zues Hera

I'm sending it into Olympus now for approval and we're going to send it out once they stamp it

Thor Freya

We have approved it and we're sending it out we're going to take their stuff and their bases I'm so sick of these idiots what we see now is there just a pack of idiots like these retards I'm going to take advantage of it before they can fix their brains and we thank you for announcing it in the meeting like a bunch of yacking idiots who think that life is free you can do whatever you want and you're invulnerable which is absolutely not true

Olympus

So what are the queer boys respond with you're not invulnerable to Olympus anybody even 5 years old you little children that you're worried about your little quiz tomorrow where there's a pop quiz in class he's shrinking down with Jason I mean what what the hell you sound like 5 year old kids you act like it and you're going to get the floor mopped with you like 5 year old children do you spaz

Zues Hera

It's kind of funny I've been waiting for someone to tell them off that matters and they see you might have power they still say they don't care and we're getting smaller and smaller by the hour but like 9% of the population instead of 25 to 30%, who the hell are you Max to say this s*** to him I see you doing it you should be fired but we all have the same problem really he can't stand here comes by like a rhinoceros and stamps out whoever the hell is doing it you can't figure that s*** out are you doing after she took his money that's driving that's terrific that is great we're going to go we're going to all die

Mac daddy

We heard of the mental hospital house he said terrific I know what to do he's doing it a little and it reminds us of a bunch of boobs so he's going to wail on us he's going to sit there and laugh and stuff and we don't care cuz we have a big huge fleet

Mike tew

WTF thanks for the news flash the ancient history class and all sorts of other things that are making my people incensed on top of being irate. Just tell me where your bunkers are Mike too and I'll move them to the surface of Saturn so you can stare at them

Zues Hera

I certainly did something it's actual power and he wants us to shut up just Tommy F has it now and some of the ships if he gets these out he's going to have some actual power but not for long and he says that and we don't know if he agree or not cuz we can't tell I guess we're looking at stuff and don't believe it you're going to get out of here it says you better keep your brain like it is now or you won't have a sense of humor. And I certainly understand that's funny

Macs

#Youtube

[starvette]

T 11-13/90 51.8

I got paid and suddenly I have so much to do there's time only for brief stenographies of my days.

11 I weighed 51.6. Mom got me sweet cherries and a piece of smoked cod. Both were excellent. But not excellent enough for me to stop freaking out and tweeting at him. Mom checked how my hair removal has been going on the back of my thighs and said it was much better. Then she proceeded to make gnarly comments about how I am perfect the way I am. I did my arm weight workout for the first time in a long time and read a great many KP posts. I've been really enjoying sunbathing and took some decent selfies after today's session. Acne is starting to come back without any sweeteners.

12 The tweet worked! Sort of. I'm still depressed and blasting Married in Mount Airy. Right when things had started to get peaceful again, mom comes crying in my room - dad is being mean again. I force myself to put it out of my mind because if they're two old fucking adults who have always been so much smarter than me, well then why the hell can't they figure it out between themselves. I obviously have enough to worry about that nobody else ever EVER worries about. For example, my neighbor granny's imprisoned cat. While making gas safety rounds at noon I notice she has put up a sort of mosquito net in front of her window. It's obviously for her cat. Is that how he escaped last time? I read a giant article about the lab leak theory. Probably took me way too long. Then I read in the news that a girl has been beat up in the face by a gang of teenagers in town center late at night. Makes me queasy about running. I stayed in, ate two bags of frozen bean pods and watched the idol. Tomorrow is planned binge day which I'm disgustingly excited for, but I couldn't wait, I had to see it right away so I had only those beans for a movie snack.

13 The most amazing thing happens. I get paid! I tell him I love him. Depression lifts right away. I actually worked out and then went out to get those damn pastries. I got three almond croissants, two vegan cinnabuns, one nutella danish, and one regular croissant. ...aaand... They're kind of dry. They're not that great. I get full fast and don't even want the rest. What I want is to throw all this crap up. I tried doing that but I just got a few wet crumbs out. Maybe they'd already digested?! Anyway. It's clear that I truly cannot purge. I swear off any more binges ever again. Like, I really fucking regret this one. I have two leftover pastries. Don't even want them at all. Gonna gift to mom. In the afternoon I hear a terrible bellowing outside. She must have opened her window and her cat is pleading to get outside? It honestly breaks my heart. Well, then I tell myself I have to save myself before I can save anyone else, sunbathe, and I. finally. fucking. get. finasteride. I was extremely pleasantly surprised by the price. That made me feel a lot more hopeful and positive about this whole fin ordeal looming ahead. When I got home, mom was finishing up bathing and told me that dad has mellowed out and is sweet again. We decided to give him my leftover pastries as reward. And just maybe they'll kill him a bit sooner. I've started wearing skirts around the house for the KP. After all, pants, especially those made of plastic, aren't natural at all. Nor is sitting. When I don't feel like wearing a skirt I'll just imagine I'm living with a sexual deviant dominant daddy who's ordered me to wear skirts at all times. But it's been pretty easy now since it's 25 degrees inside.

[aprayerforclarity]

4/12

I've been feeling pretty off today. It was when I was driving in my car that I realized I felt very introspective and melancholic today. Around 4:30 pm I took some mushrooms because I felt very unfocused. I guess I thought it was "shake up" my neurons and somehow get me into focus, but instead sent me further into my introspection.

When trying to rationalize why I'm feeling low, I think about the lack of sleep I had last night. I went to bed around 11:45 PM last night, and awoke to the sound jackhammering. When I glanced at my alarm clock it said 230. I remember feeling wide awake, and slightly hungry, so I went to the kitchen to eat some peanut butter. I find that eating sometimes puts me back to sleep. Anyways, I got on my phone, which, even in the moment, I knew was a big "no-no" and began looking up any books about Governnor John WHite. After a while of reading and scrolling, I realized I wasn't getting any more tired, so I tired mediatiation. I sat up on the side of my bed, put in ear plugs and set my alarm for 15 minutes and 20 seconds (the 20 extra seconds accounted for me putting my phone down and putting on my eyemask)

Like my attitude with a lot of my mediatiion, there was nothing gained from it, but I did expect to feel a bit more tired after it. That didn't seem to help, so I tired reading my book. An hour or so went by, and by this time it was around 5:15 AM. In a last attempt to get me to fall asleep, I decided I would go to Bojanges (my favorite fast food breakfast) for a SEC biscuit when they opened at 5:30. I ate it in the car as I drove back.

I have to continue this in an hour or so, because I have to attending a Codesmith Meeting on how to Prepare for the Technical Interview.

TBC

I'm back now. The meeting about the Technical Interview did put my mind at ease. It's going to be challenging, but I feel like I have properly gauged the difficulty and know the challenges and timelines that lie ahead. I just downloaded a couple books to my kindle to help with my full understanding of the concepts, and I'm excited to dive in!!!

Anyway, during my depressed mushroom trip to the sauna today I realized something. The concept of writing I'm building in my head goes like this:

You have to tell the reader everything that is going on in a scene. Whatever you don't write, the reader cannot see

Instead of trying to constantly build off of what you've written, forget about the previous paragraph. Each new opening and description of a scene or the thoughts of a character are new and novel. Just keep opening them up and let them flow!! You can tied them all together later.

It is important in a first draft to not worry about spelling or how "good" it sounds. Even now, I'm realizing I can write faster when I'm not focused on the words and just streamlining my thoughts.

You can go back and edit. That's a huge secret weapon. There are two parts of the brain, the part that mystically pulls out the images and flows them onto the paper, and the part that makes them sound (and look) good.

When trying to get a though down, I need to just let it flow. My flow can be ruined if I even look at the words on the screen. I feel like at a simple misspelling or the misuse of a word, I'm already having to backtrack and it disrupts my flow. I'm trying to write and edit at the same time, and that just isn't working so well. From here on out, I'm going to employee this self discovered technique. Just let the thoughts flow(by only looking at the keyboard) and then go back and edit them and fix any mistakes. Perhaps I'll eventually get better at doing both simultaneously, but each of those skills seem to be mutually exclusive at the moment and I will treat them as such!

[letterstobojack]

I sat in the darkness, and you sat with me.

Hey Bojack - 

I could never really put into words exactly how much you mean to me. The number of things you've gotten me through - breakups, suicidal thoughts, fights with friends, moments where life made no sense to me anymore.  You were there, reassuring me that I wasn't alone. Reassuring me that feeling messed up or broken or confused was apart of life. And  that sometimes, all we can really do is try to keep moving forward. And try to find hope wherever we can.

Allow me to tell you about the time you helped me the most. 

I had just spent the night going out with a girl I really loved. Or at least, I think I loved her. I was confused about her, to be honest; to this day, I still am.

Anyways - that night, as she dropped me off at my house, she said something to me that broke my heart. It was an offhand comment, but it went through me like a knife. She had no idea she had just said something so devastating to me, and that just made things worse. 

**Trigger Warning**

I got out of the car that night Bojack, and to be honest, I wanted to kill myself. Right then and there, at that moment. My whole world was upside down, and I didn't know what else to do. I went into my house, and grabbed a kitchen knife. I stared at it for a really long time, knowing I could take myself out of the world and be done with it all. 

But then I remembered you, Bojack. I remembered the countless times you kept going, when you had no hope, and when you had nothing to live for. I remembered how you struggled for hope, and struggled to believe you were a good person. I remembered the moment you begged Diane to tell you what you wanted to hear, and how when she didn't, your world turned upside down. And I remembered how you survived that. 

In that moment Bojack, I put the knife down. I put the knife down. Even though I had no idea what I should be living for, and no idea what I was supposed to do next, I decided to stay strong instead. Just like you did. 

That was two years ago. And I can truly say now, with full honesty, I am so glad I didn't choose death. I am so glad I decided to keep going. Because in the end, I found hope I could hold onto - more than enough hope to keep me alive.

If it weren't for you Bojack, I never would have found that hope to begin with. When I had no friends I could trust to share my depression with, you were there. And for this, I cannot thank you enough.

**end Trigger Warning**

If I could return the favor, Bojack? Don't feel jealous of Mr. Peanutbutter, man. I mean yes, I completely understand why you would be jealous of him. It seems like happiness is something that comes ridiculously easy to him. And while that may be true, that doesn't mean his happiness is to be preferred. People like you, or Diane, or me - we're the kind of people that have to work for happiness. We're the kind of people who work hard to find joy and find happiness. But when we do finally find joy Bojack....doesn't it make all the hard work worth it? Doesn't all the suffering and pain actually make the joy better than it would be, if we hadn't suffered? 

Another thing I would tell you, Bojack, is that I really appreciate your honesty and your candor as a person. I know you think that's one of your worst qualities. But I don't. Your ability to be completely honest about who you are - even the ugliest sides of you - is really refreshing. You never fail to call it like it is, to be honest about the things in your life. And that's something I wish I was better at. 

Anyways, Bojack. Stay strong. Your prison sentence will be over before you know it, and once you get out, you have another chance. Another chance to start over, to be a person, to make mistakes, to try new things, to move forward and be better than before. Run towards that chance, Bojack. Run just like Secretariat - but instead of running towards the darkness like he did, head towards the light.

And I'll see you there. 

- C. 

#submission

[love-and-bubbles]

Hello. Good news today is that I managed to negotiate with one of my assessors an extension for a due date about my research for the entire cohort for three days and some still complain why only three, like get losts. It’s not mine of the assessors problem you didn’t do you work. Anyways, procrastination is my one of enemy as a perfectionist.

Not being complicated, rebellious and a headache really just makes your life easier and less stress really. I personally do not see the point of acting out as a response to puberty but then again, I am pretty easy going with things. How many siblings have you got? I’m glad you found the courage to leave you town, I think it’s daunting for the first time bit once you fet the feel of it, tou’d come to realise how good it actually feels to be able to go our on your own akd dow things wothout restrictions and thinking of other people’s opinion about your choices. I think you not noticing about doing it is your automatic response, who you are, your innate characteristic. Oh yes, i love this little corner. it’s away from the stressful people in my real social media account whee they’re just competing on posting their entire life story in it.

I am happy that you’re in that point in your life now. I know it was not a hard process to get through. Finding yourself, your preferences on things, likes and dislikes really takes time and experience, and as you grow older, you become wiser and knows things in ways youre 15 years old self wished to have known better. I think just thinking when times get tough, that hey i’ve come this far. I think it’s worth celebrating is an important essence in life.

With films, we are the same on action film ones. They’re all the same, like hallmark and nicholas sparks ones. I absolutely cannot stand romance films, heterosexual romance films. I’ve had enough of them. I think watching Titanic, The Notebook and Grease were the worst ways of wasting my time that I have ever done. I cannot watch horror though, they’re just too much for my sanity. I prefer dramas where there’s actually dialogues with good actors who can actually act and show emotions.

We made progress, but we are also going backwards. It’s all about influence, politics and the amount of money that dictate the prominence of these attitudes in the society.

You’re Hob then. I’d be Dream. Because why not. 😆 What I am trying to say is that, it’s damming to think about that when all of the generations who gets to actually know us, won’t even remember us many centuries from now when we’re dead. Like, relatives will probably remember our name but not our full existence and every we have experienced and done. Like you said, you never get to see how it continues and gone. If I were to live forever, I would absolutely go crazy in life and be rich and have so much freedom to move around.

Getting up on our beds is one of the hardest things to do when we actually think about it, and a friend once told me that being able to get through out of the door is the first step of being an adult. We are so different with how we deal with our depressive moments. You’re more mental, I am more physical. I also just get bored of being on that depressive state i’d just tell myself to suck it up and actually do something that does not make me in this more depressive state.

I think two of us is one of those song that you don’t sing every night because it’s so emotionally demanding.

The thing is, we are heroes, villians, or just complete stranger to so many people. We are known by many in their own versions of us. And we would never know which versions of us they actually know us of. It’s interesting to think about.

You have ordered many versions of FITF? damn wow, that’s amazing, and louis continues becoming a multimillionaire. Lmao. Anyways, I haven’t ordered anything and I actually have no merch on my care. how poor haha. I have srarted collecting books from op shops and never read them. A friend always gets aggravated by that fact.

Have I read any of your fics?

We sure have different like reactions to the book. I have no problem with the plot and all that. I just did not like how it was written. I think Marion is a great representation of how discrimination and homophobic individuals’ get away with their actions even until today. Like they just get away with it and they do not suffer in a way that queer suffers you know? Like, they act and that’s just it. they act. they do not recieved any consequences for their actions and attitudes. I just ended up pissed with marion so much after reading that book, I wanted to set her on fire myself.

Your fashion style is much more creative than mine. A lot of combinations and love that goes into it. I love how flexible you’re describing your aesthetic to me, it has so much freedom. My little heart beat when I saw the words dresses and heels. I think they’re just beautiful, I would wear heels wherever I go if I could. I certainly have found my style but I am constantly exploring though. I might go into this kind; this , this and this. something along the lines of like business pants. I think they look good. I want to get into them when I have time because they’re so elegant. I absolutely do not like baggy pants or oversize clothing like hoodies unless they’re like for house clothes only. My figure is thin, and small and also I am not the tallest thereofre baggy like pants would not look flattering on me. I agree,what we like on others does not necessarily means we like it for ourseves.

*puts ‘needs to help beautiful stranger to increase spice tolerance, in vegan style of course, tho meat for me’* also overthink wether vegans can eat spicy ~.~

Reading your explanation of what being genderfluid is, reminds me of this clip, it’s sooo wide, massive and vast on its own someone like me who is not genderfluid can never be fully understand the identity. I think that’s what gender is, like the entire essence and beauty of it, it’s not just one set thing, it changes, it moulds, it’s personal and different to every individual. Like now you’re feminine man and masculine woman, if we follow traditional roles, they’re contradictory. because how can a man be feminine when they’re supposed to be masculine all the time? But it’s not that all the time, should not be as it limits you on your self expression as well. I can never fully grasp and understand genderfluidity, and that’s facts. But you can because that’s who you are, it’s a personal thing and it’s constantly in the works and growing with you. In almost but never the same way, that you cannot understand my identity as my identity is mine. Am I making sense? I think you are pretty and handsome and all the synonyms too. Your mind is beautiful. Like I can try to understand but never really fully feel its weight.

I think clothes should be a free for all type of thing. Like no sex because it’s a matter of the person’s preferences and just fitting what would fit the person’s body you know? Obviously, I won’t be buying size 12 jeans when I am size 6. It just won’t fit at all. I won’t look like a hanger. It’s just, oh you’re confident wearing a dress? sure, here’s a bunch in this rack, i think red would look good on you type of thing.

One thing I know though is that, we as individuals, are constantly developing and discovering ourselves. It is a never ending lessons and learning process of who we are. And we find out who we actually are, it’s just a matter of how we nurture that. You seem to have already find yourself and that’s good.

My aesthetic is basic. When I say barbie is just is because I literally wear dresses all the time and I couldn’t find a word for it. But basically, these types, this , this , this , this Except winter, I get so lazy in winter my outfit would just consist of vans shoes, tight skinny jeans, a grey sweater (the same nike i always wear because its comfy as) and a black thick coat. It fits my mood and black is good colour. No pastel colours I’m afraid, my grandma had told me when she saw me closet and the rack of dresses that they’re all so dark, I should be wearing nonblack clothing because i am young, non-married (can you believe I was about to say unmated???? wtf. ) woman. Which fair mama, she’s such a darling. Anyways. Also no full face make up, my face would go absolutely crazy with acne if I do put some, I loveeee coloured like red lipsticks though, I wear mascara, some eyeliner and one colour on my eyelids only. That’s the extent of my make up. My hair is nothing special, but I am thinking of getting a wolf cut and also, my nails are always short because it’s not recommended to have one on my line of career.

My gift for you has gone into completely different writing style it is giving me a whiplash. I am excited to give you this so this is not my responsibility anymore.

Wow that’s great news! Kudos to you for taking that on for everyone. Hope that relaxes your schedule a bit as well.

Yeah, I was never a drama queen, and I just don’t get drama for the sake of drama. My life is exciting enough without it so no need, thank you. I am rebelling a little more now but more in the sense of I am speaking my mind and I stand up for the things I believe in. The other day I made my entire extended family listen to my take on homelessness after someone made a throwaway comment about it.

Uuuuhh it’s quite a nice concept to proper celebrate how far one has come. I think it helps in many ways, especially to appreciate and love oneself.

The concept of wasting time keeps coming up with you. I find it so interesting because we are so different but similar about this. For me it is like I want to live a long life so I can do everything I want, and you don’t want to spend you time doing what you deem nonsense so you can do everything you want instead. I don’t think I believe in the idea of wasting time. I can find purpose in everything somehow. But maybe I should rethink that, because I am also great a procrastinating on the things I want to get done to start a more fulfilled and happy life again.

I shall call you Dream then. And I will happily meet with you once every hundred years in one of your mansions around the world and eat good food with you because I will probably not be rich just live in my tiny house at the edge of the forest or in someone’s attic. I’d have connections to the theatre and would get to see shows for free and I would spend my time on the streets and in the libraries learning about the world. And I would look fabulous.

Yes yes yes… I make Louis richer, Harry too. dadum. For someone who hasn’t bought a single piece of clothing in years (I am striving off swaps shops and hand downs, that way I always have to get creative and redefine myself anew), I really spend all my money on ‘silly’ things at the moment. But I am really proud of that because I never considered doing things or spending money on things purely because I want to is a good enough reason. Back in the day I needed to rationalize everything always, but now I discovered what it means to let loose sometimes and how freeing it can be. So now I just allow myself to be happy without judgement. And if that is a bunch of the same vinyl then so it is. I can always still sell it later when it arrives and it doesn’t make me feel better to have more (I do suspect that but we will see :D). It’s the first thing I bought not because I needed it but because I wanted it (physical things that is). Well, all my vinyls are but I only started buying them this spring. I have 9 so far. And I will only buy those where I know I love the entire album and it is the kind of album I want to listen to on vinyl. I have this list on my phone and it is really rather short. And then my brain short circuited when FITF came out but the deluxe LP does have 2 more songs and on the regular LP the songs are in a different order so it TOTALLY makes sense to have at least 2 versions…

No you haven’t read any of my fics, because a) I never finish them and b) I never publish them, mainly because of a). The only person who ever read them is my sis. She loves them but she is also heavily biased. The fic I wrote for the gifting is probably the biggest crack fic I’ve ever written but now it will be the first for me to put out there and it is such a me move. Not actually starting with something I am proud of. But the longer fic is also coming, and I start to quite like it.

Your reaction to Marion shows how big your sense for justice is. I just don’t see any of them as faultless. I didn’t end up liking any of the characters which kinda shows me that they’re somewhat real and not idolized. Also that time periods perspective was so well described through her view. But then I am very excited for the movie because I believe we will see a lot more of Toms struggle and his perspective. And then Harry playing Tom is like some kind of fever dream coming true. I love queer cinema and I find it hilarious how you get bored with heterosexual couples. I mean if the story is good I don’t mind. I am pan and genderfluid after all and I could end up in a relationship that would look hetero from the outside, sometimes, even though it would never be that. But yeah the media I consume is like 80% queer at this point.

I love the style. Business trousers are very sexy in an elegant way. I also love turtlenecks and all that French jazz and I get how you love heels especially when you are petite and I love that kinda powerwalk feel they give me. People hear you coming and it’s kinda like ‘I am here and I am not apologizing for it’. And they look sweet so…

Vegans can definitely eat spicy. Very much so. Loads of Indian food for example is vegan (and even more if they use vegetable oil instead of ghee).

Now… nobody ever compared my gender to an Indiana Jones movie before. But then I guess my gender would be somewhere between Cate Blanchett and Harrison Ford. Kidding of course. I think I get what you mean by it being personal and complex and only really understandable for when you experience it. Even I don’t understand myself. When I have a very strong gender day in any direction it is sometimes hard for me to imagine that I could ever feel different. Especially in the beginning of trying to understand what is going on I was freaking out like ‘I must be transgender’ but then I would never want to lose my assigned at birth identity either and for a long time it felt like I had to choose. Ig this is why I cried first listening and watching the as it was mv, because that’s what it felt like to me a bit. Now it is vastly overplayed but it will always have a special place in my heart for that. What you wrote about gender is very very beautiful. And I do agree 100% with what you say about fashion and clothes and also how finding ourselves and discovering who we are is a never ending journey. I personally love that journey even if it is hard sometimes. As a very wise friend of mine once said: “You don’t find what you are looking for, you find what is already there.”

Oh gods I could talk about fashion and style and personal aesthetics all day. I find it fascinating to discover people’s reasons behind their choices. I love the style summer like winter and I have to say that black is indeed a good colour, Dream. You had me laughing at the un-mated. I think it is much more applicable to what we are actually looking for. If you could choose would you actually prefer living in a/b/o AU? Rather mate than marry. A solid sweater print. Make-up is like art to me. I am terrible at it but when someone knows what they’re doing it’s incredible. I love a good red lipstick and some dark eyes. And wolf cut, yes! if you feel like it I’d say go for it.

This is longer than some fics on ao3…

Okay so what is your dream, Dream? Like how would you picture a nice evening in your future?

Your gift will be gladly adopted by me. :>

#hugging strangers #actually needed to get work done so it took me forever to come back to this

[imclaaara]

STATE OF THE TRANSITION

A Rocky Start!

HRT:  It’s been three months.  I got my labs done a couple of weeks ago and the results were kind of disappointing.  Testosterone is still in the low 200s (male normal range is 300+, female normal range is in the LOW double digits lmao) and estrogen in the mid-30s (juuuust barely on the lower end of female normal range... but not high enough to suppress testosterone production, with very apparent effects.)  As a countermeasure, with the advice and counsel of my endocrinologist, I am adding 2mg/day estradiol tablets to my regimen and we'll repeat labs in a month.  If there's vast improvement, we'll know the patches aren't working and we'll ditch those and go with a full 6mg/day of estradiol tablets.  It's a bummer that the estrogen patches are apparently not absorbing 100% but I guess I'm one of those folks whose skin just doesn't like to absorb estrogen from patches :shrug:

Hair:  This is a major priority and work to restore the hairline started way back in November, before I was even sure that I wanted to transition or had taken any other steps in this direction.  My hair loss was a major source of dysphoria and it's what tipped my dysphoria from "eh, I guess I can just roll with being a guy until I get old and die..." to "I will commit sudoku if my body gets 1% more masculine."  And yes, there are some great wigs out there and there are plenty of women who wear wigs.  I want my natural hair, though.  I don't want anyone who looks at me to have even the slightest perception that who they see isn't real.  That's just me.  Needless to say, hair is the number one priority at this stage in my transition.  If I cannot restore it, I will probably abandon this transition and just accept a life of depression and seclusion.  Finasteride and Minoxodil have done a great job of halting hair loss and even causing some limited regrowth and thickening, especially on the crown of my head.  But I'm going to need some assistance up front:  FUE Hair Transplants.  Individual follicles plucked from the back of the head (where the follicles grown thick, hardy hair less affected by aging - hence why so many bald old dudes have that ring of hair that wraps around the back of their head from ear to ear) are re-seeded where they're needed - up front or up top.  In my case, probably a mix of both, although the focus is on the hairline.I go in next week for a pre-operative appointment to map out where they're going to put the 2500 grafts.  Two things about that:  One, I'll need to cut my hair for the procedure.  Okay, no biggie, I wear a hat 24/7 anyways.Two, after the procedure, I'll have to be very gentle with the newly transplanted hair - no hats for about a week.  Okay, I'm taking the week off work.  No cutting with a razor; scissors only - okay, I was about to start asking my stylist to leave the top/front alone and let those parts grow anyways.  But most depressingly - no results for months.  The implanted hairs will probably fall out.  After that, from the timeline photos I've seen, noticeable growth will come in at about he 6 month mark. So yeah, maybe I'll have a decent head of hair (albeit still short hair) around Christmas. 

Patience is not my strong suit. And honestly, even lousing around my house without a hat or wig on for a week with an ugly, bruised, swollen bald guy’s head is going to make me dangerously dysphoric.  And then I’ll still have to deal with feeling shameful and dysphoric every time I go out without a hat (i.e. when I’m in uniform because you can’t wear a hat indoors in uniform ;_;) for a few months.  I just want to get there already and be done with the dysphoria over my hair.  It is such a huge burden on my mental well-being at this point.

Makeup:  I'm starting to get a little more confident in this area as I now have a 'natural look' that's basically a light layer of color corrector to hide my stubble; bb cream as my foundation; liquid blush; a light touch of eyeshadow and eyeliner; and heavy mascara and lip gloss or tint.Perhaps the most dramatic difference I've made recently is in getting my eyebrows threaded and finally being able to color them in.  Visible eyebrows, yay!

Clothing:  I am effectively replacing everything in my wardrobe with androgynous women's pieces at break-neck pace (my wallet wished I’d take it easy, though)  Nearly everything I wear on a day-to-day basis is women's clothes now, despite the fact that I still go by he/they pronouns IRL and am not fully out in any circles /at all/.  I do not know how I have pulled this particular cart ahead of the horse, but I fucking have and I'm proud of this.  An absolute W.

Voice Training:  Ugggh look I’ll eventually start regularly practicing, it’s just.. so draining and discouraging most of the time ;_; but last week i did kind of do a bit of practice and I actually made some sounds I liked... now I just have to figure out how to do that again, how to keep doing it, and how to make that voice a habit.

Other random stuff:  I almost got my ears pierced but found out they’d need a full 4 weeks to heal before I’d be able to put clear spacers in them - which I’d have to do before my next drill because I’m unfortunately still bound to male dress and appearance standards when in uniform (for now).  I’ve discovered a new favorite shower gel and body butter scent from Bath and Body works - “Butterfly”.  I’ve obtained an epilator and am about to start the painful process of epilating my body hair, starting with my arms.  Laser hair removal on my face is still going - three sessions down and i think i’m starting to see a difference, but unfortunately a lot of the hairs seem to have gone blonde and are now likely immune to the laser.  There’s still a good bit of dark hairs under my chin to get, though.  I’m going to start looking into electrolysis, though, just in case that ends up being necessary.

Family and Social Impacts:

Mom and Dad aren’t going to get it, or accept me.  I’ve made my peace with that.  An initial, uneasy attempt at coming out to mom resulted in hearing the words “Just tell me you’re not becoming a woman because I can’t accept that” which is what every trans person wants to hear from their mom right as they’re about to come out.  So I backpedaled and let her have some temporary peace, and I’m still not out to them.

I am, however, out to my amazing sister, my wonderful niece, my awesome ex (who is also gender non-conforming and an amazingly supportive friend!), and one of my coworkers.  Everyone who knows so far has been surprisingly cool about it.  Mostly because I have been very careful and selective about who I share this news with so far.  I can’t expect it to continue to go this way, and I'm prepared to cut anyone out of my life if need be (although I already ditched a lot of my old friends from high school who are still stuck in our old small town, with small town mindsets -- and i’m glad, because I know their reactionary opinions on a lot of things and I doubt they’d react very kindly to me being trans)

My therapist wants to start some kind of trans group therapy meetup thing and that could be a fun way to make trans friends.  I know of *two* trans people in my city:  one who I clocked in public and will probably never see again, and another who I kind of dated when she was first transitioning back in 2019 and... yeah, she congratulated me on starting my transition but I can tell she doesn’t really want to hang out with a young trans person or be a mentor.  Can’t blame her there lol.  So it’ll be fun to go to some meetups or something and meet other trans folks IRL and try to make friends.  Other than feeling extra dysphoric when I meet absolute dolls who are way more gorgeous than me.  Oh, well, I should know better than to fall victim to my propensity to compare myself to others. 

Career Impacts: 

So I’m now good and familiar with DoD and Air Force policies on in-service gender transition, especially as it impacts reserve component members.  Basically, I’ll need to get a diagnosis of Gender Dysphoria from a civilian provider (in the process, see “Mental Health” below), provide it to my Wing’s medical officer, who won’t have a clue how to proceed.  They’ll need to give me a referral to the Transgender Health Medical Evaluation Unit (THMEU) at Lackland, who will validate the diagnosis and either help me construct a medical treatment plan (MTP) outlining the timeline and all procedures/care/etc for my transition, or validate one I’m supposed to already have (I’ve heard different things from different Guard members on this so I’ll find out when I get there).  From there, once I have an approved MTP, I can request Exceptions to Policy (ETP) to be held to female rather than male standards for Dress and Appearance (so I can grow my hair out, paint my nails, and have pierced ears in uniform!), Fitness, and Facilities Usage.  I’ll probably wait until my hairline/transplanted hair is growing in nicely to do the dress and appearance ETP and I’ll do both it and the Fitness one at the same time.  Because my unit has gender-neutral bathroom, I honestly can leave the facilities usage question on the back burner until I’m in the end stages of my transition.

I’m out to my immediate supervisor at work and he’s surprisingly chill about it - “whatever it takes to make you happy, man.  we all gotta be happy” (this is also the supervisor who’s allegedly trying his best to stop calling me ‘sir’ and who hasn’t used they/them pronouns for me a single time despite me asking him to).  I have to brief my commander on my situation soon, and oh by the way, we have a brand-new commander:  I haven’t quite figured out yet how he feels about trans people but he seems like a chill, decent guy all around.  Fingers crossed.  I have to brief him pretty quickly on the fact that I’m transitioning, and by “pretty soon” I mean that I plan on breaking the news to him sometime in the next couple of weeks.

Wish me luck!

As a matter of fact, wish me luck on /all/ of this.  because holy shit, I’m going to need it.

Oh, one final thing:

Mental Health:  Auuughhhh! 

Okay, actually, it’s better.  It’s finally leveling out.  Things were really, really dark this past winter.  Dysphoria and depression got so out of hand that I wasn’t really cleaning, wasn’t eating well, wasn’t taking care of myself, etc in December and January.  Finally deciding to transition was like a shot of adrenaline and I started to get out of bed and actually get things done around the house and try to take care of myself.  HRT kicked things up a notch, though, and I had some trouble regulating my emotions at first (and su*c*dal thoughts ramped up in February as my emotions went from /numb and detached/ to all emotions hitting like a ton of bricks right in the chest.)  Dysphoria actually got worse around this time too, as I was basically starting to transition but would still look in the mirror and see a super masculine guy and didn’t really have a plan yet on how I was going to fix a lot of the things that made me dysphoric other than “idk, but at least I’m on HRT”

I eventually got on BetterHelp (don’t recommend, actually) and got matched with a therapist that happened to be somewhat local.  After a few sessions spread out in March and April, I finally quit BetterHelp and became a client of her private practice.  She’s now evaluating me for a Gender Dysphoria diagnosis, and she’s honestly a really cool therapist who’s had trans and gender nonconforming clients before and seems to know a bit about our mental health needs and the process of transition, but still asks me questions and defers to my knowledge on specifics about things like HRT, asserting that she trusts me to know about that stuff because I’ve been researching it much longer than she has (which is refreshing to hear).  She’s also upfront about the fact that she’ll have to follow some gatekeepy processes, but she’s going to do her best to help me through all of it and especially help me deal with psychologists who might be gatekeepy and ask weird questions about sexuality or other off-the-wall stuff.  She’s given me a couple of workbooks and I honestly need to go do some work in one of them tonight, so with that being said:

This messy, disorganized post has been my State of the Transition update.  Thanks for reading, tune in next time to hopefully see a more organized (and more optimistic and positive) update!