#but when i talk to therapists I cannot recall one thing about who I am

[anxious-witch]

Inertia 6

Summary: Newton's first law expresses the principle of inertia: the natural behavior of a body is to move in a straight line at constant speed. In the absence of outside influences, a body's motion preserves the status quo.

Jan choose a direction of his life the moment he walked out of his parents house and cut all contact with them. He didn't want anything to do with them, or God anymore. Even his soulmark he wished he could leave behind. But when Nace Jordan joins the band, with a mark matching his own, can Jan keep going the same way he did? Or will the force make him change a direction?

Pairings: Jan Peteh/Nace Jordan

Warnings: Warning for mentions of religions trauma as per usual, but other than that…I think we might not have any other upsetting things here? Shocker, I know

Notes: AO3 link

A couple of things. First of all, this is second to last chapter! Congratulation to everyone who made it this far with me, I cannot believe I actually got this far into this fic. That said, next update might happen on a Sunday rather than a Saturday, due to my uni assignments. I will try my best to make it in time, but y'know, better safe than sorry.

But yeah! Finally, we are getting to some hurt/comfort and some talking! Enjoy it, you've earned it with all the angst

"I'm not too gone to be healed, am I? I'm not too gone am I?"

- Alice Notley, from In The Pines: Poems; "In The Pines,"

Jan slipped back to consciousness slowly. He firstly became aware of how heavy his body felt. Then of how dry his throat was.

He struggled to open his eyes. They were heavier than usual. It reminded Jan of how it felt to fall asleep while crying. Wait…was he crying?

That made his recall the events of the previous night and he jerked upright. Which proved to be a bad idea because he immediately felt his head pound.

"You have water and a pill on the table. I will start making coffee," Kris said, peering from the kitchen.

Every day, Jan was more convinced Kris was an angel. Jan owed him an apology and a hug. Once his head stopped pounding, though.

So he took the pill and drunk the water. Living room was only partially lit up, for which Jan was also grateful. Anything bright certainly wouldn't help.

Kris came back and pressed the warm coffee cup in his hands. His coffee cup. Jan stared at the dark red cup, trying to recall when he started having a cup that was only his in Kris' place.

All the cups in his parents' house were the same. Pure white with a golden circle near the rim. One of them slightly chipped at the rim and Jan used it all the time, until his mother noticed and threw it away.

There was probably something to be said about him liking things that are different, even if they are a little damaged.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he said, staring at his coffee.

Kris sighed. Out of the corner of his eye, Jan saw him tap his fingers against the couch. His typical nervous gesture.

"I'm sorry I didn't realize things have gotten so bad. I don't-I don't think I ever saw you react the way you did last night. God, Jan, you were terrified and you were paranoid and I-"

Kris took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. For a few seconds he didn't speak at all. Jan would have, but he knew Kris wasn't finished talking. So he stayed quiet, giving Kris time to compose himself.

"I think you need to start seeing a therapist. And you have to talk to Nace. I can be there when you do, but for fuck's sake, Jan. I texted him yesterday after you fell asleep and he wasn't okay."

Jan began picking on his already ruined nail. Kris was right. He knew he was right. But Jan was terrified of this very thing for so long, he wasn't sure he would be able to just face it head on.

"What if I can't?"

He finally met Kris' eyes. His blue eyes that were too clear to hide anything, but always had the ability to burn right through you, to see to the very core of you.

Was it a blue eyes thing? Or did Kris and Jure simply share that trait?

"Yes, you can. You are one of the strongest people I know. But it's not weak to ask for help, Jan. Don't let your parents ruin this for you."

Jan pulled him in a hug. Kris froze, clearly not expecting it, before he melted into the embrace.

"Thank you. For everything."

Kris chuckled, but Jan heard a slight hitch to his breath. Almost like he was tearing up.

"Why do you make it sound like I will never see you again?"

Jan hugged him tighter.

"I should have said it earlier. Although, there is always a plan on moving to Antarctica if everything goes south."

Kris laughed and then he was the one crying. So Jan did the same as Kris did to him last night-he held him. They both felt fragile.

Kris showed emotions more easily than he did, but Jan also thought he never truly let himself experience them to the depth that they really ran. When he cried, he didn't sob, instead letting tears run down his cheek in a manner that seemed almost glorified. Where someone would look at him and still think he was pretty.

Jan preferred to either fall apart fully or not at all.

"You really fucking scared me, you asshole. Don't do that again."

He rubbed Kris' back in slow, comforting motions. His mind was starting to go through possible options, but it was still too clouded with panic for him to come with a solid plan.

"I don't know what to do now," he admitted quietly, "I don't know how to even talk to him. What to tell him."

Kris slowly pulled back, but he still kept his hand on Jan's shoulder.

"Let's go step by step, okay? Go home, eat something. Have a shower. Then call him. Don't text, call him."

Jan made a face. He did hate phone calls with burning passion. They were awkward at the best of circumstances. These were certainly not the best of circumstances.

"I know you hate phone calls. But in these kinds of situations, messages can be easily misread. So call him and set up a time to meet. As for what to tell him...I don't have a better advice than telling him the truth."

Jan buried his face in his hands. The truth? What was the truth at this point? He wasn't even sure he knew himself.

"That's about as helpful as telling me to just breathe underwater."

Kris sighed.

"How about you do the rest first and then look at the situation again? As much as I hate to say it...sometimes you have to jump first and ask questions later."

"Fine," Jan said sourly.

He doubted he'd come up with any better plan just by showering and eating, but he saw no point in arguing. So he hugged Kris one more time and went home. This time with his bag and keys.

He did everything Kris said, but he felt no closer to the solution on how to approach Nace. His phone laid on the table, screen up. Jan stared at it as if it was a time bomb.

Nace didn't try to contact him. Except for few phone calls from yesterday after he ran off, but nothing today. Whatever Kris told him clearly made him wait for Jan's move.

Jan wished he wouldn't. He didn't know what to say.

He grabbed his bag and out his phone in it and then went outside. Perhaps a walk would clear his head.

It was cold and gloomy outside. The fog settled heavy over the city, and Jan only saw few meters ahead as he walked. Still, that didn't stop him.

He walked and walked, until his feet hurt. Then he spotted a nearby bench and sat on it, catching his breath. He still felt lost. He wasn't even sure he knew exactly where he was, as lost in thoughts as he was while he walked.

A sound of church bells snapped him out of it. Jan flinched, looking around with wide eyes. Was he hallucinating again?

But, no. There stood a church, cloaked by the fog. And Jan felt compelled to get closer. So he did.  He got all the way to the church, close to the entrance. Only then he stopped, frozen in place.

He could hear the wait sound of a mass going inside. There was no way he was going inside, but he could listen in. He leaned on the wall of the church and closed his eyes. Just listening.

It was hard to tell how long he stood there, listening in. He was so focused on it he missed the sound of steps approaching him.

"I am sorry, young man?"

Jan's eyes flew open, his heart leaping in his throat. A man stood in front of his, peering at him worriedly. For a brief second, Jan thought he was a priest, but on a second glance he realized he was actually a deacon, his clothes giving him away.

"Um. Right, sorry. I should probably leave," Jan said awkwardly, pushing himself from the wall.

"No, no need. I just thought you might be more comfortable inside. It is quite cold out here."

Jan bit his lip. Dread settled in his gut once again. He didn't think he could make himself go in. Face the inside of the church, the prayer. It was still to raw.

"No, thank you. I don't think I'd be welcome, either way."

"Everyone is welcome into the church."

He couldn't quite stop the sharp, bitter laugh that escaped him.

"Right. Of course. Everyone is welcome as long as they can obey your rules, no?"

Deacon gave him a long, pitying look. Jan felt his skin crawl. If he hated one thing, it was pity. He turned his head away, but before he could walk away, deacon spoke again.

"There are God's guidances, of course, but I wouldn't call them rules. Rules sound so rigid and human life and morality are so easily bent by situations we find ourselves in."

Jan stared at the man before him. He had never, ever heard someone religious, someone connected to the church, speak in such a way. Nace came the closest and even then, it wasn't the same.

"You-so what, "You shall not kill", is simply a guidance?"

Deacon gave him a gentle smile.

"Some are stronger than the others. But in a situation where it is self defense, is that truly a sin? A mother killing someone while protecting her child, is it something that should need forgiving? We are just human, after all."

He swallowed. This felt surreal. Like he was within a dream, and he was talking to his own subconscious.

Whatever it was, the unreality of it made Jan wanted to ask more question. He wanted to know more. He could always walk away, couldn't he?

"So...if almost everything is subjective, how can you know if you are doing a good or a bad thing? How do you...know what's right?"

Deacon patted his own chest.

"Most of us have the ability to feel right or wrong. There are exceptions of course, but there are usually other reasons for it. We all have...inner guidance, so to speak. No matter if you see it as given from God, or simply a part of you, it can help you decide on what's right thing to do."

Jan exhaled slowly, watching his breath curl like smoke in the air. His own chest felt frozen, but as he focused more, he swore he could almost feel a tug. A spot of light.

He needed to go to Nace. To be honest with him. To tell him-

His fear extinguished his hope almost immediately, cloaking him in darkness. Jan squeezed his eyes shut. He was too damaged ti be fixed.

"What if...what if it's too late to do the right thing? What if it's too late to fix me?"

The other man didn't say anything for a moment. The only sound came from a church choir. Jan felt his heart sink.

"It is never too late. Not unless we are dead. And perhaps, not even then."

Jan's hand drifted underneath his hair, to his soulmark. He traced it, almost hesitantly. He did his best to forget it was there for so long, it was odd to acknowledge it.

"I can't be anything other than what I already am."

He opened his eyes to see deacon giving him another soft smile. It was odd, how honest he was being. He supposed the fact that the other man didn't know who he was helped. To him, he could be anyone.

"Have you tried? To be another person?"

Jan furrowed his brows.

"I don't understand."

The deacon nodded.

"We can't become new people overnight. But we can do things that'll help take us in the right direction. Is there anything you can do to fix your mistake right now?"

He took in a deep breath in. Then exhaled slowly.

"I could talk to my soulmate. But I don't know if I can be what he needs."

Jan realized that the right pronouns tumbled from his lips too late. He froze, but the deacon's face didn't change. If he was phased, he didn't show it.

"Well. You can't know unless you talk to him, can you?"

Jan chuckled, almost surprised that he didn't immediately change his answer. What parallel reality did he walk into?

"I suppose not. But won't you tell me that my soulmate can't be a man?"

Deacon shook his head.

"God gives us our soul’s companions for a reason. Who am I to question God's decision of giving you two a soul bond, regardless of the gender?"

He swallowed. There was something else he needed to ask. He always had to keep prodding, didn't he?

"And what if...what if I don't believe in God anymore?"

Deacon reached his hand out and tentatively put his hand on Jan's shoulder. Jan expected to feel uncomfortable, but he wasn't. It was simply a warm touch.

"They are different ways to believe. Some of us need more guidance to get through life. From God, from the church from others. Others simply need to live and be happy. Is it not God's will for all of us to live to our fullest potential, no matter which path we take?"

Jan suddenly found it hard to swallow. His eyes stung and he closed them, willing himself not to cry. He took in a shaky breath.

"Can it really be that simple?"

Deacon squeezed his shoulder gently.

"Life is simple, once we learn to let go of things that weight us down."

Jan took another deep breath before opening his eyes. He met deacon's kind gaze.

"Thank you."

He got a pat on the shoulder before the other man let go.

"We all need a bit of extra guidance sometimes. I wish you your best in your pursuit of happiness."

Jan nodded, a lump in his throat too heavy for him to say anything else. Yet, despite it all, when he turned and began to walk back, he felt lighter than he did in a very, very long time.

He wasn't sure what made him come up directly to Nace's doorstep. He was holding a box of gluten free cookies in hands that he had picked up during his small detour on the way here. Suddenly, he wasn't sure why he had gone to get them at all, but it wasn't important. He was here, at Nace's front door. That was the part that mattered. He could leave the cookies for someone else if Nace didn't want them.

He rang the doorbell before he could change his mind. It echoed through the apartment for a moment, before he heard a sound of footsteps on the other side of the door. Then the door opened.

Nace stood in the doorway. He wore a dark green hoodie and sweatpants, his hair in an unusual disarray. There were dark circles under his eyes and Jan couldn't help but wonder if he slept at all.

"Hi," he said, awkwardly holding up a bag of cookies, "I bought cookies. They are gluten free."

Nace stared at him, unmoving. He opened his mouth and closed it few times before clearing his throat.

"What are you doing here?"

Jan shifted from one foot to the other. It was the moment of truth, he supposed.

"I wanted to talk to you. May I come in?"

There was a brief hesitation before Nace stepped back and allowed Jan to come in. The doors closing with a soft click felt more significant than it should have been.

Jan wordlessly handed Nace the cookies while he took off his boots and a jacket. Nace simply watched him, as if trying to comprehend Jan was really here. He supposed he deserved that.

Nace led him to the dining room instead of the living room. Which was odd, but Jan didn't question it. He got them both glasses of water before sitting across from Jan.

Oh. He choose this because he could face him more directly. Jan let his hair fall over his face a bit, suddenly uncomfortable under Nace's heavy gaze.

"So," Jan said awkwardly, "about yesterday. I'm sorry."

A paused. Nace stared at him, as if prompting him to continue, but Jan didn't know where to begin with explaining himself.

"Is that it? You came here to tell me you are sorry for running off?"

Jan winced. Nace's usual patience seemed to not be present today. Just when Jan needed it the most.

"No. I just-maybe it would be easier if you asked me things and I answered? I don't know where to begin."

Nace chuckled, but not in his usual, heartfelt way. He sounded tired.

"Alright. How about, why the fuck didn't you tell me? You had to know."

Jan shrugged. He felt uncomfortable in a way he didn't in awhile. So he answered the first thing he thought of. His go to answer on the topic.

"Didn't seem that important to me. I don't exactly believe in all that soulmate stuff anyway."

That was clearly the wrong thing to say. Nace's gaze sharpened. His mouth twisted in an angry grimace.

"So what? I am good enough to fuck, but not good enough to be your soulmate?"

"No!"

Jan reached out, to grab Nace's hand, but stopped himself just short of making contact. He let his hand fall back to the table.

"No," he said softer, "that's not how it is at all."

"Then explain to me how it is."

Nace's voice was almost forceful, slamming into Jan's chest like a punch. Jan closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on that little shed of hope he still held.

"I lied. I don't see soulmates as bullshit I just-I wish I did. I wish I could not care at all and that I could hate you and that by refusing you by refusing this make my parents be wrong."

He took in a shaky breath. Nace didn't say anything so he continued.

"Because feeling like I was incomplete without you, without some divine intervention seems so fucked up to me. Because I choose to play in a band because my parents didn't approve and didn't like that it took away from my time in the church. And yet that being a thing that led me to you is so frustrating! Did I have any free will at all?"

Jan finally opened his eyes again, taking in Nace's expression. Nace was pale, and his brows furrowed, probably trying to follow his thought process.

"Alright. So let me see if I got this right. Your parents had harmful religious views on soulmates so you don't want to even consider this, us, because you feel like you had no choice in the matter?"

That wasn't quite a fair assessment of what he said, but Nace wasn't entirely wrong, either. As much as Jan wanted to fix things, it was hard to get past the feeling of helplessness.

"I'm-not quite but I suppose that's a gist of it. I don't have anything against you, not really. But I hate not having a choice in any of this."

Nace lifted one eyebrow.

"You mean, like not giving me any real choice in the matter by not telling me a very important detail?"

Fuck. That wasn't fair.

"That's not the same."

Nace shrugged.

"Isn't it?"

Jan struggled with what to say to that. Isn't it the same? Was he truly taking away his choice in all of this?

"Let me ask you something. Did you find me attractive when we first met? Ignore the soulmark, ignore everything else."

He swallowed, blush slightly painting his cheeks as he remembered Martin's comment about him checking out Nace during their first encounter. He definitely found him attractive from the start.

"Yes."

"And if there was no soulmark involved, would you have acted upon it at some point?"

His answer came in an instant. Absolutely. Jan was certain of it. He still would have taken some time to observe Nace, but without having to be cautious of the soulmark, he would have certainly acted earlier.

"Yes."

Nace leaned in, his breath ghosting over his face and Jan had the urge to pull him even closer. Instead, he was frozen in place, staring at those dark eyes.

"So by insisting on hating me, you are, in fact flat out refusing for anything to happened between us because of the soulmark. Not because you don't like me. How is that a natural choice on your part?"

Jan could hear his own blood ringing in his ears. Felt his heartbeat. Thud, thud, thud. It sounded like everything around him crashing down.

"I-" he swallowed, then cleared his throat, but no words came.

Nace waited patiently, simply looking at him. Like he didn't just pull the foundations of his world apart with few sentences.

"God, Nace," he said at last, "What do you want?"

"I want you to stop hiding behind the excuse of having no control and work with me. I can't help you unless you let me. So please do tell me what is your actual problem with me."

Jan worked his jaw. He focused on his nails. He reapplied the nail polish on his left hand yesterday, so it was perfect. Too perfect. He began to peel it off.

Then Nace reached out and covered his palms with his own, stopping his movements. Jan froze.

"Tell me," Nace urged, his softer now.

That finally made Jan snap.

"I can't give you what you want, alright? There was no point in giving you false hope about it."

Silence. Nace's mouth slightly fell open before he managed to scold his face into a more neutral expression. Jan felt more uncomfortable than he possible ever did in his life.

That thought kept bothering him on his way to here, though. Even if he was willing to do this, he could never do it in a way traditional to soulmates. He simply couldn't.

"And what is that you think that I want?"

Nace's voice was leveled. Controlled. Almost too controlled. He was definitely holding his emotions back. Jan just couldn't quite tell what those emotions were, at the moment.

Still. He owed him the truth, at the very least.

"You are a simple man. You want to settle down, have your secure little fairy tale with someone you love. Maybe even a family. I can't give you that."

So many emotions flickered over Nace's face. Disbelief, anger, hurt. Jan looked away.

"Did I ever say that's what I want?"

Jan sighed. He tried to pull his hands away from Nace's, but Nace tightened his hold on them.

"No. But I overheard you and Bojan talking about soulmates several times."

"Hypotheticals are different than the actual situations."

Jan rolled his eyes. He completely turned his head away this time. Clearly, this conversation wasn't leading anywhere.

Nace grabbed his chin. Jan froze, expecting it to hurt, for Nace to forcefully drag him into a kiss. Instead, Nace gently turned his head back towards him.

"Listen to me. I am only asking for a chance to get to know you. For you to get to know me, before you make any judgments."

His eyes shone with determination and now Jan couldn't look away.

"You fascinate me and you frustrate me and I want to know what you think and how you think. I want to get to know you properly. Can you at least give me a chance for that? No promises need to be made, just that we'll try. See where it goes. Maybe we work better as friends. That's also fine. But we won't know unless you give it a chance. Does that sound reasonable?"

Jan nodded slowly. He breathe through the panic rising in his chest. Somewhere, deep inside him, he knew that whatever this will involve into, won't be just friendship. But it was far too early to say that.

"Yeah, alright."

And Nace smiled, like a light shining at the end of a dark street. It was soft, almost hesitant smile.

"Alright."

It was a start.

#jance #my writing #joker out #inertia

[lesbianboyfriend]

hi jules 8 36 39 <3

8. any reoccurring dreams: i have many reoccurring dreams! i tend to only remember them once they are happening again though….i also have this strange thing where sometimes when they happen i know i am in a dream and that it has happened before but that knowledge then stagnates the dream….i don’t become lucid but there’s an awareness that i know Something is supposed to happen next but cannot recall what it is and i can tell the dream is going the wrong direction but don’t know what the right direction is and cannot control the dream even if i did. anyways the only reoccurring dream i can recall at this moment is one i’ve dubbed “werewolf house”…i don’t know if it’s so much a recurring dream or a recurring dream location. but it’s basically a school where everyone is werewolves. i think it’s also competitive and people get cut from the school or maybe killed….idk don’t remember a lot of details but the last time i had it the phrase werewolf house was like a lingering memory from the dream that i write down so as to not forget its existence

36. am i an open book or do i have walls up: well here on lesbianboyfriend.tumblr.com i will say literally anything. but in the real world i never tell anyone anything about myself….number one guy who omits info when talking to their therapist and is hardly ever vulnerable with their friends. whoops! i’m working on it….

39. youtubers i’m obsessed with: okay ive been watching a LOT of youtube lately bc that’s what i do when its finals season <3 i kind of feel like most youtube videos really suck nowadays though like i have a hard time finding stuff that interests me. but i also really only dabble in the 15-45 minute videosphere so a lot of like video essay stuff i don’t watch often even though i enjoy a good one. but i usually feel anxious about committing to longer videos lol. ANYWAYS ive really been enjoying kathleenillustrated and beepworld…i love diy interesting fashion thrift youtubers and they are faves of mine. rachel maksy is also a go-to for that. ill basically watch any video of someone cleaning out their closet except i also get really annoyed when they’re skinny girls with boring uninspired taste. same with any sort of home cleaning video. i’ve also weirdly been having kind of a dan and phil moment which is so funny to me cause i never watched them in their heyday…like i saw Some of their stuff but never really got into it back then

#jules.txt #asks #ask games

[professional-benaddict]

just another student

a drabble saturn anon sent me🪐💗

rough days and heart aches, peter's just any student out there that you would see in a campus. i didn't stop at 'out there' because two men get to see him in a perspective inside the campus. not outside the campus. everytime peter walks through the halls of awkward stares and constant chattering, it's just rough days and heart aches.

rough days because whatever goes on at home where he lives with his aunt and uncle somehow tends to have a grip on his mind. it affects his studies. it affects him... alot.

heart aches because he just doesn't know what to do. he can't cry about it, plus, communication isn't his thing. now that just doesn't help someone who's really suffering. but one thing's for sure is that he can picture it, he can draw what he feels. but, there are just some times where he can't pick up a pen and draw it out.

two professors huddle up to eat outside of the campus just to talk about peter.

"i know i used to be a neurosurgeon, but this boy itches my doctor senses in a way that a therapist would." professor strange tells professor stark, as he takes a sip of his drink and thought about the doddles or scribbles that his and stark's student have drawn on their test papers.

"what itches your genius cerebrum of yours, stephen?" tony or professor stark asks, he's always intrigued about what the former doctor had to say.

stephen chuckles, usually tony would try to use scientific terms with stephen when talking about the human body, he loved that alot actually. and appreciates it. "well, you see, he has these cryptic drawings at the back of the test paper he had to take under my subject. it could be harmless but i cannot help but worry."

"he draws on your handed out test papers as well? he does that to me as well! usually he spaces out once he's done revising his answers. i would catch him doddling, and wouldn't mind. now that you've mentioned it, i'm intrigued to know more. please, tell me more." tony, says as he does recall the last doodle from the boy, a sketch of a boy, possibly representing him, that's laid down on the ground, with a supposedly tired facial expression, with a thought-bubble that reads out: "i worked hard".

"sometimes, he just adds 5 sentences to explain his doodles, look, i am no in profession of teaching in english, but the repetition of the words ending in '-ed' pulls out that something is wrong." stephen, now worried than he was a few moments ago, furrows his eyebrows in concentration, trying to connect the dots, understanding everything one by one.

"such as?" tony asks, still intrigued.

"'regretted', 'slipped', 'suffered', 'tired', and 'stayed'. 5 words ending in '-ed' tied to negative connotations, i assume and believe. tony, i know the boy has legal guardians that could help him and worry for him, but, i cannot help but worry." stephen is obviously worried and tony just lets his co-worker who is also his friend let it all out by listening and offering a touch of wise words.

"we only see him at the campus..." tony says bringing stephen to his next point.

"exactly! tony, thank the heavens for your intelligence. that's the thing, we don't know what the boy goes through. i want him to be safe, despite the things he could face, i hope he's okay. he's just any student out there that you would see in a campus, and we don't know how he is... at the place he stays." stephen continues to drink what he ordered and allows tony to hold his shaking hands.

"we'll do what we can to raise our concerns for the boy, okay? in fact he only draws at our tests, perhaps he finds us trustworthy. i figured that out since peter just usually draws when he's in a calm and relaxed state. our co-workers say that he's eager to go and very tensed. other than that, i best believe we are on the right path to help the boy out." tony says as he holds stephen's hands while his thumb rubs circles at the same time.

———

all credit to saturn anon for their amazing work!!🪐💗💗

#saturn anon #ironstrange #starkerstrange #starker #strangespider #spiderstrange #tony stark x stephen strange #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker x stephen strange #tony stark #peter parker #stephen strange

[darlingkara]

So, I haven't written here since December of 2022

I am finally reorganizing my everything! Well, that's the play, anyway.

Sorry for any typos-- I will be careful. I am working with a new but old laptop and I am not used to the keyboard. But, it works for my vanilla IT job and camming. I have not broadcasted publicly with it, but ran a password protected show and saw it from a phone, a TV, another PC screen. It looked okay at 720/60fps. I have not tried to hook the Cannon up to it yet.

I wish I were a desk person. I am just not. I have never been, haha. Chairs are uncomfortable, the desk height is usually off, and they are hard and uncomfy! I cannot study, or read, or work at a desk. I have always been a bed, couch, floor person.

My classes start in exactly 2 weeks from now... September 5. Now I can finally take the philosophy class I have wanted to take! I don't dislike economics, but the program degree is Philosophy, Politics and Economics (PPE). I like socio-economics and more so ethics and behavioral strategy. So one Philosophy class and one Politics class. I won't be too too specific, as it wouldn't be too hard to find me. But I am excited-- I love both studies.

Btw, not like I care if people find ''out''. My family knows I am a cam girl... I think they mostly support it. My mother thinks it is like Twitch with boobies. Hahaha. Kinda, but I don't play games when I broadcast. Or really never or rarely.

Speaking of the devil, 2 outta 3 siblings are blocked on FB and I will never talk to them again, I assume. My sister said something about having to pay taxes on a parking lot that her church rented out to sell vegetables. She is umm... a Libertarian. I said, ''Well, at least the concrete was taxed''.

She told me to eat concrete... Like, wtf, I know. And then a slew of recent things she has said to me just hit me. Like, some stupid hypothetical boat story she was discussing a few weeks back. A person is on a boat and has to get to an island. They see a person drowning, and have space in the boat. I said, well, of course I would help them and pick them up. I am going there anyways, and it is not like I can watch someone drown. She said she wouldn't help them, but ''it's not like it was her hand drowning them''. I am sure I said something about how humans need each other and her thinking was a bit.... antisocial, shall we say.

After the EAT CONCRETE weirdness, she sent me a link with pre-made cookie dough being recalled for having woods chips in it, and told me I should eat that, too.

That was it. That was my breaking point. I told her... WOW... What a lovely Christian you are being. You are selfish and ill-willed, and you are dipping your toes into alt-tight territory. And that is the last thing she saw before I blocked her. And I feel so much lighter. She was not like this before. She's 5 years older than I am, and she is not stupid. She has 2 Master's degrees Philosophy and Psychology. Thank fuck she isn't someone's therapist. She did have a patient kill themselves when she first started... and she found them. She was distraught for awhile, which is understandable, but I repeatedly told her that she had nothing to do with it-- The person would have committed suicide anyways, at some point. She obviously wasn't allowed to talk about the specifics (HIPAA). But I felt for her.

Anyways, it is weird to mentally lose two siblings. Albeit, they were older than I am by 5 and 9 years, but we were still close. I was the youngest-- I am not quite Gen X, but due to their ages and influences, I am half Gen X, half Millennial, whatever that means. Of course they are both Anti-Vax (but just recently). It is just so odd. We were not raised this way. They have both become fairly religious. I am almost certain my brother has been celebite for a decade, if not more.

His daughter, who is 18, started college in a kinda southern and eastern state. For some reason, he decided to follower her, move there and I was thinking like, man, get a life. I loved my dad, but that's the last thing I would want him to do-- follow me states away at 18. Bejesus.

....Enough whining from me. Sorry, I don't have an outlet for my feelings.

...8 hours later... I worked way too much. I did my IT job for 4 hours and I re-did the floor (again) for another 4 hours. It's getting there! If only I realized I probably only needed stronger acetone to remove the damn spots and tar, it would have been much easier. It is like, half wood, and half I don't know. There are pics on Twitter. I think I will eventually have to buy some oak stain for some spots I over-sanded. But, not so ba+d or expensive thus far. Nail files, acetone, mineral spirit alcohol and a stove scraper I already had, haha.

My weight loss had plateaued for a bit. I was stuck at 90 kgs/190 lbs for almost a month, and now I am 86.7kgs or 191 lbs. I really only want to get to about 160-170 pounds, Anything less than that, I look kinda weird, imo. Start weight was a very shocking 247 lbs or 124 kgs. Yikes. You don't realize how slow you pack in on. I am sticking with 1100 calories a day. But I am so bad. All I want are these little chocolate doughnuts, veggies and meat. It could be worse. :)

I will try to update more than every 6 months, haha. Lately all I have been doing is being snarky on Twitter, working, and reading.

This Trump et al thing is craaaaazy. But I am not surprised. I cannot believe people are so gullible and believe in such bizarre lies. I have been obsessed with Erik Prince and Mike Flynn fir awhile, as well as the Wagner group, before they were all on most people's radar. And Musk/Twitter-- that was not by accident. None of this is.

Until next time... Keep yourself sane, content and safe!

#politics #philosophy #e girl #family #Youtube

[j7pht]

hi. this is my little update because i really wanted to talk about things, but i no longer feel safe doing so currently, i may in the future, or i might look at stuff and comment on them individually. i will explain why. i will not accept being silenced or shut down. i feel i was in a very scary situation and i was threatened when statements around things surrounding my identity were being talked about flippantly and i was speaking to someone i believed was unsafe and capable of lying to me or otherwise harming me, ladder of which they did

when i was speaking to the user edqey, we got along okay, they seemed to tell me information about their experience in the servers (for example stated that someone by the name of vera scened with them, and that they were specifically told a lot that they werent a good friend). i was interested in this because i dont know vera well and if it was a scene without consent i wanted to know about it, same for if it was a scene that caused dissociation. i LITERALLY cannot recall much of what was said because the group dm i was in with edqey and their partner was either deleted or i was removed from it, so i will skip the meat of what all else we spoke about, but while screenshotting things edqey said to forward to pengo and glip, as i said i was having a difficult time speaking for them and would much rather prefer to be in a dm with those two as well (so i wouldnt be brushed off as doing things like fucking "mindlessly defending glip" when talking about glip's art that they drew with their hands, hopefully) and edqey was stating stipulations. glip did not like the stipulation of "you must get therapy" because it was coming from someone who was willing to tell them to kill themself, firstly, and secondly glip didnt see a need for therapy as their last experience(?) with a therapist involved the therapist siding with marl and glip doesnt see a need for it at the moment. they did however say that if edqey's partner wanted to talk without edqey theyd be willing, pengo was still willing to talk to both.

vera showed up in the conversation and noted that edqey was similar to someone they confronted, starting from the homestuck icon and the fact vera remembers everyone who liked homestuck in the servers, and when vera pulled this person AND the conversation that was likely being recalled as a "scene" AND the dissociation comment AND an entire google drive folder of talking to this person COMPLETE with the main topic of discussion being that the person was being a bad friend everything lined up to everything edqey told me, so i asked edqey if they were this person.

the reason i asked this is because knowing this would change how i interacted from then on. i was deeply uncomfortable with what i saw spurring on the discussion and one of the people their behavior affected is still in the community. this, and what they were calling a scene wasnt a scene. scenes are indicated by planning in advance and a /jointest beforehand. these werent present. it was a talk in disassembly. i wanted to ask why they were calling this a scene, genuinely, because i was confused.

i admit i communicated poorly from here, we used tumblr dms from then on, my tumblr dms dont update in real time at all. i need to manually refresh to see what someone sends to me and i tend to type for a long time. it troubles me to go back through our logs, so im going to really quickly state that A. yes it does bother me when someone keeps pushing a racism issue that isnt present. i spoke to insom, actually, directly, he is not black. glip likening ideas around rape to a black man is not racism, 1 because black men can rape people 2 insom isnt black 3 source is that i am black hispanic and everything rina and edqey pushed in this regard made me deeply angry and offended, this and i have been abused by people who shared the same race and ethnicity as me, and the exact issue of "um you cant say a black person did rape" is why i never spoke about things that occurred to me, and is an issue that plagues black communities CONSTANTLY. and B. yes it does bother me when i bring up my experience and how it relates to my feelings and someone makes fun of me for it. especially someone presumably ~10 years older than me who ive been trying to engage sincerely despite literally fucking everything and theyre expressing violent ideation towards me and a lack of empathy. and C. i think it is strange to be defensive over what a minor sees or talks about but then openly claim to not have empathy for said minor and then threaten them

yeah so thats actually why i feel unsafe at the moment. i tried going around talking to others about thus but i cannot shake the feeling that it isnt enough. i dissociated while speaking to edqey in tumblr dms, and this progressed to be bad enough that i literally needed to ask people if i was actually threatened or if i was overreacting. luckily due to the fact i needed to ask this i have the screenshot of the threat and why i havent stated who edqey was or why they made me uncomfortable/concerned/why i wanted to be sure who they were

i may state this information later anyway. i feel it is unfair not to. it is unfair to me that i have to feel quiet because someone doesnt want their 4 year old dirty laundry looked at even though they keep saying "they changed :(" even in the same breath as saying shit like "my girlfriend might turn against me but luckily has a history of not being easily swayed" or whatever the fuck. it is unfair to me that i went through all the shit i went through for a document explaining how the servers fit into the cult label that is based in assumptions not only about the servers but also ME that i cannot work with because a lot of it is not currently applicable due to the fact that scenes are massively rare occurrences and the servers each have a focus on roleplay and collaborative storytelling, and not whatever it was focused on before, which i dont have experience with because i wasnt there, or is about rina, whom i am uncomfortable talking about for personal reasons (i have never spoken to rina, its just that a lot of things around rina make me uncomfortable, and her actions do too)

and i cant even talk about why i cant address any of these things

and this makes me feel like shit because i showed up to address things sincerely and earnestly, as someone who has been accused of being in a cult due to my upbringing around haitian voodoo in the past

i feel like my thoughts, feelings, and emotions, which are normal for anyone else to do, such as get frustrated when a conversation becomes personal or tedious, or dissociate or otherwise act strangely, are scrutinized as if im not worth the same compassion or consideration because im suspected to be in a fucking cult.

this is a long disorganized, 3 am tangent, but i encourage it to be read. and also acknowledged as a 3 am tangent

i am currently considering doing a public deconstruction of the document i received and why i felt the ways i did about it

#floraverse

[titoist]

entry from october 20th of 2022: "i think i might be far too eager to pin the blame onto myself for all the varying & novel ways in which i've been scarred by my environment over the years. i have always felt viscerally under siege by a world that wants me to die, who's ideal endpoint would be a state of societal organization where i - & all those like me - would be isolated, alienated, destroyed, deprived of their humanity so thoroughly that reminds one of a cored apple. in most respects, it's already working. the breadth of it is, so, so wide, and so hopeless, that i cannot even define it. i can only repeat clichés: for as long as i can recall my only vision of the future has been "all but what i see". this line of thought is, in its own way, an attempt at reassurance, i think. when you diagnose your issues as primarily arising from some unique & deep way that you are simply broken, things are easier to process. in any case, they seem much clearer, if not necessarily easier. but when you come to the conclusion that your issues lay not with yourself, but with the external conditions that seem to suffocate and permeate your existence, then things get a lot bleaker. you can't go to a therapist over your feeling of chronic estrangement, when he sneers and his framed icon of a saint seems to almost glare at the slightest mention of degenerate western homosexuality. you can't talk to your medical professional about your all-encompassing anxiety, or god forbid something more risque, when he has openly mentioned his brother being the leader of a local ultranationalist sect. you don't get to submit a request for a year off to tend to your mental health, & you are not allowed to take a vacation day from your father being a violent drunken fascist, or your family feeling like a mass of flesh that just wants to swallow you whole and never let go. you don't get to avoid gripping the hand and nervously looking into the tired, steely eyes of someone who you are well aware is actively fighting against your right to exist. you can't take a rest break from a reality that wants to violently grind you into nothing. i am frightened that this might be the only life i have to live. i am also frightened that i am permanently maladjusted from the damage it has done to my mind"

[inkyvulture]

"Do I have this issue or is my brain hyperrealistically adopting this issue to self sabotage?"

A musical.

#seriously #like I'm not sure if I have an issue until somebody else points it out #or more like if they tell me a joke or statistic about it #then my brain clicks in like hol' up #and then i find a clear example of said thing they brought up #and them more examples flood in #but when i talk to therapists I cannot recall one thing about who I am #nor what i do #but if i'm straight up told I do X or Y I go #you got me wrong #don't think i do it so often #so props to this one dude who throws statistics my way out of the blue #and i catch them like some rugby ball passed to me and i suddenly know shit #because some stuff is a bit more clear now #because before it wasn't #because my mother would always say I do stuff out of my own volition #and say I fake problems #she always pushes that narrative on anyone besides herself #so she emotionally and expressively constipated me rip #she muddied my definition of me #erased my clear lines and told me they were never in their original place in the first place #damn tag ramble #but i was eating sushi and writing so

[imaginesbymonika]

All roads they lead me here.

Part 1.

Pairing: Johnny Knoxville x fem!Reader

Plot: Johnny and Y/N were high school sweethearts, but for the last year their relationship has been gradually decomposing. And they have reached a specific limit, one where they both understand that their next big fight could be their last. On their way back home they end up getting stuck in an elevator, and while the two are waiting for rescue they have no other option than to face their past, present, and unstable and perhaps non existing future.

Warnings: sad, angsty and a tiny bit of fluff

Masterlist | Previous Chapter

Listen to this while reading:

You can still recall the day of your wedding. As if it was yesterday. How he had wept when he turned around to see you in your white dress for the very first time. How you couldn't help yourself but cry with him because he confessed that he had visualized you in one since he was a teenager and to see you in it was something that crushed his heart and melted it in a matter of seconds.

Now he was sitting next to you on the sofa, a couples therapist in front of you two and you couldn't help but feel so awfully miserable.

Your hands were trembling, while you listened to him speak about how he wanted to love you so badly, but for some reason, he just couldn't do it. At least not in the same amount as he did a few years ago.

"I do love her.", he talked about you, as if you weren't in the room. Perhaps he couldn't look at you anymore, you could sense the humiliation coming out of his pores. “I really do, that’s why I want to fight for her- for us. There is no other woman out there I could imagine laying next to at night.”

It was the same thing he said during the ceremony. “I will adore and love you forever. I cannot think- that I would find somebody who I’d rather fall asleep next to.”

“Now, how does that make you feel?”, the elderly woman in front of you asked and you looked up from your hands, they suddenly felt very cold. You took a deep breath.

“Well.”, you began, but your voice fell flat. Hot tears emerge in your eyes and your hand flies up to rub the bridge of your nose. You clear your throat:” Well, I am glad that I am not the-the only one who has hope. Hope that we can still- somehow, stay together. Because I nevertheless love him as well.”

You turn to look at Johnny, who’s eyes ate fixated on his hands, which are folded in his hands. “I love you, so much.” He still doesn’t look at you, instead he reaches for your hand. Johnny simply holds it for a moment before he squeezes it, tight but gentle.

“Please. Never forget that.”

Time was something you will never completely comprehend. How can feelings change so rapidly and so fluently?

Then he shifts. And his head turns in your direction, the skin under his eyes is rosy and puffy. But the emotion in his eyes is overwhelming.

“I still love you too.”

Still. You couldn’t believe that he would ever use such a word in that sentence. And you know he couldn’t either.

#angst #x reader #fluff #imagine #jackass #johnny knoxville #jackass forever #johnny knoxville ff #johnny knoxville x reader #jackass ff #jackass imagine #jackass x reader #Spotify

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 12 FINALE

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Nope! Notes: How lovely it has been, to go on this journey with you. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to every person who has liked, reblogged, or left a kind comment on this story. Combined, you all have genuinely changed my life. I'm writing more than ever, more consistently, and I'm having a blast. So if you like this story, and wish it wasn't ending, well... maybe don't worry too much. There will be a sequel of sorts, same timeline but new reader, instead focusing on Cassandra. Also oops this is hella long. And mostly dialogue. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony, Pt. 8: Obbligato, Pt. 9: Berceuse, Pt. 10b: Hymn AMAB, Pt 11: Cadence

Chapter 12: Cadence (Reprise)

(Cadence: Two chords that mark the end of a song)

Truth be told, she had never expected much of anything to come from this. ‘Twas not that she thought her daughter to be talentless, or that she denied the capabilities of the servant-turned-teacher, rather that she knew just how difficult it was to keep Daniela’s attention for any measure of time. Even as the weeks went by with undeniable progress, there was a part of her awaiting the collapse of it all. How long would this instructor last? How long before they were drained of blood, either for some perceived insult, or merely out of boredom? Surely, in the end, Alcina would not need to lift a single finger.

And yet here she was, at the end of a concert, pride roaring within her chest. What had she missed? What clues had eluded her, what had changed within her child’s nature? She knew that there were hints of deeper affections, fragments of a would-be love, but she had thought them miniscule. Thought that those feelings were doomed to crash and burn, unable to live up to the expectations set by decades of romance novels. Well, maybe they had failed. Maybe, somehow, Alcina had missed something else entirely.

The thought might have sent a shiver down her spine, if she weren’t so readily distracted by praising her youngest child… or by the looming shadow of a life-changing revelation.

“Mother… we need to talk. I… I have a confession to make,” Daniela explains, hesitantly slow, but with a conviction she rarely ever showed. Taken aback by the unexpected announcement, Alcina pauses, silently awaiting some form of elaboration. Instead, Daniela takes her hand, pulling her towards a set of chairs. They sit gingerly, each feeling the weight of terrifying possibilities upon their shoulders. When she at last continues speaking, she does so without a trace of showmanship or false bravado, trading it in for heartfelt sincerity. “I love them. All of this- these lessons, this concert- has been for them. For my sweet, innocent little songbird.” So here it was, the birthplace of her fears, brought forth from her mind into reality.

“I was afraid you would say that,” Alcina muses, leaning back into the chair with a deep sigh. Something itches in the back of her throat, and she yearns for her pipe, or even just a normal cigarette to distract herself. Without one, she is left to metaphorically chew on her thoughts. Realistically, there has to be some way to deal with this, some way that she can convince her daughter of the sheer foolishness of this mess. “Daniela… how can I put this in a way you will understand, hmm?… The two of you have only known each other for three months. There is no chance that you truly love them, or them you. How close can you possibly have become?”

“When have I cared about anything for three whole months? I dedicated myself to-” Daniela is cut off by the sound of the door opening, revealing the rest of her little family. It was guaranteed that they would have heard the conversation from outside, seeing as they were all inhuman, though they perhaps intended to intervene. A single hard glance from both of the room’s occupants convinces them to change their minds. “Wait, Ava, can you get us some tea, please? Something tells me I’ll need a soothing drink soon.” Hesitating in the doorway, the butler in question eyes the both of them, naturally tempted to stay and fill the role of a therapist.

“I do believe my daughter gave you an order, Ava. Don’t tell me you have forgotten the stipulations of your agreement with Mother Miranda?” Alcina interjects. With that said, the butler finally moves, exiting with an apologetic bow. An awkward silence hangs in the air once xe closes the door behind xerself, as Daniela takes a moment to recall her place.

“Three months is a long time for me. I put all of my energy towards both them and what they taught me, almost every single day. Even when their work kept them busy for too long, I still practiced, because I wanted to make them proud! For all my flirting, I’ve never bonded with anyone this way before now,” she says, hating the way her voice gets a little shaky. No matter how much confidence she has in her own writing, it is another thing entirely to be convincing out loud, with a truth she had been hiding for so long. All of her practice had been with lies. Now she had to contest with the hope that the strength of her emotions would be enough. “That song we played together, at the end, they wrote that for me. Doesn’t that mean something?”

“Oh, my dear… I want you to be happy more than anything. But we both know that your ‘history’ is stained with a number of incidents. You have always been absorbed within those books you read, and the fantasies that they provide for you. It is one thing to enjoy these stories on the side, but another matter entirely to let them corrupt your relations with others. As your mother, it is my duty to keep you safe, first and foremost,” Alcina proclaims, sitting up straighter, trying not to let her frown evolve into a full out scowl. Beneath the table, her hands ball into fists, clutched tight to stop herself from breaking the table. In the back of her mind she could think of little other than dismembering that damned piano instructor. Focusing on the discussion at hand, she takes a deep breath before finalizing her point. “You don’t know what a healthy relationship looks like, nor what it feels like. Your books are not ideal models for reference. One- or both- of you are going to end up suffering, and that is something I cannot allow, regardless of how ‘happy’ they make you before then.”

“You’re right,” Daniela whispers in defeat… or a feigned version of it. A split second later she’s making eye contact with her mother again, lips curling up into a smile. “I didn’t want to admit it, especially not to someone as attractive, talented, and charming as my Songbird, but I didn’t have to. They understood from the very start. We talked about it, about my expectations and my shitty behavior, and we worked on it. We’re still working on it. Maybe there will be bumps along the way, just like in every relationship, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be worth it in the end. What we have is still real, and they make me want to be a better woman. I know they’ve already helped me make the change.”

Once more the door opens, making the conversation pause, as Ava near-silently brings in the requested tea. If a pin had dropped at that moment, it would have felt as ear-shattering loud as a gong. Every second that passed felt like it dragged on, stretched out by the tension in the room, as though xe was moving in slow motion. The ‘clink’ of ceramic against the table makes xer flinch, almost spilling the tea. Neither Alcina nor Daniela react, or even acknowledge xer presence with anything more than their eyes, instead remaining impassive until xe makes a hasty retreat.

“Use what you’ve learned on someone else, then. Perhaps another one of Miranda’s experiments will someday provide a suitable match. But this ‘songbird’ of yours? They’re nothing. A human, a servant, they are not worth your time, nor are they worth mine. No matter what words or songs they weave, or illusions of grandeur they show you, you will end up getting bored of them. I’m afraid it is inevitable, my dear,” Alcina says, as soon as the door is closed once more. Then she attends to her tea, with the composure of someone convinced that they had just won an argument. On the other hand, Daniela was not so quick to give in, some of her worry melting into anger.

“How can you say that? How can you be sure? We were all human, once! Even Mother Miranda was human. And my Songbird is no mere human- they are wondrous, with flowery prose and lovely melodies, with soft-lipped smiles and reassuring eyes, and don’t even get me started on how beautiful they are!” She rambles, voice getting louder with every word. All at once it is too much for Alcina, who sets down her glass a little too hard, nostrils flaring as she stares at her daughter. When Daniela speaks again, she does so with love coating her tone. “We have weathered each other’s anxieties with no signs of stopping. I promised that we would weather yours.”

“I only want you to be happy. I need you to understand where I am coming from. This may be your longest lasting infatuation so far, but you have yet to honestly convince me that this is any different from your past ‘distractions’. I’m sorry, Daniela, I simply cannot allow this to continue,” Alcina sighs, hating to break her youngest daughter’s heart like this. There was only one thing that Daniela had yet to try. Maybe two, if she was willing to resort to begging.

“Can’t you trust me enough to give us a chance? Cassandra of all people seems to understand. Bela went as far as to lie to you, for our sake! She never does anything she thinks will hurt me, or you, or any of us. Please, mother, please. How can you ever know if what I have will last, if you cut it down now? Are you going to wait forever for some ‘perfect candidate’ for me? And what if that person loves someone else? Or what if the ‘perfect’ person doesn’t exist! What if we’re stuck waiting for them like Mother Miranda waits for another child, hmm? Would you have me spend another century alone, my only memory of genuine romance being poisoned by the thought that you broke us apart?” Daniela’s words ring throughout the chamber, echoing a damning accusation, somehow more bitter than the taste they left in her mouth.

All at once, Alcina’s heart takes a hit like no other. Her hands damn-near tremble, her lungs ache, her lips purse, and her brow furrows. So be it, she thinks.

“Bring this ‘Songbird’ here. Let me talk to them.”

—————————

Goddess, you are practically vibrating at the speed of sound, palms sweaty, nervousness trashing your mind. What the hell had Daniela done? Last thing you knew, she was determined to keep your secret, even if meant being unable to celebrate with you. But now you were getting tugged along by her, while tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She had said something about “mother” and “important”. That was all the context that you had been given. When you round one last corner, pulling up in front of Lady Dimitrescu’s study, you are shown a sight that somehow makes you feel worse: Bela, Cassandra, and Ava are all resting outside of the room. They appear exhausted, and motion for you to be quiet as you approach.

“They’ve been listening in on our conversation,” Daniela admits with a whisper. Then she’s pulling you into the study, ensuring that the door doesn’t open wide enough for the eavesdroppers to get spotted. Something told you that Alcina was already well aware of their presence. “Alright, mother, here is my Songbird. What did you want to ask us?”

“Daniela… leave us. My questions are for ‘Songbird’ alone,” Alcina replies, seemingly confirming the absolute worst of your fears. This was where you would die. By her hand, without your lover by your side, after what could have been the happiest night of your life. Of course. But Daniela is not willing to go without a fight. As soon as the words leave her mother’s mouth, she is moving between the two of you, just as she had when she first called you her teacher. Before she can speak, her mother stands up and stares her down. “Don’t make me ask again- there will not be a third time.” When she still hesitates, it is your turn to be brave.

“Hey, it’s okay, we’ll be okay,” you promise her, reaching out to take her hand. Instantly she’s returning to your side, hand cupping your cheek, eyes filled to the brim with sadness. “Firefly… ‘Tell me love, we shall last until the end of days’. I love you. Nothing is going to change that, not now, not ever. We’ll be okay.” Maybe not now, you think, but you’ll be okay eventually. Cassandra and Bela, and Ava I suppose, will make sure of it.

“Okay. We’ll last until the end of days. I love you too,” Daniela says, swallowing the lump in her throat. With one last kiss she pulls away, wishing that her departure didn’t feel so much like a betrayal. She pauses in the doorway, meeting your gaze, unable to bring herself to move until you give her an accepting nod. The door swings into place with a click, sealing the room and your fate.

“So,” Alcina begins, returning to her seat as she does. For now you stay standing, unsure of just about every part of this situation, especially your upcoming role in it. “You have been deceiving me. That alone is a crime worthy of severe punishment, and yet you stooped so low as to do far, far more. I had hoped you had, somehow, managed to teach my daughter a real lesson, that you had inspired a love of music in her, that you had made an honest difference in the way she learns. But all this time… it has been nothing more than a ruse.” The last word comes out dipped in venom, acidic enough to make you flinch. Thankfully, your beloved was not the only person who had a gift with words. More than that, this was a topic that you had spent numerous nights thinking about, making you as prepared as you could ever hope to be.

“You know, as much as I desire to claim that I am that interesting, or that Daniela felt so strongly from the very start, I can do no such thing. The truth is this: Music is what brought us together in the first place. It was the catalyst for our first real interaction, the first time she ever looked at me as more than just another servant or bloodbag. We bonded because of it, and so when we went to play together, to learn, Daniela honestly did connect to it,” you explain, despite the fire in Alcina’s expression. To your surprise, she does not interrupt you, and you take it as permission to keep going. Which was very good, considering that being nervous only made you ramble more. “Music is something we’ve shared for the entirety of our relationship. Even if it’s not something she would do much of on her own, I know that she’s grown to care for it more than she might be willing to admit. And, well…

“Even if you decide that what I’ve done is unforgivable, even if I’m destined to die within the hour, I know in my heart that everything the two of us worked on still matters. Because, like it or not, she is capable of growth, of change, of progress. And even if I die, someone else will come afterwards. Daniela will get to use music as a way to forge connections for the rest of her life, now that she knows it works, now that she knows how it works. And every goddamn time that she plays, or Bela plays, or you play, she’s going to remember me. She’ll remember every moment we spent together, every piece we ever played. I’ll live on in the melodies we made. In the song that you can’t quite place, that gets stuck on loop in your head. In the song the maids sing to themselves between shifts. In the quiet evening when the rain against the window feels so much like a familiar rhythm that your daughters can’t help but start humming along, without even thinking, muscle memories in sync.”

“Are you trying to convince me that there’s no point in killing you? That, regardless, you will be in my life until the end of time?” Alcina’s eyes are narrowed, but there isn’t even a hint of anger in her tone. Just curiosity.

“No, not really. Guess I’m just making peace with my fate the best way I know how- by remembering the echoes I’ll leave behind,” you answer, pausing to wipe a few tears from your eyes. All you can think about is how much Daniela will miss you. How much pain you think she’ll go through. Because at this point, who are you trying to fool with your hope? Yourself, or the people listening?

“Hmm. I think I understand. Now, tell me… what was that you said to my daughter a minute ago, before she left the room? It sounded familiar, though I cannot place it,” Alcina questions, idly toying with her glass of tea. You’re not entirely sure why it matters to her, but you have no qualms delaying the inevitable by answering. Besides, it was a chance to talk about how much you loved Daniela (and you’d never skip such an opportunity).

“It’s a line from a poem she wrote for me. “Tell me love, we shall last until the end of days”. A promise. The song Daniela and I played together… I wrote it in response. My way of doing what she asked of me, I guess. Like I said, she’ll always have the music we shared,” you answer, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“Damn this… I can hardly believe I am asking this, yet I feel I have no choice: Tell me, do you love my daughter? Do you honestly, with your entire being, desire a future with her? Or was this a game of survival you couldn’t afford to lose, that turned out to be more ‘fun’ than you had anticipated? Show me your heart, as it is, bare as it would be if I tore it from your chest, this very moment.” There’s no room for argument in her voice, using the very same tone she reserved for maidens who got a tad too close to refusing her.

“Alright. It was a game. At first. Daniela wanted a distraction, something to entertain her. I didn’t want to die, like I had heard so many of her ‘playmates’ did. I can’t tell you when things changed, at least not for her,” you confess, with a shaky breath. Did that make you a monster? One worthy of death? If so, you wondered if it actually made you more fit to date Daniela. “For me… I just remember her smiling wide at me, hand on my cheek, having just cracked some lame joke. Next thing I knew, well, I knew. We had a spark of something, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to make her happy, you know? All the sudden there was nothing I wouldn’t do for her. I just wanted to see that smile again, everyday for the rest of my life.

“To answer your question: Yes. Goddess, yes. A thousand times yes. A ‘yes’ for every smile she’s ever shown me, for every butterfly in my stomach, for every time she’s held my hand, for every breath she’s stolen from my lungs, and for every single time my heart has skipped a beat in her name. I love her. I know we haven’t been together long, but the things I feel are undeniable. I will give her every part of myself, for as long as she wants me, for as long as I am blessed to live,” you pour your heart out, weaving your heartbeat into every turn of phrase, spilling your lifeblood onto the very conversation.

“And what will you do if she does change her mind? If she grows bored of you, as she has done with a dozen others?” Alcina counters without hesitation.

“I will weep. I will fall to my knees, and mourn this beautiful thing. But I will cherish every memory she leaves to me. Every moment where I am hers is a moment worth living, worth remembering. It will be better to have loved her with all my heart for a little slice of her immortality, than to love another, lesser so, for all of my life.” With that, Alcina sets her empty glass of tea onto the table, eying you with an unreadable expression. Something seems to stir in her chest, and at last the mask crumbles. She smiles.

“I see. Daniela, you may come back in now. Do not bother pretending that you have not been eavesdropping.” Not even a full second passes before the door opens, revealing a shaking Daniela, both of her sisters quite visible behind her (though they quickly move out of frame, leaving behind Ava, who gives a cheesy thumbs up as the door closes in xer face). She rushes to your side, taking your hand, looking stunned that you were still alive. But what shocks her more is what her mother says… “Of all the women I have ever known, family or otherwise, you are, perhaps, the most determined. Normally only in… ‘spurts’. Yet here you are, defying what I have come to expect of you. It almost feels as if I have been fooling myself this whole time, falsely believing that there is more than one possible outcome. So, ‘Songbird’, I say this: Three months ago, I agreed to give you a chance to prove yourself worthy of my daughter, for the sake of her happiness. Now, I suppose it is only fair that I do so once more.”

“Wait. Are you saying-” Daniela is once again cut off by her mother, who seems eager to avoid a trademark rant.

“Yes, yes I am. For the time being, the two of you have my blessing. I cannot say that I am entirely convinced of your chances at success, but, having seen the strength of your affections for one another, I sincerely hope that you will prove me wrong. Now come here, Daniela. I never got to finish telling you what I thought of your concert…”

—————————

In the glowing comfort of your girlfriend’s room, with the fireplace keeping things warm and cozy, you lay with your head against Daniela’s chest. One of her hands absentmindedly plays with your hair, and you release a sigh of bliss. Ava had assured you that xe would let Daphne know the good news, as xe thought that having one of the castle ladies visiting the servants’ quarters might cause a stir (and Daniela was far from willing to let go of you so soon). Now the two of you were just enjoying time holding each other close. Regardless of Alcina’s concerns, you knew that everything would be looking up from here. Assuming that Daniela didn’t have any more surprise confessions to involve you with.

“That was one hell of a surprise, Firefly. But I’m glad we don’t have to hide anymore. I love you, and I don’t know how long I could have survived without being open with it,” you say, a light teasing to your voice. Beneath you, Daniela chuckles, but holds you just a bit tighter. Then she places the softest of kisses to your forehead. “I’m always gonna love you, Firefly.”

“Until the end of days?” She asks, in a delighted whisper, grin practically audible.

“Until the end of days.”

—————————

Elsewhere in the castle, a caring mother takes another long, hungry drink from her glass of wine, staring intently into the fireplace. By her side is a silver-haired servant, who wordlessly watches her every move.

“There’s still a chance that this will all end horribly. Only time will tell, of course… but I can’t help worrying for her, she’s my daughter,” Alcina proclaims, gripping the glass hard enough for a web of cracks to form along its bell. But it does not fully shatter. No, it remains just steady enough to still be of use to her. For now. “Of course, you knew about this all along, didn’t you, Ava?... I know that you value how close you are with my children, and I know that they trust in you as much as I do… but if there are relationships or entanglements that I am unaware of, I expect you to tell me, or there will have to be consequences, regardless of your affiliation with Mother Miranda. Do you understand?”

Sighing, the mute servant pulls a notebook from xer pocket, opening it up to pen in a fresh script. There’s much tension in the air, and it only gets worse when Alcina catches a glimpse at what the note reads. As xe hands it to her, she scowls, and the wine glass fully breaks into countless shards. Immediately, Ava gets to work, picking up the largest of fragments with xer bare hands, refusing to complain about the resulting cuts. All the while Alcina stares into the fire, thoughts racing, wondering if maybe this time she could end her daughter’s problem before it was too late. Beginning to brainstorm ideas, she sets the notebook aside. Inside, in perfectly penned cursive, is a very, very dangerous piece of knowledge. The sort that could affect not only Castle Dimitrescu, but the entire village.

“In that case… there’s something you need to know about Cassandra- and Mother Miranda’s lovely little ‘pet’.”

#daniela dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #it's really here lads #this is it #gonna go cry now #oh my god #i can hardly believe it

[nikethestatue]

ok so u know these posts where azriel is made out to be toxic? and they say he does it with mor and elain. let’s say that’s true. literally what makes them think the same thing wouldn’t happen with gwyn?? if he had this so called toxic behavior with 2 women what makes gwyn so special he wouldn’t do it with her? like why are they acting like gwyn is prythian’s therapist? i find it very hypocritical and i promise you gwyn isn’t special.

He is only toxic when he is with the 'wrong' woman. All his toxicity disappears when he is with Gwyn. But let's examine, shall we?

Let's recall the times he was 'toxic'.

Mor:

He told Mor that she cannot/should not go to the Human Lands and try to infiltrate the Human Queens' palace, because she'd be caught and strung up.

Rhys agreed with him.

Cassian, by the way, told her a similar thing, later on, when he told her that he didn't want her to go to the continent, and needed her with the army.

Rhys agreed with him.

Are they also toxic?

Azriel lost his temper against Eris during the HL meeting. He didn't lose his temper against Mor. He didn't say anything to her at all. She was insulted and he assaulted the person with whom he had a very bad and turbulent history.

He was the only one who spoke up against Tamlin when Tamlin was insulting Feyre, his High Lady. He warned Talmlin, another High Lord not to speak to Feyre the way Tamlin did.

Perhaps, he doesn't like it when women are insulted? Maybe it goes back to watching his mother who was abused and insulted and tormented by his father and stepmother? Perhaps it's knowing about what happened to Cassian's mother too? Perhaps it's watching what happened to women in Illyria, how they were clipped and treated in general?

Maybe he attempts to protect and defend and save females, because there is residual guilt of a son who couldn't protect him mother?

Going back to Mor. He clearly had feelings for Mor, at least back in the day, when they were teens. She and his 'best friend', both knowing of his feelings for her, still went ahead and slept together. Not only did they betray him as a friend/brother, but also put Mor in grave danger. The whole affair resulted in Azriel volunteering to go into AC and rescue her. It was he who found her with nails embedded in her womb. So, did 'toxic' Azriel go on some crazed revenge journey? Did he guilt Mor for sleeping with Cassian? Did he challenge Cassian? He did none of those things. He wanted to evoke the BD against Eris and Beron, perhaps wouldn't mind killing Keir, but he was so toxic and completely incapable of controlling his emotions and behaviours, wouldn't he have done all of those things? What's more, knowing that it's Mor's right to call the BD, he, and Cassian, stepped back, letting her deal with the situation as she saw fit.

Beyond that, with Mor--what did he ever do to her? He sat next to her at the dinner table? He looked at her? They do live as a family unit, and it would be hard not to glance at her. From what we know, it was Mor who begged him to go and finally dragged him to Rita's, it's Mor who was capable of getting him to talk, it was Mor who held his hand, who had no problem sunbathing in front of him and Cassian when they were sparring. It was Mor who had an assigned chair in HoW with a golden pillow. If she was so disturbed by him and he was so threatening in his actions, wouldn't we logically assume that perhaps she'd avoid him like the plague? She never did. In fact, she very much did the opposite.

Lastly, Elain.

So his toxicity stems from the fact that unlike Amren and Rhys he doesn't want to send someone he cares for and someone who is not tested at all in any kind of combat/scrying to find objects so powerful that they had to be 'forgotten' by the world?

He voiced his opinion, not even in front of her, but to his HL and part of the IC who are making these decisions. Did Cassian want Nesta to go? Or scry? Not so much.

What else did he do? He armed Elain with TT? Did he say that she should be hidden somewhere? No. He did what he could for her, and that was that.

Now, curiously, the same people who claim that he is possessive, domineering and toxic towards Elain and Mor, in the same breath claim that him not reacting to Gwyn being in the Blood Rite and caring little about her, and sort of forgetting that she was part of the whole deal was because he felt that 'they trained her well' and she was in no real danger.

So which one is it?

I think that the most honest answer would be--he does care for Mor and Elain. Doesn't want them to get hurt. But doesn't curtail their freedom or capabilities. He doesn't really care about Gwyn in the same way. He doesn't want her to be hurt, I am sure, but she in not front and center in his mind. He isn't 'changed' with Gwyn, isn't better --he is just not into her.

Bottom line is that I refuse to qualify him as misogynistic or toxic. I feel like he respects women much more than some other, very prominent, male characters in the books. Not wanting to see the woman you love/like in danger isn't some flex on her autonomy. It's a pretty normal thing that men are conditioned to do.

#azriel #anon ask #anon response

[penajavier]

though you are no god -  Frankie Morales x f!reader

This idea had been brewing for a while and hanging out in my drafts for a longer while, but I’ve finally found the inspiration to clean it up and share it! I am clearly a beginner at this and feedback/critique is always welcome. 

Title: though you are no god (credit)

Pairing: Francisco Morales x f!reader. One use of the word “girl”.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.3k

Content/warnings: brief mentions of nightmares and trauma recovery, angst, smut, still somehow the sappiest shit I’ve ever written. frankie likes to be praised. strictly 18+

ao3

••••••••

The first time you get to witness Francisco Morales fall to his knees in front of you, you almost don't remember it happening.  

His mouth presses hot and wet and urgent against your skin where he is bunching up your shirt to expose it. You are nearly as drunk as him, blindly pulling it off and throwing it somewhere behind him. The wall behind you is cool but does absolutely fuck-all to clear your head because oh god his hands are big and warm and his tongue is incessant and oh god this is Frankie, your goofy, kind, awkward, hot as fuck friend-of-a-friend. He pulls you forward a fraction just to tug on your pants and underwear, letting them gather around your feet without giving you the leg room to step out of them. He lifts your left leg over his shoulder with ease, and then his hands are bracing him against you and his tongue is working as if it has a mind of its own, circling your clit and sliding up your lips and you don't remember his fingers being that thick but somehow they are and you are close to going insane. 

Maybe tomorrow you'll wonder how you ended up here, in a hallway in his apartment where he barely bothered to turn the lights on before pressing himself into you, effectively shutting off any sane connection you might have still retained to the world after however-many drinks you two had got in you. The night was supposed to be about Santi, you vaguely recall, but right now you honest to god cannot even remember what promotion he got that you were supposed to be celebrating. You might have made a mental note to apologize to him for leaving his party early, but Frankie adds another finger to your wet cunt and moans like it's pleasuring him more than you, and it's a real effort not to kick him in the chest or collapse on him then and there.  

The fucker laughs as if he knows exactly what he's doing to you, and somehow increases his efforts to a degree you hadn't thought possible. It doesn't take much after that for you to feel that knot tightening in your belly, the electricity of it making your limbs shake. Only when he’s satisfied making you cum thoroughly on his tongue and his hand does he stand up, and for the first time since you got here, he speaks. "Hi," he says, the loopiest grin on his face, before leaning forward to kiss you without waiting for you to answer.  

Your last remaining brain cell thinks to itself, this is going to be one hell of a night. 

•••• 

The second time Frankie Morales falls to his knees in front of you, you can barely bring yourself to look at him. 

It's been weeks (months?) since he practically fell off the grid, following your childhood best friend and designated bad-idea-haver Santiago Garcia into the guts of South America. You had reached the point where a part of you was bracing itself for the worst kind of news, of never getting to see your boys again or hell, not even knowing what the fuck happened to them down there. The rest of you was still holding on to your anger in a misplaced effort to stay hopeful, refusing to let you feel anything other than the need to wring their necks as soon as one of them walked back in the door. And that was it, the majority of your days spent getting on edge every time your phone rang or you felt you saw a familiar set of messy curls pass you by on the street, until you walked home one day to find him standing outside your door, hand poised to knock but hesitant. 

"What the fuck?" the words escape you before you can help it, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. When he turns to look at you coming up behind him, you almost stop in shock at how absolutely shit he looks. "What the fuck?" you say again, seeming to have lost all your vocabulary at the sight of this stupid infuriating beautiful man finally standing in front of you in one piece, messy curls and all.  

An eternity passes with the two of you simply staring at each other, your grocery bags forgotten in your hands and his fingers twitching in an effort to keep them to himself. The smell of fresh bread wafting from your grocery bag does little to alleviate any tension, and the silence is almost painful. You want to do something, say something of all the rage and hurt you've nursed in you at being left alone. How dare you, you want to bark at him, want to hold him by the collar and smack him or kiss his face raw. 

You must take too long in your own head because he carefully extends a hand toward you, but you are so over-stimulated at the mere sight of him that you flinch.  

That's what breaks him, you realize later when the storms have passed and the proverbial rivers have calmed. Not the pain and loss and grief of the mission - things he'll whisper into your chest when you let him - and not the physical battering he must have taken through it all. What breaks him is you flinching away from him, as if you'd forgotten who he was. It’s only me, it's your Frankie, he wants to scream; wants to gather you in his arms and breathe into your ribs. But all he can do is fall to the ground and plead with his eyes.

I'm sorry, mi alma he seems to be saying, and the sight of this glorious man breaking down in front of your doorstep makes you ache in the depths of your bones. You rush forward, all your anger evaporating away from you in the instant it takes to wrap your arms around him and let him rest his head on your stomach. The position is awkward at best. His touch feels almost alien and his hair doesn't smell like you're used to, but you let him cry, let him ruin the clothes you hadn’t given much thought to anyway, and it doesn't occur to either of you that the shirt is one of his that he'd left at your place. 

You choke back the ocean rising in your throat, not knowing how to navigate everything you're feeling at the same time. Will we ever be okay? you wonder, your entire body feeling numb as he holds you just the tiniest bit more tightly.  

You don't know then if you'll ever forgive him, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be the same man again, but right there in that moment none of it matters. What matters is that he is here, and you are holding him like you'd wished and prayed for in all those lonely nights. Maybe you'll never be okay like you used to be, but you have him for now, and you're too exhausted to think beyond that. 

•••• 

The third time, it's fucking magical. 

You and your Frankie have finally settled into a somewhat stable routine. After he left you with the promise to get his shit together, he made good on his word. It seemed as if the mission that must not be named put things into perspective for him - and for you, for that matter - and the two of you decided to give up on the delicate dance you kept orchestrating around each other. You had realized that you needed him much more than you could ever resent him for leaving, and he had realized he never wanted to feel the paralysing fear of thinking he'd never make it back to you again. You two had decided to sit down like adults and talk about it, and Frankie’s regular visits to his therapist had certainly helped. 

Now, in the early morning light in your shared bedroom, he looks the very picture of calm. The birds chirp softly outside the window, blending in with the music of the traffic that you two have begrudgingly come to love. The nightmares haven't left him completely, but they're less frequent and far less incapacitating for him. You feel a rush of pride for how far he's come, how much effort he put into building himself back up piece by piece after being shattered to his bare bones. You’ve seen him curl into you out of fear and into himself during the moments of self loathing when he feels he doesn't deserve your kindness, but now he sleeps with his head tilted slightly upward, exposing the beautiful planes of his neck to you. He is beautiful, you've known it for as long as you've known him, but something about the soft sunlight turning his curls golden and the way you can tell he's truly at peace in this moment, brings tears to your eyes and makes your throat clench. 

You lean up on your elbow and touch his face. His skin is soft, and he smells faintly of your body wash. Thief, you think fondly, brushing his unruly hair away from his forehead. he had stopped cutting it as frequently as he used to because he noticed you liked running your hands through it, and you realize with a jolt that that had been years ago, long before you two had any conversation about the future, even before he had his world turned upside down in the depths of an unnamed jungle. That is when you realize that Francisco Morales told you he loved you long before you had the sense to understand it, and this time you do cry. 

He stirs in his sleep. You briefly worry that you woke him, but he simply turns his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck, breathing deeply at your shoulder before falling back asleep. The feeling of his soft breaths against your skin makes you smile, and you feel yourself falling more in love with every one of them. 

He wakes you up hours later with gentle kisses and the promise of pancakes, making you giggle with the way his moustache tickles your chin. When you find him in the kitchen later he seems more chipper than usual, smelling like a bakery and humming softly while setting the table for two. He greets you with a sweet kiss and pulls out your chair for you before sitting down in his own. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” you ask playfully, and he smiles wide behind his glasses that you’d finally convinced him he needed. Beautiful man, you can't help but think. 

"Just wanted to do something nice for my girl," he answers with his mouth full and you flick a berry at him, which he expertly catches. "Oh so that's how it's gonna be," he puts down his fork and you start to run away, but he is far too quick. He catches you by your waist and pulls you into his chest, licking your cheek obscenely.  

"Frankie, you dog!" you giggle, still fighting his grip.  

"Dogs are cute," he shrugs, seemingly unfazed against you using all your force. He is gentle as anything with you, but he sure likes to show off his strength every once in a while. He lifts you effortlessly off the floor and sets you on the counter. "You think I'm cute?" he wiggles his eyebrows. 

You almost playfully call him insufferable on autopilot, the way you've always bantered since you've known him. But you're aware now how he relies on verbal affirmations, and you've been making a conscious effort of supplying them whenever you can. So instead you hold his face in your palms and tell him that you think he's the most wonderful man in the world, and that you love him more than anything.  

"Baby," he drops his head to your shoulder and sighs. You do this to him, making his heart swell and threaten to burst out of his ribs. He doesn't have the words, doesn't know how to tell you he feels like the luckiest man in the world every morning when he wakes up next to you, every time he hears your voice or feels your palm in his. He doesn't know how to tell you you've been his anchor and his best friend, or how he can't believe he gets to have this kind of domestic bliss at all. "Baby," he repeats, "I love you." 

You try to deepen the kiss he initiates, but he pulls back and tells you he has plans for the day, telling you to get dressed for something outdoors. You feel a rush of happiness at the thought of him feeling more and more like himself with every day that passes, picking up old habits and finding joy in them. You kiss his cheek and run off to get dressed, beyond excited to see what he had planned. 

The ride to the field is longer than you expected. Frankie has turned the radio on and it plays softly in the background as you two talk occasionally. It’s a calm morning, with the perfect weather that's neither too cold nor too warm. He lifts your hand to his lips and kisses it softly once he's parked, and then he hops out and opens your door for you. 

"Such a gentleman," you tease. 

"Yeah," is all he says before he's kissing you breathless against the truck. It takes you by surprise, but it's far from unwelcome. 

Your hands come to rest on his shoulders, and you can tell it takes a special amount of effort for him to pull away from you, his hands still holding you close as he pulls on yours and leads you deeper into the field. The grass is high enough to tickle your ankles, and the whisper of it against your skin feels wonderful. He slows down, the pace leisurely enough for you to appreciate the wildflowers growing around you. He’s careful not to step on any, and you're struck once again by the multitudes that exist within this one man. The same man who has confessed to sins you could never have thought him capable of, now so careful with a thing as gentle as a dandelion. You think about his hand that is so gentle in yours, and the memory of it firmly wrapping around your throat as he does unspeakable things to you makes you blush, and you will yourself to come back to the present.  

Frankie has led you to a tree, and you notice a tree house resting on the sturdier branches. It’s new, you realize, and look at him quizzically. 

"Remember how I was supposed to pick up new hobbies?" he says sheepishly, gently leading you around to the other side where you see wooden footrests leading up. He urges you to climb up, and you are still so surprised that you can only obey. 

"I thought you'd like this," he's saying. "It can be our secret place, we come here whenever we want. Not that we don't already have a home and privacy but I thought this could be nice to have. Like a little getaway close to home." He's rambling now, as you notice all the fine details he has paid attention to in the construction of it. 

"Honey? Do you like it?" he asks when you've been too quiet. 

"Do I like it?" you ask incredulously. "Francisco Morales, this is amazing!" 

He immediately breaks into a wide grin, and you can see that he is proud of himself. He looks almost like an eager child, and you love the way his eyes shine in that moment. 

"There's one more thing," he leads you to a small opening in the wall that serves as a window. You can see the clear sky and the field stretching out under you, and the cool breeze feels like a gentle caress. It's a beautiful view, and you lose yourself in the sights and smells for a moment. 

"So am I looking at something specific?" you ask, wondering what it was he wanted to show you.  

He doesn't answer, though, and you turn around to repeat the question. The sight that meets you nearly knocks you off your feet, and you cover your gasp with your hand. 

Frankie is on one knee, hat resting by his feet and hand extended, holding the most gorgeous ring you have ever laid eyes on. You might be biased, but you couldn't care less. 

"Darling, I-" he starts, but you don't have the self control that he apparently does, and you throw your arms around him. 

He wraps tightly around you, only letting you have enough room to look up and kiss him. And god do you kiss him. You kiss him like he has never been kissed before, like you could pour every ounce of affection you have for him into that one moment, needing him as close to you as possible. 

You don't realise you're crying until he kisses the tears off your cheeks, and then he lifts your hand and slides the ring on. 

•••• 

The fourth time comes that night, after you've spent your day in the field, holding on to each other and bursting with mutual joy. 

He sits you down on the bed, and kneels in front of you, kissing your shoulders gently. "Hey, Mrs. Morales," he smiles as he says it, even as he's biting the soft skin at your clavicle. 

You laugh, telling him that’s not how engagement rings work. He only grins against your skin and bites harder. 

You scratch his head and he purrs, lifting his head briefly to give you a sweet kiss before he's pushing you to lie down. Let me take care of you, honey, he whispers. Then his hands are on your waist and his mouth is on your chest, making you writhe in place. He kisses and sucks and bites, making sure to give every part of you equal attention. So beautiful, he's talking almost to himself as he leaves a wet trail of kisses down to your tummy.  

His hands meanwhile touch and grab and smooth over any part they can reach, moving as if of their own volition. He knows your body so well that he can map it with his eyes closed, can recognize it with his last breaths. He reaches your cunt and pulls you closer, closer, inhaling deeply and groaning like he's hardly staying in control. 

With the same patience he had displayed earlier in the day he teases you mercilessly, kissing around where you need him most. You pull on his hair and he tuts and bites your thigh. What did I say, baby - a flick of his tongue against you - let me take care of you. You whine petulantly, and he tells you to be a good girl for him. He even says please, the asshole. 

The first lick against your clit comes at the same time as his finger pushes into you, and it takes everything you have not to lift off the bed. So wet for me, he moans against you, the vibration making your pleasure amplify. You fist the sheets around you, telling him how fucking good he's making you feel, how good he always makes you feel. The praise fuels him on and he pushes two more fingers into you at the same time. 

You are so full and so stimulated with his tongue incessant against your clit, and he has no plans of letting up. You feel your orgasm hit you quick and hard, and you can barely warn him before you're gushing, soaking his face and trying to pull away from the overstimulation. 

He looks up at you, grinning like the Cheshire cat. He licks you clean until you're begging him to stop, and then he patiently kisses his way back up your body. 

"That was... that was amazing," you're out of breath as you say it, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in to taste yourself. 

"Oh honey," he coos. "I've barely started." 

•••

fin.

Tagging some lovely mutuals whom I love and who are amazing writers: @disgruntledspacedad @pedropascaldice @frannyzooey. Please let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in the future (if there is a future) ❤️

#triple frontier fic #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #not rpf #yes im on hiatus yes i wrote a fic #we exist #and did i mention i've never seen the movie 🙂

[judyhopps934-mt-zd]

Thoughts on Gang of Secrets

Warning: Spoilers and intense emotions. Have fun!

Chat Noit sensed that something is wrong with Ladybug. Love how he can sense that based on what she doesn't say.

She almost didn't pound it and was distracted to do so. Oh boy.

BOIIII WHY DID YOU TAKE HER TO THE MOVIES???? THIS IS NOT THE TIME!!! AND LADYBUG KNOWS THIS AS SHOWN BY HER FACIAL EXPRESSION!!! I am SCREAMING because he took her to a movie ABOUT ROMANCE!!!

The civilians do not mind that superheroes are going to the movies. That is until...

Ladybug goes into this rant about romcoms and I agree with every word she says. There is no such thing as a happy ever after and things do not go perfectly. Go off Ladybug!!! There's a reason why I hate rom coms.

The civilians being shocked/annoyed from her rant just adds to it. I am guessing because this is literally freaking Paris and considering the couples there. Has the same vibes as Grunkle Stan from Gravity Falls when he approached a couple to say marriage is terrible in the second episode.

Hurts that the rant was the reflection of Marinette's dilemma.

Chat finds out that it was about heartbreak. He finally picks up about social cues! Good work Chat! Too bad that you learned that after your breakup with Kagami.

Ah, the swimming pool. A great place to go to forget your heartbreak go for a swim.

Realized that akumas cannot attack people if they are submerged under water, which is why she goes to the pool and a theory roaming online that she goes to the pool to cry makes a lot of sense.

I know this is a kids show and that logic gets thrown out the window, but does no one in Paris find it fishy that Ladybug in her swim suit enters the Dupain-Cheng household???? I feel like no one cares.

Ladybug might say that the board of pictures with Adrien and Luka and some of her friends might not bother her, but it seems to bother her somewhat as it is a reminder of the relationships that she can't have as long as she's Ladybug. It hurts badly though.

Unpopular opinion: The Kwamis can be good at providing comfort and probably make them laugh, but they are not the best therapists. Do not blame them though.

Marinette only detransforms for Tikki's wellbeing. She is at that point where the only reason she does something is because someone else is suffering, not for herself. It hurts seeing her suffer like this.

Tikki is fine despite being in the earrings for a long time. She is more concerned about Marinette though.

Meanwhile, the girls have their suspicions about Marinette as they did not know about her breakup with Luka until he told Juleka, which started a chain that I cannot remember, but do remember that it ended with Alya.

They call Marinette, but she does not answer because what will she tell them? The not answering part is a mood, but the reason hurts.

Alix being like "why not get orange juice with her and talk about her feelings" and everyone else staring at her as if she was the one with a crazy idea. I can't! Especially when she was like "*sigh* fine"

Also, Luka is not taking the breakup well either if Juleka's photo is anything to go by.

The bracelet idea is cute. I did something similar to that Junior year.

The scene from the ad that made us mad: Marinette transforming angrily after saying how her life as Marinette is complicated and prefers to be Ladybug all the time. It hurts to see this scene actually be in the 3rd episode as the guardianship and the breakup had consumed her so quickly.

Baby girl, we love you and we know as the audience how hard your life is now. This is why we are very concerned about you challenging ShadowMoth. Concerning.

But she breathes and goes back inside. Glad that you blew off some steam, but is everyone in Paris not aware that this just happened?!?!? Hello!?!?!?! Like Plagg said: People are blind. And a good thing too.

Just as this was happening, the girls come barging in. Good that they are great friends for being concerned, but have they ever heard of knocking?

Rose finds the dollhouse. Its a nice dollhouse, but isn't that too obvious that it will attract other people's attention? Not judging though, its a nice dollhouse and shows the expansion of Marinette's craft.

Originally, I thought they were coming after Marinette because of what happened in the episode "Ladybug", but glad to know her other friends cared about her too!

Alya comes up to find Marinette in the balcony just as she detransformed. That was WAYY too close.

Obviously, this made Marinette angry. Like who wouldn't be? They did barge into her room without asking and she was already stressed out as it is. And they were also snooping through her stuff.

In the heat of anger, Marinette said that she didn't want their friendship, which shocked everyone. So they left. But they weren't mad, they were just upset.

At least no friends means reduced amount to lying??? Yeah, but we need friends in life, so it is a lose-lose case.

Sabine asks of they are okay and no one says anything. I wonder if she will ask Marinette later on.

They go to the park and as they recall their pain, ShadowMoth akumatizes them in a link because of their emotional connection to the bracelet. They didn't even have to hold hands in a circle!

Finally, a safeguard for the Miracle Box that isn't obvious and is protected by a passcode. The record sonogram (or whatever is called) that Master Fu had!

Bruh, they couldn't come up with something different for the Gang of Secrets other than their former akumatized selves???

And then the girls (now the Gang of Secrets) barge into Marinette's room (again) to get her to spill her secrets.

Trixx using their power of illusion to lead the Gang of Secrets somewhere else. And Marinette was hidden.

Lady WiFi wondering how Marinette jumped 3 stories without superpowers was just that wholesome moment like girl you don't even know.

Every kwami using their powers without a holder has their own adverse affect. For Trixx, it was making the Eifel Tower dance (or at least I think it's dancing)

Plagg is like "this isn't a me thing, this is an everyone thing, but more importantly a Trixx thing." Adrien is like "M'Lady needs me!"

Ladybug and Marinette merge into one (figuratively speaking) when she tells Chat why the Gang of Secrets was there in the first place. Poor girl, we need to give her a hug.

Ladybug confronts Lady WiFi and tries to tell her that she is trusted and about Rena Rouge. Then...

SHE BREAKS OUT OF HER SIDE OF THE AKUMATIZATION!!!!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL! ALYA HAS BECOME THE FIRST PERSON TO BE AKUMATIZED AND BREAK OUT OF IT! AND SHE HURT SHADOWMOTH WHILE DOING SO! I'M HAPPY FOR MY GIRL.

Ladybug trusts Alya and gives her the Fox Miraculous again. Not complaining, but what about ShadowMoth knowing her secret identity??? Miracle Queen anyone??? You know, a chunk of the reason WHY MARINETTE IS SUFFERING IN THE FIRST PLACE?!?!?!?

Also, teleportation of the Miraculous from the Miracle Box to Ladybug's yoyo! (Well more like a direct connection!) Cool and smart!

Rena Rouge, THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING US MARICHAT STANS AND OUT #justice for Marichat CAMPAIGN STARTED BY SOME OF MY FOLLOWERS ASKING FOR MORE MARICHAT EVEN IF IT WAS FOR 3 SECONDS!!!! (Yes I notice your comments peoples, I am generally a tired and busy person to respond, but I eventually acknowledge everything)

Can we take a moment and point out how amazing it was that Chat was fighting three (four???) akumas ON HIS OWN WHILE ON THE CAT PHONE!!! ICONIC!

IT WAS ALL SO CLOSE! SHADOWMOTH ALMOST HAD THE MIRACULOUS IF IT WEREN'T FOR PERFECT TIMING!

The moment with Alya in the alley! Friendship goals.

Marinette comes to terms that the breakup upsetted her so much and finds that love is complicated and chose friendship at the very least. Their reunion was what they all needed after what happened.

Alya stays behind to say that she knows that there is more, but will not press further. Can we get an applause for character growth?

Marinette asks her to stay longer as she wanted to tell her something.

It really was hard for her to keep lying to everyone and how she had to break up with Luka for this reason while also fearing that it would be the same with Adrien (she does not know, so she has a right to fear, also Chat Blanc!) She really needs a hug and such.

The whole concern about things changing between them is relatable to be but on a different context. It hit hard for me.

My fellow peoples: the moment that we were (sort of) waiting for ages is here:

JE SUIS LADYBUG! MARI TOLD ALYA THAT SHE'S LADYBUG!!!!

And Alya GIVES HER A HUG AS IN SHE UNDERSTOOD WHAT THIS MEANT AND THE REALIZATION OF WHAT MARINETTE WENT THROUGH!

As sad as I am that it was not Chat that she said this to first, I am glad that it was Alya. As her best friend literally hours prior to becoming Ladybug, having stuck by her side unconditionally, and having the willpower to break out of her akumatization, Alya is a perfect choice. Now I look forward to see how Alya helps Marinette deal with this burden.

Overall, this is a top tier episode, aka the best episode in the entire series in my opinion! I love how we explore Marinette's feelings regarding everything that is going on in her life and the ramifications of her being a guardian. It hurts and at the same time, it is beautifully executed! It shows the evolution of the writing and of the characters!

My arm hurt from the vaccine yesterday and these posts are usually long, so that's why it's released today rather than yesterday. Anyways, I recommend watching this episode!

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #ml #ml ladybug #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #mlb #934 posts #marinette dupain cheng #ml spoilers #ml season 4 spoilers #miraculous season 4 spoilers #miraculous spoilers #mlb season 4 #miraculous season 4 #ml season 4 #miraculous les aventures de ladybug et chat noir #miraculous lb #miraculous fandom #mlb fandom #mlb 2021 #mlb spoilers #poor mari she needs a hug this season #gang of secrets spoilers #ml gang of secrets #gang of secrets #934 miraculous thoughts

[studyingsobriety]

Relapsing

Relapsing. For non-addicts, “addiction” is the big and scary word. For recovering addicts, “relapse” is the real big and scary word. 

So let’s start with the basics. What is a relapse?

If you’re not familiar with the word, I suggest doing a little researching on the topic, but here is a link to a basic definition and explanation of a relapse.

As the article mentions, relapsing is totally normal for recovering addicts. Trying to quit an old habit and be totally done it with it forever is scary, and very hard needless to say. Plus, for lots of recovering addicts, including myself, the relapsing process is a huge growth experience. 

That being said, I am not at all condoning, suggesting, or recommending ANYONE to relapse. Experiencing a relapse is not fun, which I will get into here in a moment. If you feel perfectly fine being sober, don’t try a relapse just on a whim. I promise you, you will regret it. But what if you are feeling like relapsing?

Before I get too into what it’s like experiencing a relapse or how handle a relapse, let me tell you something that may blow your mind: A relapse begins weeks or even months before the action of using again happens. It’s crazy, right? So let’s say right now, you’re experiencing high cravings and you’re really thinking about giving in. Your relapse process has already started...probably days or weeks before you even started getting the cravings. 

A relapse is a process that happens over months or weeks. A process full of occasional triggers (external and internal, like emotions) and behaviors that feed into your cravings.

Here is how the process works in 10 stages (they don’t always have to happen in this order):

1. Denial - You’re concerned about your wellbeing, but you’re in denial of that concern. 

2. Avoidance & Defensive Behaviors - You may start worrying about others more than yourself. You may also experience impulsive or compulsive behaviors. 

3. Crisis Building - You may experience tunnel vision due to anxiety and/or depression. You’ll start to lack in planning things out, and when you do try to plan things out, you fail to do them.

4. Immobilization - You may find yourself “checking out” a lot or daydreaming.

5. Confusion and Overreaction - You feel confused about how you’re feeling and may also feel irritated.

6. Depression - You’ll experience a lack of routine and poor eating and sleeping habits.

7. Behavioral Loss of Control - You’ll start rejecting help from anyone. If you’re in a support group or recovery program, you may stop attending meetings.

8. Recognition of Loss of Control - You’ll realize you’ve lost control of your behavior. You’ll isolate yourself, pity yourself, and possibly lie to others saying you’re fine.

9. Option Reduction - You may stop getting help or treatment. You’ll resent sobriety. You’ll tell yourself the only ways out of this is by suicide or using again.

10. Relapse Episode - The relapse episode is when you finally use, causing bio-psycho-socio damage to your nervous system. 

Here are some signs the you or a recovering addict is slipping into the relapse process:

- expressing doubt

- depression or anxiety

- anti-social

- surrounding yourself with substance use

- saying you have it “under control”

- experiencing unfamiliar emotions

- all or nothing thinking (for example: well I already took a small sip, one glass wouldn’t hurt)

- change in attitude about sobriety (for example: it’s not worth staying sober)

- constant stress and lack of healthy coping mechanisms

- change in routine

Here are some behaviors that may feed into your cravings:

- poor diet

- excessive caffeine or nicotine

- lack of exercise 

- poor stress management

- euphoric recalls of usage

- awfulizing abstinence

- magical thinking about using

- empowering cravings (giving it more power and control over yourself; too hard to resist)

- denial and evasion (denying the recovery programs are helpful)

- social conflicts

- lack of communication 

Now that we’ve talked some about what can lead up to a relapse, here’s the real question: How do I stop myself from relapsing?

- BE AWARE OF YOUR EMOTIONS!!!

- recognize your triggers

- again, be aware of your emotions(!!!) and identify your behaviors. Are you feeling extra anxious or depressed? Are you no longer following through with your plans or routine?

- get busy! Fill your time with things that are proactive, things that will trigger the happy chemicals in your brain. Play with your pet, exercise, cook something, paint something (even if it’s ugly), do something!

- self care--PUT YOURSELF FIRST! You simply cannot take care of others as well as you could if you’re taking care of yourself! Drink water, get enough sleep, do things you enjoy, read a book!

- keep working toward your sobriety, even if you don’t want to

- maintain sober relationships. When you’re feeling anti-social, FORCE YOURSELF to reach out!

- know and avoid these setup behaviors I mentioned earlier

- when you get that euphoric recall, dismantle it. Yes, it may have felt amazing, but think about all the damage it’s caused.

- when you get a craving, wait it out. Cravings usually don’t last for longer than 30 minutes. Talk it out with a friend. Distract yourself by doing something else.

- finally, don’t shame yourself for getting a craving. Cravings are normal, no matter how long you’ve been sober. Accept your craving as normal, then go do something else!

Now that we’ve talked about what builds up to a relapse and how to prevent it from happening, what if you’ve already relapsed?

If you’re anything like me, or most addicts who relapse, you’re probably feeling very guilty and shameful. Whether your relapse happened just last night or it happened a month ago and you’ve been hiding your everyday usage from everyone...what you’re going through mentally and emotionally (and probably physically too) is a lot. 

The hardest part of a relapse is being honest about it, especially if you’ve been using for some time and have been hiding it. I once lied to my friends, family, support group, and therapists about my days sober for 2 weeks straight until it broke me. But something someone in my group said stuck with me: “Secrets keep us sick.” It’s true. After lying to everyone about my sobriety for those two weeks, the thought of lying one more time turned my stomach upside down. And I was killing myself with shame, guilt, and drugs more and more and more. 

The saddest part of a relapse are the reactions you’ll get when you are honest. You’ll get lots of “thank you for being honest with me” and “I know it took a lot of courage to come out and say that.” But you’ll lose a lot of trust in some people as well. People who don’t get it will blow up on you. Some people may be so upset they’ll say they can’t trust you anymore. What those people don’t know is that those aren’t the reactions we need at the moment. If you’re coming out about a relapse, you’re probably feeling loads of shame and guilt, and it’s hard not to continue to feel that way when others feed into it. You may even start to feel like losing hope. 

But please don’t do that. The BIGGEST thing to know if you’ve just relapsed, is that it’s perfectly normal, that you can’t change what you’ve done in the past so there’s no point on dwelling on it, and that all you can do is move forward from here. What does that look like to you? Moving forward? It’s different for everyone, but it’s a question you should ask yourself. I’ll tell you this, it’s going to require lots of patience and hard work to stay sober. You’re going to have to really prove yourself to some people to regain that trust back. And it’s going to take lots of time, some longer than for others. Patience. It’s a growing process, you’re just experiencing the growing pains. Just keep doing your best. Your best is enough. :)

#sobriety #recovery #recovering addict #addiction #addict #drug addict #alcoholism #sober #support #motivation #relapse #relapsing #relapse prevention #relapse education #addiction education

[hopespeaknursery]

Lipstick Stains

Taking some of my writing and adding it to the blog! Little!Korekiyo and CG!Gonta

TW: Mentions of abuse

I never imagined life turning out in the way that it has. Waking up in the morning to a gentle hand on my shoulder and a kiss to my cheek. One that gently rouses me from my sleep. And, when I open my eyes, I'm always greeted by a pair of deep, red eyes, hidden behind those small spectacles. A little too close to my face, as though he were observing me, making sure I'm truly awake. It's routine at the point, waking up nose to nose with him. At times, it's a bit too close for comfort. But the minor annoyance is always remedied when he smiles at me, and greets me with a, "Good morning!" Bright and early as usual.

Knowing him however, I'm almost certain he was up hours beforehand. Feeding his collection of tarantula's, and telling each and every one of them good morning. It's a routine he and I have both become very used to. And frankly, I'm glad he doesn't try to get me up to help him. I don't want to be within five feet of those insects at any given time.. I suppose if I were an entomologist myself, I would have liked to spend my first waking moments with my studies. Or, in his own words, 'friends.'

Every morning, he wakes up at around 6 in the morning to greet his friends, get them fed, and give them a little time outside their cages. Then, at around 8, he comes to rouse me as well. Once I am awake, we begin our routine. It's not too different compared to the one I had before meeting him. Brush my teeth and my hair, apply my makeup, have breakfast, get dressed, and continue about my day. But, now that I and Gokuhara are living with one another, and have established such an...interesting relationship, things have change quite a bit. For he cares for most of my morning routine for me. Because I, in his own words, am his 'Little one.'

It's a bit hard to explain how this relationship came about. It's not something either of us would have thought of on our own. But nevertheless, it's something we discovered together through a group therapy session. Gonta and myself have both had our own inner demons to work through. And while therapy wasn't exactly something I initally wanted to do, I ended up going for his sake. As he was a bit too nervous to go on his own, despite the recommendation. It was here that we both began to open up a bit more. He told stories of his forest family, of the difficult transition from the forest to civilization, his desire to be more 'gentlemanly,' and how much he misses his forest family. I'll admit, I knew how he still loved them. He's a person who wears his heart on his sleeve, so it wasn't hard to tell. But, it was here where I learned about how mixed he felt about his birth parents, how confusing he still found the world to be, how frustrating and embarrassing it could be when he didn't understand what everyone else did. It was a lot. And he was carrying it all on his own..

After he began opening up so much, and spilled out his heart, it became a little easier for me to do the same. Bit by bit by bit, things began to come out, being spilled onto the table. I talked about my travels, about the things I'd done and seen. And eventually, about the tribe that beat me nearly to death. I had never truly considered it to be traumatic. But that doctor was the first to label the experience as such. Eventually, and I do mean eventually, I was able to talk about Miyadera. My late elder sister. I had already been told now and again that what happened was wrong. But it was something I had trouble accepting. It's...not easy admitting to abuse. Having to realize that something was wrong, when someone told you for years and years that it was okay. That it was right. You feel...dirty. You feel bad and wrong and disgusting. Especially when you recall that with time, you ended up lusting for her just as much as she lusted for you... I still have a lot of trouble ridding myself of the grime all over my hands.

Anyhow, after a few sessions, it was that therapist who brought up the idea of age regression. It was just a passing mention, nothing that he actively talked about or encouraged. Yet, for some reason, it really caught Gonta's attention. On his own, he began to talk to the therapist more about this. And, I suppose I assumed he was interested in the 'regressor' role. However, he surprised me one day when he told me he was much more interested in the caregiver role. He admit to me in the same breath however, that he wasn't sure what he enjoyed the thought of more. Him being a caregiver...or me being a regressor.

The way he put it, he had a good childhood. He was very happy with his forest family. And he wouldn't have had it any other way. But as I spent most of my childhood in the hospital, watching over and talking to my sister, I didn't have much of a childhood myself. Despite the fact that I had convinced myself (And that she had convinced me) that I was happy. Not only that, but he was fascinated by the idea of caring for a baby. He had seen many a baby animal during his time in the forest, and he had loved and helped care for so many of them. But a human baby was something different. Something just as special. And, he truly wanted to dedicate some of his time to caring for me. His own 'baby.'

Of course I had refused outright at first! But...it was a bit too difficult to say no to that face for too long. And besides, I supposed anthropology does delve into psychology at times. And, what was a better way to study such strange ideas, then to immerse myself in them?

And thus began our strange, yet comforting relationship...

"Good morning~" That usual greeting is what rouses me, as I feel his big hand on my shoulder. Opening my eyes, per the norm, I am greeted to his own, deep red ones. "Time for Kiyo to get up!"

Kiyo. That's his favorite nickname for me. I don't mind it I suppose. It makes him happy. So, I take it with a grain of salt

"Good morning.." I yawned in response. I can feel him pull the blanket off before I am fully awake. Then, he slipped one arm under my legs, and the other under my back, lifting me into his arms. I swear, I don't think my feet ever touch the floor in the mornings! As I try to wake up more, he carried me into the bathroom. With a happy hum, he set me down on the closed toilet seat. He usually lets me stay in my pajamas through the morning unless I have placed to be otherwise. Then, he tends to insist upon helping me dress.

As I rub my eyes, he gets out my toothbrush and dots the toothpaste on. I was the one who taught him how to not use more toothpaste than either of us need. I tend to teach him a lot of things. It's the least I can do after hes stayed by my side so long, and taken the best care of me that he can. He truly does do the very best he can for me..

I am roused a bit more when I feel the toothbrush poke at my lips. So I open for him, and allow him to press the toothbrush into my mouth. He does the tops and the bottoms well enough. But I know I'll have to do the backs myself later. After the teeth, he begins to brush my hair. But again, I'll need to go back and brush through it once more, just to make sure all the tangles are out. It soothing however to feel him do these things for me~

Typically, as he does these things, he speaks to me. "Gonta's Rose Haired tarantula molted last night! Got bigger~ Gonta placed molt into container for observation. Rosie is doing very well now! Very comfortable!" he tells me as he brushes my hair out. "Would Kiyo like to see molt?

"Perhaps after breakfast," I answered. I'm not so sure if spider skin is the first thing I want to see before I eat...

"Okay!" he chirped in response. He's the only person I know who would be so excited over a spider molt. But, I don't blame him. We all have our passions. And we listen to one another, and we respect one anothers passions. I know he doesn't understand too much about anthropology, and insects aren't my specialty. But, partners and friends are there for one another. And, we care for one another.

"Alright!" Gonta says, placing the brush to the side. "Gonta will get breakfast ready now! While Gonta do that, Kiyo use bathroom! And then come to table, okay?"

"Of course," I nod. That's our typical routine. Yet, Gonta still feels the need to remind me. Still, I can't say that I don't appreciate it. Gonta presses a chaste kiss to my forehead, and leaves me to my business.

Once he is gone, I am quick to lock the bathroom door. I have...things to do. First, of course,I finish brushing my teeth and my hair. Then, I open the cabinet beneath the sink, and pull out a small, plastic bag. Hidden away in the back. But I know I could put my things in plain sight, and Gonta wouldn't see. He has no reason to be suspicious. For he seems to be a naturally trusting man. I do feel bad for keeping such secrets. But..some things simply cannot be shared.

From the bag, I pull out two items. My mask, one I haven't work in a few days now. And, a small tube of red lipstick...

Gonta has never liked it when I apply the lipstick. Not because he has something against males in makeup. Rather, he hates what it represents. He hates that it is for my sister. He hates that I still do it from time to time. He gets so upset every time he sees it. But, he was never able to enforce me not to wear it. He had tried now and again. But, he is not so good at enforcing rules in general... I don't think he understands however.. I am not the only occupant of this body. I need to make her more comfortable. Give her something. I...haven't seen my tulpa in some time. My mind is preoccupied with Gonta, with our relationship, and with my own bettering mental health. But, I cannot deny that I still hear her voice. Warning me, holding me, and reminding me time and time again that she's the only one who will ever love me, and that I'm the one she needs. She's gone. She passed years ago. And yet, she still with me always... Miyadera...

I uncap the lipstick tube and turn the bottom, letting the red wax come out. I can hear her whispering again. Talking to me, and whispering as she runs her hands up my chest. Miyadera. I truly wish you were someone I could hate. Someone I could say without a doubt, was a bad person. Someone I had nightmares about, instead of these ugly, complicated memories. Because, as much as I might want to, I don't hate you. Dare I say, I still love you. Not in the same way you loved me, but I love you all the same. And, I can't tell you no. You were...are my big sister...

Without much more hesitation, I begin to apply. Carefully applying the lipstick to my bottom, then my top lip, coating it in red. I no longer feel quite like myself. It feels like placing on a new skin, becoming someone I am not. And, I'm not sure if that scares me, or makes me more comfortable. It's hard being someone I am not so happy with.

Once I am through, I place the mask back on, concealing my sin. I know walking out there with my concealing will be just like walking out there with my lips pursed. It's obvious what I am hiding. However, I am not prepared to be more open. I...suppose I am ashamed.

I look in the mirror and my concealed face, and, I'm not sure who I see..

With a sigh, I step out of the bathroom, her whispers getting softer. She is satisfied. But I know once she sees Gonta, she's going to be angry. I don't know what she is at this point. A tulpa? Perhaps not. Just a voice in my head? I'm not sure.. What is she?

Who is she?

I hate the look Gonta gets when he sees me. His face falls, as though he's sad, or disappointed. He sets my plate down on the table. Toaster waffles. As expected. He doesn't know how to cook on his own yet, but he is working on it.

"Kiyo is wearing mask.." he comments. "Why is Kiyo wearing mask?" As though he doesn't know why. But I can tell that he knows already.. And yet, I continue to feign innocence. I'm too ashamed to admit to it outright.

"It's very cold this morning," I say to him. "I feel more comfortable with my mask on."

He hesitates as he stares at me. "How will Kiyo eat?"

My only answer, is unzipping the zipper on my mask, freeing my mouth somewhat. But that only makes him frown harder. He doesn't seem to know what to say. So, instead of saying a word, he begins to cut up the waffles. I can tell by the look on his face that he is thinking quite a bit. I say nothing for the time being, just letting him think. Finally he offered me a forkful. "Kiyo eat?"

I nod, and easily lean forward. But..well, this is exactly why I don't tend to eat messier foods when others are around. I can feel the syrup slide onto my mask. And he really has to work to get the piece in there. Eating with utensils in general is terribly difficult with my mask. It's even harder when someone else is feeding me.. But, we try for a moment. Until...

"This no working.." Gonta said, setting the fork to the side. With my eyes wide, I look up at him to see his expression...mixed. "This don't work!"

"Alright, alright, I know," I said, hoping to calm him. I knew how frustrated he could get when he couldn't understand things, or figure things out. He wanted so badly to understand.. "I will feed myself, it's okay. Why don't you sit and-?"

"No!" I hadn't expected him to take such a tone, and I put my hands up. In a sort of 'surrender' pose. "Gonta want to do it! Gonta supposed to take care of Kiyo!"

I...am not sure what to say to him. I don't know how to make this easier for him. I try my hardest to teach him things, step by step, bit by bit. But some things are harder to teach than others. And, this is one of those things that feels just...impossible. "Gonta.."

"Gonta...Gonta think Kiyo should take off mask!"

"My mask?" I ask, placing a hand on my cheek. Oh dear, not this again... "I've already told you, I'm feeling cold. Please do not make me take this off."

Gonta's face goes from upset, to hurt rather quickly. Oh dear, what did I say..? "Gonta wish Kiyo would not treat Gonta like he dumb. Gonta know he not smart. But, Gonta is doing the best he can. How can Gonta take care of Kiyo, if Kiyo not help Gonta?"

I'm at a loss once more. I don't know what to say to him.. "I'm trying to help you. That's why I am saying, I will feed myself. I will let you try another day when it is not so cold." Oh why is he being so insistent upon me removing my mask? What does he hope to prove this way?

"Is not cold! Gonta knows it not cold! So...so Gonta thinks Kiyo should take off mask!" I refused to move for a moment, just staring at him as I keep my hand on my cheek, as though it might keep him from taking it off. Oh dear. His eyes are already starting to well up with tears. He's always been a rather emotional person. And, he deals with most of these emotions, through tears. But, I couldn't move to comfort him. So, he speaks once more. "Gonta is sorry, so so sorry. But, Gonta says...d-daddy says that Kiyo needs to take off mask!"

I find myself freezing at that. Daddy is...a term that we use very sparingly. It's not that it makes us uncomfortable. It's just...we aren't used to it yet. You can't just use such terms all willy nilly when you aren't used to it yet. It's certainly enough to quiet me however. "Please? Daddy wants to take care of Kiyo. But daddy can't do that if Kiyo doesn't trust daddy! So please take off mask!"

So, it was a matter of trust, was it? I...

Why was my throat starting to close up? Why was my heart starting to beat too fast? Why did I feel so anxious? Was it because of the mask? Or the daddy thing? Or, was it because of how noisy Miyadera's voice was within my head? She wouldn't leave me be. The voice was so angry. And, I didn't know what to do..

I stood up, and he stepped back on instinct. I love Gonta, trust me when I say that. He's the most beautiful person I've had the pleasure of meeting, both inside and out. But, in this moment, his words reek of ugliness. And I despise ugly things.. I want to run away. I don't want to be close to him. I do trust him, I truly do. But, it's Miyadera that doesn't trust him. And, it's so hard to argue with someone like that...

"I have to go," I managed to say.

"Ah please wait Kiyo! Daddy is sorry!" Gonta said quickly. "Please wait!"

But I do not listen. I can not listen. The intruder within my head is too noisy for me to hear him. I walk away.

Or, I try to anyhow. i'm barely looking where I am going. I only take two steps. And my foot gets caught on the table leg, sending me to the ground. I could hear Gonta gasp, and ask if I was okay. He gets up, and the thump I hear afterwards, is most likely the sound of the chair falling over. I can hear him scrambling, trying to figure out what to do. And in the meantime, I don't move. I can't move. Everything is too loud and I do not like it. I can't take off my mask. She will be angry. I am sharing this body with her, and I have to make her comfortable. Or she will be angry. What are you? Are you a tulpa? An alter? A never ending voice in my head? I need quiet. I need quiet! I love you Miyadera. I still love you. But at the same time, I hate...no. What kid of brother hates his own sister? I don't care what you did, I still love you! I still love you!

And yet, you scare me..

As I lie there, I'm not able to stop the sudden sobs that had been pushing at my through, from erupting from my lips.

I keep my eyes on my knees, listening to the sink run as I sit on the closed toilet seat. My mask is sitting on the bathroom counter, as I had finally removed it. And on display, was the red line of lipstick. There was no point in hiding it anymore. Glancing towards the sink, Gonta's face is flat. He doesn't seem mad. He's just...thinking. He's wetting a cloth with water, with the intent of wiping away the makeup. I don't protest. I suppose I ought to let him.. I put my eyes back down again, fiddling with a thread on my pajama bottoms. I don't know what to tell him. I don't know if I ought to apologize or not. So, I say nothing.

I know I shouldn't act this way with him. I know partners are supposed to trust one another, and tell one another things. But, it's hard. Some things, are just too hard to talk about. And, the more you love someone, the harder it can be to talk about certain things. There are people in this world, who do not like it when things and people are not in the way they should be. Some people are just too sick for them, or too odd. And even though you trust the person you love, you don't ever want to risk them leaving, or being scared away. It's so much easier to put these feelings in a place where no one can see them. Or talk to strangers about them. I see the beauty in others, even in those ugly parts that they try to hide. There is something to me, that is so wonderful, finding the thorns in the beautiful rose of a person.

But not everyone is like that. I like to think that I can always trust Gonta. And yet, the temptation to hide away is too strong. I care not what people think of me most times. I am more then willing to be open. Maybe even a bit too open. But with Gonta it is just...harder.

Gonta comes over once more with a cloth that is a tad too wet. It's still dripping.. He kneels before me, and he gently begin to wipe my lips. Wiping away the red lipstick the best he can. Water drips down my chin and onto my lap. But, I keep still. It's the least I can do for him after the stress I put him through.

And then, it is silent. It takes a moment, but eventually Gonta breaks our silence. "Gonta...is sorry. Gonta knows is hard breaking habit. Gonta knows Kiyo can't be pushed to do it. Gonta didn't mean to yell.." Oh dear, he's tearing up..

I place a hand on his shoulder as I speak. "Gonta, you do not have to apologize. I shouldn't have lied to you. I should have been honest with you, shouldn't I?"

Gonta sniffled, taking my hand from his shoulder, and placing it on his cheek. He holds it there with his big and warm hand, sniffling softly. "Gonta loves his baby very much. Gonta will always love his baby. And, Gonta really love his baby's smile.." With tears streaming down his cheeks and onto my hand he said, "Gonta can't see smile when mask is on. And...and when Kiyo wears makeup, Gonta's see sister's smile. And Gonta not like sister!" My eyes are wide as I stare at him. My face is mostly clean now, with some lipstick smeared onto my cheeks. Water and makeup still drips down my chin, and I'm too surprised to wipe it away.

"Gonta is very sorry. Gonta doesn't m-mean to cry. Gonta tried to hold it in but.." He sniffled and sobbed once again as I stare at him. I knew how upset he got when I would give into the things Miyadera demanded of me. He was not upset with me, he was never upset with me. But, he was upset with the situation. Because, it was another situation he just didn't understand. Despite how badly he wanted to. This poor man...

After a moment, I sigh. And, I'm surprised to find that the tight sensation in my chest is still very present. I tilt my head just a bit, my long hair falling against my shoulder. The ends are still a bit damp from the water, but it's the last thing on my mind. "I'm not mad," I say softly. "I'm sorry too. I can't apologize for the habits, and I cannot apologize for what Miyadera does. But, I do apologize for not talking to you. Please understand, I don't mean to be so secluded. But..it's never been easy to talk about these things. I would like nothing more then to be open with you. But it's not easy. It's never been easy. And, I truly don't know if it's ever going to be easy."

"Gonta know..." he sniffled. "Gonta know that. Gonta knows Kiyo try.."

"I do. But, even if I can't be so open, you make me feel like I can be open. It's still frightening but..." Ah. My hands are shaking a bit. Why are they shaking? But, I manage to speak anyhow. "But, I trust..my daddy." My voice comes out in a mumble. But, he still seems to hear me.

Rather suddenly, he is standing. He put his arms around me, and he hugs me close. Crying into my hair. "Daddy! Kiyo called Gonta daddy!" he cried "Daddy loves Kiyo!" he sobbed. "Daddy is sorry! Daddy and Kiyo are going to work together always. And, we will feel better together! Gonta loves Kiyo!" With a sniff he said, "If Kiyo needs mask...then Kiyo can have mask. But we work together. And, we...we figure things out. Gonta promises. Because family help family! And Kiyo is family!"

After a moment, I place my arms back around him. I don't know what more to do other than that. "I love you too.." I whisper. And, I truly do love him. With all of my heart. I feel like I can trust him. And, I want to be with him for a very long time.

Because, he is my special person...

#Library #Korekiyo Shinguji #Little Korekiyo #Gonta Gokuhara #Papa Gonta #Age regression #Danganronpa Age Regression

[connorandersons-blog]

heyo! for the prompts, maybeeee KamCon & “Is the weight of your sins too heavy?” <3

So I had to change the line just slightly to work, but literally, I just changed it from a question to a normal sentence. Slight warning for talk about depression/possible PTSD. Hope you enjoy!

Connor had been struggling to come to terms with the fact that he is now a deviant. One that had very clearly turned against humans when he invaded Cyberlife and freed all those androids, marching them down the street in a show of power.

Markus had seemed pleased with him, had assured him Connor was one of them, but not everyone agreed. He saw how other androids’ eyes would follow him when he walked around New Jericho, he saw how their stress levels jumped at the sight of him.

He didn’t mean to scare them, and he tried to make them more comfortable by forgoing his old jacket in lieu of sweater vests or long sleeve sweaters. Those were pretty comfy and he liked when jackets or hoodies were a little too big for him so that his hands would be hidden inside the sleeves.

He was trying to find things like that that made him happy. It was hard to identify emotions and he seemed to like hiding from him. All other androids seemed to be so emotional, but not in a bad way! They just laughed so much, smiles wide and bright on their faces. He’d see an android with their child and the absolute adoration was incredible to witness. How anyone could see the sentience in these people was beyond him.

Even their anger and hatred were clear and vivid. North’s was so strong that Connor shrank back when she’d turn towards him with that look on her face. The first time that happened she’d softened up immediately and promised Connor she wasn’t mad at him or going to hurt him. He tried to remember that but her anger was just so potent.

Connor sometimes felt… or actually, he just didn’t feel. He was numb to the world around him, and if he wasn’t so numb it would scare him. His face was passive, though he tried to smile or frown when appropriate. He went through the motions of his new life, laughing when someone would tell a joke and yet he felt no humor.

The numbness was different from the numbness of being a machine. When he was hidden behind his programming he could still feel wisps of emotions, like looking through frosted glass. He could still see the shapes and some colors but he could see any real definition.

Now it was like he had the blinds closed completely and every now and then a breeze would move the fabric and he’d get to see for just a small bit before the fabric settled again.

Something was wrong with him, and he went to the one person who knew everything about androids.

Kamski’s house was beautiful in the spring, the flowers here in full bloom and the water sparkling with the afternoon sun. It had a peaceful feel to it with the birds chirping away and the sound of the river. Connor could almost feel that peace and he clung desperately to it before having to let it go so he could go to the door.

He tilted his head when a Chloe opened the door and let him in. He had thought all the Chloes would leave, but there was the very real chance she wasn’t a deviant. There had been a law that everyone must give up their androids to allow them to be deviated, but if anyone could get away with not doing that it was Kamski. That didn’t bode well for Connor.

“Are you deviant?” He decides to just ask outright. If she said no then he’d… well he wasn’t sure. He’d go back and tell Markus and let the group decide what to do from there.

Chloe chuckled and ran a hand through his ponytail, starting to braid it with nimble fingers. “I am. We all were when you visited, glad to see we could fool even you.”

“Oh.” He should have noticed, it was his mission at the time to stop all deviants and yet he hadn’t noticed a house full of them.

“Don’t feel bad, we figured you’d be coming at some point and we prepared. If it’s any consolation, you couldn’t have hurt Lila, the Chloe you were told to shoot. Elijah already had all her memories backed up and a body ready just in case. But thank you for not shooting her either way.” Chloe, or whatever name she has chosen for herself, smiled at him gently.

He should feel happy or relieved, but he just doesn’t so he only nods. Chloe gives him this look that’s a bit too knowing before smiling again.

“He’s ready to see you, follow me, please.” She leads him through a door he hadn’t gone through and down a hallway that had a few other doors that she ignores. She lets him into the room that is bathed in natural light.

The waiting room was teal with grey wicker chairs and a few plants on the window-sill. A few bookshelves line the left side wall, a small couch positioned for a place to sit or even lay down while reading. Kamski is sitting on said couch with a book in his hand and a pair of glasses perched on his nose.

He glanced up when Connor walked in, grabbing a bookmark and sliding it between then worn cream pages before shutting it. “Connor, congratulations on the successful revolution, very impressive.”

Kamski doesn’t move to stand but neither does he offer Connor a seat. “Thank you, I am glad there was minimal violence.” It could have gone a lot worse, Connor could have needed to use the freshly made deviants to start an all-out war.

Kamski leaned forward, taking his glasses off and setting them down on his book. Connor couldn’t help but watch with rapt attention, something about Kamski making him fascinated. “What can I do for you?”

Right down to business then. “I have been experiencing a lack of emotions at times and I’m afraid my deviation process was somehow fragmentary.” He suspected part of the issues was Amanda and the zen garden. If she hadn’t taken control perhaps he would be normal.

Kamski frowns and motions to one of the seats which Connor takes. So his problem could not be solved quickly. It wasn’t heartening but at least Kamski seemed like he was willing to talk to him. “When you say lack of emotions, could you describe that?”

“It’s like I’m numb, my insides are a bottomless pit of nothing and I just keep falling. It’s cold and there is nothing for me to grab onto. I don’t feel the need to move or do anything, I try to go through the motions because that is what’s expected of me.” He felt a small sliver of panic and tried to hold onto that. It wasn’t a good emotion but it was something and he would not let it go.

Kamski hums, leaning back. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

The panic builds and Connor shakes his head. If Kamski can’t help him then no one can. “You have to! I can’t keep living like this.”

“You need to talk to a professional.”

“You are a professional!”

“Connor.” Kamski’s voice is stern and yet oddly compassionate. It sends a shiver up his spine and he shuts his mouth with a click. “I mean a therapist. The weight of your sins is too heavy. At least, to you, it is, though many would see what you’ve done as amazing. But the fact is it seems like you are depressed or possibly even have PTSD. Both cause emotional numbness. I’m not qualified to help you through this.”

Oh. He hadn’t considered the idea that this was happening because he has emotions. “So it’s not because of Amanda? The garden didn’t damage me irreparably?”

Kamski sucks in a breath at her name and Connor recalls the picture he had seen. Amanda Stern was a real woman, someone Kamski could have looked up to. “I cannot say she didn’t cause this as I don’t know if she caused you emotional distress, but no you aren’t damaged.”

Connor sags in the chair, feeling like a height has been lifted off his chest. He wasn’t broken, he wasn’t going to be like this forever. They’d find a way to help him and he’d be ok, he’d be happy. “Thank you,” he breathes out.

Kamski reaches forward and gently lays a hand on his knee. It sends a shock through him and makes him feel something, but he’s never felt this emotion before. “Of course. I may not be able to help but if you need someone to talk to outside of therapy then I am more than willing to listen.”

He wasn’t sure if he could trust Kamski, but now that he knew Chloe was never in any danger it makes him a bit more willing to try. Plus, he needed to find out what this new emotion was. Who knows how long that would take, but he wanted to try anyways. “Thank you, I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”

#rk800 #kamcon fic #kamcon #conski #elijah kamski x connor #connor x elijah kamski #elijah kamski #connor x elijah #kamski #kamski x connor #connor x kamski #connor #connor rk800 #dbh fandom #connor dbh #dbh fanfic #dbh #dbh connor #detroit kamski #dbh kamski #detroit become human kamski #connor detroit become human #detroit become human rk800 #detroit become human connor #detroit connor #dbh fic blog #ask #connor ask blog

[fishmongeringstudies]

twenty one: i keep waking up in rooms i don't recognize and then realizing that i am still dreaming. my therapist says this is a symptom of a dislocated knee. i have not gone running since march. everyone that i know is lying to me

when i was a kid my parents used to take us to the same restaurant for brunch every sunday. it was on the first floor of a shopping mall which had big panes of glass stitched together for a ceiling and consequently let in far more natural light than your average building, but the restaurant itself was dark. moody. the walls were black and so was all the upholstery. the coffee mugs the waitresses served you coffee in were so dark you couldn't tell how full they were unless you looked extra hard at them, which i rarely did. in most memories of this place i'm seven or eight and i only drink two things: lemon tea and milk. so i'm sitting there with my frosted plastic cup of lemon tea, methodically stirring in my syrup with a skinny metal spoon because they make their lemon tea from scratch here which means no sugar and lots of tea, and my parents are drinking from their big adult mugs, and my sister's picking apart the roasted tomato on my dad's plate, and life, well. life is simple. good.

i can't remember when we stopped going there but i know that by the time i was nine and traipsing around in the hallways of the chinese primary school my parents had transferred me to, it had closed down and been replaced with some other restaurant whose name and shape i can't recall. well before i turned sixteen that entire wing of the first floor was demolished and replaced with the monstrosity that is singapore's flagship muji store. the muji's still there today. it's got a retail area and a few showrooms showcasing lifestyle choices for the upper-middle class citizen and a cafe with a dining area marked out by eclectic hanging decor that looks like a hundred little wastepaper baskets made from twine tied together to form a spotty mural of sorts. i'm fond of the cafe. their desserts are on the expensive side but they're thoughtfully made and look pretty in pictures, prettier in person.

your childhood years are one of those things that gets shinier the further away you stand from it, like how a bad experience becomes bittersweet by necessity if you give it long enough or you'll be stuck carrying that baggage with you forever. looking back, for example, on spring, i am inclined to see the educational takeaways instead of the moments in which my brain shut off and was replaced with a vat of screaming kittens. in this way we propel ourselves forward with the wisdom of the past, scrounged together from moments of pain and deep embarrassment. in this way we find ways to stay alive.

this summer i have wound up in upperclassmen housing by some unfortunate trick of fate. my apartment suite has five bedrooms but only four of them are occupied; i live in the room at the end of the hallway. my flatmates live in the next three. it has been five days since i moved in and i am convinced all of them think that they are living with a cryptid constructed in the scp containment breach format and unsure how to let them know that they are correct without making it personal. last night i woke up after a brief period of dreaming to use the bathroom; while washing my hands in the sink one of my flatmates walked past in the hallway behind me. 'hey, it's you,' she said. 'i feel like i haven't seen you forever. i mean. i've seen you, but i haven't seen seen you, you feel me?' asleep on my feet and ready to crash facefirst into bed, i nodded. 'yes.' she stood there for a few seconds as if expecting me to say more, but i had a vending machine for a brain at the moment and couldn't find it in me to press any more buttons. i certainly could've tried. but i was tired.

when i got on campus in february i resolved to sign up for therapy sessions with the school's mental health services since i was paying an ungodly amount for 'health insurance' (not a thing in singapore, really; not necessary in most places except america, really) anyway and i might as well make use of some small part of the astronomical sum that had been deposited in the pockets of some old white people i would likely never meet in my life. i got as far as filling out the form embedded in the school website and opening the automated email i received a few days later asking me to list my free times each week. i forgot about the rest. we are therefore entering the summer of my twentieth year without a goddamn clue what the inside of my head looks like apart from the fact that it must be pretty cool in there. it has to be cool. if it isn't cool what's the point of holding onto any of it anyway? we live for the spice of life. like garlic powder. cumin. oyster sauce.

this morning i went to target to look for sugar. the dining hall here doesn't do any of its vegetables justice but their desserts are to die for, and i've found myself suffering from a mild withdrawal since i started scrambling eggs and boiling about five hundred grams of cauliflower a day for the sheer therapeutic effect of it and because i don't really know any better. the target near campus is located in a shopping mall and surrounded by miles of parking space on both ends. while walking back across that stretch of empty parking space, i came across a smear of orange on the pavement. it was an orange. or it had been. the rind had been ground into the gravely surface of the road by a repetitive smoothing action so that it looked less like a bit of roadkill and more like it had been there all along. i can't stop thinking about that orange. who the fuck drops an orange in the middle of a road? why didn't they pick it up?

i have been cursed with an idea. it came to me last night before i fell asleep and it has been sitting on my shoulder since then like the devil in the popular angel-and-devil writing device which all nine year olds are taught by their teachers in chinese class, whispering to me about how great things will be if i can teach myself the fundamentals of sound design in three days. unfortunately it is when one decides to start a war that they are forced to confront their contacts list and the vast, untraceable geography of its contents. i cannot tell you if anything will result from this. but i hope that it will.

back when i still talked to her i mentioned the idea of doing puzzles to soothe the mind once and she took to it with so much genuine enthusiasm (she was always enthusiastic. too enthusiastic. enthusiasm was the problem, and the lack of willingness to curtail it the thing that eventually nailed the coffin shut) that i went to target the next weekend and bought a set of four puzzles depicting various scenes from old disney films. over the last two weeks i have done each puzzle three times, save for the last one, in which mickey and minnie mouse waltz down a red carpet and the people on the sidelines cheer for them with champagne moustaches and glittering beads for eyes. i cannot decide if this is meaningful. i cannot see the point of summer. but i am trying.

i don't remember the name of that sunday brunch restaurant. i don't remember the names of a lot of places our parents brought us when we were children, but my sister has been on a nostalgia trip since april and sends me screenshots of old pc games we used to play together from time to time. ernie's adventures in space. timmy's sea adventures. barbie island princess. i open each image and feel something inside of me physically ache in response. it appears that despite my best efforts, i will never be seven years old again.

i'm not a huge fan of lemon tea anymore. i prefer water. how it cleanses the palate like a vacuum cleaner sucking up all the dust and grime in a musty room. it's hard to distinguish between the inside and the outside of a thing when both are the color of a blood-red sunset but we try our best, you know? we draw lines on the sidewalk with chalk and we say 'here is my side of the universe and here is yours'. we act diplomatic when inside we are drunk and slurring our words all over the bartender's white vest. and then, because there is nothing else to do on this planet, we keep on living.

06.10.21