#for emotional abuse and mind fuckery that is-

[chipperydoopcg]

Hey Deltarune Fandom

I know its 3am as I wright this but I think I found something online that might be important- or at least, be something to consider- food for thought and all that jazz-

you see, I was scrolling thought reddit when I came upon a particular post...

it starts of seeming very normal, right? I mean, it's just your average detarune fan asking about equipment advice, right?

but.. somethings... off, to say the least......

Not only is the wording weird when talking about Spamton, (with the phrasing of "Spamton dude" being particularly odd, as to get to Spamton's shop, you need to get fairly familiar with him and his character, but this user seems to be acting like this is their first time meeting him.) But Spamton HIMSELF seems to look... Different than usual. Or, at lease, different than his usual shop sprite that is...

and I was not alone on this sentiment, as the comments noticed too!

which leads to wonder....

... yeah, that...

To which OP provided an... Interesting answer....

D-.... Didn't have the money? But, deltarune is free game? Or, at least, Chapter's 1 and 2 are...

you see, a while back, Toby mention online that Chapters 3, 4, and 5 would all be released together, and, unlike the first two, cost money. (or as a certain salesman would phrase it, cost some [[Sweet, Sweet KROMER]]!!!)

Not only that, but its kinda ironic that this user pirated a copy of a free game, and have the one character who has a history with shady links (or in other words, [[Hyperlink Blocked]]) be the one who's changed... Almost as if this bootleg game has its own bootleg of Spamton... The one character who literally tries to be a bootleg of ANOTHER character in-universe. *Cough cough* Swatch- *Cough cough*

But this also leads to question... are there any other differences in the game? I mean, it is a pirated game, surely there has to be some other differences from the original game other than some seemingly random shop sprite of spamton, right?

luckily, I was not the only one who was curious about this and a user by the name of kuro50 ask OP to quote:

To which OP responded:

how... convenient.....

I mean- don't get me wrong- I get that feeling not having any program to record with (though than again OBS Studio exist)- but even still, all of this seems a little bit too, odd to just let off as something "normal"...

but, than again, its not like there's anything necessary wrong about it either, right? I mean, sure, it weird that someone pirated a free game, but, maybe they're just some gullible kid online?

...Except, a user by the name of ThePotatoPerson510 pointed out a few striking things...

And then... it all stared to click...

I went to check the profile and, just as ThePotatoPerson510 had said,

"u/ThatDudeTobias, Cake day December 27, 2022, made 12 hours ago..." the same hour as the spamton post was made... almost as if the account was made just so they could post this.... (Note: the previous image in this post of the spamton post says it was made 10 hours ago. This time gap is because I have been writing this post for 2 hours straight now- coming onto 3 hours- as such, I give you this screenshot showing both the post and the profile, and thus, showing they were in fact made in the same hour-)

MID WRIGHTING UPDATE: It seems as if there WAS a time gap between the two post, as its 5:24am and I just took THIS screenshot showing the time gap. Take this how you will I suppose ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Now, about the name... It seem kinda... on the nose, to say the least. I mean, Toby, Tobias, seems a little to similar, right? But, at the same time, knowing Toby, he would be the type to use a seemingly obvious while still not TOO obvious name to fuck with us (he DOSE have a history with being a troll when it comes to his games ¬_¬||)

Also, looking back at the spamton image and comparing it to the name "Tobias", they both share one thing in common... They're both SIMILAR to their originals, to the point where you can tell what they're based off of, but, somewhat off...

As for the one other post on the account, well...

its..

... A comment on MeIRL?

Well, what's the original post?

A..... Video of some guy walking up the stairs, only to keep looping up the same steps, unable to get to the end?

Well, that's... anticlimactic..... Sooo.... Is this just some random account then? Was all of this just for nothing? Was it all red hearings in the end? Well, that's what I thought..

For you see, I realized something....

Toby Fox is a well-known fan of anime, but, not just any anime.... specifically, JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE. How do we know this? Well, in undertale, there is an item in the game called a Punch Card

When this card is used in battle, it says, "OOOORAAAAA!!! You rip up the punch card! Your hands are burning!" This increases your attack. "ORA" Is a common phrase screamed in JOJO' when one of the Jostar's are attacking.

Not only that, but in deltarune, main antagonist of chapter 2 is Queen.

her battle theme? Attack of the Killer Queen

Killer Queen is the stand of Yoshikage Kira. The main antagonist of JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE: Diamond is Unbreakable. Which is the 4th Chapter of the series.

So, what dose ALL of this have to do with the video "Tobias" commented on? Well, you see, in JOJO'S BIZARRE ADVENTURE: Stardust Crusaders, when Polnareff, one of the main protagonist, tries to walk up the stairs to face DIO, the main antagonist, he finds himself in the same loop as the man in the video. Continuously walking up the same set of stares, unable to reach the end.

Meaning, the video that "Tobias", or, as we presume, Toby commented on was in fact...

A JOJO REFFERANCE, AND THUS, MAKES PERFICT SENCE AS TO WHY HE WOULD COMMENT ON IT

...... And so with that last tidbit out of the way, we are left with 3 conclusions that we can come to... 1. This "Tobias" is actually Toby Fox teasing us about Chapter 3 and or some other upcoming scheme of his he has up his sleaves.

2. This "Tobias" is actually Toby Fox just fucking with us

and 3. This is some third party not affiliated with Toby but still making something and teasing it (possibly and ARG or something of sorts) .... That or I've just spent over 3 hours of my life typing this up only for it to be a shitpost by Temmie or something :/

either way its 6:41am as I type this and I have not slept all night so I hope you liked this deep dive analysis into this possibly important reddit account that could hold significant lore for the upcoming chapters of deltarune and if you'll excuse me I'm going to go collapse on my couch for the rest of the day :) have a wonderful time zone <3

#toby fox i swear- #if this is you fucking with us i will sue- #for emotional abuse and mind fuckery that is- #seriously why must you be like this- #i just wanted to scroll reddit in peace- #not worrying about secret lore drops from estranged reddit accounts- #god dammit toby #yall better not let this flop- #it is 5am #i have not slept ALL NIGHT #I AM STAYING UP JUST SO I CAN WRIGHT THIS #DO NOT LET THIS FLOP I BEG- #toby fox #deltarune #deltarune thoughts #deltarune theory #deltarune chapter two #deltarune chapter 2 #deltarune spoilers #spamton

[thoughtsfromlayla]

My Dearest Defiance

Summary:  Equal as an Endless, more than a human, yet less than a god. Where did you even belong? The question has haunted you since you first saw humanity rise into power. Now your brother has been kidnapped and you can't do anything to help him.

Notes: ~7.5k words, This fic is a follow-up to this post sent in by the lovely @kpopgirlbtssvt, thank you so much for the idea! I took a few liberties with the plot and I hope that's okay with you!

Warnings: Platonic! Big Brother x little sister! Reader, *side eyes* a lot of angst, violence, physical abuse, heavy mentions of cancer, implied alcohol consumption, minor Dreaming mind-fuckery, death of Reader (you come back...ish), death of characters, comfort in the end :)

Masterlist

Mother Night and Father Time, the first lovers, the everlasting lovers. And it was through their love that the Endless were born. Your eldest brother Destiny came first, birthed in dark cloaks and the book that was named after him. He is in charge of the fate of every being to live. 

Every being who has lived must follow the path of this fate and fate always ends in Death, your eldest sister. When Mother and Father realized that the humans must do something while waiting for Death, they birthed your favorite brother, Dream. He is hope, the one who gives the humans courage to stand up for themselves and make do with their lives. Soon, humans wanted more and in succession, the rest of your siblings were born: Destruction, Desire, Despair, and sweet Delight soon to be Delierum. 

While every Endless was busy tending to their own realms and their own duties, you were born. Endless in name but not in power. You were the runt of the family, with no realm to call your own, and no responsibilities of your own. Yet here you stood amongst the humans that soon called you Defiance, the human spirit, the resilience to continue despite all odds. 

You’re sure your siblings knew of you, certainly enough to be invited to family dinner once every 100 years. Yet you could never shake the feeling of inadequacy when you were sat at the far end, only to be over-talked by everyone. They were discussing important matters, after all, nothing that you had to concern yourself with. 

You only find solace in Dream, where no matter how difficult the days get, you may always find a home in his realm. While he is adamant about letting you stay in the castle, you find it more comfortable to live in a cottage at the edge of the realm where the forest meets with the vast unknown and you grow vegetables from the soil you tow. It also allows you to escape to the waking world without Dream knowing.

You love humans, their lives fascinate you to no end. They know of you, just as they know of all of your Endless siblings, but sometimes it just takes a little more for them to realize. You would never push them to admit to your existence and somewhere along the millions of years of existence, you have given up trying to be the center of attention. 

To understand humans is to live like them, talk like them, and love like them. Unfortunately, humans are more than that and often succumb to feelings of anger, depression, righteousness, and violence. You try not to associate yourself with those emotions, but it’s innate. 

It’s been a few weeks since you stepped foot in Dream’s castle, and who could blame you? The village in which you reside is much more fun than the dreary castle your brother tends to enjoy more. The thick castle wall blocks out the sunlight, it’s filled with dust and smells of wet stones and old books. Not to mention, when Dream was busy, there was no one to talk to. Lucienne was always busy, picking up after her King, and you don’t even want to get started on Mervin. 

He’s only nice to you cause you gave him his pumpkin head when his original turnip head started going out of style. Otherwise, it’s cigar smoke being blown into your face and sassy remarks. 

You’re out in the market square when you feel the presence of your Endless Sibling. You turn from the flower vendor with a big smile and wave at Dream as he makes his way towards you. The dreams that he created step to the side in the presence of their sovereign.

“Brother!” You exclaim when he gets close enough for you, wrapping one of your arms around his while the woven basket hangs in the other. 

The basket was filled with a few apples and a fresh loaf of bread. You were just about to buy a few glass snowdrop flowers before you were pleasantly surprised by Dream. 

“How do you do this afternoon, dear sister?” He speaks, leaning into your face to tease you. 

You giggle at him as the two of you walk the main road, passing dreams and nightmares alike, a few waving at you in greeting that you return.

“I’m doing great. I was thinking of going to the waking world later today and spending some time with Death, actually.” You respond, your arm leaves Dream’s as a different vendor catches your eyes. They were selling acrylic paints in colors that you haven’t seen since half a century ago. 

“Here, hold this,” You say as you hand off your basket to Dream. He does as he’s told and holds the basket, the white paint offputting to his otherwise completely black outfit. 

You grab a few jars of paint and can already think of the wonderful things to draw when you get back into your cottage. There was a specific lake nearby that you haven’t been able to do justice to, but you think you finally can with the new color. 

A brief conversation of exchange happens between you and the vendor before you turn around. You burst out laughing at the sight before you. Dream stood in the middle of the road where you had first told him to hold your basket and hadn’t moved an inch. His shoulders were stiff and taught as he held your basket as far away from his body as possible. 

“It’s not going to bite you, you know!” You practically cackle at him. Your giggles follow you as you carefully place the jars of paint into your basket. You think that you will paint some flowers and ivy onto your basket later tonight. 

You go to take the basket back from him but he’s quick to move it away from your grabby hands. 

“You specified that I should hold it, so hold it I shall,” He says and holds the basket higher, just out of your reach, when you go to grab at it again. 

You huff at his rather stubborn behavior, but he’s been like this since the beginning. He always looks after you and takes care of you. You’re always grateful for it, but you can carry your own basket. You resolve the conversation with a roll of your eyes but the smile on your face stays in place when you turn your back to him. 

Dream walks you home, basket now significantly heavier and full of things you didn’t really need. Well, except maybe the paint, it’s good to splurge every once in a while. Your cottage is basked in a warm light as the Dreaming’s sun slowly disappears beyond the horizon to rise in another universe. The pie you had baked this morning had long since cooled and you brought it inside with a hum, your brother still following you. 

He set the basket on the simple kitchen table before taking a seat and watching you slice up the pie with a smile. You set the pastry down in front of him and another plate for yourself. The savory apple flavoring takes over the senses when you take the first delicious bite. 

“I would like you to come back to the castle soon,” Your brother says as you take another bite. 

“Whatever for?” You question, a little bit of apple filling falling out of your mouth. “The cottage is my home.”

Dream sighs but answers anyway. “I will be gone for a moment, I need to take care of a rouge nightmare,  and would like you to be cared for while I am away from the Dreaming.”

“How long will you be gone for you to want me to live in that dreadful place?” You make a face as you think about the boring days ahead of you. Well, maybe you can escape to the castle garden if Mervin isn’t paying attention. 

“I cannot tell you for I do not know.” 

You purse your lips as you think about his request. “Fine,” You groan. 

“Best not see Sister Death today.” When you don’t bother with a response he speaks against “Farwell, sister. I will be back soon,” He promises you before standing. You didn’t get the chance to follow him to the door before he leaves, his apple pie still untouched. 

“Ugh, how wasteful.” You joke to yourself. 

You spend the rest of your evening painting your basket as you had wanted before packing up a few items for the castle. Your basket was a gift from your brother and had an infinite amount of storage. So you managed to shove an extensive amount of your wardrobe, the paints, and some of the freshly baked pastries into the small wooden thing. You set off when the moon was high in the sky and the stars came down from their afternoon nap and danced in the village square. 

Their stardust shoes clink like pure jade against the cobblestone road, illuminating the otherwise quiet and sleeping town. A few wave  at you, shimmering particles following their movements before they return to their waltz. You wave back to them before continuing on your journey, mindful of where you stepped. 

When stars come down to the Dreaming they become transparent and more gaseous than solid but that doesn’t stop them from burning hot. And unless you wanted to recounter that one time you stepped through one and started sneezing and coughing stardust for the next 10 years, you’ll keep your distance - only allowing for their natural light to guide your way out of the village and towards the castle. 

By the time you reach the castle, Dream is nowhere to be found and you assume he went out to do what he mentioned earlier that day. Your room was set up for you,  Dream obviously had some palace staff tidy up the room as you took a look around the clean environment. Otherwise, everything was in the same place you had left it since the last time you were at the castle. You yawn as you set your basket down by the door. First a good night’s rest, then you can go to the waking world to do your own things. 

You sneak out of the castle a few minutes before dawn, the soft bed and good night’s rest giving you the energy you need to do so. You grimace when the door creaks loudly as you slowly open it, smelling the early morning dew on the grass and the warming dawn wind. 

“Where are you headed, my dear?” A voice stops you in your tracks. You suck your lips into your mouth as you soon recognize the voice. 

“Good morning, Lucienne,” You greet curtly, holding, or rather, hiding, your basket behind your black skirt. 

Lucienne gives you a pointed look. “Yes, good morning.” 

You give her a smile before stepping back out the door, only to be stopped when she purposefully clears her throat. 

“The question?” She presses.

You feign innocence and bat your eyelashes, not that it would work. “What question?”

“Lady Defiance, my Lord specifically states that I keep my eyes on you.” Lucienne holds her hands behind her back as she takes her stance. 

“By all means, keep your eyes - hey what’s that?!” You gawk as you point behind Lucienne. 

Lucienne snaps her head around to look at what you were so surprised by. She doesn’t see or sense anything when she does. It’s about two seconds of her searching before she realizes that she has been duped. When she turns around the door is swinging shut and you are nowhere to be seen. She slams the door open and only sees the last of your figure disappearing on the horizon.

You’re still giggling to yourself about pulling off that little trick when you reach the ocean of the Dreaming. The little wooden dock creaks under your weight as you skip across it. Having done this traveling before, you jump right in with a squeal, holding your nose close so you don’t get any water in. 

The water pushes and pulls but you don’t fight the current knowing that it will take you where you wanted to go. When you emerge, you cough once and the water falls off your body, leaving you dry in cloudy 1916 England. You wrap your blazer closer to your body as the wind picks up and leave the alleyway. The familiar smell of roasted peanuts from street vendors and car fumes tickles your nose when you turn the corner to walk into the hospital. 

“Hi, I’m here to visit Genny, uh, Geniveve, Geniveve Colemen,” You correct yourself to the receptionist. The woman nods and looks down at her computer. 

“She’s in the same room, 443. Here’s your visitor’s pass.” She hands you a laminated badge on a lanyard. 

You thank her before wearing the lanyard and going towards the nearest elevator. The elevator smelled of shoe polish and disinfectant spray and it made your nose crinkle. You just hope the smell doesn’t transfer onto your clothes. 

When you reach your destination, you knock on Genny’s door before entering. She wears her hospital gown and was reading a book when she looks up. A smile pasters onto her face when she sees you.

“Y/N!” She drops her book and sits up straighter. 

“Genny!” You exclaim back with the same amount of excitement. You place your basket by her bed before pulling out a fresh vase of flowers and setting it by her bedside table. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever, what have you been up to?” She asks.

“Yeah, my mother took me to some private tutor to help me study for my tests,” You lie through your teeth as you fluff the flowers to make them look more appealing. 

You tuck your school skirt underneath you when you sit down next to Genny and reach for your basket again. “I brought you some homebaked goods. I know this hospital’s food has got to be horrendous.” 

You bring out the baked loaf of bread you bought the day before and rip off a slice for her. She takes the loaf and inhales the scent. 

“Gosh, Y/N, I don’t know how you make such good baked goods. Your husband will be a lucky one if you stop trying to chase them off.” She giggles and muffles through her full mouth. 

You laugh with her, sparing her the details of your actual life. You bring forth the lie you had carefully planted yourself as instead. A straight-A student that goes to the same school as Genny before she was diagnosed with cancer, how you were her best friend that visited her when you got the chance, how you had gotten onto the school council and despite all of her poking and prodding, she would not get to know what the school formal’s dance theme is going to be unless she went with you tomorrow to the dance. You try not to think about how frail she has gotten since the first time you’ve met her. Her collarbones were poking out and you can see how hard it was for her to take even breaths. 

When she asks you again later in the visit about the school dance you rebuttal quickly. 

“Are you going to come to the dance with me?” You laugh. “Speaking of which, I got you a dress, too!” You go back to your basket, pulling out a formal dress, and setting it in front of Genny. 

“Wow! Look at the bead stitching,” She says, running a delicate finger over the beading and gems then over the lacing. 

“I’ve got a good eye, don’t I?” You sit back down with a smile and a tilt of the head. “It matches my dress, too.”

“What about your own date?”

“Oh, please, I don’t have time for boys!” You giggle again, hiding behind the lie that you don’t actually go to her school. 

“Oh alright, I suppose I must go to the dance with you so you won’t be lonely.” Genny surrenders. 

You smile at her, happy she finally agreed. “You’re a great friend.” 

Genny coughs after your compliment and you’re quick to reach for the water and hand it over to her. When she sits up to drink you go to fluff her pillow. Genny lays back down with a sigh and all of the warmth that was in the room leaves through the window. She looks like she’s aged when she looks at you again, another cough crawling its way past her throat. 

“I’ll leave you to rest,” You say, turning around to grab your things. 

“No,” Genny refuses. “Can you stay for a little bit longer?” She coughs again and holds your hand weakly. “I want to feel like a normal girl for a little while longer.”

“Okay,” You whisper and sit back down, feeling the chill of the hospital around your ankles. 

You watch over her as she falls asleep, the conversation taking the last of her energy. You begin to stare off into space, thinking about your life. You did your best with the gift of immortality, but as you stare at Genny’s tense face, you wish you could do more. Equal as an Endless, more than a human, yet less than a god. Where did you even belong? The question has haunted you since you first saw humanity rise into power. 

Your thoughts leave you when you feel the beating of wings and a flush of wind from the door. Your head snaps and you see your sister standing there in her black tank top and the same combats boots you wore. 

“Sister Death,” You greet with a small smile, previous thoughts disappearing. “What brings you here today?” 

Your sister only smiles at you. Your excitement of seeing your sister again is soon taken over by dread. You look between your sister and your friend and the dots connect. 

“Oh... what? No!” You stand abruptly between your sister and Genny. “No! She still has so much to do in life!” You try to reason with her. 

“You cannot bargain with me, Defiance. You know that,” She says in her soft voice. 

“I don’t care,” Your lips form into a line. “At least let her go to the dance with me?” You try one more time. 

Death sighs with exaggeration. “Fine, but not an hour more.” 

“Thanks…” You’re not entirely sure how you managed to pull that off, unbeknownst to you that your sister has a soft spot for you much like Dream. 

Your sister looks you up and down before she leans on the door. “So how are you doing, then?” 

You look off to the side when you answer. “Fine,” You grumble out. 

She lets out a huff, or perhaps a laugh, you can’t really tell. “Would you like to go on a walk with me?”

It was a tempting offer, after all, you haven’t spent time with your sister in a while. You thought about it for a little while longer. “No,” You end up refusing. 

“Genny asked me to stay a little while longer, so I shall.” You turn away from your sister and sit back down in the uncomfortable hospital chair. You keep your head straight, looking after Genny, and don’t take your eyes off her even when you hear your sister departing. 

When she does, a tremble runs over your body. You feel tears prick at your lashline as you come to terms with the fact that your friend will be dying soon. You did your best to prevent the inevitable, but with no powers of your own, it’s only a waiting game now. 

You leave when visiting hours are over, Genny has yet to wake up from her nap. You leave the rest of the loaf on her bedside table, and a slice of your apple pie. You decide to tidy up the room as quietly as you can and hang her dress on the hook that was nailed to the wall. With one final look at her, you leave, only hoping that your sister doesn’t go back on her word and take her before her allotted time. 

You spend the rest of the evening in the waking world, catching up on new things the humans have done with their time. You end your day on a park bench, illuminated only by a single street lamp. The park was quiet, you’re only accompanied by the sound of crickets and the wind along the trees. You take in a deep breath of fresh air. Oh, how you have missed this. If only it was closer to summer vacation, you would’ve taken Genny to the beach and had some sun time with her. 

When you are done relaxing you go to the pond at the center of the park, the fountain in the middle still squirting out water and creating magnificent shapes and splashes along the surface. You could see the stars' reflection rippling as you peer at the lake over a bridge. The wind blows and you close your eyes to savor the moment. 

“I wouldn’t jump if that’s what you’re thinking,” Someone says next to you. 

You open your eyes and turn to see a man standing next to you, no older than 20. He takes off his hat when you speak. 

“I wasn’t, but thank you,” You reply simply and go back to looking out towards the expanding city. He doesn’t leave your side despite your answer and it gets a bit awkward.

“Are you thinking of jumping? Because I would also not recommend that, sir,” You turn to him again and see him laughing. 

“No,” He says. “I am just here to think.”

“Just like me then. What bothers your mortal mind?” You ask. 

“Many things… I’m afraid I have let my family down.” 

“How so?”

“We came here on a boat from the motherland, nothing to our name but a few pennies. I was supposed to go to college and finally put our family on the map. But I failed and now here I am, talking to a stranger on a bridge in the middle of the night.”

You laugh along with him. You knew of him and saw his dreams a few times when you went out exploring in the Dreaming. He wanted to be a doctor, specifically an athletic injuries doctor but failed out of medical school before he even got the chance. You rack your brain to think of his name, and when it comes to you, you speak. 

“Do not worry, Albert Brocken, I’m sure there are many opportunities that will come alight in the near horizon. Perhaps you should take the entrance exam again, and see where it takes you.” You yawn and you realize that you should probably start heading home. 

“Yeah… maybe I should,” He concludes with a sigh. “I think I might go into somnology,” He says more to himself than you. 

“Somnology sounds fascinating,” You agree. “I must go home now, but best of luck to you!” You walk away, your shoes barely audible on the stone bridge over the gushing fountain. Albert doesn’t look your way when you depart, too focused on his new goal in life. 

You find yourself standing before an old winding cottonwood tree in the same park. It’s been here for years, growing into the magnificent tree it is today. It’s passed by thousands of England residents almost every day, yet none of them are willing to stare at it hard enough to realize that the bark of the tree isn’t real. 

You take one last look around the park to make sure no one else sees you before walking straight into the tree, the danging leaves caressing you like a gentle mother’s touch. The trunk of the tree turns into a curtain of falling sand and you pass through with no problems. When you emerge on the other side, the bright moon of the Dreaming greets you, illuminating and basking you in a soft welcome. When you come back into the castle, Lucienne is on top of you like a hot iron. 

“Thank the Gods you are well,” She panics as she holds your arms. After taking a good overall look at you, she wraps her arms around your body and brings you into a hug. 

“Lucienne?” Your question muffled against her crisp uniform. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, my dear, you hadn’t come back all day. I thought perhaps…” She trails off before she takes a breath. “Lord Morpheus hasn’t returned, and neither had you, so I presumed the worst.”

“Morpheus hasn’t returned?”

“No, but you are here. Tell me, did you see him while you were in the waking world today?” Lucienne holds hope in her eyes and you resent the next word you say.

“No,” Your thoughts trailed off. “Morpheus hasn’t returned?” You ask again.

“I am sure there is nothing to worry about. I may just be overthinking is all.” Lucienne reassures you. 

“Okay…” You don’t completely believe her, somewhere deep inside you you can feel that Morpheus is in danger. As the King of Dreams and Nightmares, a rouge nightmare shouldn’t be anything to be worried about. He should be home by now. 

Your eyes close as soon as your head hits the pillow, but thoughts consume you. After the dance tomorrow night with Genny, you will go searching for your brother. The following day came quickly and you paced back and forth in the castle hall, the formal dress you had on jingling with your movements. Your thoughts were in overdrive, there was Morpheus of course, but you also knew that tonight was going to be Genny’s last day. And knowing that puts a weight on your shoulders. You have to make sure that tonight is going to be the best night of her life. 

When the time came, you went to the waking world feeling dolled up and in an antique car with the roof down. Your hair had enough hairspray to survive a storm from Zeus himself. You pull up to the hospital in a screech, Genny already waiting for you in the lobby. You check your lipstick in the mirror one last time before Genny reaches your car. 

“You know how to drive?!” Genny says with a smile and excitement that you found contagious. 

You resecure the silk scarf that protected your hair from the wind and open a pair of sunglasses to put over your eyes. You look at her over the bridge of your nose, your eyes shining past the sunglasses before stepping on the gas pedal.

“I know how to do many things, sweet Genny!” You shout over the wind, pushing the glasses back to their original position. 

Each time you looked over at Genny, her smile still hadn’t faltered and the last bits of the sun’s rays caught on the embroidery of her dress. Her softness brings a smile to your face and for a moment you forget about your brother. 

You pull into the gravel driveway of the school formal’s destination. You had managed to weasel your way into the school council and they were able to get help from the local people. The theme for this year's dance was “A Magical Night” and a local citizen opened his manor to the students for the night. He called himself a mage, something that you rolled your eyes at as magic has been rare in this world since the faeries left it half a century ago. But you kept that to yourself, if he wanted to play make-believe, then so let him. 

Students were already lining up outside the decorated manor when the two of you arrived. You hand your keys off to a valet and walk towards the door, hand in hand with Genny. Her excitement buzzed through her like a shot of tequila. 

When you cross over the threshold of the manor you are genuinely surprised at the decorations of the place. The ballroom had been cleared out and a live band was playing music for students to dance to. There was a bar on the far end of the ballroom serving drinks and small snacks. A doorman takes your jacket away from you before you grab Genny’s hand and head to the dance floor. 

Many of Genny’s old friends soon recognize her and start to surround you two, the night is still young and the sound of laughter soon fills the air. You and Genny danced the night away until you both were sweaty and out of breath. Your make-up had gone a bit smudged but you didn’t mind. It was nearing midnight when most of the students started to leave and you pulled Genny away for one last surprise. 

Genny started to slow down a bit, the exercise of the dance sapping away her energy. She pulls through though and follows you to a winding staircase that leads to one of the roofs of the manor. The spring air chills you to your bone, but it is well received after the sweat you have built up. You help Genny sit down before you sit down next to her, the shingles of the roof poking through your dress in an uncomfortable way. 

A satisfied sigh leaves your lips when you look out to the vast countryside behind the manor. The stars twinkle as far as the eyes can see and from your advantage point, no trees are blocking the view either. Genny pants beside you as she calms herself down from the climb and leans her head against your shoulder. 

“I am so glad you made me come to this dance,” She whispers as she looks out to the stars. 

“Me too,” You agree, you begin the absentmindedly swing your legs back and forth. Your heels come loose and slip from your feet and both you and Genny laugh at it. 

“Gosh, I hope that didn’t hit anyone,” She continues to laugh as she cautiously peers over the side. 

“Or else they’d have to smell my stinky feet, ewww!” You continue her joke. 

Her laugh turns into a cough and your mood shifts to melancholy. 

A shift in the winds tells you that her time will soon be up. “Genny,” You start. “My sister is going to be here soon.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Yes, I have a huge family actually.”

“Well, tell me about your sister,” She smiles, head feeling heavier as she puts her full weight on your shoulder. 

“She is really sweet, and a soft, kind-hearted soul. Just like you, I suppose.” You say. 

Genny doesn’t reply and tears prick your eyes. When you turn your head you see Genny standing up with a smile, yet her body still remains on your shoulder. Behind her stands your sister, a reassuring smile and a gentle hand rest around Genny in a side hug. 

“Your sister says that she’ll take great care of me,” She starts and looks at Death with a solemn smile. “Will she?” 

“Yeah, she’s one of the best…” Your voice dips into a murmur as you feel your lips tremble. 

Your answer is enough for her and she turns to leave. She seems to have remembered something as she turns back around and wraps her hands around your shoulders, her ghostly figure slightly falling through your physical form. 

“I’ll see you again, right?” Genny asks, hope lines her figure and you can’t bear to see it fade. 

“Yes,” You lie through your teeth. “Good-bye.” 

She turns to leave with your sister, blissfully unaware of your last farewell. The sound of Death’s beating wings was the last thing you heard before it was just the barren countryside again. Genny’s body grows cold by your side as you pet her hair for the last time. 

The manor staff came soon when you faked a scream and soon ambulances came and went with her body. You’re left in the aftermath of a romantic dream of confection and ribbons alone in the middle of the dance floor feeling numb. 

“Hey, lady, if you’re going to stand here moping you can at least help out,” A staff member calls out and you snap out of your thoughts. 

He hands you a few foldable chairs and tells you to put them up. You nodded along, not really having much else to do. You meander through the halls when you realize that he didn’t tell you where to put the chairs. It’s when you find yourself at a set of stairs that lead down towards the basement. And to you, it made all logical sense for humans to store their things in the basement. 

You open the heavy double doors and descend further into the musky basement. Candles were lit on the stairs and its melted wax coats the edges as it lightens the path. When you get to the bottom, you’re greeted by the host of the party that you met earlier in the night. 

“What are you doing here, girl!” He scolds. 

You hold up the chairs, unaware of his tone. “Hi, Mr. Burgess. I’m helping with clearing up after the dan…” Your final word trails off as your eyes wander past his figure. 

Behind him sits your brother and your jaw drops. Mr. Burgess tries to stand between you and him when he notices that your attention is no longer on him. Dream stands fully in his glass prison and you would have made fun of the fact that he was fully rocking out in his birthday suit if not for the situation at hand. 

“Oh, what the fuck,” You whisper, dropping the chairs.

You breeze past Mr. Burgess and stand before Morpheus. Golden runes that surround his prison stop you short as if there was some sort of invisible force field. Your head whips around and faces your host again. He stands tall as he stares back. 

“Why do you have my brother in a-a… fucking FISH BOWL!” Your words stumble out at the utter audacity of the situation, your hands moving around expressively. 

Realization dawns on him and you realize that you made a mistake. “So, you are one of his family. That man warned me about your kind. Which one are you.” He seethes as he walks towards you. 

“You face Defiance of the Endless,” You spit back at him.

You were in no mood to play, first, your friend dies in your arms and then you learn that Lucienne’s suspicions were right and that something did happen to your brother. This whole time he had been here under your feet while you were having fun. His clothes, tools, and dignity stripped from him as you drank enough sparkling cocktails to make Dionysus jealous. 

The man scoffs at you and spits at your feet. “Oh please, and I thought that it was going to be hard. I’ve heard of you, little girl. They told me that you are nothing, a nobody. You have no realm, no powers, you are barely a god.”

You stay silent as he speaks, rage flushes through your body and your muscles tremble. His words rang true, but here you shall stand for your brother. He advances on you and you find that you have nowhere to go. A sharp pain burns across your cheek as his pierced cane comes into contact with your skin. 

Your body follows the force as it throws you off balance. Your head cracks against the stone floor of the basement and a gasp leaves you. Your vision blurs from the hit and you feel warm blood sliding down your cheek like an unshed tear. In the distance of your mind, you hear Dream slamming his fist against his glass prison. You stand again, determined to not be bested by a mere mortal. 

His cane comes down again like a whip, hitting your shins and then once again on the back of your knees. The blow forces you to kneel before him, and your cries of pain echo in your head. The coarse floor scratches at your palm but you keep your breath as even as you can. 

“Is that all you got?” You sneer as you look up at him through your eyelashes. 

His foot comes towards your face and you squeeze your eyes shut right before the impact follows. Your body tumbles further away from Dream, but his slamming continues. You feel the wall behind you, its surface cooling down your heating body. 

“Stop, I command you to stop!” Morpheus shouts, command muffled.

“Dream of the Endless commands you to stop,” You repeat your brother's words. You use the wall to brace yourself to stand on wobbling legs.

Iron fills your mouth and you spit it out back at Burgess’ feet, much like he did to you before. You grin when you see him grimace at the act. You wipe your mouth clean with the back of your hand, very unladylike, but between the three of you, who is going to judge? 

A backhanded slap snaps your head to the side and another painful scream follows. 

“Stop! Cease yourself or face my wrath!” Dream continues to scream as your vision blurs again. 

“No, I can take it,” Your voice is coarse but the message is heard loud and clear. 

“Oh, you can take it, hmm?” Burgess taunts and his cane jabs into your abdomen. 

You feel like you couldn’t breathe, that no matter how much your mouth gaped open, oxygen didn’t fill in your lungs as you needed it to. 

“I can take it,” You wheeze out again, another hit forces you back down and this time you don’t have the strength to get up again. 

“I suppose one step higher than capturing an Endless is to kill one,” Burgess laughs on top of you. His heavy body straddles you and you feel his hands wrap around your neck. 

Black dots swarm your vision like the expanding universe. Your nails claw at his hands, drawing blood, as your body tries its best to fight back. Burgess picks you up by the neck and slams your back down, stars waltz behind your eyelids and a brief vision of home comforts you. A ragged breath crawls through your throat before another slam into the ground silences you. Despite your efforts, your hands grow limp and you feel your body start to break down. It flakes away like spring cherry blossom petals as you take your last breath. 

“No!” Dream’s scream is the last thing you hear. 

Your consciousness fades to black and it is quiet for once. It’s odd to think that an immortal being can die, but it’s true. The only thing that differentiates it is that you could be reborn. Immortality is a fickle thing. 

When you come back into consciousness, you can feel the Dreaming heal your soul. It wraps its warmth around you like a soft blanket and you finally feel safe enough to stop everything that ran through your mind. When you stretch out your limbs you realize that you weren’t in your human form anymore. 

Your perception spans further and you can see new angles you haven’t seen before through your eyes. You wiggle your toes, or what you thought were your toes and feel soft and fertilizing soil below you. When you look down you notice that your legs have turned into the soft bark of a willow tree. Your arms shake and the reaching leaves of the tree shake from the action. You sigh and your bark groans and creeks under your deflation. 

You soon become a welcomed resident in Fiddler’s Green, providing shade for the decreasing amount of dreamers that come to visit you. As the years pass, the Dreaming starts to die around you as Morpheus stays entrapped under the Burgess Manor. You stay as a tree, unable to move and help. Guilt eats you alive, leaving your core to rot from the inside out. 

Lucienne comes to visit now and then, but as the castle starts to fall apart, she can’t find the time to come by anymore. Your days grow lonelier as Fiddler’s Green decides to leave the Dreaming as well. You stand on dry soil in a barren wasteland. Your inaction keeping you hostage like a ladybug in a spiderweb. The more you struggled, the harder you found it to keep your human consciousness. 

So, you did the most human you could think of: you cried. Fitting, you thought to yourself, a weeping willow, well, weeping. Your tears came to fruition in the form of vibrant yellow blossoming flowers against the beige and cracking surroundings. 

You stayed like that for the next 106 years. Your roots had grown so long that you could feel each corner of the dreaming, searching high and low for water to drink from. Soon, even that would run out. Another tear runs down your bark, your trunk growing deep grooves where the previous century of tears had carved. Despite all odds, your leaves were still vibrant and your flowers would change colors based on your mood. A trick that took you a few decades to learn. 

The moon rises higher and higher over the horizon. You follow its path, counting the fragments to keep your mind from boredom. It split in half 15 years after Dream’s capture and every five years or so, another fragment separates from the moon. You counted 18 fragments this time around, the same as the day before, and the week before that. You yawn, the bark shaking as you do so and close your eyes to rest.

You wake to a soft hand on your bark just as dawn cracks. Your leaves shake in surprise as someone touches you. It takes a moment to reorientate yourself and when you look down from your height your breath hitches. 

“Sister?” Dream calls out, his hand still on your bark. 

Relief floods your system just as a soft breeze runs its fingers through your thin leaves. Your catkin flowers caress his skin when he smiles at you. Just as fast as relief has found you, guilt consumes you again. Morpheus has escaped, it had taken him 106 years and all you have done is stand here and do nothing. Your branches groan again, more flowers blooming in its wake as you weep again, and the individual petals turn a deep blue color. 

Dream grabs one of your leaves gently as it tries to recede from his touch. “Y/N,” He calls out carefully. “I do not blame you for what happened 106 years ago.”

“I am touched by your sacrifice.” He pauses as he picks his next words carefully. “You were the only one who came to my side when I needed it.” 

You still stay quiet but your petals slowly start to return to their yellow colors. Morpheus takes this as a good sign and continues. 

“I love you, dear sister, I wish for you to never doubt that. If only I could give you a hug for all that you had done for me,” He prods and extends both of his hands outwards. 

You purse your non-existent lips in thought, a very tempting offer. Why not try one more time, to be by your brother’s side? Your bark groans again and you concentrate. You try to remember the details of your human body. How did your hair look? How did you hold yourself? Did you have a mole on this side of your face? 

Your leaves and branches start to shake and shrink in on themselves the more you think. You call in your roots and start to wiggle your toes. You think of your fingers and how they had done so much for you: the paintings you made, the pastries you baked. One last tear escapes down your raw skin and when you open your eyes again, you are looking at Dream through new eyes. 

Morpheus comes into your space and wraps his steadying arms around you. You sob into his jacket until it becomes uncomfortable. Your throat is raw when you’re finally reduced to hiccups. Through it all, Dream is holding onto you, gently caressing your hair the way you have liked since you were born. 

“I like this new hair of yours,” He comments as he pulls at a few strands of your hair. It’s longer this time around and kept the same emotional properties your flowers had. It changes from blue to green as your mood shifts. 

“Great, now I can’t hide my emotions anymore.” You mutter weakly to yourself as it changes to red at your slight annoyance. 

Dream chuckles above you and gives you one final tight squeeze. 

“Welcome home, sister,” He whispers. You take a deep breath, letting it fill your lungs thoroughly. 

“Yes, I am home.” 

I did a surprising amount of research for this fic. Apparently, the first woman to attain a driver's license was like in 1900 so that's why Genny was so surprised you could drive. Also, I would not recommend driving in a 1916 vehicle? Looks like it could explode at any minute.

This was a request! And requests are open, just go to my page and hit that button to submit one.

If you do submit a request, it may take me a bit to get to them just because of the nature of it and my classes are starting to get ready for finals. (Your girl is graduating this semester woohoo!)

I will see you in the next fic!

♡ Yours, Layla

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #the sandman fanfic #the sandman x reader #dream of the endless x reader #sandman x reader #siblings #sibling reader #platonic relationships #platonic #x reader #angst with a happy ending #angst #reincarnation

[theteablogger]

Why do you think that Andy specifically uses fandom to build cults/manipulate people, rather than more conventional religious or spiritual ideas?

This post is pretty long, but well worth a read, and gives a number of reasons why fandom has been the most convenient avenue for Andy to abuse people. Here are a few excerpted points:

Fandom has an unending, always-increasing, EXTREMELY OPEN supply of victims. [...] In real life, people are very unlikely to come up to you, sobbing, stumbling, and generally in extreme distress, and open up to you about their extensive emotional damage, their deepest, darkest secrets and fantasies, the subjects that are central to their passions, their enjoyment of life, and (in extremity) their willingness to keep breathing for another day - yes here’s the complete list - and their extreme sensitivity to certain stimuli that will quite possibly leave them shaking, their heads spinning, and their minds wide open to all sorts of fuckery - yes, here’s the other complete list. Because that would be giving a predator the keys to the kingdom, and people are distrusting enough in the offline world that they’re hardly going to leave that open for every stranger to examine, digest, and consider at length. On Tumblr, that’s sometimes contained just in the blog header. [...] An abundance of vulnerable teenage girls and naive twentysomethings. [...] A lack of parental supervision. A lot of people in fandom are HIDING from their parents. Excellent! It means the ONLY authority figures are authoritative, wise, kindly BNFs… ones who are so concerned for socially-isolated, mentally-ill teens…

As I noted in my reblog of that post, Andy did add elements of various religions into his cults, especially as a means of explaining how "channeling" worked and why it was a legitimate practice:

Remember, when he was first getting his claws into Abbey, how he went on and on about how a “pagan priestess” told him that elves, hobbits, etc. were real? This was the person who allegedly told him that he was a “Rare Lesbian Paladin” and that these spirits were reaching out and communicating through him. Supposedly the “Great Mother” was connecting to Abbey through Pippin, which makes no sense, and occasionally he would throw in the names of a god or two that was actually worshiped by some past culture.  Apparently this evolved into an actual religious…thing. I hesitate to say “practice” because it doesn’t seem to have been organized at all, but in her AMA, Abbey elaborated a little on the Tolkien-influenced “pagan” thing he was doing with her, Diamond, and Little Sam. She also said that toward the end of their involvement, he was trying to get her into Catholicism.

#andythanfiction #thanfiction #andrew blake #andy blake #religion

[cerealboxlore]

very small idea but for billy who thinks ebenezer killed mary what if as captain marvel he saw mary for a split second while doing something with the league and wasn’t able to check it out but he knows he saw her

i can’t really put together my thoughts in this properly right now but yeah i think that ought to be fun (not for billy)

Oh!

Oh we are going to haveso much FUN with this, my friend!

(TW: slight mind fuckery and mentions of corpses)

I absolutely go feral at Billy Batson angst, even more so when it involves him being Captain Marvel and letting his mortal emotions slip through is magical adult front. The aching and deep sadness that he tries desperately to hide is impossible to unsee, and it concerns his teammates if/when they see it appear on his face. The JL know Captain Marvel as a super happy, fun, immature and yet mysterious man, they're accustomed to seeing Captain Marvel smiling with a bright grin most of the time. That boy scout attitude of his is a trademark and one they never imagined seeing fade, an impossibility.

They should have known by now that impossibilities were more than possible nowadays. Especially when magic was involved.

What I'm thinking is, and maybe something I'll include in a longer post one day, is a team up between the Scarecrow and Mr. Mind. I did a poll before and y'all said this would mentally scar Billy the most, and I fully believe in the psychological horror potential of them. In the event that they team up, Mr. Mind would want Captain Marvel taken down first, as he's a risk and threat to Mr. Mind's plans the most. He knows who he is. He knows that Captain Marvel is secretly Billy Batson, homeless orphan who is desperately running away from his abusive past that haunts him.

I'm thinking that if Mr. Mind somehow finds a way to infect Billy with a magically enchanted fear toxin that slowly chips away at his sanity through a period of time, he could take advantage of his mind and therefore control the Champion of magic completely without any worry of losing control.

This could factor into your idea about Billy catching a glimpse of Mary while he's out as Captain Marvel with the league. The first time it'd just a passing glimpse. A blink. It's Mary's face in the reflection of a glass mirror he flies past by. He shakes it off, thinking it's just nothing. Then it happens again, but this time Mary's face in the mirror shows signs of rotting. The next time it happens it's not in a mirror, but on the street while he's helping citizens flee the scene of a fight, and he thinks he sees Mary running past him.

Was it actually her this time? Or was it his mind playing tricks on him? Was he going crazy? No, no that's impossible. As Captain Marvel he couldn't go crazy, right? Then...Was something wrong with Billy? If his foundation/vessel had something wrong, then functioning as Captain Marvel was going to get a lot harder for him.

The thoughts about his (supposed) dead sister haunt him more frequently, to the point where he can't go a single day without mistaking someone as the beaten and decaying form of Mary. He feels himself losing his mind, losing control of his fears and self, enough to the point that Mr. Mind can easily swoop in and take control of the Champion of Magic. A really fun plot to have a mind controlled Captain Marvel fight the Justice League, even more so if he's not the only one experiencing this.

Maybe after this fight the JL has a talk with Captain Marvel and in his emotional exhaustion that he's recovering from, he speaks about Mary at last and how he's been hallucinating her all this time, but still unsure if she's actually dead. CM finally opening up about his personal life and the guilt he feels for not helping his sister back then as a little kid. Whether or not they find out Captain Marvel is really just a kid falls onto you, I'm still trying to figure out how the Scarecrow would have a bigger part in this. Maybe Mr. Mind is mind controlling him, too??

#This was such a lovely ask #Tysm #I really loved answering this ask #You always have such creative ideas! #And we do love torturing Billy in this tumblr home 🏡 ❤️ #billy batson #dc captain marvel #Shazam #Mr. Mind #Scarecrow #justice leage of america #Writing idea #Fanfic idea #If there's spelling errors #*runs away*

[xxavengingangelxx]

Somewhere Only We Know (Long Way From Home Series Part 2) sneak peek

Here is a very, very like VERY brief sneak peek. Just remember Val's trials and tribulations aren't over. Stockholm Syndrome and other types of trauma bonding are not love. They're just that: a trauma bond. Trauma rewires the brain so no, some victims are never okay and are not immediately happy when/if separated from their captor. I'd be happy to answer more questions about it (I see a lot in my work :( )

141 notices there's something...particular about Shadow Company's only female operator. @josieguts because they asked to be tagged :)

This is a sequel to my work, Long Way From Home in which Graves captures 141's translator and takes her as his prisoner in a desperate somewhat well-planned idea to keep tabs on 141 after his betrayal. She puts up much more of a fight than he expected.

Read here!

Triggers for Long Way From Home are many. It's a dark fic, so I will post triggers here JIC. MDNI, 18+ TRIGGERS: Implied/attempted suicide, self-harm, torture, brainwashing, physical abuse, mind fuckery, Stockholm syndrome-related mental gymnastics, trauma bonding, mentions of foster care, threatened/implied/referenced rape, EXTREMELY dubious consent, flashbacks of torture, female being drugged. Self-hate in this one :( If I miss, any let me know, please! DARK FIC! Kinda Dead Dove.

Now, Somewhere Only We Know has less of these triggers but still will have some of them. Disclaimer: I don't know what will happen in MW3 but I have the storyline of this new fic more or less figured out. I'm guessing there's a ceasefire between 141 and Shadow Co. due to Konni being the bigger threat.

-

SOMEWHERE ONLY WE KNOW:

“She’s ours, Graves, like she’s always been,” “No, you abandoned her!” Graves roared.

-

You were in a hospital room when you saw Price walking in with a phone held to his ear. He was angry. His body language screamed his emotions. He was on the phone…

With Graves.

Graves’s voice on the other side of the phone was mad…from what you could hear. You didn’t hear the whole conversation but some of it involved you. You heard a few phrases from Graves, all with a more pronounced Southern accent. His accent got more pronounced when he was emotional whether he be feeling angry or sadistic. Where the hell is she? You had no right. She’s my prisoner. You planned this shit and separated us on purpose.

Price put the call on speaker.

“You tell ‘im that you’re safe and that you’re done with ‘im,”

“Val?” Graves’s voice his voice saying your name.

You reached for the phone.

“Nah’uh,” Price pulled the phone away. “Tell him,” Price demanded. “That’s an order.”

You looked at the phone.

And then at Price.

And then at the phone.

“Val,” Graves’s voice told you he was uptight, upset, and on the verge of throwing the phone in his hand through the fucking wall.

When it was clear you weren’t going to tell Graves what Price had ordered.

“She’s ours, Graves, like she’s always been,”

“No, you abandoned her!” Graves roared.

You asked to talk to Graves and were denied. “No,” Price said firmly.

You briefly heard Graves say something about Shepherd.

Price hung up.

-

Now don't judge our 141 boys too roughly. Pretty sure they've never recovered a female soldier from a prisoner situation. :( They're doing the best they know.

#phillip graves #cod mw2 #cod mwii #phillip graves x reader #john soap mactavish #mw2 141 #ghost cod #graves x reader #konig mw2 #gaz mw2 #price call of duty

[moonlit-positivity]

Lets talk about emotional regulation on a deeper level

Here is a wildly controversial truth: your emotional responses actually make a lot of sense considering what you've been through in your life.

The way you react to stress- the way you shut down, isolate, deny, avoid, daydream, escape, use addictions, and/or self harm? Or the way you lash out, get revenge, get violent, manipulate & gaslight, and project your emotions onto others? Or the way you fawn, people please, shut down emotionally, prioritize others before yourself, and freeze? These responses are born out of pure survival. Every last one of them. At some point these responses were there so you could survive an environment that was trying to kill you. If you don't think that's accurate, then consider that your body & mind felt threatened enough to give you these responses in the first place. It actually makes a lot of sense that your reactions to high stress is to revert to what saved you as a child.

Here's the thing though, what saved you as a child is no longer serving you the same purpose now as an adult.

If you're entering new relationships and friendships as an adult under the same mindset of, "these people are trying to kill me," then here's what's going to happen: your partner, friend, etc is going to inevitably make a mistake that is going to trigger you into that primal, neolithic state of survival. And you are going to unconsciously react in the same ways that saved you as a child. But the difference is that, the person next to you isn't actually trying to kill you. They're just making an honest to goodness mistake and now you're going at them like they're evil incarnate. Or, you're withdrawing and hurting yourself and probably gonna ghost them now because you're too scared to communicate what it is that's bothering you. Or, you're going to pretend like you didn't see it and shut yourself down emotionally and just hope that it works out, until one day you're gonna snap and all that pent up anger is gonna explode out of you like Mount Vesuvius on firey steroids.

This is why it's so important to learn how to do the following things:

1. Spend some time reaffirming that what you went through as a kid was absolutely not normal, under any circumstances. That shit was batshit insane and it shouldn't have happened to you. You really need to dig deep and reaffirm that no, most of the world isn't actively trying to kill you, attack you, or make you suffer. What you went through was truly an isolated incident of pure fuckery. And yeah, it sucks but people will inevitably hurt you again. Learning about boundaries can help with this. But the sooner you realize that most people around you are genuinely not trying to hurt you, the better your life is going to get. Trauma therapy can be a great place to unload these kinds of things.

2. Spend some time processing how your parents'/ abuser's reactions, overreactions, abuse, neglect, gaslighting & projections, etc made you feel. This is important. And yeah it hurts like fuck, but this is important because once you actually allow yourself to feel & process the pain and suffering they did to you, your body starts to shift out of survival and you start to understand exactly how your own emotional responses feel for you & others around you. It gives you a deeper sense of understanding. And yes, this works for low empathy disorders like NPD too. If you were abused as a kid then it literally doesn't matter what your diagnosis is. The fact that your childhood robbed you of safe & secure connection, attunement, regulation, trust, and autonomy, is actually 100% the entire reason why your symptoms exist. And it sucks that the current mental health field does not acknowledge this. You can't pour from a cup that has been empty since the day you were born. You need to turn that attention inward and start unpacking all that shit.

3. Find ways to foster empathy and compassion for yourself with gentle parenting. Your childhood guidance is missing. You need to go back and essentially re-raise yourself. This is the hard & laborious work of inner child healing, emotional regulation, DBT, attachment theory healing, learning how to communicate, etc. imo this is what therapy should be about tbh.

4. Find safe ways to be vulnerable in peace. Restoring your own sense of control over who you allow into your life and what you allow them to do to you, is one great way to gain the safety you need to do this kind of work with. But the one hard inevitable truth of this world is that you are actually going to have to learn how to be vulnerable. You are going to have to learn how to foster grace and compassion for yourself enough to be seen on a deeper level. Again, I'd suggest trauma therapy.

I'd say this is one helluva controversial take, because most spaces will tell you things like, "your reactions are the problem." And well, yeah okay fine. You got a point. But how do you actually do the work in a healthy and safer manner that gets you actually motivated to self inspect and change your ways? This is how you do that. Recognize what you went through was pure survival, so you can foster a better sense of compassion for yourself. Finding a good trauma therapist can help with this. By doing this your body automatically gains the regulation needed to process the fact that yeah, okay, there actually is a different way to do things. Everything else comes naturally over time. And I do mean time. This isn't something you can do once and then call it good. You're gonna be doing this for the rest of your life.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Hope this helps

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

#recovery #ptsd #trauma #mental health #boundaries #trauma awareness #trauma informed #npd #bpd #emotional regulation #survival #fight flight #fight flight freeze fawn #gentle parenting #communication #relationships #child abuse #recovering from abuse #emotional work #growth #advice #life advice #interpersonal relationships #self compassion #abusive parenting

[alexandraisyes]

A List of Common Traits Sociopaths Have

Note: These are a mix of personality traits (cannot be changed) and behavioral traits (can be changed) For the sake of simplicity, personality traits are the things that are considered the defining factor of a sociopath. Don't freak out if you have one or two of these, everyone has at least one symptom of every disorder ever, and that doesn't mean you are a sociopath. Also, please keep in mind this isn't a pretty topic that's sunshine and rainbows. It's a mental disorder and I do not intend on sugarcoating it.

Personality Traits

Lack of Empathy: Empathy is the ability to sense other people's emotions, coupled with the ability to imagine what someone else might be thinking or feeling. We literally cannot do that. We will not understand on an emotional level why you are upset, why you are crying, why you're laughing at something we said. We can understand on a logical level, not an emotional one. Sociopaths have to learn something called cognitive empathy, which is using critical thinking to understand another person's emotions and thoughts. We're logical, we can't understand your emotional issues without using cold logic, this can make people perceive us as cruel and inhumane when we simply aren't capable of empathizing.

Not Giving a Fuckery: Put bluntly, we don't care. You can't make us care. You can't persuade us to care. If we want to care about something, we will, and you will have no influence on whether that happens or not. And generally, we don't want to care either. We are capable of caring, but we are highly selective about what and who we choose to care about, and it tends to be someone we've known for long-term who has managed to wriggle past our walls. Even then we'll have periods where we just cannot give a fuck about them, even if they matter to us. It's a rocky road y'all, and the guilt afterwards is fucking hell (partly because we care about them and feel bad about not caring for a bit, but mostly because we aren't used to guilt and so it makes us feel feelings that we have no idea how to process.)

Lack of Guilt: Don't feel the need to go too deep into this cause I've already covered it. Look at the two above posts. Why would someone who has no emotional empathy and suffers from not giving a fuckery feel guilt about... hardly anything? We can feel guilt, I know this first hand. (That was a rough moment of my life there.) But it's also really easy for us to rationalize our actions and push it under the rug to never look at again. Which means it's really hard for us to find a reason to change our behavior when we hurt others, especially if they aren't people we care about. When it's someone we care about, it tends to go either "I can live without them (fucking lies)" or "I'm gonna lose them if I don't knock it off". I'll go into greater detail about the fucking lies statement there later on in the behavior section.

Guarded Trust: As stated briefly in point two, we have walls. We have a lot of walls. And a firing squad behind those walls if you managed to get past them. We don't want to trust you, and we might never fully trust you (just depends on the sociopath). Generally when people have their walls up that high there's some kind of vulnerability they don't want exploited, not so much the case with sociopaths. Most of us just are jaded and cold and uncaring, and we aren't hiding anything "for our own protection" (unless it's something like a case of consistent abuse to and past full maturation [adulthood] that will obviously have negative effects that make us doubly untrusting of others). So, if you manage to earn our trust, congratulations on sticking around long enough to do that. Now don't fuck it up.

Self Preservation: Some people claim that sociopaths are narcissistic (to be a narcissist is an entirely different personality disorder, but anyone can act narcissistic). I argue that a sociopath has no more inclination to act narcissistic than your average human being. What is actually perceived is our sense of self preservation, which is like yours... on steroids. We will always come first in our minds because why would you put something before you that you don't care about? If there is one oxygen mask, and there are two of us, and we both need oxygen to live, I would not hesitate in letting you die. Harsh, but honest. We tend to be called narcissistic because we share some traits with narcissists, like high charisma, intelligence, and we're highly tuned into other people's reactions and behaviors (a lack of empathy and caring makes it easier to completely dismantle someone in our minds). It's important to note that if we are going out of our way to do something for someone we don't particularly know or care about, it's generally because we want something from them, or we want to be able to get something from them in the future. We tend to play nice with others because they have something we want, whether this is a material thing, or in more self-aware sociopaths like myself, companionship. Also to note, we don't give a shit what you think about us unless it's going to cause us issues with getting what we want from you, our ego isn't at stake like a narcissist's is. We don't brag about ourselves or try to impress you, and we tend to keep the conversation off of ourselves. You can talk with me for hours on end, and walk away knowing nothing about me and I will know everything about you unless you ask the right questions that get me to talk about myself. If I humor you with the all about Alex, it's because I find amusement in your reaction to what is honestly quite a horrifying story. This is pretty common behavior for a sociopath I found out, haha.

Lack of Intrusive Thoughts: Don't ask us what we're thinking and expect an honest answer, you don't want to know what is actually happening in our head. We don't care, remember? We aren't bothered by thoughts that are about immoral topics and actions, and we just brush them off like we do with any other thought. The only times I have ever considered a thought intrusive is when it involved hurting someone I care deeply about (my mom and generally my cats) or involved breaking my personal moral code. Past that, we will literally think about anything and not bat an eye. We also generally aren't going to be affected by viewing traumatic content unless it ties directly into our own traumatic experiences (or, again, involves someone we care about), and this tends to be the case with most sociopaths. A thought about brutally murdering our family has the same tone as needing to make sure we remember to pick up more coffee next time we go to the store, and it won't bug us like it will a normal person.

No Uno Reverse: Sorry, but if you want to pull a fast one on a sociopath, it's not going to work. You can't manipulate us. You can't threaten us. You can't persuade us. You can bribe us, but that's not manipulation at that point, that's you offering up goods to earn our favor. Honestly... if you were to bribe us for our favor, at that point technically the tables just got turned bozo. You also can't offend us easily. You can piss us off, you can get us riled up, but you're not going to be able to easily find something that's going to get us real upsetti spaghetti for longer than that moment. And if we are upsetti spaghetti, it's not really because we're offended, we're just pissed off at your insolence and audacity and generally mocking you in our heads for being a dumbass. Not saying that you can't manage to offend us, just that it's a hard game and are you even sure the outcome is worth it? You can't make us jealous either, we don't give a shit.

Aromantic: If you are a sociopath you are automatically aromantic. The brain? Yeah that's fucking broken when it comes to chemical love. We can't love you the way you want us to, and we will never be able to. We can love but it's not the same as what the normal person thinks of when they think of loving someone. We will never fall in love with you, and it's not fair to us to expect us to. The best you'll get from us is the effort we will put into the relationship, not because there's some deep emotional connection, but because we care and that's the most you're going to get. If we stick around, put in effort, are willing to compromise and go out of our way to make you happy, that's how we show we "love" you. A relationship with a sociopath will never be romantic on their part, and it will feel a lot like having a best friend instead of a romantic partner. We give out limited affection on a good day, so it's wise to know what you're getting into. (Note: We can learn to be more affectionate if it ends up benefiting us by doing so, but we won't actively seek out things like touch, and you need to both ask if you want it from us, as well as ask before touching us as a general rule of thumb because we aren't touchy people to start with. If we dole out touch like it's candy, it's generally for your benefit and not because we crave it. Always get an okay just in general really before you touch someone else unless they have specified you don't need to ask.)

Blunt: Almost painfully so. We aren't going to beat around the bush unless we are trying to manipulate a situation (this isn't always malicious by the way, a good chunk of the manipulation we do isn't because we're trying to be bad, it's either self-preservation or trying to navigate a situation. It's just that it's also really easy for us to be manipulative for other reasons since we won't feel bad about it that makes this an issue). We don't see a reason to run circles around things, and we are very straight forward, even if we may not act like it at times. We really don't care if you don't like what we have to say.

Bored: We are so so sooooo bored all the damn time. We like interacting with people because it's exciting. We like shiny buttons that give us reactions, and we really really like to press them for better and for worse because it's amusing. It's something to do. A lot of us don't have a healthy way to deal with boredom, which leads to drug and alcohol abuse, petty crimes, sex addiction, etc. Stuff that makes us feel something other than just... empty. The lucky ones (like me) figure out how to manage ourselves, impulses, and the way we interact with others. I fight off my boredom by drawing. For an idea of how bored I fucking am, I draw every day, up to twelve hours a day.

Pride: I'm not going to sugar coat it, we're very very prideful. You want to hurt a sociopath? Attack their pride. That's the only way you're going to do it.

Not Evil: No one is born inherently evil, and neither are sociopaths. A sociopath is formed, not born. Most of us are non-violent, and do the majority of our 'acting out' in highschool and young adulthood. A lot of us end up in juvenile detention at least once because of our ingrained lack of impulse control (I went to juvie three times and committed a handful of misdemeanors). We can be horrible people, but so can someone who is "normal", and considering the population of people who are criminals (5% estimate) compared to people who are sociopaths (less than one, and most of us are again, nonviolent)... yeah that says more about humanity than it does sociopathy. We may, however, appear heartless due to the lack of an instinctual moral compass.

Constant: Let's face the facts, a sociopath isn't going to change. Your personality is constant. Being a sociopath is a huge part of our personality. Your personality doesn't change, and neither will ours. However, we can change and improve by working on our behaviors and going through intensive cognitive behavioral therapy, as well as similar types of intensive therapies that appeal to logic rather than emotion.

Behavioral Traits

The Mask: This is huge, so it's the first. A sociopath's mask is an intricate and meticulously crafted façade designed to camouflage their true thoughts, emotions, and intentions. This carefully constructed persona serves as a social shield, concealing the underlying aspects of our personality that deviate from societal norms. This mask is characterized by a calculated presentation of charm, affability, and a keen ability to adapt to various social scenarios. It reflects a superficial normalcy that enables us to seamlessly integrate into social circles, concealing our inherent lack of empathy and emotional depth. It is not merely a tool for social interaction; it is a strategic move employed to help manipulate and navigate the complexities of human relationships that we literally don't understand. It allows us to mimic conventional emotional responses and create an illusion of connection, while beneath the surface... to put it poetically, an emotional void persists. This deceptive exterior often includes a convincing display of sincerity, engaging conversational skills, and an ability to mirror the emotions of others. The mask is not a fixed entity; rather, it is adaptive, evolving to suit the specific context and individuals involved. It is a versatile tool, enabling them to exploit social dynamics for personal gain without raising suspicion. Behind this facade, however, lies a stark contrast to conventional emotional experiences. The mask is a calculated projection, lacking the genuine emotional depth and connection that characterize authentic human interactions. It serves as a mechanism for self-preservation, allowing us to navigate social landscapes without revealing the true nature of our emotional deficit.

Trust Via The Mask: There are three reasons we'll take off our mask.

We're fucking tired. It's so exhausting pretending to understand shit, and pretending to care, so if our mask slips, don't hate on us for it, we're just exhausted. It takes a lot of mental and emotional energy to keep it up all the time, and the more physically worn out we are, the less energy we have to mask in social settings. It's important to remember that we are humans too, and our mask slipping and revealing glimpses of who we actually are underneath the layers we put on for those around us is okay. No one can be perfect all the time, and if we're so tired we can't keep up the act that says a lot about our mental state (that we aren't going to inform you of).

We trust you. In the context of sociopathic behavior, we may, under certain circumstances, allow our carefully maintained mask to momentarily slip, particularly when a sense of trust has been established in a relationship. This occurrence can indicate a level of confidence in the associated individual, granting them insight into the less guarded aspects of our personality. The decision to reveal our nature in the presence of trust is not a small thing, it reflects a deliberate choice to expose an unfiltered version of us to the individual. During these instances, there may be a temporary departure from the usual emotional detachment characteristic of sociopathy, offering a brief and somewhat paradoxical glimpse into more authentic expressions of thoughts and emotions. For those privy to such moments, a measured approach is advisable, recognizing the significance of the trust extended while maintaining awareness of the inherent boundaries in understanding our emotional terrain.

We want to fuck with you. The deliberate decision to drop the mask, not out of a necessity driven by trust or fatigue but rather as a calculated maneuver for personal amusement or manipulation isn't uncommon (I admitted earlier I too am guilty of this behavior). This can serve us as a tool for gauging and influencing the reactions of others, showing an inclination to navigate social dynamics for our own amusement or gain. In instances where we intentionally discard our mask, the primary motivation lies in observing the impact on those around us. The reactions of others tend to be a source of entertainment or a means of manipulation, providing a sense of control and satisfaction for us in the moment. This calculated move allows us to assess the vulnerabilities and responses of those in our social sphere, offering valuable insights that can be harnessed for future interactions. It is crucial to acknowledge that this intentional unmasking is not a manifestation of genuine emotion or a display of trust but rather a strategic decision grounded in our inherent ability to read and exploit social dynamics. For those on the receiving end of this intentional unmasking, good luck. If you aren't aware of what's going on, you're kind of doomed to get back on even ground with them. It's a bit of a power high to catch somebody so off guard, and then go back to normal, and it's a bad habit I'm personally trying to break. But a lot of us... don't really care about improving so most of us aren't trying to not do that.

Cruelty: Woah, this is a negative trait guys, just an FYI. So keep in mind that while this is a common behavior in sociopathy, not every sociopath is an asshole on purpose, and others can be working to improve. Anyone can be cruel. Cruelty, in this context, is not an incidental byproduct of emotional distress but rather a calculated choice driven by a lack of empathy and a heightened focus on personal objectives. We may engage in deliberate acts of cruelty, exploiting the vulnerabilities and emotions of others without experiencing the moral or emotional constraints that typically deter such behavior. This intentional cruelty can manifest in various forms, including verbal aggression, manipulation, or actions designed to inflict emotional or psychological harm (again, we don't tend to be violent). The absence of empathetic responses allows us to navigate social interactions without the emotional burdens that typically accompany acts of cruelty (like guilt). It is essential to understand that this deliberate cruelty is not generally driven by malice but rather by a self-serving motivation. We tend to view others primarily in terms of utility, with acts of cruelty serving as means to achieve personal goals, assert dominance, or maintain control within relationships. Recognizing the potential for cruelty in individuals with sociopathic traits is crucial for those interacting with them. Establishing healthy boundaries and maintaining a level of emotional detachment can help mitigate the impact of such behavior. Additionally, fostering an understanding of the distinct emotional landscape of sociopaths allows for a more informed approach to navigating relationships with these individuals. It's equally important to recognize when there is the potential for improvement, while also knowing your own limits. The average human being cannot help a sociopath, we need a trained professional’s assistance.

Quiet: The tendency for us to maintain a quiet demeanor is often rooted in a strategic awareness of societal norms and a recognition that openly expressing our thoughts can evoke fear or discomfort in others. This silence, or even distracting ourselves with meaningless chatter, serves as a self-protective measure, allowing us to navigate social interactions without triggering negative reactions based on the unconventional nature of our thoughts and perspectives. The fact that we don't often talk about ourselves does not necessarily translate to being a good listener. We don't tend to actively engage in empathetic listening or exhibit genuine interest in the concerns of others. In social scenarios, we may carefully observe and selectively respond to maintain a calculated distance from emotional entanglements. Understanding this dynamic is essential for managing expectations and fostering realistic communication in relationships with sociopaths. We don't care about your issues, and if we ask about them we're doing so out of morbid curiosity more often than not.

Threatening to Leave: Sociopaths approach relationships with a pragmatic and calculated mindset, often weighing the perceived benefits and losses associated with their connections. Threatening to end a relationship may not elicit the anticipated emotional response unless the sociopath perceives it as a significant loss or a threat to our personal interests. We tend to view relationships through the lens of utility, assessing the value and advantages they derive from the connection. If they perceive that ending the relationship would result in a notable loss or detriment to their goals, we might respond with a level of concern. In such cases, the threat of relationship termination becomes a strategic consideration rather than an emotional trigger. It is important to recognize that the sociopathic response to relationship threats is grounded in a rational evaluation of self-interest rather than emotional attachment. Understanding this dynamic is crucial for those navigating relationships with sociopaths. Effectively communicating concerns or influencing behavior may require appealing to our perceived self-interest rather than relying on emotional appeals.

Walking Away: For a sociopath, the prospect of someone we care about choosing to leave may not lead to the typical emotional experience of heartbreak, as we don't engage in the conventional experience of love. However the emotional impact of such an event, while not precisely analogous to heartbreak, can be remarkably close and centers around our sense of pride and ego. This is not just romantic relationships, but also platonic ones. We often derive a sense of identity and self-worth from our ability to navigate relationships with a certain level of control and influence. The act of someone choosing to leave, particularly if it is unexpected or challenges our sense of self and can result in a significant blow to our pride. The feelings of rejection or failure may prompt a strong emotional response, even if it doesn't align with the traditional concept of heartbreak. While we may not experience heartbreak in the conventional sense, the impact on our pride and ego can be a powerful and challenging emotional experience for them, and can leave us with feelings of helplessness (which makes us resentful) and self hatred if our disorder is blamed as the causation of the relationship failing.

Funny man: We do have a sense of humor, albeit it's one that often leans toward the darker and more unconventional side. This distinctive humor arises from our unfiltered thoughts and the keen ability to perceive and appreciate the absurdities or ironies of life that tend to elude others. We often find amusement in topics that others might perceive as morbid or taboo. Our unfiltered thoughts let us see the humor in situations that might be uncomfortable or unsettling for many. The unbridled nature of our thoughts allows us to view the world through a lens unencumbered by societal norms or emotional sensitivities. We lack the typical social filters that might restrain others from finding humor in certain topics. However, while we may appreciate dark humor, we do tend to recognize the need to share it selectively, and we're capable of shifting what we put out there enough to be acceptable and humorous to different groups of people.

Friendship Potential: While we are often characterized by a lack of emotional empathy and a pragmatic approach to relationships, it's good to recognize that our honestly unique qualities can contribute to the potential for us to be great friends in certain contexts.

Logical Perspectives: Sociopaths, with our cold, logical perspectives, can offer insights and advice that are unclouded by emotional biases. This rational approach can be valuable, especially in situations where objective analysis is required.

Reliability and Consistency: Sociopaths may exhibit a high level of consistency and reliability in our friendships. Our pragmatic nature often translates into clear communication and straightforward expectations, reducing the likelihood of unpredictable behaviors.

Solution-Oriented Approach: The problem-solving skills we hold can be an asset in a friendship. Our focus on achieving goals and navigating challenges efficiently can contribute to finding effective solutions in various situations.

Honesty as a Form of Care: Sociopaths, in our own way, may express care through brutal honesty. While this honesty may be unsettling, it can be interpreted as a sincere effort to provide transparent insights, devoid of the social niceties that often accompany communication.

Loyalty to a Select Few: Though generally characterized by a lack of empathy, we may form genuine bonds with a small circle of individuals. This selective loyalty can result in deep and lasting friendships, where we are able to demonstrate commitment and support.

#mental health #accurately talk about mental health #alex talks #sociopathic disorder #antisocial personality disorder #mental health talk #information #informative post

[nayatarot777]

wednesday 1st feb 2023 ~ Collective Reading

hi collective! hope you’re having a good day.

i’m seeing that today would be a good day to give some love to the darker aspects of ourselves - or rather whatever we consider that to be. it could be the parts of ourselves that we feel have been demonised or shamed - and i feel like it’s primarily about self love. that might sound like a strange message but many of us have been shamed for showing ourselves love and care, especially through making ourselves look good in order to feel good. miserable people who are ugly on the inside (and who probably feel ugly physically too) have thrown jealous ass, hating ass energy towards us over the course of our lives for doing what they can’t bring themselves to do. however that’s their problem. for them to even be threatened by us, they must’ve seen beauty in us in the first place right? something that they don’t feel like they could ever have. which is why these bitches didn’t want us to see that within ourselves. because they knew that if we did recognise it, we’d be untouchable. now’s the time to identify it again though. look in the mirror for a good minute or two (or three or four - however long you want to 😂) and try to see your physical state of being from your higher self’s perspective. remember that beautiful, cute ass infant child that you were (and still are in many aspects?). you’re them - but just grown now. would you call them ugly or nit pick at their appearance? hopefully not. it’s a disservice to do that to yourself because you ARE them. they haven’t gone anywhere and neither has your internal and physical beauty. people have just clouded your view from it with their bs and fuckery. if you could go back in time, you’d never tell your 5 year old self that they’re going to grow up to be ugly would you? no. you’d let them know that they’re going to grow into the prettiest/most beautiful/handsome person to walk this fucking Earth. and guess what? you’re the physical embodiment of that now. practice some self love - physically and in terms of emotional + mental care. this doesn’t even have to be anything drastic. try to get out of bed and shower if that’s something that you still need to do. or eat. or watch a movie. make some tea. read a book. bop to your favourite music in your room alone - and do all of this mindfully. there’s an extra message to also love and honour your anger. your anger is your protector and you may be feeling guilty for projecting it onto someone who deserved it. don’t be. again, if your inner child was provoked to anger and ended up reacting to that, would you expect them to beat themselves up about it? no. maybe their toxic ass parents would. or toxic ass teachers, bullies, and “friends” would. the provokers and perpetrators of mistreatment - but who gives a fuck about what they think when they’re the types of people who choose to deal with their personal issues in the form of abuse, mistreatment, and suppression of others? they’re not who we should be listening to, and i feel like many of us still have their ugly ass voices echoing in our minds whenever we exercise our human right to feel and express emotions. or to feel good about ourselves. you don’t deserve punishment. they’re the ones who made you feel less-than and ugly because they were threatened by you. nobody’s threatened by people who they don’t believe holds more power than them, right? they tried to dilute our power but it’s time to find it again. even if it makes you feel “egotistical” or “selfish”. there are abusive motherfuckers walking this earth with the biggest, narcissistic egos you’ve ever seen. if they can have a “healthy” or big ego, so can you - someone with a genuine heart and good intentions (unless crossed 🙃) who just wants better for themselves and others.

#pick a card #psychic readings #pick a photo #pac #tarot reading #divination #tarot #pick a picture #spirituality #pac reading #collective reading #intuitive #daily tarot #tarot cards #tarotcommunity #free tarot #naya tarot collective #tarotdaily

[kaesaaurelia]

Whumptober 2023 masterlist

I wrote 5 Good Omens fics this October, although one of them went off the rails and is still a work in progress. All have at least background Aziraphale/Crowley but two are more Muriel-centered and feature friendly(ish) Muriel and Crowley interactions.

Specific content notes are on specific stories. These stories range from Teen to Explicit in AO3 rating.

@whumptober @whumptober-archive (and thank you for running the event!)

The Adventure of the Sad Wet Snake [AO3] complete, 13,069 words Crowley sickfic & Muriel casefic content notes: severe respiratory distress, blood, discussion of stalking and emotional abuse, attempted murder, toxic work environments 01. tiny lung knives 02. human things and demon things 10. maybe it will never stop 13. sad wet snake 14. petrichor, ozone, and copper 19. sphinx of black quartz 20. an appointment with the supreme archangel

and my father's hands were shaking with the beauty of the word [AO3] complete, 4,962 words Muriel backstory whump content notes: memory fuckery, attempted child murder 03. better to ask for permission than to expect forgiveness 12. all the best angels are bad angels 28. trembling with the beauty of the word

the one with the brain cell [AO3] complete, 8,297 words mindwiped angel Crowley & Aziraphale angst content notes: some sexual content, slavery/mind control, memory fuckery, discussion around dubiously consensual sexual acts, suicidal ideation 04. roads to hell 07. questions 17. affection 21. honesty 24. whatever you like 31. your turn with the brain cell

better to eat cakes and read in a Soho bookshop than to reign in Hell [AO3] WIP, 24,158 words BAMF!Aziraphale whump -> Aziraphale/Crowley hurt/comfort content notes: explicit sexual content, past Crowley/Lucifer, bug-related body horror, feeding kink, involuntary transformation, sex pollen, xeno, extreme size difference 05. extremely stabbed 08. pop quiz! 15. archival conditions 16. better to reign in a soho bookshop 23. god forbid demons do anything 26. cut off from god 27. a terrible way to run a universe! 29. off-model

Self-Control [AO3] complete, 6,957 words Aziraphale/Crowley, torture & mutual noncon content notes: sexually explicit content, violence, torture, rape 06. by hurting him more 09. popcorn 11. a significantly better aziraphale! 12. appetites 22. indulgence and restraint 25. a choice between wrath and love 30. cut and run

#whumptober2023 #completionist #nsfwhump #nsft #good omens #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #muriel good omens #ineffable husbands #text #fiction #kaesa op

[milos-journal]

Hello, fellow Mary thinker. Saw your piece of art focusing on Milo's phone call in Milo's tape and it made me realize something. If the planned plot of TribeTwelve was still in mind back then, then that means Mary would've killed Milo before her death. Which means she willingly made the choice to go see him despite everything she'd just done. My question is; why would she do that if at least ONE bit of her wanted to see him. Yes, she could've simply wanted answers BUT notice how she chooses instead to defend herself instead of stubbornly insisting answers like she did with Noah in Phone Call with Mary Asher. It's only at the end when she realizes she's probably going to die that she tries to stall and convince Milo they need to work together. It looks like Mary saw the gun when Milo brought up what he knew and while she did shift around, obviously debating on whether to run or not, she didn't. We'll never know the exact emotions behind those No's, but I just thought it might be a cool idea

TW: TRIBETWELVE

ok, i know this was sent to me a couple days ago, but i want to dig into this because YES YES YES FELLOW MARY ASHER THINKER OKAYYY HIIIII. also for those reading, extra tws for death, abuse, and other tribetwelve/milo's journal typical triggers.

what i find interesting about milo's tapes is that i don't believe that mary actually kills milo before? or, at least, she gets close and pussies out, unless this was changed later in the document and i didn't notice.

i also don't even wanna get INTO what this all implies about robert asher, but that's severely off topic. mary gets close to killing milo, but no dice. although, that asterisk has no visible note attached anywhere i could fine, and could mean this was completely subject to change. however, gonna be real, doesn't change much about how i feel about it. just because she didn't finish the job doesn't mean she didn't nearly kill her fucking son. also i do believe posession still somehow had to be involved or some other whimsical form of fuckery, because how else would milo be able to stay alive with his throat gouged the way it was?

but i have to address the actual topic here rather than beating around the bush: why did mary approach her thought-to-be-dead son rather than running? her whole character is running, it'd make sense for her to just hang up while she can, pack her bags, and get as far from her old place of residence as she could.

what i find my personal answer to be is that she has two mildly contrasting character traits. while she only knows how to burn bridges and run, she also is burning with knowledge on her situation. the fact milo may have information on mr. scars (someone who, according to her notes, had been horrifying and stalking her since childhood). her curiosity, her drive to want to know more, to eradicate as much of the collective as she can, overtook her want to run.

even more interestingly, i think its fascinating the one time she DOESN'T run is the one thing that kills her, the one time she doesn't burn a bridge.

idk, lmk if u have more to say or if this is incomprehensible. fellow mary thinker i am GETTING U I AM GETTING U (/j)

#tw tribetwelve #tribetwelve #mary asher #milomamu

[obsessivelollipoplalala]

(cw attempted suicide) I cosign your thoughts on David Minns and add that, given all the fuckery going on, it is Wild to me that Minns paints Freddie as being an unreasonable, unforgivable asshole for thinking that his suicide attempt was a manipulation tactic to get Freddie to come running back. Obviously, that's not a generous or particularly kind thing to believe about someone, but there's clearly some foundation in their relationship or pre-existing pattern of behavior that made that a valid enough possibility in Freddie's mind that he did not react as if it could potentially be genuine. That doesn't really mesh with other people's testimony about Freddie.

(The constant characterization from both Minns and Evans that Freddie was just being "greedy" in his sex life has also always felt very gross to me. Like, yes, there was excess for the sake of excess, but there was also a terror of abandonment and intense emotional neediness that are totally dismissed by the words "greedy" and "selfish". From David Minns, there's just a lot of "yes, I was garbage but here's how it's all Freddie's fault Actually and he clearly knew it was really his fault because he tried to Fix It later"... like... maybe examine that a little more, bro.)

(Sorry, I just have a lot of Thoughts and Feelings.)

It's not actually surprising for Minns to have painted Freddie as an asshole, because that's what abusers do to their victims (especially the ones who leave them!). So, yes, obviously most of the time people attempting suicide are not doing it for attention and trying to manipulate people. With Minns, though, Freddie absolutely had reason to believe he was being manipulated! He'd already been mistreated and manipulated! And the thing is, this can actually be an abuse tactic, as a way to guilt their victims, blame them for their ills, and to to prevent them from leaving. Even in my own life, there was a school friend in high school who was on the receiving end of this, with this guy she was friends with acting like he was suicidal every time she didn't want to talk to him. All of this is to say that, given the specific context here, I really don't blame Freddie, and you're absolutely right that this doesn't line up with other people's accounts of Freddie, who was a very kind and caring friend.

Freddie was wrong for infidelity throughout his life, yeah, but really, Minns had no leg to stand on with how he treated Freddie, and I'm not a fan of Evans often taking Minns' side with things, given what we know. But yeah, it was so nasty for Minns to have been incredibly bitter about Freddie even after admitting he abused him, and Freddie still went out of his way to reconnect and be nice to him. Minns did not deserve Freddie's kindness, especially because he still refused to take full responsibility for his actions.

#freddie mercury #abuse tw #if anyone defends abuse on my posts I will first go ape shit on you then block you #replies

[givehimthemedicine]

To that anon of yours who doesn't like the timelines theory -- consider how batshit Vecna would have sounded as a theory prior to S4. I mean, what clues did we have to go off circa 2019?

The existence of Eight and Eleven suggests the existence of One.

Kali was "wild-caught", implying that One could also have been "wild-caught", and may even be the template from which subjects like Eleven were created.

If Eleven's powers are based off One's, and she's able to open gates to the Upside Down, we can surmise that One also has the ability to manipulate the UD in some way.

We don't know what happened to the other lab kids -- S1 creates the impression that Eleven was the only subject there. She and Kali managed to escape; maybe the others did too?

Will and Billy refer to the Mind Flayer in oddly human terms -- they use he/him pronouns and describe him as having emotions and goals. Not what you'd expect from an eldritch shadow monster from an alternate dimension.

Billy explained that the MF had been building something "for" El -- why target her like that? It seems suspiciously personal. Do they have a shared history?

Putting it all together: One escaped the lab and entered the UD. Driven mad by years of imprisonment and abuse, he created the MF as a tool with which to destroy the world and targeted El because he knew what she was capable of from their time together as test subjects.

I don't know about you, but if I'd read this theory in 2019 I'd be intrigued but extremely skeptical. It makes several bizarre jumps in logic:

El can open gates, therefore One can puppeteer the Mind Flayer? What?

Who says eldritch monsters from an alternate dimension can't have pronouns/emotions/goals, especially when they're being described by frightened children who have no other frame of reference?

The MF knew about El's powers because Billy sensed her using them, so why are we assuming there must also be a shared history?

None of this answers the important question of why was Will targeted?

...And yet, post-S4, here we are. The reachy leaps in logic were correct and the important question remains unanswered.

It's canon that some sort of time fuckery is going on -- we have a scene of Nancy explicitly discovering that the UD is frozen in time, and Vecna has a very on-the-nose clock motif, including a scene where we see him manipulating the clock with his powers -- but we don't have much else to go off beyond that. I don't see how it's unreasonable to play around with whatever suspicious details we spot and see what theories come out of it. Who cares if most of them end up being wrong? You miss 100% of the shots you don't take.

all great points! we have sooo many weird puzzle pieces to work with here. the time theme is guaranteed (I mean, it's already happened), but it could go in so many different directions with how they actually execute it. I'm never gonna get it totally right, I'm just having fun!

#givehimthemedicineasks

[astrumocs]

cult for null?

Prompt 41 / Cult for Null: (Cw Again for: Mind fuckery & Manipulation)

----- Google Docs Link -----

“They called it cult, so I killed,” Satrne affirms to you, not seeming to be all too upset or disappointed in the choice it had made. Well not yet, anyway.

Even you have to admit though, that the unwavering loyalty that it shows in trying to defend your good name is pleasing. You ended up quite lucky with a guard as dedicated as Satrne is to you, it made controlling it nearly effortless.

“It was very kind of you to defend my name, Satrne, but I think you know that killing so rashly may only affirm such rumors to outsiders looking in, don’t you?” Your tone isn’t judgemental or harsh, but you can tell they now feel guilty for their incorrect action. They don’t want to make you look bad.

Tattered teal fins flatten back against their head and they avert their gaze to the floor, wisely choosing not to say anything. Satrne does not try to defend himself, already convinced that he was utterly in the wrong here.

“I know you are passionate, it is something I admire about you--”

Its fins come forward a bit and a tinge of color hits its face at the praise.

“However,” Pinned back they go once more, “You know you should only kill at my behest when it is in everyone's best interest or if I am in danger.”

There’s a glint of purple in their eyes as they reply, “I know.”

You lay an almost affectionate touch to their cheek as you gaze down at them, so kindly, so pleasantly. You know they are weak to their pale affections for you and you have no qualms with abusing it, either.

“You want to grovel and beg for my forgiveness, don’t you?”

The purple glint still strong in their eyes they reply promptly, “For a chance.”

You smirk, you can’t help it really, but in moments like this a glimmer of your more genuine emotion shines through. If you have any that belong to a real you, that is.

You let your hand fall from his face, feeling the leather of your gloves catch faintly on his tough skin. There’s no reaction on his part, of course, because he is completely entranced by you at this point.

“You may leave Satrne, remember my generosity in forgiving you and the guilt that you feel. You may behave as normal when you shut the door behind you on your way out.”

Like a stiff soldier having received their orders, he turns, hefty reptilian tail dragging limply behind him, and exits the room. As instructed, once the door shuts you feel your mental leash on him relax. Through the wood, you hear a miserable-sounding curse in a language you don’t know. Context alone tells you that he was likely cursing himself for disappointing you.

Before long you hear a set of steps grow quieter when he walks away from you until there is only silence left in the wake of your chat.

Alone in your office, you muse thoughtfully to yourself, face as blank as stone, with a dull tone of voice to match, “If what I seek constitutes a cult, then I may as well be the empress.”

Caught up in your egotistical thoughts, you don’t notice the jade-blooded troll lurking in your rafters.

#my art #null ic #satrne ic #indig0g0 #1 word meme #okay to rb like the others <3 #my writing

[atinyladybug-daydreams]

Ya got any good shows/movie reqs? Im bored as hell

Arcane. Yes. Arcane. That league of legends series. It's good animation. Big warning for flashing lights. And a lot of emotions. Available on Netflix I think.

Coraline. If you've watched it before, watch it again. I don't care. It's good

The Menu. My babygirl movie. Absolutely love. Slight suicide warning.

Puss in Boots 2: The Final Wish. El Lobo is my furry awakening.

Brand New Animal (BNA). It's on Netflix. Good series.

Bojack Horseman. One of my favourite adult cartoon. Deals with a lot of dark topics though so approach with caution. Absolutely love. I finished the entire series and I still love it. Big big warning for drugs, sex, alcoholism, addiction, suicide, depression, abuse, abuse, flashing lights and pedophilia-aligned stuff. Available on Netflix.

Any Phantom Of The Opera movies. Fuck, watch all of them. (@javascriptx64 has a google docs of all the movies and the links to each one)

I personally like watching Hell's Kitchen, Masterchef and Kitchen Nightmares. Listen, it's mindless entertainment. And for Masterchef, I personally prefer the Canadian version. America's too dramatic.

If you wanna try something that's more Internet-based, I heavily suggest Marble Hornets. We love an actual good Slenderman series. A classic, actually.

Nixonverse Analogue horror for some real mind fuckery. Big TW on Unreality on that one. I don't know what's going on in that one. @bungerisme just grabbed me by the neck and dragged me to hell with it.

If you wanna be real fucked up and really cure your boredom, dive into Analogue horror. I heard about Mandela Catalogue but I can't look at it because distorted faces gives me severe anxiety :')

Not really a movie but Faith is a great game and you should watch a playthrough of it. It's long but GOD the game is made with so much love and the fucking storyline is wild. Watch ManlyBadassHero's playthrough cause he does actually discover and goes through every single secret.

Recommendations from @bl00dbite that I haven't watch yet:

Agretsuko

Train to Busan

Derry Girls

Bluey

Saw 3 (Big Gore Warning ofc)

#Alt answers #canorrus #tagging friends because they also have good reccs you should ask #movie reccomendations

[xxavengingangelxx]

Long Way from Home 5/?

"There's a story behind every person. There's a reason why they're the way they are. They aren't just like that because they want to be. Something in the past created them, and sometimes it's impossible to fix."-Hanny Quinn

Ya'll know the drill. I assume this isn't ya'll's first rodeo when it comes to reading this but alas, because it's a dark fic, I will post triggers again. MDNI, 18+ TRIGGERS: Implied/attempted suicide, self-harm, torture, brainwashing, physical abuse, mind fuckery, Stockholm syndrome-related mental gymnastics, trauma bonding, mentions of foster care, threatened/implied/referenced rape, EXTREMELY dubious consent. If I miss, any let me know, please! DARK FIC

-

You’re shaken awake and you almost immediately start swinging. It was dark.

“Whoa,” an unfamiliar voice.

“Who are you?!” you yelled.

You found yourself pinned to the bed. Whoever it was, he was too strong to fight off.

“Hey,” the large male figure reached over, turning on a bedside lamp while easily keeping you pinned.

You saw his vest, how he was dressed.

And you breathed a sigh of relief.

A Shadow.

“Kole,” he introduced himself. He released you but kept his hands at the ready in case you lashed out again.

You stopped struggling. “Valdez,” you said before you used the blanket to cover up.

“Look,” Kole stated, his green eyes looking eerie in the low light of the lamp. “I’m not even supposed to touch you,” he paused before continuing, “But Graves’s orders said wake you up if it looked like you were having a nightmare.”

“Where’s Graves?”

He shrugged. “I was just told to stay here,”

“Why?”

He scoffed. “Why? Protection. You’re family.”

And that gave you pause.

“I’m…what?”

“You’re family,” he repeated simply. He then stood up. “I’m technically not supposed to be in here with you like this,” he signaled at your state of undress.

And with that he walked out, leaving you with only yourself for company.

-

Shadows would come up to you, asking you to translate radio communications and other bits of information. You’d comply but your mind wandered. Where was Graves? Was he safe?

-

You woke up alone and it was dark. Another night, another nightmare. You kept repeating that dream where 141 captured you and treated you like an enemy combatant. It had been almost two months of not knowing where you are. There were no windows of course and the lights to the room were off.

You glanced at your watch. 2100. It was 9 at night. Somewhere.

Did 141 really try to come get you a week ago? And had they really shot you? They’d been aiming for the Shadow beside you…right? Or had it really not been 141 after all? Was Graves playing mind games again? But even if it had been them how did they find you? And where did reality end and that weird dream begin?

The thought of them finding you again had you questioning how you would react. You’d been with Graves for almost 2 months now. Ghost would likely take the lead seeing as Soap, Price, and Gaz might be too ‘emotional’ for lack of a better term. König would be hiding in the shadows. König you had to watch out for because he specialized in hostage rescue.

Ghost would be emotional but he wouldn’t show it. But he’d make sure you were under control before anything else. Ghost would ensure you were disarmed and bound. He wouldn’t hesitate to duct tape your mouth if you started screaming or running your mouth.

The interrogation wouldn’t be pretty.

You couldn’t handle being interrogated again. You were sure you’d die. Besides, you were used to Graves and you weren’t sure how you’d handle it if you were separated from him. I mean, hell, you couldn’t even sleep right without him anymore.

“What’cha thinkin’ about, darlin’?”

You would never admit it but hearing his voice was a relief. You walked towards him because…because you didn’t know why.

“Hey,” He seemed…happy?

“What’s up?”

“We don’t have to worry about 141 anymore.”

Your heart skipped a beat. But did a skip a beat in fear or guilt or regret? Or was it relief?

“What do you mean?”

“Pretty sure they think we’re both dead.” Graves smirked.

“What? How?”

“They blew up a tank when they thought I was inside.”

“Remote controlled?” you asked.

“Yes ma’am,”

“So why’d they think I’m dead?”

“They found your dog tags in the wreckage,” Graves added. “They looked destroyed.”

So this is what it had come to? Making 141 think they’d killed you? Why was Graves so obsessed with you?

You could only imagine how 141 would have reacted upon coming across your scorched dog tags.

With your name on them.

They hadn’t seen you in two months almost. Right when they thought they’d saved you, when they thought they’d killed Graves and thought you were only a few steps away.

And now they believed they’d killed you. The ultimate curse of friendly fire.

Soap would be a mess. Especially if he’d been the one who threw the grenade or explosive that destroyed the tank. He’d yell, he’d scream, all with tears in his eyes. Soap might act tough but deep down he was a softie who saw his team members as family. You suddenly remembered all his flirty, funny jokes. He always could make you laugh. He’d try to repeat your Spanish and make you laugh. You remember you’d gotten drunk one time and kissed him but he’d said, “No, lass, not with you like this. You’re drunk.”

Ghost likely wouldn’t react outwardly, wanting to be a stronghold for his team. But alone? Ghost would be broken. He’d been tortured and held captive. He knew how awful it was. At first, he had questioned your ability to be on the team. He’d called you fragile. “Just so smol, lil sis,” he’d said with his accent. He sure didn’t question your size when you’d been able to squeeze into tight spaces and climb into air ducts to get intel. He’d gotten so used to seeing you banged up and got tired of seeing you having to be stitched up from climbing that he’d made sure to get you shin and arm guards. Ghost…Ghost would kill Graves slow if he ever caught him.

Price would be livid. Livid wouldn’t even begin to cover it. Price would look for anyone to blame and he’d be sure to make them suffer. Price saw 141 like they were his children. And you were the only little girl, the little sister in the group. And he had indeed been like a father figure to you. You’d never had a father figure in your life, at least not a stable one. He picked up on Spanish the fastest, much to your surprise.

Gaz was another softie although he did not display his emotions as outwardly as Soap. No, Gaz would try to support his team but once he was alone, he’d likely tear up. He’d blame himself and ask himself what he could’ve done better. Gaz would never let himself live it down. He was another one that struggled with Spanish but he loved hearing you speak it.

Now you didn’t know König much. He was definitely the quiet type and he did not display much emotion. You remembered once sitting next to him with both of you hanging your legs off the chopper and then you realized you were both swinging your legs like schoolkids. He’d stick close to you and he only made you feel even smaller. He would hardly ever let you get more than an arm’s length away from him. “Einfach so winzig,” he’d said, commenting on how ‘tiny’ you were. You’d even learned some German off of him. But he would secretly find out who hurt you and send his men to locate them. He’d tell his men to do nothing but capture, alive, those that had hurt you. As soon as he got there, König would let the fun begin so to speak. He’d rip those men limb from limb and delight in their screams. He’d take pictures of their ripped apart bodies to show 141.

-

That night Graves took things slow. It was that slow burn kind of sex that was almost like…dare you call it that…making love. He’d undressed so, so very delicately. It was almost like he knew what you needed. Something slow, something wholesome.

He’d climbed over you in bed, both of you completely undressed. He’d trailed hot, heavy kisses on your chest and breasts, making you moan softly. He kissed you gently, taking things so slooowly, like he wanted this night to last forever. Then he’d shifted his position, placing his face between your legs, ripping one orgasm after another from you.

And then he’d sunk himself into you, moaning your name. You were overstimulated but fuck it felt so good just to be loved. This was love, right? And after making you cum one more time, he gave into his own carnal needs, cumming inside of you.

You’d felt him paint your insides white. You were glad you had an IUD because shit otherwise who’d know what would happen. Bringing a child, an infant, into this situation would be a fucking mess. Not to mention how would this kid grow up? Being dragged all over the world by his mercenary father and captive mother.

You were brought back to the present when Graves slid out of you before lying next to you, placing his head on your chest.

And that was the last thing you remembered before you fell asleep and dreamt.

-

You found yourself back to the night Graves betrayed 141. More and more of it came back to you as you dreamt further. You watched as Graves insulted Alejandro, essentially accusing him of working with the cartel. “Graves holy shit, man,” you’d remarked, shocked.

And before you knew it, Alejandro lunged at Graves and was subdued by a Shadow before said Shadow placed him in zipties. Gunshots were fired and stupid you, you’d slid off your rifle in the Jeep and left it there, because why would you need it? So you only had your sidearm. Two shots fired, you hit a Shadow, but the caliber had not been enough to penetrate his vest. He saw you aim at his commander…

But even though you had a shot, you couldn’t take it. You guessed this is why the military generally advised against sleeping with each other. Should you need to make a serious decision, your mind would be clouded. And your slut self had been fucking a PMC leader who was now betraying all of you.

Then a Shadow stepped in front of Graves, blocking your view of their leader and raising a rifle. An then you had to go and trip over your own boots and then you tripped worse over the short concrete barrier meant to separate the base from a steep hill full of vegetation and woods.

You weren’t expecting the sudden change in flooring and you rolled your ankle, crying out as you tumbled down the side of the grassy, overgrown hill. You brought in your arms and legs to lessen the chance of breaking them on anything on the way down. At the same time you were trying your best to block your face and head from hitting anything. You screamed because it hurt and it was blow after blow. And you had no idea how long the drop was. It felt like miles.

A tree finally stopped you but you couldn’t get up. You gave in to the darkness to a second or two before gunshots brought you back. Your world was spinning and you thought you were going to throw up. So you crawled deeper into the woods, breathing heavily and trying to not lose what was in your stomach. Thankfully your arm and shin guards had stopped you from getting any serious cuts or scratches. Your hair, which had been in a neat French braid up until then was loose around your neck, tangled, and dirty, and muddy.

You waited and were finally able to stand up. Nothing was broken. You were okay. You could feel mud caked onto your face, though. So then you made it to the streets of Las Almas. You thought you’d heard Soap trying to reach Ghost and moved in that general direction. You turned a corner and then you’d been hit across the back of your head and felt yourself crashing to the ground. You never even had time to reach your sidearm.

-

You woke up with a start but not as harsh a startle as with your other nightmares. It seemed as if you woke up ready to swing, ready to attack, ready to kill someone. You didn’t use to be like that.

141 thought you and Graves were dead. So they weren’t going to be looking for you anymore.

Right?

You wondered what your funeral was going to be like.

-

“You know you sleep all curled up on your side?”

You didn’t use to. You used to sleep on your side plain and simple. You wondered why you’d changed sleeping positions to curl up. It was almost like you were curling up in your new environment to sleep as safely as you could by protecting as many vital organs as your could.

-

It occurred to you a day or two later that you hadn’t smiled much less laughed since Graves took you. You used to be such a bubbly person. But then again you weren’t exactly unhappy. You just realized that you were never going to be the same again even if you made it back into the US as a free woman. ‘Free’ yeah right. If 141 didn’t kill you, you’d just end up in a military prison the rest of your life, right?

You knew you were never going to be okay ever again. And with all that you realized were just numb. You were starting to make peace with the fact that you were never going to lead a normal life again. You’d either be killed, be captured by the US or the UK and put in prison, or follow Graves around the world for the rest of your life.

Little did you know you’d learn something that day that would very much make you feel something.

It happened by accident, really. A radio had been left around you. And being bored as fuck, you decided to listen in on a briefing. So there you sat, passively listening until you heard something that caught your attention.

Valdez

Broke.

With hearing Graves say those two words you were suddenly alert.

Then you heard Graves explain that information you provided when “she was drugged out of her mind and had been beat senseless” led to them escaping 141 that one night Graves had told you they were “under attack.” He’d known they were coming. About how 141 members had been shot at but that they were unsure if any of them had been hit. No bodies had been found, Graves added, so if anyone did get hit they were carried off.

You tuned out the rest of the briefing because you had just gotten verification that you had indeed broken and that had indeed betrayed your team (ex-team?).

You

Were

A

Traitor.

-

As always, throw any comments you'd like my way. It's getting intense!

#phillip graves #cod mw2 #cod mwii #phillip graves x reader #john soap mactavish #ghost cod #graves x reader #mw2 141 #konig mw2 #longwayfromhome

[intheshadowofsignificance]

Spoilers for The Handmaid’s Tale season 5, also this is a novel, sorry my guys.

So The Handmaid’s Tale pulled me in again (dammit…) and I just have to say I am a sucker. Spoilers ahead.

There’s really not enough material for season 5, plot wise, I mean the first two episodes showed us that. But as someone who writes a stupid amount of character studies and introspective stuff, I love them. Give me all the character struggles.

I like that we’re finally seeing June grapple with the consequences of her actions (and in a meaningful way.) I appreciate that the more time she spends in civilized society, the harder it is for her /not/ to notice the ways Gilead has broken her.

She’s enraged, traumatized, lashing out at the wrong people, and still human. She feels herself losing grip on which version of June exists in the moment, which version has control, and who can share space in her head. Can she be a good, loving mother to Nicole, a battered woman trying to find closure in grisly revenge, and a champion for Hannah, who needs an entirely different sort of warrior in Gilead than Nicole does in Canada?

It’s hard to say.

She’s also navigating trying to be a friend in season 5 and more so than in her initial arrival to Canada, it says a lot. She’s screwing it up, but able to recognize that more than when she first got there. She knows she hurt Rita by forcing her to relive trauma at the Waterford’s, she understands that using people with shared experiences to vent her anger, instrument her revenge, pacify her feelings, has consequences. Emily is back in Gilead. A woman who helped her kill Fred had a psychotic break and shot live ammo into the air around a restaurant. People all around her are slipping. They can’t handle June’s wealth of Gilead fuckery, and neither can she.

“Rita, I’m sorry.”

“Good.”

June should be sorry. Good that she still remembers how to feel sorry. Good that, if she meant it, she is still experiencing empathy under all the grief, anger, and turmoil.

I find myself mentally giving Moira a lot of shit for how little slack she cuts June, but I have to step back and say, that’s what a friend does. Maybe not in the way Moira goes about it, but Moira is traumatized too. She can’t let June get away with abusing people because she’s been abused. The people in June’s life /have/ to encourage and prompt her not to live in the life she left behind. Not at the expense of everyone around her.

Luke showing her support for what she did to Fred and discouraging her from obsessing over Serena is believable. As crazy as it is to say, it’s constructive too. June can’t just shed her PTSD like a second skin but she channeled the rage into getting rid of Fred. Neutralizing a threat and finding a shred of closure in a horrific situation. She can’t now channel that trauma and invest energy into feeding her trauma by obsessing over Serena. It’ll break her. Looking at a woman who got pregnant after raping June for months and stealing her child, a woman who continues to use her child against her, and wondering what it all was for, would break anyone. That baby is a win for Serena, and June is going to lose her humanity if she keeps obsessing over that win.

If Serena hadn’t stepped back into the line of fire by televising that BS move with Hannah, things might’ve been more apt to settle. Now? It’s on. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t living for it, and also lying if I said I would’ve minded them skipping Hannah as collateral damage again. I see why they did it. They needed the emotional reaction to throw June back into full throttle cutthroat mode now that she has more clarity and was (kind of, trying) to do better. It’s also very much in Serena’s wheelhouse to lash out at June this way, using Hannah. It’s really the only power grab she has left, and Serena is nothing if not drunk on (even fabricated, fantasy) power.

I loved the scene where Serena was being moved and they disregarded all her condescending bullshit. “I’m sure we can have a rational discussion.” Says the woman who helped found a pseudo-religious cult that tortures all but the elite men. My favorite touch was the officer saying “move the prisoner.” Serena is still a prisoner, cushier cell, just like the handmaids at their postings, but still a prisoner.

“Are you going to protect me like this?“ she asks, looking around the room.

“It’s your only protection.” Janine says later.

All the parallels are stacking up and I adore them more than words can express. It’s brutal and makes even the audience slip and think “good, she deserves it.” But does she?

On a similar tangent, thank god for Tuello’s true feelings coming out, however briefly they could be allowed to. “May he rot in hell.” Exactly Mark, couldn’t have said it better. He has to keep playing both sides between Serena and June to get info and intel, but that was satisfying.

Anyway, as far as Serena being drunk on power… One of the things I personally love the most about season 5 is how little of it she has. It’s why “move the prisoner” was a favorite moment. It’s why “how did you convince them to say yes?” “By not being a woman.” Was also so important. It strips Serena of the power she relished and thrived on in Gilead. It reminds her that in Canada she is a widower, a war criminal, and a prisoner. In Gilead, she is a traitor’s wife and a woman, essentially worthless. Even after taking a beating and losing a finger there, how easy it is for Serena to forget she’s a second-class citizen. She has no power. No status. No pull.

Moira put it best in season 3. “Who /are/ you, really?”

This post is obscenely too long but just a few more things.

I watched this and shared feelings with a work acquaintance about it, and what she said about Esther struck me. “She’s deranged but deserved better. Poor Janine deserved better too.”

Because, yes, to both. But I think when people compare Esther to June, this is what they mean. Esther has always been Esther. She thought of poisoning her husband even before the handmaids made it to the farm. She was pushed to that by repeated torture. To poisoning Janine by a callback to that same torture being imminent. When they met Stephen and he wanted sex, that callback also broke June. If June hadn’t tied up a commander and had Esther salvage him (salvagings and their aftermath being one of the most common flashbacks Gilead survivors have, showing just how much it fucked them all up) would it have been different? I’m not sure. The night after the murder, Esther lays beside June in bed and tells her she loves her. Before then, she tells June she’s always wanted to help, to do something.

Esther is an embodiment of June’s actions hurting people, who’s to say what Esther would’ve been like otherwise. Probably still a little unhinged because it’s Gilead and who wouldn’t be in order to survive, but not to the point of killing so freely. But, she’s also the embodiment of what may have happened to June if she had been in Gilead 15-20 years younger, with no support system. Someone desperate for a way to fight, and for a way out.

Esther doesn’t understand that Janine has forced herself to compartmentalize the rape as a survival tactic. She doesn’t understand that taking men’s sexual abuse is Janine’s proven way of being able to fight, to do something, even if it’s just see her daughter, help new handmaids stay alive, and keep them mentally stable enough to do more if and when the opportunity presents itself.

Editing to add, I’ve seen people give Janine shit for wanting Esther to end up at the Putnams after what Warren did to her. To that I’ll say this, first of all Janine is human and a mother. Second of all, she is still strategic. Sometimes the evil you know is better than the evil you don’t. Janine knows how to help Esther survive Warren. She doesn’t know how to help her survive Calhoun, for example.

Esther feels she’s being used because June didn’t tell her to accept being a handmaid. June didn’t tell her that she had to wine and dine Fred at Jezebels to survive. June was bolder when Esther met her, and Esther fixated on the woman who killed commanders and got children out, not the one who pumped in a bedroom while her rapist held her baby and had to seduce a man who repulsed her to fight for her daughter.

Esther is a desperate kid looking for a hero and wants the one who wears the cape.

She deserves better.

Janine deserves better.

They deserve to get out.

And, to end on a lighter note, my god do I still adore Lawrence’s character. Trying to blackmail me? Get in line behind Lydia on your way to fuck off. Man knows those two aren’t going to touch him. Man knows Warren Putnam isn’t going to touch him. And I. Am. Living for it.

#the handmaid's tale #the handmaid’s tale season 5 #june osborne #serena joy #long post