#(sorry not the point. i just really hate psychiatrists lol)

[transmutationisms]

I was reading your porn addiction post, and I just wondering what you consider addiction if not some sort of disease? I also think porn addiction and stuff in that vein is fake but I also can’t think that addiction is just people choosing to be that way even though they hate it. I say this as someone who was actually addicted to substances like I feel like there was something going on there that can’t be explained by the idea that addicts just choose to be like that. (I don’t think you think addicts just choose to be like that I just don’t really know any alternative schools of thought lol) I don’t mean this in an accusatory way I’m sorry if it comes off that way, I am genuinely curious what you think cause your posts are always so enlightening.

first of all you have to keep in mind that 'addiction' has no singular meaning. even if we confine ourselves to talking about psychoactive substances, 'addiction' can range from the 'classic' case of increasing, compulsive, self-destructive use, to cases where a person's usage may actually be stable in the long term but they're chemically dependent on the substance (think: the way doctors talk about chronic pain patients who are dependent on opioid painkillers; then compare to how they talk about psychiatric patients who are dependent on SSRIs. for example). you can get dx'd with a 'substance use disorder' purely on the basis of how much you take/consume, even if you don't feel it's causing impairment in your life, particularly if you let slip that someone else in your life has expressed concern or tried to stop you. race and class contribute to distinctions here as well, where certain people have leeway to be seen (even in a psychiatric setting!) as 'experimenting' with substances, or using them 'recreationally', where the same usage pattern in a person who's otherwise marginalised might be flagged as 'addictive' and in need of intervention. all of this gets even messier when psychiatrists and physicians try to justify applying discourses of 'addiction' to eating, gambling, sex, social media, and so forth. recall that 'addiction' in the roman republic and middle ages had contested legal and augural meanings that could be positive as well as negative, and that by the seventeenth century it was largely used as a reflexive verb with a predominantly positive meaning—as in, "we sincerely addict ourselves to almighty god" (thomas fuller, 1655) or, of plato, "he addicted himself to the discipline of pythagoras" (thomas hearne, 1698). it was not until the twentieth century that "addict" came to be widely used as a noun defining people who were passively suffering on a medical model.

i don't mean to be evasive here but to point out that asking "how do we define addiction besides a disease model?" presumes already that the disease model is the singular and inescapable way of understanding addiction in the first place—this is not true historically or presently. addiction is a muddled concept and has always involved moral discourses; attempts to present it as a 'pure' or 'objective' medico-scientific judgment are in fact recent and still unstable.

to the extent that it is useful to talk about addiction as a disease—that is, as a state of suffering that is imposed upon the sufferer, that is a disruption of a desired state of health and well-being—i think it is critical to keep in mind that such a disease is social as much as biological. you can start here by pointing out that substance use is often precipitated by the necessity of withstanding miserable life conditions (ranging from extreme poverty, domestic abuse, social marginalisation, &c, to the 'standard', inherently alienating and miserable conditions anyone endures in capitalist society). but there are other social factors that contribute to the presentation of substance use as compulsive, escalating, and self-endangering. eg, lack of a safe, steady supply is a huge factor here! when people are forced to rely on inconsistent, unregulated supplies to get high, this contributes greatly to drug 'binge' behaviours and endangers users. there is also the fact that drug users are often already marginalised (esp along lines of race, class, ability, &c) and are then further marginalised on the basis of being drug users. what would substance use look like in a society where using didn't relegate people to the social margins, or render them socially disposable? what if people had social supports, and weren't forced to toil away their entire lives at jobs that make them miserable for pay that's barely enough to live on? what sorts of patterns of substance use would we see then? so then, is it the drugs themselves that are the problem here, purely neurobiologically? or is there a larger story to tell about how people come to exist in such a state where substance use is increasingly hard for them to engage in with safeguards; where being a substance user causes them to lose whatever degree of social connection and support they may have had, which was often insufficient already; where they are often unable to integrate substance use into a full and connected life because they are told they must either give up enjoyment of a substance entirely, or be continually branded 'relapsing', 'non-compliant', 'dangerous', &c &c.....?

at the end of the day i don't think it's helpful or accurate to talk about addiction as a disease because it decontextualises drug use from all of these factors: why people do it, why it becomes harmful for some, why it's assumed we must simply 'stop' and 'resist' in order to 'get better'. disease explanations blame the substances themselves on a reductive bio-mechanical level (& again, this becomes especially untenable philosophically when we think at all about 'behavioural addictions'). the point here isn't to say that addicts are just blithely waltzing into addiction—or, indeed, to say that drug use is intrinsically a bad thing that should be avoided! it's a pretty typical feature of human existence that many of us enjoy consuming substances that alter our mental and physical states, and that's not inherently bad. when i push back against a disease model of addiction, i'm not invoking a model of personal responsibility or individual choice. i'm asking how we can understand drug use within a much broader social and historically contextualised frame, and how that can help people who are in many different states wrt drugs, from 'currently engaging in patterns of usage that feel compulsive and terrible' to 'never done a drug in their life'.

[voidconversations]

WHEN IS GHOSTING YOU CONTINUING OML I NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT

OKAY SO….

i know i said the next part would be out like a week ago but i’ve come to the realization that i hate the first part i wrote. originally, this story was going to be 3 parts and each chapter was going to be around 6k words. i now want the story to last a while and have around 15-20 chapters MAYBE.

so what i want to do is rewrite the first chapter to be around 3k words and then keep the story going with 3k word chapters for about 15-20 chapters. because i think with the way i was writing it, the story was going too fast. i also didn’t like the way i switched between POVs in the first chapter and i want to keep it to the readers POV for the whole story (maybe throw in a leon pov chapter once in a while). but the whole 2 POVs in chapter one was throwing me off. rereading it i just really didn’t like a whole lot that i wrote.

in conclusion, i want to slow the story down and rewrite it to fit the amount of chapters i want to write. overall, my word count goal for this story is around 45-60k words.

and from now on i won’t be making promises on when a chapter will be out because i have literally never been able to keep that promise lmaooo (i also just got diagnosed with ADHD which has explained a lot of the issues i have lol).

making the chapters shorter will also help with my attention span when it comes to writing me thinks.

i really want to write and FINISH this story because i have never completely finished anything in my life and i do love the concept for this story. i am working full-time right now and am talking to my psychiatrist about possibly getting on new meds so a lot is happening.

i will post any updates i have about the rewrite process and will only post about it being released after it’s already been written because i don’t want to keep disappointing y’all.

i will keep the first part up since people liked it but it won’t be apart of the main story anymore. it’ll just be my first failed attempt and at some point i will be deleting it. i’m just going to keep it up until i get the first part rewritten and posted!

but a huge thanks to everything who’s been sticking through my 6 month hiatus. i’m so appreciative <3 (and sorry)

[raisinchallah]

LMAO i didn't mean to sound defensive! i actually had so much fun with hannibal, i wouldn't say i hate it at all. but yeah you're so right about abigail. even the metaphors the show used with her were so, idk, dehumanizing? the football, the teacup. also the dreams will has of her where she's all placid, smiling (and also likes him). please sir this girl was an anxious wreck and she HATED your guts. i remember being the character's age when i watched it and being like 'wow, i would've hated all of these adults'.

ok now i understand what ur saying ha yeah i actually think her relationship with hannibal is very interesting and coherent in season 1 its her relationship with will and i guess any agency outside of this that leaves u sort of baffled like will projects onto her like if she is innocent he somehow feels like he is more innocent but she is rightfully kind of afraid of him and theres not really anything interesting but with hannibal it like both makes sense why people would trust him with her hes a respected psychiatrist and has gained the personal trust of everyone involved in her case vs will its like why is he here and also that she is the first person to realize whats going on with hannibal is fascinating like i love the scene when he invites her over to dinner and gives her shrooms mostly to mess with her and alana shows up and is like what the fuck and hannibal convinces her its fine and to stay for dinner and alanas sitting there enjoying her meal and theres just this split second look on abigails face you can tell she knows what the meat is and she looks at hannibal clearly putting the pieces together even more like obviously the second she put even a few pieces together when she was like oh and you be the man on the phone was of course when hannibal had to entrap her into his life again very vampirically that like killing and the secrets he will keep literally changing her that she cant fully escape him idk its an interesting thread thru season 1 of course thats also i think where like the weaknesses with her writing compared to like claudia who is also very much viewed as a vessel for louis and lestat to project onto but thats of course partially because its all being told from louis's point of view but also viewing her as simply a doll they can mold to their will which very much leads to the destruction of their family and growing resentment in claudia like shes never fully granted agency shes actually quite defined by lack of agency which is extremely difficult for her to deal with the older and older but idk shes a fascinating character to me that i really love and idk aggravating the inspiration was taken from her but i just dont feel like abigail is as clearly defined in the story even as a character confined by not being a main character and stuck in relation to other characters and mainly viewed through their eyes like she is successful as a puzzle piece in hannibals complex machinations to frame will but idk feels lacking in what does she want like i think dragging her story out to parts of season 2 and the visions of her in season 3 like idk i feel like its satisfying if she died in season 1 or if she actually survived into season 3 and wandered europe with will dsjklfda; which of course would be another parallel with interview lol i did enjoy wills conversations with mind abigail in season 3 like post season 1 her involvement starts to make a bit more sense she has faked her death left the world of the living behind and has few other options and sticking with someone else manipulated and messed with by hannibal her relationship with will would start to make sense as well but idk shes kind of a baffling piece of the puzzle but whatever ok sorry for this text wall <3

[hypnosiacon-archived]

umm to that anon looking for a dx:

- drs tend to hate if u say a specific diagnosis so maybe just say symptoms. or like say something like "hey i heard (disorder) from friend so i wanted to talk to you about my symptoms", not "hey i think i have (disorder)" or else theyll probably shut you down and jump to conclusions that ur stupid and dont know anything about the disorder. also it may be good to include how/in what way your symptoms effect you in your daily life and your functioning and stuff.

- theyre hesitant to dx minors with BPD unless its severe bc they tend to wait to see if its temporary, like a part of their development, lol.

- therapists can not dx u w stuff unless they also are a psychologist

- psychiatrists can dx u with stuff but dont tend to do therapy. so they just tend to give u meds.

- meds are used to treat symptoms and not diagnoses. antipsychotics can be treated for other issues besides psychosis. ask them why they prescribed it, cus it might not just be that they think ur psychotic, bc they use it to treat several things. if they DO think youre psychotic and you think otherwise, ask them why and clarify your symptoms. idk if im reading this correctly and this is what was implied but i cant go back and check again cuz thatll delete my entire ask and ill have to rewrite everything sorry

- ask them what the side effects are. also if they refuse to tell u , its sus as hell

- ask them to reiterate what they think you said in their own words, to make sure they understand and ur both on the same page, to prevent miscommunication/misunderstsnding

source: i hate doctors misunderstanding me and this worked 99% of the time except with one doctor who was weird and sus as hell

apologies if this information is extremely obvious + everyone knows/does this, ive got no clue; im really autistic lol. im not trying to be condescending or anything. also at this point i forgot what was said in the original ask so um idk sorry

Too bad hi can't tag anons, but hi think that 🌌 anon will see it

Thank you!

[hahaonlyjoking]

musings on growth

i should really be more consistent when it comes to documenting my thoughts on myself because there are both a number of things that have changed and those that have not at all. since i wrote my last post i started a full time job at an animal shelter, and felt i was getting better! great! there were a few things that came before that such as breaking down sobbing to my therapist after accidentally accepting the job before i meant to and then being perpetually anxious for the first 6 months bc my co-worker definitely did not like me. but! i settled in, found a rhythm, made it work, became happy! decided to go back to school bc i felt i was in that such a good place now that i could do it! quit my job, went back to school. forgot to mention, global pandemic that started about 6 months before my first lecture, got really into baking. made macarons!

first semester i took world politics and photoshop. loved one hated the other. guess which? i loved photoshop so much i decided that my major should be graphic design, and signed up for three classes the next semester! wow! doing so well! second semester and i stopped doing assignments for art history bc it was 1000 words a week and i simply could not make myself do it. the urgency was not compelling enough. but now i was self-aware about my executive dysfunction instead of me literally almost self-harming screaming whyyyyyy. so growth? hmmmm. finished the other 2 classes! woooo! should be a-ok to sign up for 2 for third semester! half-way into third semester the executive dysfunction picks up and i’m not completing work for either class and send a half-assed sorry! gotta drop the classes! to the professor and then ghost. lol. around the same time i stopped going to therapy. they were video calls at this point (still in a global pandemic) and i ghosted there too. my lack of accountability is really going to catch up with me at some point.

anyway, here i am, over two years later and no more credits done since then. lying to pretty much everyone around me that i’m still in school, still working on a degree, still taking meds, still in therapy, still seeing a psychiatrist. i feel as though my understanding of myself has increased leaps and bounds but that’s not something i can really use to help me change my behavior, just analyze it. and saying feel there is particularly noticeable. meaning that is not necessarily true ahahaaaaaaaa. regardless, first step is getting back on meds. i’m exercising now (growth! working w my trauma!), and my hypothesis is that plus the wellbutrin i think i can get back to arf mood. healthcare is currently taken care of *wipes brow* luckily, bc that was part of the reason i stopped getting meds/going to the psychiatrist. i couldn’t make myself deal with health insurance and i couldn’t explain that to my therapist. i do feel like she could’ve reached out more than twice after she stopped hearing from me though. it’s fine, whatever.

so if i was going to make a goal for this summer it would be getting back on meds and signing up for classes again.

but that should wait actually because for over a year my eyes have been deteriorating and part of the reason i haven’t gotten them checked out is health insurance related. so i webmd diagnosed myself with macular degeneration as a symptom of diabetes, went on a keto/low carb diet and lost a significant amount of weight (we’ll get back to that). since insurance’s figured out, probably, and i got an A1C blood test back saying everything was normal it was hard to keep up with the diabetes idea, but i am bc my eyes are still fucked. so that first. i gotta take care of myself bc i’m not a ghost anymore. i am not in a liminal state of being. i am a person who affects the lives of others. i will die, but before that i need to live.

back to the weight thing though, i don’t think i realized how bad my image of myself was until i lost this weight. i think i really hated myself but decided instead of doing that actively i’d just not care about it. a coping mechanism, but it’s created a problem for me now that i’ve lost this weight i don’t want to gain it back. i’ve noticed this thought and have been working to combat it. i think i was affected in a different but similar way to kenna. i was not fat in high school but i became so in about 1-2 years afterwards. it went hand-in-hand with my depression so i think i’ve conflated the two. it also doesn’t help that i continue to get outside positive reinforcement about it. people will say “looking good” and i want to shoot them and then myself. because it’s nice to get compliments but DON’T COMMENT ON PEOPLE’S BODIES!!!!!! an aside, it’s 2023, i shouldn’t have to say that to people my age. so, i’ve been struggling with self-image quite a bit more than i can remember ever doing before.

growth? we shall see.

[elliebear666]

Started feeling kinda paranoid lately. I think it's due to stress. I feel like somehow my blog is being like... broadcasted to tons of people, including Dr. Fox, YouTube channel clinical psychologist.

I swear I feel like bro is making videos that mirror my shit and I get paranoid lol. But uh... pretty sure that's not happening and I'm just stressed out.

Tbh I guess... I've been dealing with paranoia for a while. In more like, "They're not being honest and they're being nice to get things from me," type ways. I have had auditory hallucinations w FEW times. But it's always when I'm stressed. I didn't feel I was manic or anything. And um... idk. I was hyper paranoid a while ago, thinking everyone in town was watching me and plotting against me, to kill me or send me away or whatever. I saw a black and a white car parked together and said to myself, "Oh boy. They know. I wonder if they're going to nab me and put me in one of the care." Just crazy shit I guess.

I haven't listed all the ways in which BPD symptoms have affected me since teen years and especially young adult and beyond. I wish Dr. Fox could be like, "Here's what's up. Sorry I can't treat you cuz like you live in a different state. But like you should do this to improve."

I suppose one of the most frustrating aspects is that I have been in therapy for like 10 years and I still have BPD issues.

I mean, I think my psychiatrist and therapist are right? I mean, I've pathologically expressed BPD traits since even before adulthood. And eventually was exhibiting all 9 traits.

I guess part of the thing too is... I do have unrealistic expectations of having my needs met. Because I guess? I have a lot of needs... I'm needy. And clingy. And when I inevitably fail? I spiral like a crazy person. I like... did awful shit to my ex. I split on her and said evil shit and I hate myself for what I did.

I wonder what the difference between moderate and severe BPD is tho. Like... my issues were so bad someone had to get the law involved because I was stalking them... which is absolutely valid. I'm working on being better and atoning. But um... I feel like I may have been moderate at one point, you know? But I feel like I progressed to severe. It was bad. Splitting, rage outbursts, risky behavior, constant freakouts, extreme emotional reactions to almost everything all the time, frantic efforts to avoid abandonment and spiraling to insanity and speeding and risky, dangerous behavior anytime I felt rejected or abandoned. Hurting myself all the time. Severe dissociation that has caused lapses in memory for years. Anger and rage that destroyed friendships and relationships and hurt family. Constant and overwhelming feelings of emptiness. Never knowing who I am and my identity shifting like the tides. Splitting and intense and obsessive relationships filled with fights and instability. Threatening suicide all the time. Being constantly suicidal. I got do in debt from impulsive spending that I... I had to take care if it but I was ruining my life. All this shit and more.

I feel like it was severe. I mean, it felt severe, right? It destroyed my life. Sometimes I wonder if I even have bipolar disorder at all and if it wasn't just BPD. But I'm pretty sure I do have bipolar disorder because the meds help to a degree.

But I still have had really bad BPD symptoms even on meds. But the amount that I've improved? It is astronomical. It is a massive change. I was doing therapy twice a week, and every other day at first I believe. I had no self and tried on every disorder in the book because I didn't want to have BPD tbh. I tried to convince myself I was evil because then I wouldn't feel bad and myself for what I'd done and my therapist and psychiatrist were like... "What's wrong with this diagnosis? Why is it so hard to accept?" And I was like... if I accept it, then I actually have to work on myself and problems. I can't keep lying to clinicians lmao. And... I was scared and ashamed and full of self hatred. Y'all should have seen me the first year or so with my new therapist. It was a fucking MADHOUSE. I got paranoid about her, thought she was involved in some great conspiracy against me, every crazy, paranoid, delusional thought? She became a favorite person and I'd split on her constantly. I threatened her and said I hated her and had to fight my mind's desire to lash out her or stalk her. I learned everything I could about her online... I was acting like a fucking psycho lmao. The level of unhinged shit I sent her in text? Constant all day every day.

So.... idk. I lied to my first therapist literally all the time. I don't even know why. I never told her about the severity of my real issues. I lied and lied and acted cool and fine, but eventually, as she peeled back the layers, she saw my emptiness and the void and my constant instability and rage and pain. I just... I was so guilty and ashamed and just... I didn't want anyone to know what was going on. I barely talked about abuse. I never mentioned being molested and all the horrific shit that happened.

So my BPD fucking... metastasized. I grew and spread and soon I was just a fucking disaster of a human being.

Idk.

I wish sometimes that I could have help from someone like Dr. Fox. But... again. Different state. My psychiatrist and therapist are helping immensely. But... idk.

Fuck

[lannister-slings-and-arrows]

I and Love and You

The fifth in Rafael Barba/Reader/Frederick Chilton threesome verse written in collaboration with @pascalispretty . Mood board also by the lovely and talented @pascalispretty !! Yep. We did this. Was it necessary? No. Did we enjoy it? Sometimes. Are you going to read it? I sure hope you do and that you like it! Cross posted on ao3!

Part Five of the series So Much Easier than You Realize

Warnings: Total and complete tooth rotting fluff. Schedule an appointment with your dentists, ladies and germs. Rafael is, as always, a bit of a jackass. You will probably have an incurable craving for breakfast food. And the teeniest tiniest mention of daddy kink. Rating: E for everyone because there is nothing objectionable in this at all, I did not think we could actually write something this sweet lol. Word Count: 3725 Summary: Mornings are for cookies and contemplation.

When Rafa wakes up, he spares a moment to sympathize with his growling stomach. More than one moment, if he’s being honest with himself. He isn’t normally an early riser but his stomach wouldn’t be so empty if he’d been allowed to have his bedtime snack and not rudely distracted by his two partners and an ingenious application of his second favorite blue tie. The result is pleasantly sore abdominal muscles and the rare opportunity to wake up in time to see the both of them still peacefully asleep in bed next to him.

Fred’s back is pressed close to his chest and his legs brush against Rafa’s as he levers himself up onto his elbow to look at her on Fred’s other side. Her face is tucked against Fred’s neck and the doctor’s arms are wrapped tightly around her, and Rafa smiles at them both, still asleep in the soft grey early morning light.

Fred shifts, and an irritable frown passes over his face the longer Rafa uses him to balance himself to stare at the two of them, so Rafa quickly presses a kiss to his temple before settling back down with a sigh.

It’s too early to be up, really, but he’s starving and is not getting back to sleep without eating something. He grunts and sits up before pressing another kiss to Fred’s shoulder. He swings his legs out of bed and grabs a pair of grey sweatpants.

Rafa trudges down the hall to the kitchen. There were still Bugles hidden in the back of Fred’s Tupperware cabinet. Oh shit, had he eaten them all? He flicks on the light to the kitchen and huffs a quiet laugh when he finds a sticky note on the door of said cabinet in Fred’s small, precise handwriting.

Sorry, I ate the last of your chips two days ago. In my defense, counselor, you left them in my house and I was having a very stressful day. I made you cookies instead, they’re on top of the microwave. I figured you’d be up before the both of us this morning since you didn’t get your snack. --An Apologetic Psychiatrist who feels like he shouldn’t be apologizing for eating food in his own cupboards.

Rafa runs his fingers over the note a few times, smiling like an idiot, his heart feeling full and warm and about seven sizes larger than it was when he woke up. He turns his head and sees a plastic container (with a green lid because the green Tupperware was for storage of baked goods as Fred was constantly reminding him) right where Fred said it would be, and when he steps over to investigate it further he finds a batch of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies. Another note is stuck to the lid.

I know these aren’t your favorite. I know that you don’t really enjoy white chocolate. Consider this my attempt to make sure you don’t eat all of these in one sitting. Please limit yourself to two; you aren’t in your 20’s anymore, Rafael, and it’s not even a normal time for breakfast yet, much less cookies. --A Not Apologetic Psychiatrist who doesn’t want your first heart attack to be in his apartment, thank you very much.

Rafa rolls his eyes and peels the lid off, smirking as he deliberately takes three out of the box. He doesn’t hate white chocolate, after all, and he does love macadamia nuts. And he has always had a problem following instructions.

Standing at the kitchen counter, Rafa eats his cookies with a pleased groan, once again thanking whatever saints or angels his mami appeals to for sending him a partner that bakes. Not that he thinks his mother would have prayed for someone at all like Fred. Fussy, officious, arrogant, snobby, and, well, a man. His mother would have had someone like their younger lover in mind however. Smart, pretty, and willing to stand up to his attitude. Most of the time anyways. Well, what did Lucia Barba always say? You can make as many requests of God as you want to but remember that He has a sense of humor too? She got him a little extra than what her original request probably specified.

Rafa snorts at the thought and brushes crumbs off his bare chest, leaning back against the counter and surveying the kitchen in the growing light. He’s still hungry but he knows he’ll hear about it if Fred wakes up and all of those cookies are gone. And today is supposed to be the one day this whole month the three of them can spend just being quiet together with no plans, no work, and no prior obligations. He’d rather not spend it all dodging Fred’s passive aggressive jabs and her pouting looks and quiet pleas to please just be the bigger man and apologize.

He stretches his arms out on the counter behind him and tips his head back, staring absently at Fred’s kitchen ceiling as he contemplates making his way back to bed and napping until Fred wakes up and decides to order in breakfast. He’s nearly settled on that plan when he catches sight out of the corner of his eye of the bright blue note on the cupboard. He doesn’t remember Fred spending any time in the kitchen before the two of them dragged Rafa into the bedroom to put his ties to a much more interesting use. He must have gotten out of bed after Rafa fell asleep to put this together, and Rafa can’t help the smile that spreads over his entire face.

Rafa slaps his palms on the counter and shoves himself off, making his way over to the fridge to see what Fred has in the way of actual food. He’s already awake; the least he can do is make breakfast.

He finds the ingredients for pancakes easily enough--Fred is a stickler for organization. Rafa tries not to make a mess as he moves around the perfectly arranged and spotless kitchen. He stirs the batter by hand rather than risk the noise of the KitchenAid but pauses over whether or not to put chocolate chips in.

She would be pleased, her sweet tooth nearly rivals his own, but Fred would almost definitely be annoyed. Especially because Rafa has already had chocolate earlier in the morning. With a fond sigh, Rafa puts the glass jar back in the cupboard, though not before tipping a few of the chocolate chips out into his hand.

It reminds him of cooking in Fred’s beautiful house in Baltimore, his sweet girl laughing and dancing around the kitchen in one of Fred’s shirts, barely being any help at all. All three of them adore the big, beautiful house that Fred had shyly shown them--as if they could have done anything else other than fall in love with it.

Fred relaxed slightly when it became clear that his guests found the house as beautiful as he did. Rafa tried to help her in slowing Fred down as he showed it to them, asking questions about particular objects or features and pointing out the things they especially admired. Every sincere compliment kept a gratified little smile plastered on Fred’s face--and there was plenty to compliment him on.

It’s clear that it holds a special place in Fred’s heart. It’s so him, every inch of it reflecting back the man who poured so much time and effort and money into making it a home. From the collection of antique medical texts carefully displayed on the shelves to the exact shade of teal velvet upholstery on some of the armchairs, Fred had lavished attention on the house to surround himself with things he loved and found beautiful. It amused Rafa to wonder if he’d taken that into account when he’d invited his partners over; whether they’d laud the elegant aesthetic he’d established in his home.

Shifting the spoon briefly to give his right hand a break from mixing, he smiles at the memory. He’s never actually admitted to Fred how much he likes playing house with his two partners there. Rafa is fairly certain that the kitchen in the Baltimore house is larger than the apartment that he grew up in and he knows that a wine cellar is an absurd luxury. But it’s a place where the three of them are free to be themselves, without worrying about nosy neighbors and doormen.

Rafa snorts quietly, folding the batter briskly to get out all the little flour bubbles. That pretty well explains how he feels about Fred too. Fred is too high maintenance, too abrasive in all the ways Rafa normally hates, too… prep school, but Rafa can’t help but smile indulgently every time he turns his nose up at a meal that costs less than fifty dollars, or every time he gets that prissy stubborn look on his face, or juts his chin out and point blank refuses to admit that he’s wrong (even though Rafa can tell that he knows that he is).

He never apologizes either. Ever. He’ll be proven wrong, he’ll hurt both their feelings, and the closest to any sort of acknowledgment of wrongdoing that the both of them will get will be a cup of coffee in bed the next morning, one of Fred’s most handsome smiles, and the complete and sudden cessation of all hostilities like the fight never happened. Rafa knows that with anyone else that kind of behavior would be a relationship killer.

Rafa looks over the batter and nods to himself, satisfied with the consistency, and balances the spoon against the side of the bowl. He stares at the oven and frowns. Just pancakes hardly make breakfast. Going over to the fridge, he grabs bacon out of its particular place, rolling his eyes as he does so, and tosses it on the counter next to the pancake batter, reaching under the silverware drawer for a frying pan.

Maybe it’s the way Fred ‘apologizes’ with the perfect cup of coffee instead of actual words. Maybe it’s that same perfect cup of coffee that somehow manages to find its way onto his desk at work when he’s too swamped to go out and get one--just because Fred knows he needs it. Or a sandwich from his favorite deli and a quick flash of that handsome smile on Fred’s lunch break.

Rafa gets started on actually cooking said breakfast, hissing and swearing quietly when he gets a first-hand demonstration of why you shouldn’t fry things without a shirt on. Fred would have more than a few words to say to him about the relative intelligence of what he’s doing right now. He grins. Maybe that’s it--the way he cares while trying desperately to make it seem like every time it’s an inconvenience of the highest order.

Maybe Rafa loves Fred because every once in a while, when he’s very drunk, very tired, or the perfect combination of both, Fred slips a little and calls the both of them by those cute, ridiculous southern pet names that before now Rafa would have put money on being more myth than fact. And how embarrassed he is when it is pointed out to him that he just called a forty-something year old man ‘pickle’.

Fred is arrogant, prickly, particular, and both overindulgent and overly judgmental of vices depending on if he himself shares in them. He is a pain to get along with most of the time and sometimes treats the two of them like they’re made of spun gold--things to be cherished and well looked after and shown off to the best of his ability. He’s a contradictory monster and Rafa loves him.

He has a feeling that the smile on his face is sappy and ridiculous, but as he turns the bacon and settles to wait a few more minutes, he shrugs. There isn’t anyone else around this early to see him; his reputation as a son of a bitch and a jackass won’t be ruined. He loves Fred. He loves her. He loves both of them--sometimes so much it’s hard for him to keep it to himself and wait for them to come to the same conclusion. Their individual faults, foibles, and perfections and the way they mesh with each other and fit so surprisingly well in his own life.

Like getting new book recommendations from her--whenever he has the time to actually read something for fun. She leaves them on his home desk with a brief explanation why she thinks he’ll like them. That almost always makes up for the numerous occasions he has gone looking for one of his own books and found it had mysteriously jumped off its shelf and walked itself three rooms over, or managed to find itself completely out of order.

He drains the bacon onto a paper towel covered plate and gives the pan a quick rinse. He loves finding packets of M&M’s in his briefcase or in his suit coat pockets, loves knowing they’re from her and that she braved Fred’s ire to indulge his habit of constant snacking. A habit Fred particularly despises. He loves--most of the time--being a couple minutes late to work some mornings because she got into a nearly incoherent argument with him about what color tie he should wear. He loves that she loves his wardrobe as much as he does.

Rafa loves ganging up with her to tease Fred and loves that she can take some teasing herself. He loves that she just rolls her eyes and plays along when his puckish side emerges and he can’t help but be an asshole even though he can tell she would rather he didn’t.

Rafa starts pouring pancake batter, chuckling to himself when he recalls the mood she’d gotten into the last time his sense of humor had gotten the better of him. While waiting for a table in a restaurant, a strange woman had made a snide comment about ‘men dating women young enough to be their daughters’ and Rafa had been unable to resist feigning outrage and asking what was so terrible about a man taking his daughter out for a nice birthday dinner.

The woman had been mortified, and Rafa had enjoyed the look on her face so much that he’d only hammered the point home further, telling her it was hardly his fault he was a widower and a single parent. He hoped it had taught her a valuable lesson in boundaries. His sweet girl had been so embarrassed but it had been so worth it.

Flipping the first pancake, he thinks about the flaws that come with her youth. She’s always the first one to joke about having daddy issues and Rafa can hardly deny how much he enjoys hearing her call him papi--and Fred daddy--in bed. He just has to try not to think too deeply about it. Not that Rafa really has a leg to stand on where difficult paternal relationships are concerned. But her jokes mask an insecurity and a clinginess that Fred has a habit of overindulging. More than once when he’s been trying to work she’s tried to distract him or cuddle up to him and then gotten sulky when he had to gently but firmly rebuff her.

When he finally finishes work on those evenings, he usually finds her wrapped around Fred instead, giving him a wounded look when he finally emerges from behind his case files. Those looks are wordless guilt trips every time he’s on the receiving end of one--no matter how right he feels in his decision to work instead of play.

And yet somehow she’s worked the same magic on him that Fred has. A flaw that in anyone else would have stopped any idea of a relationship in its tracks is something that he’s come to love about her. Her clinginess comes from a place of emotional fragility and it must be hard to let her partners see that. The fact that she trusts them enough to be so vulnerable around them makes Rafa’s heart swell. He can’t help but love her, even when he’s dealing with her pouting and huffing.

Fred talks about it like Rafa is somehow being ungrateful, that he should drop everything to spend time with his beautiful, smart, young lover, and it drives Rafa crazy. He knows that Fred generally means well when he tries to appeal against his more workaholic tendencies, but he also knows that Fred could retire now and live off his trust fund if he wanted. It rubs him the wrong way when Fred tries to discourage him from working hard because he’s never needed to understand why Rafa works as hard as he does.

He starts stacking the cooked pancakes on a plate on the stove and furrows his brow in concentration. Fred gleefully indulges her in her clinginess, dropping everything to scoop her into his arms or take her to bed. They’ve even taken to napping together with his cock still tucked inside her, as if they can’t bear to be anything other than as close as physically possible. He’s stubbornly blind to the fact that Rafa can’t just drop what he’s doing. If Fred misses a deadline for submitting a journal article the worst that happens is it gets pushed back an issue. If Rafa misses something in his case files or submits something late or fails to prepare as fully as he should, it can ruin lives. Dangerous predators can be let out on the street to offend again. People don’t get the justice they deserve. And even in this day and age, a poor boy with a Spanish name is granted a lot less leeway with employers than a rich boy with a nice American name and family money.

They come from very different worlds, even if Rafa has carefully and thoroughly infiltrated Fred’s, and Rafa loves and hates it a little that Fred forgets that most of the time. Rafa has to always be ‘on’ and can’t afford the same kind of laxness that Fred can.

Sometimes he even has to be ‘on’ at home when he’d rather put his fist through a wall or wrap himself in every blanket in the apartment with a bottle of scotch and pass out. Like when he walks into whichever apartment they’re spending the night at to find Fred in a screaming match with her that he has to moderate. She likes to complain that he and Fred can really get into it like a pair of children, and he isn’t saying she’s wrong—they definitely can—but she and Fred are just as bad. Frankly, the three of them are cut from the same cloth when it comes to being pig headed and it makes for some rather loud and spirited fights.

Like the frequent battles she has with Fred over her occasional smoking habit. They always start out with Fred gently chiding and somehow end up with Fred snidely pulling out his “I went to medical school, therefore everyone else is a moron” voice and her reminding him that he couldn’t cut it as a real doctor and she’ll “smoke a goddamn fucking cigarette every once in a while if she fucking feels like it.” Rafa tries to interfere before it descends to “as much as you like to act like it sometimes, Frederick, you aren’t my father” and “maybe if you knew how to make better choices you wouldn’t be constantly seeking validation from older men,” but he doesn’t always get home in time and instead walks in to the both of them glaring icily at each other or shouting as many deliberately hurtful things as they can.

He likes to leave his courtroom face at work, but it’s generally the only thing that will defuse those battles, or at least calm them down into cold wars. Rafa doesn’t particularly enjoy playing mediator on the best of days, especially not when one wrong word from him will have one or both of them turning on him as another enemy combatant. He likes his occasional cigarette too, and he snacks constantly, and eats terribly; all things that Fred will use to drag him into a fight.

But while he hates trying to calm them down enough to at least stop yelling, he has to admit he loves having people around to yell in the first place. Yes, these fights mean he has to put on his lawyer face when he’d rather get drunk and pass out. But he has people in his life to break up fights between. He can come “home” to people who care about him. People who, when they aren’t screaming, see him come through the door and smile. People who would, and have on occasion, drop what they are doing to bring him something he left at home and needs now. People who drop a sandwich on his desk when he’s working and quietly--most of the time-- leave him to it.

People who care and appreciate him.

Rafa finishes setting plates and cutlery out on the island and starts the coffee maker. He loves having them a few rooms away. He loves knowing that they like him enough to put up with his “shoebox sized apartment”, with him being an incurable workaholic, with the fact that when he gets stressed or angry he lashes out at anyone around him. With the fact that when he does he can be more than a little cruel.

Rafa makes his way back into Fred’s bedroom, wincing as always at how bright it gets when the morning sun fully hits it. He smiles when he sees them still tucked against each other just like he had left them. He loves this view the most.

Rafa grins mischievously. They put up with his innate tendency to be a complete and utter jackass, and that is one more thing he loves about them.

“I just rearranged every single cupboard, bookshelf, and drawer in your entire apartment, Frederick!” Rafa informs the room in general. Loudly.

Fred’s eyes snap open and he sits up, dislodging his sleeping companion without a second glance. His gaze lands on Rafa, who is smirking next to him, and his eyes go comically wide in horror.

“Rafael Barba, you didn’t.”

Tag List: @sassyada, @dreamlover31, @prurientpuddlejumper, @storiesofsvu

[pseudophan]

catch me crying at hannibal season 2 finale. everythings suddenly made clear and its so fuckin heartbreaking

ok hannibal 2x13 spoilers here so if you’re one of the people currently watching and dont wanna be spoiled don’t click the read more cause i HAVE to rant about that goddamn fucking episode

first of all. hannibal smelling freddie on will and realising he’s been manipulating him this whole time is genuinely the most upsetting shit ive ever seen in my life. he really truly believed will was gonna run away with him, to quote mads he was “blinded by love” and his face when all of that falls apart is so. he barely reacts and yet he conveys SO much. and i HAAATEEEE ITTTT. and then will calling hannibal to warn him, deciding last minute that he can’t set him up but its too late and hannibal is so hurt and of course he’s not just gonna leave without being a dramatic bitch about it and then the fight scene with him and jack is obviously SO fucking good but then... jesus fucking christ. listen. listen. when i say That Scene in mizumono is my favourite scene of anything ever i mean it wholeheartedly, yet its also the worst thing ive ever seen in my entire life. ok so im assuming if you’re reading this you’ve either seen the show or you don’t care about spoilers so im just gonna put the video here so people can watch it and and relive the pain

THIS SHIT.....IS SO....... i sincerely do not know who i feel the most sorry for. ok well sorry for is obviously abigail cause its hard to pity those other two fucks but hell if i dont feel bad as fuck for them both.

their entire relationship is based on a mutual fascination by and understanding of each other. it starts out with hannibal immediately being intrigued by will because to him will graham is essentially the greatest christmas present in the world. the psychiatrist part of him sees the way his mind works and naturally wants to study it further, meanwhile the Dark And Twisted Cycle Path side of him sees...well the same thing really but with an added element of hm. this man’s entire Deal is empathising with serial killers and holy shit wait im one of those oh this is gonna be so fun. oh wait he....he truly understands these killers....haha would he be able to- lol no he wont be able to understand me surely- and then at the end of the first episode he sees will emptying his gun into garrett jacob hobbs and he sees the look on his face and oh there’s so much potential. and naturally he starts being a real dick about it all and completely betrays will’s trust in every way imaginable and will is so so hurt by it and so naturally by the time he betrays hannibal part of you as the viewer is like well yeah, obviously, of course that’s what he’s doing. fair is fair. but then at the same time...

and will has those same doubts, and he’s realising that for all the hurt hannibal has caused him he’s also helped will understand himself a whole lot better, and while he doesn’t have the complete lack of conscience hannibal does he’s not exactly adversed to killing either, if it’s the right person. and maybe... maybe running away with hannibal wouldn’t be so bad... yeah maybe he should just- but then he remembers abigail. and he can’t get over that just yet. i truly believe if hannibal hadn’t “killed” abigail will would have given in sooner. but even then, he ends up warning hannibal that he’s given him up and that the fbi are coming and he goes to his house and oh my god there’s abigail. and im just imagining... the range of emotions he felt... when he saw her.... betrayal and hurt again sure because hannibal lied to him once more, but also holy fuck there goes most of his apprehension for running away with him and oh my god what has he done. and then he turns to see hannibal and THEEE HURRRRTTTTT IN HIS FACEEE. 

and then he stabs him and off he goes on his fucking speech and i think part of why it’s so effective is that up until then we only ever see slight glimpses of genuine emotion of any sort from hannibal and all of a sudden we get everything all at once and god it’s so much. for the first time in his life someone had the ability and want to truly understand him, something he’d long since given up on if he ever as much as tried (same goes for will, though he doesn’t have the added bonus of an extremely illegal hobby) and even more than that there is someone HE is that interested in? literally the only other person hannibal has genuinely loved up until that point was his sister and even then he was so young and suddenly here’s this guy who ticks just all the right boxes and for a second, just for a second, hannibal allowed himself to be seen and to believe he may have found genuine connection. and he had, technically, it just happened to be more brief than he would like

also hey, here to make it so much fucking worse: mads mikkelsen!

hey fuck you dude! what the fuck 😃

also this that tumblr user linpatootie wrote in their recap of the 2015 red dragon con

the idea of hannibal feeling Extra Betrayed because he realised will didn't even realise he loved him makes me want to FUCKING DIE

ok i gotta stop this none of this made any points forget i said anything i hate hannibal

[blonkk]

i wish i wasn’t myself i mean after every single interaction or word that comes out of my mouth i want to rip my skin off. i fucking hate being a specimen like being treated like an experiment oh you’re depressed go on zoloft. oh it stopped working go on trazadone. oh that makes you black out for 15 hours in a row so that will cure your chronic insomnia but here go on cypralex. oh you have menstrual irregularities go on birth control. oh you’re sexually active have a pap smear (maybe this one’s different but idk i hate being probed and treated like a lab rat). one doctor literally said to me he thought it’s time i get a boyfriend (i think i was 21 or 22 at the time). yeah it’s low iron take these supplements. oh the insomnia is still there do a sleep study. six months from now. in another six months i’m told “there’s nothing wrong you you just have reverse sleep syndrome, best you can do is just try to find a night job and live the rest of your life like a fucking owl.” you’re 16 and you have PCOS. you’re 26 and wait now scratch that it wasn’t PCOS at all! silly us. we don’t know what it is tho our bad. yes you definitely qualify for a psychiatrist. just to be told after years of being on a waiting list and screened for months at the very first meeting with said medical professional that i “don’t really need this and there’s no point in continuing.” ok ok things are starting to make sense you’ve got adhd. try 10 now 20 now 50 mg of vyvanse and good news it will reduce your appetite so you’ll lose weight 2 birds in 1 stone right? (my doctor actually said this to me). hmmm things keep coming up, there’s a possibility of mild OCD and probable autism. autism. you are showing telltale signs of autism

i cannot take it anymore i don’t want to be a lifelong patient fr i’m gonna be coke a hypochondriac. the scariest thing is that i think the autism thing might be real the more i think ab how i feel in social settings and how i hate talking to people and never feel like i belong and things i say get misinterpreted and i can’t read social cues….i want to be fucking normal but the more that i get dismissed or randomly diagnosed and prescribed different random shit the more hopeless i feel like whyyyy can’t i just be normal. i was at a relatives place tonight and more people than i thought were there and i had to talk to people i don’t know and when i wasn’t stretching myself thin by making polite tedious conversation and wanting to kill myself after every word i said because i never seem to be able to read the room right i was trying not to cry because there were too many people and i was completely overwhelmed. literally i hate it so much but i’m gonna be 27…. what does it even matter anymore? i’ve made it this far being fucking sick all the time and socially fucking vacant and not fitting in anywhere with anyone so i can pretty much just keep doing it. i just wish he gave me one fucking thing lol he had to make me fat annoying permanent insomniac mentally ill and apparently “neurodivergent” and weird like bro just one fucking win would be nice. like i’m too anxious to even be dependent on substances like i’m so sorry if this is fucked up but i wish could use drugs and drinking to cope but i can’t because my brain doesn’t let me relax for five fucking seconds so smoking weed makes me paranoid as hell and i literally have some sort of blockage in my brain that prevents me from getting drunk. plus i’m too anxious to ever fully lose control it’s way too terrifying for me.

basically i’m wound up tighter than a spring and self medicating is out so i just cope by coping which is getting kinda fucking hard. what happens when i lose my student coverage, how the fuck am i gonna afford my drugs?? i’m already way over my therapy coverage and see her biweekly and now only monthly. i live my life in a constant state of exhaustion and interrupted functioning as a result of not sleeping, anxiety and apparently being fucking adhd plus whatever the fuck else. i’m too tired to keep finding new ways to manage like i can’t manage anymore. i wonder if there’s really nothing wrong or if over the past 11 years no doctor has really ever been able to do their fucking job. and tell me what the fuck is wrong with me. i don’t want to be anything i don’t want to be medicated or sedated i want to be normal and go to sleep when i’m tired and smile when i’m happy and cry when i’m sad and eat when i’m hungry and speak when i have something to say. i don’t understand bro why couldn’t i have just one fucking thing!!!!!

[reysjedi]

My thoughts but mostly my feelings.

This is the 3rd time posting these. Idk how but they keep getting deleted. 3rd times the charm?

*****TROUBLED BLOOD SPOILERS AHEAD******

Okay so I am going to start with the non ship stuff first because once that begins I will become slightly incoherent lol

• I love Barclay. He is so freaking funny. His friendship with Robin is everything. “You need to learn to read the room, mate.” I think he will be coming for Ilsa’s number one spot on the “Cormoran & Robin Shipper” list soon. 

• Speaking of Ilsa “It’s Robin’s birthday, you total dickhead.” I love it so much. Hoping for a miracle baby for her and Nick next book.

• I enjoyed the case. The characters seemed so developed and realistic. I really didn’t see the murderer coming. I also loved how it brought up why we trust certain people without a second thought. 

• I had very few disappointments in this book (besides not having a kiss which I wasn’t truly expecting) but my 2 were 1. That Strike didn’t go to his Dad’s party. Idk I really wanted that for his character even if he ever does reconcile with him it won’t be at a public event, I just really wanted to him to go and of course bring Robin. 2. That Robin wasn’t at Joan’s funeral. The flowers were lovely though. 

• Speaking of Joan <3 <3 <3 “I wish I had met your Robin.” I cried. I think it was really important for Strike to know Joan was proud of him and that he can think of that and her when he looks at the ocean. 

• Delving in to Strike’s psyche more was amazing. Learning more about his childhood. His mixed emotions about Leda. Yes. Yes. Yes. 

• I also loved Robin’s journey in this book. I’m also about to turn 29 and in a transition point in my life and how people kept saying “she was traveling in a different direction than the rest of us” really resonated with me. 

• I’m super excited about Michelle joining the agency. Robin needs another female coworker. Speaking of, I love what Pat brings to the team, especially her dynamic with Strike.

• I CHEERED when Strike manipulated Creed like that will be awesome on screen.

OKAY NOW TO THE SHIP STUFF * cracks knuckles *

• I don’t think I have every loved a literary couple this much. The way JK manages to grow and develop their relationship each book sighhh 

• THE AMOUNT OF TIMES I shouted “COMMUNICATE YOU IDIOTS” WHILE READING THIS BOOK lol but they do and when they do sighhhhh okay sorry can’t skip to the end

• I find it really funny that in a group chat on here I said I wanted holiday fluff L O L

• I was so upset for Robin on her 29th. I can’t believe he forgot but BOYYYY DID HE MAKE UP FOR IT

• Okay so let’s start the holiday fuck ups: Christmas

What a classic man. Waiting the last minute to buy presents and agonizing over it. Then he’s going to buy her perfume which just so happens is exactly what she wanted on her birthday (and yes he gets a major hint from Ilsa but still). 

AND THEN HE PANICS because picking perfume for someone is pretty intimate and he was basically delirious because of fever AND HE GETS HER CHOCOLATES sighhhh I felt so bad for how stupid he was unknowingly being. 

Her gift for him is so thoughtful and the only thing that cheers up his miserable Christmas <3

• Next, bloody Valentine’s Day: What a disaster. Robin finally lets out her frustrations on him and I think he was genuinely shocked. She had NEVER said anything like that to him. Strike has said several times how he appreciates “Robin being the only woman in his life who wasn’t trying to change him.” He thought she had no complaints because she kept quiet. It wounds him.

“And don’t buy me any more fucking flowers!” I was so worried he would take this as wanting no romantic gestures but he didn’t <3 and they even joke about it later <3

Then he thinks women never want him to apologize first (really Cormoran???) and isn’t going to call first BUT HE DOES he calls and it’s kind of a lame apology but HE CALLS FIRST. 

• The banter the entire book was amazing because GUYS THEY ARE BEST FRIENDS.

• TIME FOR CHAPTER 58: “Romantic Whiskey in the Dark” aka THE BEST CHAPTER TILL 73 The intimacy, honesty, and vulnerability of this scene * clutches chest *

“I’d like to go to the Ritz please”… lol little did we know

He finally tells her about his Dad and half siblings pestering him. He even tells her about his childhood (y’all I couldn’t believe it). Picturing young Cormoran with too short pants, anxious to meet his Dad, and then the crushing realization that he didn’t want to see him. Then him calling Strike an accident in front of him. My heart broke.  

Robin FINALLY asks him about Charlotte and he tells her about her overdose and how much anxiety that was giving him.

I feel like typing Strike’s entire inner monologue starting with “How could he say, look, I’ve tried not to fancy you since you first took off your coat in this office…” but just do yourself a favor and read Chapter 58 again (I’ll be reading it & 73 at least 5 times each today lol).

Then he brings up Ilsa trying to set them up. * flails *

They talk about Matthew and Sarah because they are sharing. And guys, sharing is truly caringggg.

Then they have the conversation about wanting to have kids. (I have a few idk meta? thoughts about all the foreshadowing in this book about them having a kid together).

I absolutely love how Robin calls him out on his “self-indulgence.” I’m not saying Strike will ever change his mind about kids but I loved that she challenged his reasoning. They are so perfect together I swear.

Then he calls her his best friend. And Robin dies. And I DIED. It was so perfect and genuine. Her response was so cute because she was so taken aback. 

EVERYTHING WAS PERFECT

Then they both start thinking about the bed that is MEARLY UPSTAIRS AND I THINK I PASSED OUT FOR A BIT.

Seriously guys CHAPTER 58 IS EVERYTHINGGGGG

• I loved how they had an honest conversation about Strike’s protectiveness of her while on the job. 

• Strike chastising himself for considering/wanting to buy her a stuffed donkey <3

• “Ya but you’re exceptional.” He so casually makes Robin’s heart soar. It is perfect. 

• OKAY I THINK I’M READY TO DISCUSS ROBIN’S 30TH I NEVER and I mean NEVER COULD HAVE IMAGINED THIS FOR THEM

Back to Strike appreciating Robin “never wanting to change him” but then she tells him she hates when he’s late (andddd he’s on time NO DARE I SAY EARLY for their meetings for the rest of the book). She often feels underappreciated and wishes he would just make more of an effort. AND BOYYYY DOES HE EVER.

HE CHANGES GUYS… TO MAKE HER HAPPY “People can change. Or so a psychiatrist in Broadmoor told me.”

She thought he forgot again * cries *

He arranges for her to wake up to his donkey balloon and signs it “(Not flowers) Love Strike x” GUYSSSSS

Robin’s little tarot card read (WE NEED TO META THE CRAP OUT OF THIS) T

hen they meet up and HE LETS HER PICK OUT HER PEFUME (what she has been searching for the entire book, the perfume that suits her new life and he buys it for her in the best possible way THE SYMBOLISM COROMORAN IS ONE WITH THE PERFUME THE PERFUME IS ONE WITH HIM * flails *) and HE ADMITS HE FUCKED UP GETTING IT FOR HER ON CHRISTMAS

SHE ASKS HIM TO HELP HER CHOOSE BEWTEEN THE LAST TWO AND HE CHOOSES THE ONE THAT REMINDS HIM OF SEX. I mean I never thought the description of “musky skin and bruised flowers” could be so sexy. 

I DIEDDDDDDDD

THEN HE TAKES HER TO THE RITZ FOR CHAMPAGNE <3 <3 <3

ROBIN WAS SO SHOCKED BUT NOT AS SHOCKED AS ME

“Strike, said Robin, This is thoughtful.” Oh you mean just like you asked him to be? This is him trying. HE’S WOOING YOU ROBIN. 

GUYS WHAT IF THE NEXT BOOK STARTS RIGHT AFTER THEIR DATE (yes it is totally a date) AND THEY HAVE SEX BECAUSE THAT WAS STRIKE FINALLY TRYING (and he changed his phone numberrrrr) 

THAT WAS PEAK ROMANCE (I need fics).

I am seriously so happy with how far they have come together and super excited about their future <3

wow

If anybody read all of that message me so we can discuss (flail) together.

When do we get to read book 6??????

[albatris]

ik this is probably an inappropriate question to ask but i deal with stpd and just recently discovered this. Previously thought it was just depression/anxiety but ive been on like 7 antidepressants/2 of which were more geared towards anxiety. I was wondering if you take any meds or have any advice you might recommend. Id really appreciate it. Im running out of ideas lol.( Sorry to bother and thank you)

nah you’re all good, I don’t have any problem with questions like this n I’m happy to share any experiences of mine that people might find useful!! though in this case idk how much help I’ll be, sorry D:

mostly about meds but my bad for goin on a whole ramble in the middle about therapy?? I talk a lot and have trouble staying on topic

'cause meds n therapy both have been useful to me but both probably would've been pretty useless without the other

under cut for personal rambles

so I was in the same boat as you for several years, I was in treatment for depression and anxiety and then borderline later on, way way way before anyone landed on schizotypal

as such I’ve been obviously dealing with stpd symptoms for basically my whole life but I only got diagnosed early last year n it’s the first time I’ve been. like. actually in any sort of therapy that addresses it properly and I’m still getting a feel for it

in terms of meds, I’ve been on a whole slew of different antidepressants, didn’t find one that worked until I was maybe 18 or 19? so I’ve been on the highest dose mirtazapine since then....... helps with that kinda baseline anxiety background hum, helps with obsessions and guilt spirals..... I didn’t think it did much for depression until I tried coming off it??

like, it gave me a slight boost in terms of energy and motivation, not a huge one, but definitely noticeable once it was gone

but yeah, it was kinda..... yeah, this med is about as helpful as I’m gonna get, so I decided to stick with it. I recently have considered coming off it ‘cause the sedation was a nightmare, but that’s on hold for the time being

I’ve been on two different antipsychotics, first quetiapine, which did absolutely nothing and was even more sedating on top of the mirtazapine, and currently I’m starting on aripiprazole. still on a super low dose, but working up to something that will hopefully ease some psychotic symptoms. side effects of insomnia and nausea but eased off mostly after the first week

but yeah, I haven’t really had much experience with antipsychotics or how helpful they are yet, atm I’m gonna wait and see whether there’s any real positive effects

but meds are super hard to give advice about, ‘cause different ones work for different folks, what works for me might not for you, what works for you might be something I tried and hated, etc etc etc, y’know

honestly the most helpful thing for me has been therapy, I’ve pretty much been in therapy since I was like 5 and I’ve done a lot of it

meds might be helpful to some people on their own but for me I think they would have been mainly useless without some form of therapy

meds kinda helped with some of the “edges” ie, the resulting depression and anxiety of the personality disorder, hopefully will help with some psychotic symptoms too, therapy has also helped with some of these issues on the edges, and I’m currently addressing some of the more specifically schizotypal core issues, although I will likely have to continue doing the work on those issues for most of my life

if you have a good doctor who listens to you, if you want to continue trying out meds then you might still find one that helps you out! I don’t really have a lot of advice here, because the effects can be so different from person to person. but I’ve found that meds only help on a really small scale, they kind of take a little bit of the weight off but it’s still a whole lot of heavy lifting on my own

so therapy was real good for some of that stuff too, skills for easing some of the load. therapy for me involved Other People, but for others it could involve other resources, such as online workbooks n that kind of thing....... ‘cause I know personally for me I fuckin HATE meeting new people and having to bare my soul for them, so therapy gets. interesting

and I know therapy is not realistic for some folks (and also not what this question was about but I’m just rambling now)

n I know especially that that shit gets fucking HARD when any sort of psychosis and paranoia is involved, in terms of stpd, I flat out refused to speak about certain symptoms with professionals due to paranoia and fear, and had a lot of issues trying to come into a therapy environment and immediately having complete strangers be like “ok tell me about what’s up”

like, no???? fuck off?? I don’t even know you??

n until recently all my therapies where only tangentially useful as a schizotypal, like, I did a bunch of social anxiety stuff which helped with some of the surface level day-to-day social anxiety (not so much the more deep-seated stpd social anxiety, that whole “it gets worse the closer you get to people” type, very fun), I did a lot of work around depression and suicidal urges and goals and meaningful living and whatnot, I did DBT which also encompassed a lot of work on interpersonal skills and handling dissociation and paranoia

n like. some of it was helpful? none of it got to the core of the issue or addressed what I really needed to address

I got super lucky with my current psychiatrist in that she was someone I already knew for around a year and a half beforehand ‘cause she helped out in my DBT group therapy. so I was able to get a feel for what kind of person she was beforehand and got to find my feet in trusting her in a more distanced context before entering one on one therapy. she also specialises in personality disorders and was the one who actually diagnosed me so it wasn’t like she was like “oh you’re definitely schizotypal, I’m gonna just pan you off to someone more experienced now” which was nice

she’s also the one who’s helping me out with meds currently

but ya, therapy can be A Lot, ‘specially for schizotypals who tend to isolate and get uncomfy in those vulnerable scenarios. in order to make the most out of it I have to practice an extremely uncomfortable sort of “radical openness” which is like..... well, I’ve spent most of my life being miserable and unhappy and feeling trapped and stuck in these patterns, and this has gotten me nowhere, in order for something to change I need to be radically open about my experiences

which gets HARD because the knee-jerk reaction to paranoia and delusions is often to pull back and isolate, and often I’ve struggled with the idea that it’s not “safe” to speak about certain things or that something bad will happen if I do

so it’s difficult, but I have to continually commit myself to being open and placing myself in intensely uncomfortable scenarios, getting used to the idea of trust being An Action, and practicing trust even when I don’t necessarily Feel It

that’s been a really helpful outlook for me and the only thing that’s kept me involved with therapy and meds and treatment. idk if it’ll be useful to others. I also know that some therapists and psychiatrists are shit and being radically open with the wrong people can be a nightmare

but it’s something that applies in my other relationships too and with my relationship to myself, so. *shrug emoji*

but yeah. that’s been what’s helpful for me

meds do a little bit of the work, but honestly I still have to pull a fuckload of the weight on my own, I kinda got to the point with meds where I was just like “ok this is obviously as good as it’s gonna get” and just stuck with it......... which is kind of a bummer of an answer

ik that kinda turned into a whole unrelated ramble in the middle there but I hope this kinda answers a bit of your question maybe or maybe not ‘cause I don’t really know what I’m doing

but also

I hope you have a nice day

[cruelfeline]

while I'm personally not (that I know of) on the spectrum (is that the term? I feel like that isn't the term), but I have been both in therapy and on medication for bipolar and depression and anxiety for seven or so years. I mean mind you i have bad moments where I have depressive episodes and never bother to pick up my refills or go back to therapy for six months but that's neither here nor there. but uh, all of your other anons and whatnot seemed to conflate a psychologist and a psychiatrist; therapy with medication management? but either way, uhm. (they each have their own separate pros and cons, of course. and then you have counselors and licensed social workers and psychologists all "within" the therapist category but yknow) psychiatrists Can do both but more often than not they do only medication management, and therapists usually Only do therapy. but when you're "shopping around" for either/or, you can definitely specify what you want them to specialize in? like not "has experience with" but "specializes in", that distinction is very important. and there are lots of different therapy models too tbh (DBT is the one that works best for me so now when I look for a new therapist, I make sure that that's the model they use), and when you're looking around for/at different providers, Always Always read reviews. I dont trust doctors that have bad/no reviews. my first psychiatrist was a pill pusher. she'd push brand name heavy anti-psychotics that were $$$ bc Of Course, but I was 17 lmao what did I know. and I was assigned to her basically so it wasn't like I had any say. but looking back and at her reviews, they ALL say that. and when you call or email their office, you can usually ask if they're open to like. a short 15 or so minute trial run phone call or something just to see if you guys "click" where you can ask them questions before you have an intake/consultation appointment, since those are often long (and relatively expensive) and you don't want to be paying $$ only to realize within the first 5 minutes that you hate this person. yknow? the vet analogy was good i guess?? but youre not shopping around for a doctor for your pet - youre shopping around for a doctor for You. and one that is going to, in large part, be responsible with helping you with your mental health. sorry if this info dump came out of left field and was rude af lol, I was just kinda. feeling as tho people might be spooking you.

Hi anon! I think that’s the term? Maybe? At least, I’ve heard it before.

I know that there are different forms of professionals in the mental health field, and I know the differences more or less. If I end up trying to get in with someone, I’m fairly confident that I’ll be able to figure things out in terms of specialization c: 

It’s more a matter of whether or not I put forth the effort. Which is always kind of dubious for me. At this point, I’m not sure what I’ll decide. I still don’t really believe I’m ND, despite the helpful observations everyone has made. I just think I’m aberrant and highly solitary. And I’m not sure seeing someone to confirm that would be terribly helpful. Maybe? I don’t know.

Either way: thank you for the info!

[stayatsam]

hm i know its TMI but i’m going to say some stuff under the cut bc i always feel very solitary in this kind of mind state and always wonder if there are other people who can relate

lol people often find it surprising that i suffer from paranoia bc on the internet and when i’m around people im really good at coming off as super composed and casual (and for the most part i am!) but LOL i’m thinking that if i’m ever living alone i’ll have to get a psychiatric service dog 🙄

tw for generic paranoia/fear/nightmares that kind of thing 

i’ve never gotten a like, “official” diagnosis from my psychiatrist. we’re bumbling around it either being bipolar disorder or paranoid schizophrenia (im talking more w him later)

. i know i’m going to sound like a crazy person but i’ve had paranoid delusions and hallucinations for as long as i can remember, but most notably around when i was 11 to the present. i was totally convinced that i was going to be kidnapped by the government and that they were watching me physically. and i’d also get terrifying feelings of being watched while i was alone in my room in the basement, that someone was standing immediately outside my locked door. EVERY night i would keep the lights turned on as i went about investigating every corner of the room and closing every door after thoroughly checking what was inside. i’d then look under my bed etc and then sleep with a lamp on. and at some point i got put on medication, which helped with my mood and depression but it never really made the paranoia go away. i’ve often had strange sensations of smell-hallucinations and large human figures about me. i’d only ever get a few hours of sleep every night because of how freaked out id be. 

and then i went to college and like, i would sleep really well and i was like oh lol im cured must be the medicine. but now that i’m in an apartment, and have to be alone more frequently, i’m 99% certain that the reason i was feeling better was because i had a roommate there with me every night. and lately i have had more feelings of paranoia and general “im freaking out in the dark” kind of thing. and i’ve had nights throughout my life where i (i was raised catholic) would recite the hail mary over again in my head for hours until eventually i fell asleep. 

it’s really hard to explain how paranoia feels other than it being like, one of the purest forms of terror where its like, nothing rational is in your thought process so you can’t even pin your fear on something with substance 😔😔😔😔 man i hate being mentally ill

but where im going w this is that like, i know within the next 3-4 years i will likely be living alone, and that if i’m going to function in society i’ll definitely need a dog specifically trained to handle this kind of delusions. and i’ve read that there are specifically service dogs trained for people with delusions/schizophrenia. i say service dog and not emotional support animal because im like 90% sure i’d need something that would be able to accompany me when im going places. specifically because this stuff does impair my daily life where ive gone days kind of like, huddling in my room and missed class. or i’d be so freaked out at going places that i would not go to events at the LGBT center downtown. in hs when i was sleeping alone i wouldn’t sleep all night and then id skip school in the morning, so i’m fairly certain i could struggle to function normally when i have to live alone in the future

i almost never go anywhere alone, with the farthest being going to campus and the grocery store and pharmacy. i’ve never been out past dark here alone because of how terrified i am of it 🥺 and also something that would be able to snap be back to reality

but i have NO idea how i would ever bring this up to my mom. she’s always boiled all my mental health issues down to just “depression and anxiety” and that there was never anything more to it. she always asks me how im doing mentally and i’ll be like yeah im good not depressed and shes like :) good! and im like lol... i think i would have my psychiatrist talk to her about it first to kinda break the idea to her slowly. he’s honestly a miracle worker. anyway sorry this got long i just kind of needed to throw my thoughts into the void. thank u if u read this far it feels nice knowing someone would have had the patience to listen to my rambling

and also that i’m doing well as of writing this! i feel like i’m a pretty strong person mentally for the most part ❤️👉👈 

[southsidestory]

you have bipolar disorder? how did you get to that conclusion? did you go to a doctor? i don’t want to self diagnose but i’ve read up on it a lot and it seems like my grandfather, father, and i have it. its made life super difficult. I even stopped writing ff bc when i posted, people wouldn’t understand how depressive episode make you not want to do anything for literal months at a time and would berate me for not updating 1/2

2/2 and my family is Mexican so they believe that mental illness is an American Thing, so i cant really go to them for help, and i wouldn’t even know where to begin with a doctor. what was your experience with it?

I did go to a psychiatrist, yes, but I had been experiencing symptoms since I was 12. I was 26 when I was finally correctly diagnosed. Before that I’d been misdiagnosed with MDD (major depressive disorder) and put on a cocktail of meds that mostly made me worse. Being correctly diagnosed is hugely important, and I highly recommend that someone see a psychiatrist rather than self diagnosing. 

But. Not everyone has the privilege of easy access to a psychiatrist, and it sounds like you’re in that category. And I can say from personal experience that I knew I was bipolar before I was diagnosed, because it runs in my family and my symptoms were astoundingly obvious by that point. Since you asked, I’ll tell you about my experience.

As I said, I started experiencing bipolar symptoms when I was a kid. I also have PTSD and GAD, and my anxiety has been with me all my life, but my depression started when I was 12. A nurse practitioner put me on the antidepressant Lexapro, which made me worse--because antidepressants don’t work for bipolar people. Our brains aren’t wired for it. So I quit taking Lexapro and didn’t attempt to treat my mental illness with medicine for the next ten years. 

I also started having hypomanic episodes as a young teenager, but I didn’t recognize them for what they were. I wouldn’t sleep for days and I’d be highly productive and feel great, so why would I complain about that or think it’s a problem? But the longer I went untreated the more severe my episodes became and the longer they lasted, and by the time I hit my 20s I was in a really bad place. Depressed 85% of the time, hypomanic 10% (although I didn’t know that’s what it was), and “normal” about 5%. My depressive episodes often lasted for months at a time, briefly broken by a week or two of hypomania, after which I’d plummet right back into depression.

I went to a psychiatric nurse practitioner when I was 22. He assumed I was depressed and put me on antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds. That mostly made me worse. The only thing that ever really worked was Abilify, which is an atypical antipsychotic shockingly used to treat bipolar disorder. That really should have been a fucking clue, but I went improperly diagnosed for another four years.

Being on a cocktail of the wrong meds made me worse, which led me to stop taking my meds cold turkey, which is always a bad idea. In April 2016 I had a horrible mixed episode, although I didn’t understand what it was then. For those who don’t know, a mixed episode is when someone is manic and depressed at the same time, and it’s pure hell. During my episode, I broke up with my partner right before our first wedding anniversary, quit my job, and almost committed suicide. (Then I moved back home and my mom promptly died, but that’s a whole ‘nother can of worms.)

Fortunately my partner and I got back together, and they helped me figure out what was going on. They’re also bipolar, but unlike me they were diagnosed as a kid, and our symptoms presented differently so that’s probably why neither of us saw it for a long time.

I finally saw a psychiatrist at the beginning of 2017, and I went in already knowing what I was going to hear. My mom had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder a couple of years before she died, so I knew it ran in my family. My symptoms had worsened significantly and my hypomania had finally become so distinct and unhealthy that it couldn’t be overlooked anymore.

None of my previous health care providers had ever asked me, “What do you feel like when you’re at your happiest?” If they had, it would have probably been obvious that I suffer from bipolar disorder, not unipolar depression. Because my “happiest” looks like extreme periods of creative productivity, days or weeks of insomnia, and some very bad decision making lol. Usually followed by a crash landing back into depression.

So I guess that’s my question for you. What do you feel like when you’re at your happiest? If your “up” periods sound like hypomania or mania, which I’m sure you’ve read about, then yeah there’s a good chance you’re bipolar. :/

And if you are bipolar, I cannot stress enough how important it is to get proper medication. I don’t want to scare you, but something like 20% of bipolar people die from committing suicide. And those are just the successful ones; the number who attempt, sometimes multiple times, is much higher. This is an extremely dangerous, disabling, potentially deadly illness. Although you can learn helpful coping strategies in therapy, and a good support system is also very important, the #1 thing you need to treat bipolar disorder is medication. It’s a chemical imbalance in the brain that, for 99% of us, cannot be effectively managed without mood stabilizers and/or antipsychotics. Every bipolar person I know (my mom, my aunt, my partner, and one of my friends) didn’t get better until they were on meds, and it was the same for me.

All this to say, if you suspect you’re bipolar, I encourage you to do every single thing in your power to get to a psychiatrist. I’d like to say your family might come around, but if you say they believe mental illness is an “American Thing” then I believe you. In which case, you need to advocate for yourself now and worry about their opinions later. Assuming you’re an adult, which I’m *really* hoping you are. If you’re a minor, that makes this much harder.

When you say you’re Mexican, I don’t know if you mean you’re living in Mexico or living in the US. If Mexico, I can’t point you toward resources, but if you happen to live in the US, most major cities have FQHCs (federally qualified health centers), which are aimed at serving poor people, and many of which provide mental health care services.

If you do have access to a psychiatrist, I can give you some pointers on what to do before your first appointment. I went into mine with a list of symptoms and how long I’d been experiencing them, family history of mental illness, previous medication regimens, and a summary of my trauma. When I handed it over to my psychiatrist she was like “Well it’s quite clear that you’re bipolar. I’m sorry you’ve been misdiagnosed for so long.”

If you’re comfortable DMing me, please feel free. Regardless, I hate to hear that you’re struggling, but I do want you to know that things can get better. I honestly feel like I lost the years between age 12 and 26, because I spent them so miserable, but since getting properly medicated my life has turned around completely. I want to see that happen for you too, nonny.

[dabiboy]

i don’t know you personally or what your life’s been like so i don’t want to give too much advice because everyone is different. but if this is something you’ve dealt with for a really long time, i’d really suggest looking into a form of therapy that works on your mind as well as your body. something i feel doctors and even therapists fail to get across is just how important it is to be in touch with your body when you deal with conditions such as anxiety. i’m not just talking about eating healthy and working out (which is important too of course), but all those anxiety attacks, your trauma, everything you have ever gone through in your life, it manifests in your body and it sits there and grows, and you get tense and exhausted and it sucks and at some point therapy or medicine or breathing excersices just isn’t gonna cut it anymore. you need someone to get those knots out, to help you relax otherwise how are you supposed to control your body when you’re panicking if it’s already had an headstart and you can’t keep up? i have a manuvision therapist who has helped me more in five months than any psychiatrist or doctor has in twenty years. i don’t really know if it’s a treatment form known outside of my country, but it’s basically just a really deep (and very painful lol) massage combined with therapy sessions. you start pinpointing where certain traumatic experiences has locked in your body and then you work from there. since i started i’ve only had one anxiety attack, i’m keeping regular school hours for long periods of time which i’ve never been able to before. it’s really weird. of course there are still bad days but it’s easier to get back up now.

something that can also help is yoga. it takes a lot of trial of error i think because there are so many different forms, (i really like vinyasa yoga cause it gives me energy), but not everyone likes it. me personally, i hate it when the instructor talks a lot during a class, it’s super annoying to me lol. i usually find videos online with exercises i like and mute it while i do it lol. but yeah, meditating and therapy is great and all, but i’m a very big believer that your body is just as important as your mind and if you don’t work on it alongside your mind, you won’t get very far because nothing else has ever helped me in my twenty years of life.

i’m sorry if this was too much or if you felt like i crossed any boundaries, i’m so sorry then. i can only speak for my only experience. and i’m really sorry you go through this. i wish you all the luck in your journey and hope you feel better soon. and just remember that, unfortunately, it’s a lifetime of hard work, and it’s completely okay to have bad days!!! it’s okay to cry and need a day home to watch movies or read manga, or write stories, anything you like to do!!! indulging your interests and what makes you happy is really, really important! it’s okay to break down, just remember that every time you get back up you will be stronger than before!!

Don't apologize! Thank you for taking your time and stopping by, and honestly this was very helpful!

I've been living like this for a while now, I can control it but at times it gets harder. Like today. But I focused on answered some of the asks I got, did a few breathing excercises and slowly I felt better. But I've never heard about manuvision before! It sounds very interesting, and certainly, helpful! I'm a true believer that body and mind are very important, so that therapy you mentioned sounds *chef kiss* really. I will definetely check it out and see if it happens here where I live! So thank you so much 💐

And yes, I did that today! I was home alone, so I watched my programs, sang my lungs out, and I even ordered something I enjoy for dinner. So I felt better throghout the day, and honestly, words like those you said, made me smile and to remember that everything will be better. So thank you again, dear anon 💐💕

[citrinekay]

WAIT AHHHH IT CAN'T END THERE ??? ok so obvi i am now caught up and STRESSED 😂😂 you weren't lying! this is a heavy one that pulls at every heartstring i have. but anyways i can't be mad because i looove what you're doing with it. just from a writing perspective, i like that you are finding fresh ways to give us the scenes we've already covered in the show--fleshing them out or altering them slightly so we're always on our toes. i feel like there's too many moments i love to point them all out

but i also love the juxtaposition of moments and scenes; the way you chose to play some out, and others you deliver like gut-punches: quick and effective. (i'm thinking PARTICULARLY of the post-Speck moments particularly. would killll for a bonus vignette of THAT, but i digress.) i also thought it was very clever giving us the scene between Bill & his mother's grave, because it's makes it hard for me to totally hate him after what he did to Holden. which, by the way, SOUL CRUSHING.

anyways, part of me is hoping Bill cockblocks Holden and this Elliot guy, and the other part of me hoping that Holden gets to blow off some steam and Bill has to hear them next door for being a total dick. (i PROMISE i have empathy for him but that's my baby and i'm secondhand mad lmao!) ps. "red phosphorus staining an otherwise black sky" is a beautiful line and image. i can't wait to see what happens next!!

oh ok WAIT last one i swear 😂 but i also wanted to mention that i thought that it was a really interesting touch at the beginning of Bill's graveside scene in the latest chapter, how he contemplates his loss of faith in God. because i think ultimately it illustrates really well Holden's point of him adopting a state of victimhood--it's not his own repression and denial and fear that led to he and Holden's breakup. it's divine predestination... oh, Bill 😪

So yeah - things have definitely changed since you last got caught up 😂 Bill continues to cling to his pride and denial while Holden is just a sweet, fragile baby in the wake of Kemper/Vacaville. I’m sorry, everyone; I really do love him, but it does seem like I put him through the wringer more often than not lol Maybe as  fanfic writer that’s a sign of just how much I love him 🤷‍♀️  

I try my best not to repetitious, especially when I’m staying loyal to the general plot of the show so I’m happy that it still seems fresh and exciting! In regards to the post-Speck moment, I have to laugh because you’re the second person who has mentioned that line in particular and I literally thought of taking it out like 3 times while I was editing the chapter. I wasn’t sure if it fit with Bill’s emotions/feelings towards Holden in this fic, but I ended up leaving it because I just COULD NOT pass it up!

Also, thank you for mentioning the graveside scene because it’s actually one of my favorite moments in this whole story. Like you said, it very simply reveals what’s going on inside his mind and his own tactics that he uses to explain his actions to himself. I’ve never written much about Bill’s mother even though the single line we get from the show makes me think that he loved her very much as opposed to the “I know my old man was never around” that we get about his father. Relationships are never simple of course, but I think that there’s something very specific and poignant about a woman who has escaped an abusive relationship and her relationship with her son. Layer in the abuse Bill later experienced by someone else’s hand, and you have two very damaged people trying to depend on and love each other. It was really critical for me at this point to make the readers go into his POV and see that the anger and denial he’s going through isn’t necessarily malicious, but a leftover, knee-jerk reaction from his childhood that he’s yet to unlearn. He’s clinging to his denial with all his might, looking to God or anyone to blame for his heartbreak except himself. It’s really easy for someone who grew up with a religious parent to start blaming God for their problems, I think, and probably even easier for someone who has gone through abuse at a young age - that wasn’t their fault, so neither is the corresponding, lifelong ripple of consequences. It’s gonna take him a minute to get over that especially considering he’s never sought help for what he went through, just kept it bottle inside until it’s poisoned every possibility of happiness in his life. This is where my obsession with the “redemptive power of love trope” comes in, specifically this quote by psychiatrist Bruce D. Perry: “ The truth is, you cannot love yourself unless you have been loved and are loved. The capacity to love cannot be built in isolation.”

As far as Elliot - as much as I love/ have empathy for Bill, I thought it was time for him to learn a little lesson lol And it’s time for Holden to have more confidence and agency over what he wants/needs. Maybe he won’t find exactly what he’s looking for, but I do think he’ll find a way to scrape the broken pieces of himself back together again the way that he always does. This entire relationship has changed him so the next time he and Bill talk privately, they might be on more equal footing 👀

I literally cannot wait to hear your thoughts on the rest once this fic is posted in it’s entirety! You always have such great insights that I sometimes don’t even realize I’m putting into my writing until you point them out. Thank you so much. Much love 💕