#Every self destructive impulse every suicidal thought all of it was because I knew he would miss me and the fact that I can’t see him often | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angstama · 3 years

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god knows you tried | manjiro (mikey) sano

pairing: bonten!mikey x reader

genre: angst

warnings: heartbreak, attempt suicide(?), original characters/manga plot (pls do not read if you haven’t read the manga D: ), mentions of religion, implied sex (no smut ok!)

summary: god knows you tried your best. if only mikey knew how hard you’re trying too then perhaps this love wouldn’t hurt as much as you thought.

words: 1823 words

a/n: i think this sucks but... i hope you enjoy it! <3

god knows you tried.

you watched the ex-toman boys eagerly catching up with takemichi quietly, hands resting against your chin as you took in the rare sight in front of you with a sad smile etched on your lips. this was the happy ending that mikey had sacrificed for everyone but himself.

“a penny for your thoughts?” mitsuya asks, plopping down next you on to the stone steps. that’s right, it’s june 19th 2018, toman’s formation day anniversary and everyone had gathered around to re-open the time capsule from twelve years ago. “hm? nothing much. just missing a particular someone.” you hummed, dragging your fingers across the ground to draw a heart. mitsuya nods understandingly, knowing not to pry any deeper anymore and for that, you’re thankful.

crouching down, you hesitantly picked up the the blue coloured envelope you left behind twelve years ago. unsure if you’d wanna read the contents of the letter your naive self written back then. with a deep breath, you slipped open the cover. revealing a photo of candid photo of you and mikey leaning on each other asleep with your mouths wide open taken by emma.

dearest y/n,

i wonder what you’re doing right now?

are you perhaps finally studying in film?

has that idiot manjiro finally proposed to you?

or are you the one who proposed to him?

“y/n, you’ll be with me for a long time right?” mikey asked, staring at the very sky that you both loved oh so very much with your hands intertwined. having grown up with each other since young had pretty much given you both the illusion that the two of you will always be a part of each other’s world. and you hoped with every inch of your heart that mikey wants it to be that way forever. “of course. you’re my heaven and home mikey. i wouldn’t go anywhere else without you by my side.” you squeezed his hand in assurance, knowing that at this very moment, mikey was at his most truthful and vulnerable self with you.

whatever it is, i hope that you’re living the happy life with him that you’ve been dreaming of.

signing off,

toman’s honorary member, y/n l/n.

everyone was silent. even hakkai who had been making fun of everyone’s letter kept quiet. the boys knew how much you loved and you still love mikey. each opting to give you the concerned and sympathetic look. you could feel you heart breaking even more for you knew you weren’t doing anything that you had hoped for back then.

you felt mitsuya’s comforting hand softly grabbing onto yours. “well that’s depressing,” you chuckled softly, wanting to get rid of the awkward tension in the air as soon as possible. “let’s grab some ramen, i’m starving.” and with that, you let your feet drag you away from the heavy atmosphere with your head hung low.

perhaps the hurt wouldn't be as painful if you weren’t the only one who knew what kind of path mikey had chosen to go down. you see, when mikey turned his back against all his closest friend, you had the privilege of staying as his only constant thanks to your stubborn nature but even with that, you weren’t enough to keep him away from his dark impulses. mikey chose the path to destruction and the only thing that you could do was watch from the sidelines and be there when he shows up at wee hours of the night to borrow your body. but you didn't mind. it was during these most intimate moments with mikey that you finally get to feel a piece of him again when he spews the words of “i love you” so effortlessly.

god knows that you tried.

“mikey those aren’t good for you.” you frowned, snatching the capsule away from his hand seconds before he could flush it down his system. “what the fuck y/n?” the angered male snaps. you felt yourself falling and back colliding against the hard ground. opening your eyes, you see mikey pining you down with nothing but void darkness in his eyes. “i’ll fucking kill you if you do it again.” mikey taunts, he was serious and you know it.

“then kill me mikey.” the words slipped out of your tongue instantly. you were tired. tired of trying. you don't know what else can you possibly do to help mikey anymore. mikey says nothing but got off you. he dusted himself and without sparing you single glance, he showed you his back again, walking out of the door where sanzu was already holding open for him. “get her home.” you heard him say.

it’s been a week since you guys opened the time capsule. nothing much had happened since then except you’ve been spending more time with hina considering how she’s often over to mitsuya’s studio for gown fitting. you admired and envy her love story with takemichi. but who were you to complain? you were lucky enough that mikey still wanted you around. so it shouldn’t hurt so much when you sae her adorning the beautiful wedding gown that mitsuya had spent months on tailoring.

you let out a tired yawn, stretching your arms above your head as you finished touching up the last few bits of editing on your laptop. you looked over at the calendar on your table, a pink heart circled over today’s date and smiled. “mitsuya, i’m gonna knock off first okay?” you announced, tidying up your table and reaching out for the bag of the familiar favourite deserts of a certain male.

mitsuya nods, “thank you for your hard work y/n”. he flashes you a smile, eye slowly trailing to the white plastic bag dangling from your side as you waved goodbye, back facing him and walking away. “you’re going to see him aren't you?” you stopped in your tracks. “i know he never left you. plus you got a bag filled with dorayakis and taiyakis. that’s pretty obvious.” mitsuya chuckles. you always knew mitsuya to be perceptive but it never once occured to you that your best friend who is also your boss would ever catch on to the secret you’ve been hiding for twelve years.

“how did yo-”

“be careful y/n.” mitsuya waves you off, going back to whatever he was doing. a fond smile creeps onto your lips as you watched mitsuya working hard. “thank you mitsuya. for everything. really,” you whispered, but loud enough for the dual dyed coloured hair boy to look up again when you walked away.

you made your way towards the secluded vip section of the club through swarms of body swaying around you until you saw the familiar tall pink haired male standing outside the golden door.

“hey sanzu,” you greeted, barely audible over the loud booming music. you were about to push the door open when sanzu towers over you immediately, denying you of your entrance. you looked at sanzu in confusion, “it’s me, y/n. i’m here to see mikey.” you said loudly, voice straining to over power the background noise. “ i know. but mikey will not be seeing anyone right now.” he retorts back.

surely mikey knew that you were visiting tonight right? after all it’s your anniversary date. you tilted your head at sanzu. not fully understanding what he’s saying. to say that you’re feeling absolutely livid would be an understatement right now. you’re too tired, angry and broken hearted to process anything anymore so you exploded. you only wanted to see your boyfriend. was that a very difficult request?

“sanzu,” you said lowly, eyes staring blankly into his and as if on cue, you brought your knees to his precious manhood before making another high kick at him, bringing him down. it was a technique that mikey had taught you when you were younger and attending martial arts lesson together with baji. god you missed baji so much.

“y/n because you’re short, you can do this instead.” mikey suggested smugly, kneeing poor baji’s little friend before swinging his legs much more harder than he intended to at baji’s profile when he bent forward. the main point was to get your opponent to lean forward so that your legs could reach high enough to create an impact on their skull. you eyes lit up in excitement, “wow! that’s so cool! let me try it!” you jumped impatiently. turning towards mikey to execute the exact same move. “wait n-! AHH,” mikey’s eyes widened, and before he knew it, you had completely knocked him over.

that day, as mikey and baji lied down with pain still intact barely moving an inch, shinchiro only gave you a thumbs up and praised you for taking down the invincible mikey. you were the only one who could do that.

“sanzu, i’ll see my boyfriend as and when i’d like to.” you said curtly, eyeing sending daggers at him lying on the ground before stepping over him to swing the door open, revealing your petite self to the other bonten’s executives and hostess who were staring at you in surprise.

you don’t see anyone else but your lover who’s currently sitting in the center with two pretty hostess sitting by his side. you don’t hesitate and begun walking towards him. “get your hands off my man.” you said calmly. there was tension in the air and from the corner of your eyes, you could see the executives slowly getting up to leave as if on cue.

“aren’t you as stubborn as always,” he raises a brow as you settled down next to him, pouring the bag of dessert on the glass table in front of you. you smile softly, grabbing a packet of taiyaki and handing it to him before grabbing one for yourself too. “happy 14th anniversary mikey.” you mumbled softly before grabbing a bite. 14 years, that was how long you two had been together for. “mhm. happy 14th anniversary y/n.” mikey hums, allowing you lean in close to him and resting your head on his chest.

you take in the scent of mikey for you knew that this is going to be the last time you’re going to be able to hold mikey close to you. you didn't want this moment to end but you were too tired to continue on and see what's going to happen the next when you go back to just another normal day. you held tightly to the gun you hid in your bag, shutting your eyes tightly.

“hey mikey,” you called out. you never thought you’d see it again but you saw a flash of endearment in his eyes when you called him. “i love you so much, promise you’ll take care of yourself alright?” you smiled warmly before pulling the gun out of your bag and putting it against your head.

god knows you tried.

god knows you did your best and now you’re going home.

bang!

#tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers #mikey x you #mikey sano #mitsuya takashi #toman #chifuyu matsuno #mikey x y/n #fanfic

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frame-to-frame · 4 years

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Breaking Down Griffith’s Coping Mechanisms: Repression v. Self Harm

CW: extended discussion of self harm and suicidal ideation, images of torture, mentions of CSA

For anyone interested, here is my very long breakdown of how I read Griffith’s state of mind and coping mechanisms (1. repression and 2. self harm) working throughout the Golden Age of Berserk. I think this reading provides an explanation as to why Griffith acts the way he does in some of his more obtuse and “irrational” scenes (the river, Charlotte), and how these actions eventually lead him to becoming Femto at the end of this arc.

Miura may not have planned all this out explicitly, but I think he has a good understanding of the psychological reality of why people repress and why they self harm, and the story proceeds accordingly.

This essay is basically a psychological deep-dive and a reworked version of a very long conversation I had with @bthump last year, it’s taken me a while to get back to this because life n stuff.

The content of this analysis is basically going through the GA scenes where Griffith acts in a self-destructive way and explaining how and why this happens and how it informs his actions in the story more generally.

If you don’t like or understand Griffith, I would invite you to give this analysis a shot anyway, because a lot of Griffith’s story takes place in the subtext of the Golden Age, and it takes a liberal helping of interpretation to figure out what’s going on. This of course is just one reading of Griffith’s character, but as I hope to show, there remains a consistent logic behind his actions that governs his impulses to act in the way he does throughout the story.

Okay, enough preamble, let’s jump in.

On Griffith’s Guilt

So first off, we have to ask why Griffith acts in these self-destructive ways in the first place. Basically, what are his coping mechanisms are responding to – why are they necessary at all?

I think it’s pretty clear that the heart of Griffith’s pain, coping mechanisms, and self-destructiveness is his guilt. More specifically, this guilt comes from the belief that he is cruel and evil because he’s willing to continue to pile up bodies and walk that corpse-laden path to the dream, to put others in harm’s way for his own sake, to devour others’ dreams for the sake of his own.

We see this in the flashback with the doll-knight boy, when his guard slips in front of Casca:

Casca specifically flags for us that this is a significant and unusually revealing moment for Griffith, where he shows a sliver of what’s underlying his implacable façade as a mercenary leader.

Another moment where we see Griffith’s guilt directly expressed is in “Tombstone of Flame: Chapter 2.” This scene shows us more explicitly that his guilt is bound up in his pursuit of the dream and the cruelty it takes to make that dream a reality:

From this scene, we can understand that to Griffith, his “cruelty” is specifically associated with walking the path to the dream, and alongside this, his willingness to put others in danger while he himself remains out of reach of harm’s way. These are both shown to us as things he hates himself for, given that he self harms directly after these scenes (with Gennon and with the second set of scratches – and if you need evidence that the latter happens, bthump has broken this down here).

This “cruelty” that lies at the heart of his guilt is why the guilt trip the Godhand take him on during the Eclipse cuts so deep, because throughout that sequence, the Godhand emphasize exactly that aspect, his cruelty, and no other part of him (such as his remorse, his intentions to create a more equal world, etc.).

On Griffith’s Repression and Resentment of his Dream

Alright, so we know why Griffith feels guilty. The next question is how Griffith responds to this – I’m suggesting here that it’s through a dual combination of repression and self harm. So, why does Griffith repress and why does he self harm?

Generally speaking, he represses to make himself feel better. This is basically the act of redirecting his feelings – telling himself that the guilt/pain he experiences over pursuing the dream doesn’t matter because all of these acts of cruelty are in fact justifiable, because they agreed to it, because he thought about this logically, because fate said it was OK, because he feels nothing, because, because… It’s basically every time he puts aside his feelings in pursuit of the dream.

Griffith’s repression involves rationalizing away his feelings in order to retreat to a space of emotional safety as an escape from his self hatred and the guilt he feels over his willingness to pursue the dream. The repression exists to smother the negativity he feels about the dream (and what it takes to get there) however it possibly can. And it is in this way that Griffith’s ability to attain his dream becomes closely tied to his ability to repress his guilt over wanting to and trying to obtain it. The repression and the dream basically go hand and hand.

However, it’s important to acknowledge that Griffith’s repression also walks a delicate line, because it attempts to excuse the corpses for the sake of the shining end goal as the ultimate justification for all the bodies, effectively justifying death with more death in a vicious circle, where the guilt continues to grow larger and larger into a mountain of bodies that is eventually visualized for Griffith directly in the guilt trip.

To make a bit of a subtle distinction here, it's not exactly that Griffith’s ability to repress his guilt over all of this becomes necessarily weaker the more the bodies pile up around him, because the increased body toll simply demands the need for greater and greater justification. In other words, it asks that he make a huge sacrifice for a huge gain – the eclipse for a utopia, basically.

However, we see that how this plays out in practice is that Griffith’s repression works against itself if not in the short run, in the long run because it ends up feeding this vicious circle. His repression feeds and intensifies his self loathing because it effectively enables more death, which in turn necessitates the greater need for his coping mechanisms and with it a stronger and stronger ability to repress those negative feelings. So if his ability to repress ever falters, what’s waiting in the wings is an increasingly difficult-to-justify mountain of death, guilt, and self hatred.

And not only that, if we dig a bit deeper, his ability to repress also feeds his self loathing directly, even as its entire goal exists to suppress it – because if he hates himself for his “cruel” willingness to walk the corpse-laden path to the dream, and the primary way he’s able to do this is because of his repression, then his ability to repress, to put on the mask for the sake of continuing the dream, would also be something he (unconsciously) hates about himself.

And in fact I think we see some of this resentment over his ability to repress his guilt finally acknowledged in the Godhand’s guilt trip:

Read: “That’s right, I knew what this was doing, what I was excusing, what I was encouraging, and I found a way to do it anyway.”

If Griffith’s repression is what enables his cruelty, when his ability to repress falters and he’s left only with his self loathing (as we see in in the guilt trip sequence, or even to a lesser degree with Casca in the river sequence), he is thus also hit with the resentment and self hatred not just over his willingness to repress his guilt but over the dream also, because this is what all this evil has been done in the name of: this is the ultimate cause. “It’s a blood-smeared dream after all.”

Of course we can see that Griffith is still able to functionally rely on the dream as a coping mechanism all the while implicitly resenting it throughout the Golden Age, but only insofar as he’s successfully able to repress the negatives that threaten to undermine its ability to function. After all, that’s why he needs to repress his guilt over the dream in the first place, because he cannot justify pursuing the dream if he confronts that guilt directly – it’s basically always threatening to overwhelm him.

And so, as soon as the mask of repression begins to slip, this underlying resentment makes it progressively harder to put on the mask and convince himself that the dream is worth all this death and cruelty. As we see in the river scene, once overcome by negative feelings about the dream – that the dream may in fact be able to excuse nothing, it may be ultimately nothing other than a monument to his own cruelty – the repression slips and he reverts to self harm, and he can only snap the mask back in place when he realizes that other people still need him to keep up that façade.

Griffith’s repression is essentially, at its heart, a precarious coping mechanism – it is intrinsically set up to undermine itself. The repression feeds and strengthens Griffith’s feelings of self loathing and his need to turn to self harm as a backup coping mechanism, which is effectively threatening to burst through the surface at any moment.

As we’ll see in the next section, his self harm in turn functions to invalidate his belief in the positive aspects of the dream (basically that it can still redeem him or his actions), and with it his ability to repress his own negative feelings.

This is essentially why I read the climax of Griffith’s Golden Age arc being the collapse of his coping mechanisms and his belief in the dream – because it hangs on his ability to successfully repress the negative feelings he has about the dream, and it hangs on two coping mechanisms that work at cross purposes from one another.

On Griffith’s Self Harm

Okay, so we’ve been over why Griffith feels guilt and how his repression works, but how does his self harm function in the story? First, let’s look at what it does for him emotionally.

There are a couple reasons people generally self harm – one of the main ones is that it can serve as a distraction from our problems and emotions, allowing people to focus on the pain in the moment to the exclusion of everything else. This kind of self harm would function like repression in Griffith’s case, because it would bury the guilt with a sort of distraction, by smothering it with a different kind of pain.

Now I don’t think that’s how Griffith’s self harm works, for a couple of reasons.

Firstly, it’s because none of the instances of self harm we see textually in Berserk actually function to help him forget or diminish his guilt or self loathing over pursuing the dream, and instead are oriented around the opposite, leading him to focus on it instead.

In the river when he’s scratching himself, he’s almost doing it subconsciously, like he’s not even paying attention to what he’s doing, and he’s instead thinking about what he’s talking about: the dream, specifically the negative aspects of the dream:

Throughout this scene, he’s not focused on his own self-inflicted suffering as a distraction, he’s focused on his own guilt from pursuing the dream. His suffering is positioned here as a direct consequence of his guilt.

Similarly, when he’s fucking Charlotte he’s thinking about Guts leaving and rejecting him, not getting lost in what he’s doing with her.

Neither of these two instances of Griffith’s self harm are functioning as distractions from his pain, they’re about intensifying it. So, why would he want to intensify his pain?

It’s because the self harm is Griffith’s backup coping response – it’s what seeps out when the repression isn’t strong enough to bury the guilt. It’s what happens when he’s hit with the full intensity of the self loathing, guilt, resentment, etc. that his repression usually protects him from. Given that he’s essentially being overwhelmed by his self hatred, it makes sense that he would want to feel worse as a result, because this is him accepting and becoming all-consumed with the idea that he is evil and cruel, and he thus “deserves” to suffer.

It is in this way that the self harm serves as a punishment in Griffith’s eyes: “dirtying” himself is essentially meting out justice, effectively giving him what he “deserves” for his own cruelty. In his eyes, this is him reaping what he’s sown.

Basically, the second reason why I think the self harm doesn’t function as a distraction is that it seems to be more centred around penance through his own suffering. The strongest evidence for this again comes from the river scene:

“[F]or hundreds, thousands of lives to hang in the balance and myself alone to not be unclean…”

This part of his monologue clearly sets up his own suffering (“dirtying” himself) as both punishment and atonement for his guilt over putting other people’s lives in danger.

Digging into this a bit deeper, Griffith is still essentially trying to prop up the dream here through his self harm, by trying to position his own suffering as constructive to his end goal. If the guilt threatens to tell him that none of this is worth it, the self harm in this instance is Griffith telling himself that it can be if he is just punished enough for it. (“What I want…won’t enter my grasp so easily as that.”)

This monologue shows us that in Griffith’s mind, his own suffering may be directly given up in response to the suffering of others. It’s what’s being offered in “exchange” – basically, if he becomes unclean enough (read: suffers enough) it’ll make all those hundreds and thousands of lives that hang in the balance “okay” (and you can see how this is some shaky and desperate logic).

In construing his self harm as a sort of atonement for the lives he’s put on the line for his dream, he is trying to absolve himself through his own suffering. This moment in the river essentially shows us Griffith’s thought process as he is in the process of self harming: “If I suffer and atone for this, then it will all be okay in the end, I can still attain my dream because I will have paid my dues.”

However, while Griffith tries to make this impulse to self harm constructive, as we’ll get into in the following section, we can see that this is still always fundamentally destructive to his goals because it always makes him feel worse about himself and his own actions, and that impulse to feel worse can easily spiral out of control when faced with a growing mountain of bodies and a shrinking sense that he can offer up anything in penance or justification for it.

This choice of the word “unclean” here basically serves as a signpost to explain why Griffith takes every single later action he associates with “dirtying” himself throughout the story. This idea of “dirtying” himself is obviously extremely loaded – these acts which make sure he’s not “unclean” are communicated as acts of self-imposed suffering that take place as a sort of punishment after he acts “cruelly” (this is not him putting himself in harm’s way during battle, he does that anyway), and they’re acts that he himself explicitly views as loathsome and disgusting.

It’s clear that he views having sex with a child predator in similar terms to scratching himself – to Griffith, “dirtying” himself is essentially his self-imposed punishment, and he’s basically trying to construe that punishment as productive by positioning his suffering as in some way equivalent to the suffering of others (basically, “if I suffer too then that’ll make their suffering okay”).

This is also why, as we’ll get into in a minute, if he doesn’t view his suffering as “worth” anything, it becomes impossible to view his suffering as equivalent to the suffering of others. And that’s also why the more the suffering and the bodies pile up around him, the more difficult it is to rationalize his suffering as equivalent to all of this pain and horror.

This is basically the process of how Griffith rationalizes his self harm, this is how he construes it as a productive enterprise instead of a self-destructive one – this is the logic that links his self harm with achieving his goal.

And clearly it’s logic that’s resting on some supremely precarious ground.

Repression v. Self Harm

In order to see how my readings of Griffith’s self harm v. his repression play out, let’s revisit a few key scenes in greater detail before we get into discussing the wider implications of this in terms of Griffith’s story and the sacrifice as the culmination of all of this.

Let’s start with Griffith’s interchange with Guts in Tombstone of Flame:

This conversation basically proceeds as follows: do you think I’m cruel? -> yeah, but you believe the cruelty is necessary, don’t you? -> yes, you’re right, all of this is cruel, and I am too, so I deserve to be punished for it -> self harm with the second set of scratches.

That smile – that same smile as with the doll-knight boy, and indeed the same as the sacrifice – is Griffith being overwhelmed by self loathing. This is not repression. This is not “You’re wrong, I’m not cruel/it doesn’t matter because [denial/rationalization/repression/justification],” it’s “You’re right.” This is me. I’m cruel, a monster, and therefore I deserve to suffer.

And indeed, all three examples of that same smile (the river, Tombstone of Flame, and the sacrifice) lead to acts of self harm. In this case, this isn’t an example of him trying to justify or bury the guilt and pain and horror or build up his defences like the repression would, it’s him justifying an act of self-destruction to tear himself down, because he thinks he deserves it.

To really dig into this distinction, let’s turn to another example of how Griffith’s self harm works in contrast to the repression, and return to the scene where Griffith scratches himself in the river.

First of all, he’s scratching himself here because he feels guilty over putting people in harm’s way for the sake of his dream (a feeling which is specifically kicked off by doll-knight boy but I think it’s made pretty obvious that this is just over people in general), while denying this guilt out loud and spewing his BS rationalizations to Casca.

Both the self harm and the repression are working in response to the same guilt here. But why doesn’t he stop with the rationalization? Why is it narratively or psychologically necessary that he also self harms at all here?

It’s because the denial (i.e., repression) isn’t strong enough to smother the guilt – and yeah, it’s because his rationalization is flimsy as fuck – basically it boils down to “I don’t feel responsible because I am a being of pure logic.” Which: lol

Again, the rationalization exists here to suppress Griffith’s negative feelings, the guilt, self-loathing, and monstrousness – this is him telling himself the guilt doesn’t matter, basically trying to push it away so he doesn’t have to emotionally confront it, because “I thought about it logically […] I don’t feel at all responsible…”

But we see that the rationalization isn’t strong enough, and the self harm is what seeps out when the rationalization can’t bury his self loathing. When the self harm takes over directly after this, the tone of this exchange changes and specifically swings toward the negative aspects of the dream: as he gets deeper into scratching himself, he becomes more and more dream-negative, i.e., focused on how his dream is built on corpses:

We’re being visually told that his answer to this, his way to make sure he’s not unclean, is to not only have sex with a child predator, but also pay that debt through his blood and suffering. The self harm is justifying his self loathing and guilt in a different way than the rationalization is, not telling himself that “the death is okay because [repression],” but instead “the death not OK – I hate myself and I need to atone for this, which will hopefully make it OK in the end.”

And importantly, as mentioned earlier, as soon as Griffith gets a stronger angle in this exchange – protecting Casca instead of protecting himself – his repression snaps back in full force and he reins in the self harm immediately.

I see this moment as especially significant to understanding how Griffith’s self harm works, because it shows us that the self harm cannot uphold itself as a coping mechanism, it’s basically destined to collapse on itself.

This is because in order to believe you can atone for something through your actions, you have to believe that your actions, your own suffering, has worth. And since the self harm is premised on tearing himself down, as he gets deeper in the hole of self harm, it becomes more and more difficult to believe that his penance is worth a damn. It’s just as much of a balancing act as the repression is, except that it specifically hinges on Griffith’s sense of self worth… so it’s pretty much destined to spiral out of control.

To reiterate, why is the self harm still a defence mechanism if it’s designed to make Griffith feel worse and emphasize the negative aspects of the dream over the shining end goal?

The river scene shows us how Griffith’s repression works in relation to his self harm – when the repression falters, the self loathing that has him focusing on the road of corpses gets him dangerously close to thinking that the dream isn’t worth it, and obviously he can’t live with that because then he’s left with nothing. The self harm (at least in the case of the scratching and Gennon) functions as the last line of defense against that sneaking suspicion that the castle cannot in fact redeem all of this death – because it asserts that maybe the dream can still be worth it if he suffers and atones for his actions. Again, the evidence for this is in the river scene:

“But… for hundreds, thousands of lives to hang in the balance and myself alone to not be unclean… What I want…won’t enter my grasp so easily as that.”

That last part indicates that he essentially still wants to want the dream here, and the self harm is basically what’s allowing him to do so, to continue on the path to his dream through his suffering as penance.

Yet even as this recuperative logic works to some degree in the river scene, this belief is still founded on the (shaky) assumption that his own suffering is worth anything in exchange for the suffering of others. That’s why, to me, it seems apparent that Griffith’s self worth plays such an important part in the breakdown of his coping mechanisms, and why it makes sense that at a certain point he reaches such a low that the self harm no longer becomes penitent, it becomes only punishment. This is the point where self harm becomes self destruction, and this is exactly what happens with Charlotte.

On Griffith’s Self Harm as Self Destruction

We know that Griffith having sex with Charlotte and his subsequent taunting of her father work differently than with the scratching and Gennon, because unlike these two cases, these instances of self harm involve him throwing away the dream too (or at the very least in the former case, putting the dream directly into jeopardy) – casting it into the fire along with all the other “frightening and sad things.” Like with his later suicide attempt and the sacrifice, this isn’t an example of Griffith still wanting to walk the path of the dream, this is him reaching the point where the dream no longer seems worth it, and we know this because he takes steps to actively throw it away (though I do think this understanding is still operating largely instinctually/unconsciously until the soup-behelit, as I outlined in my previous meta).

Throughout the torture sequence, as he goads the King into viciously beating him, we see that Griffith verbally associates his own failure (by implication – he is clearly referring to himself as well as the King throughout this sequence) with his worthlessness.

At this point, Griffith is masochistically relishing in the fact that he basically cannot offer anything to anyone anymore – his penance is no longer worth anything to anyone, and all that remains is the suffering he thinks he deserves.

This is the first time we see Griffith’s self harm not being mobilized in a remotely constructive way. Getting beaten doesn’t have anything to do with attaining the dream, this is a naked display of the belief that Griffith thinks he deserves to suffer for his actions without the veneer of his suffering functioning as penance. This is now simply his punishment, for daring to try to pursue the dream in the first place.

This exchange effectively reveals the naked truth to us – that Griffith’s self harm reflects his desire to suffer for what he’s done to others. Even though he may have pretended in the past that this desire to suffer for his sins can still in some way still be constructive to his goals, this moment shows us that ultimately it’s not. Here we’re seeing directly that when Griffith’s self worth is low (i.e., when he feels like shit), all he wants to do is suffer more, and that’s basically the rub.

And yeah, of course that’s how it works, because this is exactly how we see his self harm working throughout the story. Whenever he feels guilty/cruel/dirty, we watch him self harm to feel worse: the doll-knight boy and Gennon, Gennon and the scratching, “am I cruel” and the scratching, being rejected by Guts and self destructing, all culminating in the low point of the torture and “This is worthless.”

This scene shows us that Griffith’s self worth is intrinsically tied to his belief that he deserves to suffer, and this is set up as a vicious circle – the worse he feels, the worse he wants to make himself feel, and so on.

To back up a bit to the preceding scene with Charlotte, this is basically the gateway scene between Griffith as a functional human and Griffith as a self-destructing catastrophe.

Why he comes to Charlotte in this moment is open for debate – perhaps he’s simply trying to repress his pain over Guts’ leaving by attempting to seize the dream by seducing the princess. Or perhaps he secretly wants to get caught doing something risky that will fundamentally jeopardize the dream in order to punish himself for being unworthy of Guts’ love. Or perhaps it’s both at the same time.

Let’s quickly break down how this scene works in terms of Griffith’s state of mind. First we see him still trying to play the gentlemen, still repressing and putting on a show of the perfect prince for Charlotte. Soon after though, the mask drops and he basically reveals a hardened statue beneath. He’s ultimately too hurt in this moment to keep the cheeky and/or charming mask up – he looks like he feels cold and empty, and he’s still trying not to think about what’s just happened with Guts.

This is basically an exact midpoint between his repression and his self harm – he’s trying to smother the pain by not thinking about it (repression at its simplest), but at the same time what he’s choosing to do with Charlotte actually intensifies his pain, because it leads him to think about Guts anyway (self harm).

Again, Griffith’s repression exists to make himself feel better, to reassert the importance and value of the dream, and his actions don’t actually accomplish this in the slightest. It doesn’t make him feel better, because it’s functionally designed to make himself feel worse.

And yeah, we see that afterwards he clearly feels 1000% worse, not better.

Griffith’s self harm moves into the territory of self destruction here because he isn’t actually able to atone for anything by having sex with Charlotte – regardless of what he might have intended when he went to Charlotte’s room, the scene plays out to tear himself down, and the dream is no closer after he’s done so.

His isolation in that final panel is basically a visual representation of his own self-imposed punishment for his daring to think all of this was worth the price he, and more importantly everyone else, has paid for it.

In this way, this sequence and the one that follows in the torture chamber show us that Griffith’s change in attitude toward his acts of self harm v. self destruction comes down directly to the amount of self loathing he is experiencing, and in an intrinsically related way, how much value he places in himself, his own desire to feel better, and his ability to atone for his actions.

And I think it’s clear that things change for Griffith because of Guts. Whether he likes/recognizes it or not, by the time Guts leaves he’s also staked his self worth on what Guts thinks of him, because he loves him and craves his respect and admiration. Guts’ answer to “Do you think I’m cruel?” cuts deep, but not as deeply as being told that he essentially never had any of Guts’ love or respect in the first place, which is what he believes as Guts leaves (“Is this how badly you want to leave my grasp?” – see bthump’s excellent meta breaking this moment down in more detail).

It makes sense that this moment would deliver such a devastating blow to Griffith’s sense of worth that it makes his self loathing spiral out of control and leads to him tearing his life apart.

And indeed, I read something very similar going down in the guilt trip, when the Godhand essentially tell Griffith that not only did he never have Guts’ love, he was in fact never worthy of love in the first place, because he is evil, a monster, too cruel, dirty, and loathsome to deserve a way out of this hellish cycle he’s stuck in.

Redux: The Sacrifice as Self Destruction

As I broke down in my previous meta, my analysis of the Eclipse leads me to believe that during this sequence Griffith is choosing the sacrifice (self harm) and not the dream (repression).

Originally, I argued that repression played no part in the sacrifice. However, upon further reflection and lengthy discussion, I have come around to the idea that in fact it is still at play during the first half of the guilt trip. This is clearly the case, because Griffith actually does manage to make an “ends justify the means” argument with respect to his sacrifice of the BoTH, even confronted with an image of all those bodies laid at his feet.

With the Godhand’s encouragement, he is temporarily able to push past the guilt to keep proceeding toward that end goal, covered in blood, in the attempt to convince himself that all this death and suffering couldn’t be for nothing (“If I repent...”). As I noted in my previous analysis, I believe this logic would have been enough for Griffith if all he had to do is sacrifice his Hawks – but as we know, in order to become a monster, you have to sacrifice what you love most, and imo no positive or constructive logic about finally attaining his dream could lead Griffith to the conclusion that the dream is worth anything close to Guts’ life.

It seems that what actually makes the difference at the bitter end is the intervention of fate and the word of God during the Eclipse. The Godhand essentially don’t let Griffith go through with this line of utilitarian thinking, because right after emerging from “the reality within his conscious realm,” they bring him right back into the pile of corpses, only this time it’s portrayed in less abstract terms by evoking the battlefield directly.

The Godhand are effectively telling him right after he’s successfully made his rationalizations that there’s no washing that blood off – that he’s already evil (“That is you”) and there is no absolution waiting for him, only his destiny, which is to reap the evil he has sown. It’s like they specifically get him to make the justification one more time in order to condemn him for it.

They prevent him from shifting the focus back onto that end goal and instead re-emphasize what he’s done to get there (“Over those corpses…you have trampled”), to tell him that he must embrace the cause and effect of his actions (“Bear [your] evil and confront destiny”).

In this way, it’s ultimately a pronouncement of guilt from the veritable mouth of god that finally puts the nail in the coffin of Griffith’s dance between the ends and the means, repression and self harm. They definitively come out and say that there’s no more repressing this, there’s no world in which this will ever be okay. You’re just evil and all you have to look forward to is more evil. This is you.

Directly after this, at the moment of the sacrifice, Griffith has basically been brought to his absolute lowest point, where self destruction seems like the only option (keep in mind that he’s already tried and failed to kill himself). After the guilt trip he thinks he’s less than worthless – he’s been convinced that he’s evil, and deserves nothing but more evil and his own eternal suffering, to “bear his evil and confront destiny.” This is where the last moments of his (human) life swing toward self destruction once and for all.

From what we’ve seen already about how Griffith acts when he feels worthless and wants to self harm, at this point Griffith cannot possibly think that he deserves to benefit or gain anything – not a castle, not absolution, love, or care or human connection. All he deserves is eternal pain and suffering. And by making the sacrifice, Griffith is guaranteeing that belief in his own mind, by obliterating all the remaining goodness within himself by committing an evil act.

Choosing those “raven-black wings” over the lives of Guts and the Hawks is so contrary to what values we already know he believes in, this moment it’s basically just more fuel for the fire.

Contrast the sentiment behind this:

With this:

We’ve been shown that Griffith’s sense of ego is premised almost entirely on what he can do for others – he has left very little sense that he deserves anything for himself. That’s why the selfishness of the sacrifice is, imo, so personally destructive to him – because for someone who has such little sense of independent self or self worth, to make an entirely selfish choice is so contemptible, terrible, unforgivable in his mind that it completely destroys him.

We know that this same perceived selfishness is already his deepest source of guilt and trauma (the belief that he has put others in harm’s way for the sake of his own goals) – so agreeing to the sacrifice is a manifestation of that exact same guilt, just magnified a hundred times over. This act is him basically deciding to give up the pretense that any of his actions have ever been anything other than pure selfishness, cruelty, and evil, by fully embracing that evil and making an exchange for personal benefit, because in his mind there’s essentially no coming back from such a contemptible decision.

Griffith thus chooses the sacrifice as an act of self destruction, and it represents the choice to become exactly everything he always feared he was, to let go of his responsibility to do the right thing by proving that the Godhand (and Guts, or so he thinks) were right all along, by finally making a truly evil choice and thereby validating his belief that he has always been evil and therefore deserves to suffer for eternity.

This is what I mean by the sacrifice being an act of self harm and “spiritual” suicide, not just because he’s basically killing himself, but because the whole impetus is based around actively destroying all the things that he valued about himself – his own soul – everything that made him good and human in his own eyes (and like, this is exactly what Femto, the result of this choice, is). This decision is based around tearing his entire sense of humanity to shreds, by doing the worst thing to himself that he could possibly imagine (making an exchange for personal benefit and sacrificing his most dearly beloved) and becoming the embodiment of that cruel and violent world order he always hated.

The way I think of this as suicide isn’t at all about making him feel better, because it’s not ultimately giving him absolution/justification for or abdication from his actions, it’s giving him the exact opposite – proof of his cruelty in the form of raven-black wings, which are basically just the evidence he’s been looking for all along that he deserves to suffer. It’s also not a depiction of true suicide, which would be an actual escape from his pain. Though this is still an escape in a way – not from his pain but into it.

Conclusions

While all the acts of self harm/destruction we see Griffith undertake throughout the Golden Age (the scratching, Gennon, Charlotte, the torture chamber, and the sacrifice) have varying elements of repression within them, because that’s still Griffith’s default response to his guilt, each are still ultimately acts of self harm/destruction because they result in tearing himself down and they actively function to make him feel worse – this is succumbing to the pain rather than trying to shield himself from it. None of these moments succeed at helping him along the path to the dream or making him feel better about himself, because none are functionally designed to.

And in saying this, I’m not also implying Griffith didn’t want his own suffering to end at different points in his life. I think after being tortured he wanted to die and end his suffering, after the soup-behelit/nightmare sequence he wanted to die and end his suffering, obviously, he attempts suicide after all. But the guilt trip is the ultimate difference in the end – the guilt trip is what convinces Griffith that he doesn’t deserve to end his suffering. That even his own “death” should be in the name of greater suffering.

Ultimately, what we can understand from this is that, despite the fact that he tries to pretend otherwise, when Griffith scratches himself it has nothing to do with attaining the dream, it’s not ultimately justifying anything other than his own belief that he deserves to suffer – he’s basically always just doing it to feel worse about himself.

When he has sex with Gennon, the specific act he chooses to take is one that is designed to hurt himself – there would have been many different ways to throw himself back into the dream in order to earn money without putting people at risk: for example he could have taken on some mercenary jobs personally, or sought out some non-combative work for interested Hawks – specifically why he chooses to have sex with a child predator is because he wants to punish himself for getting others killed, to atone through his own suffering. Choosing to have sex with a child predator as an act in isolation doesn’t advance the dream, only the end result (money) does. And that money could have been obtained in objectively less harmful and potentially more fruitful routes to that same goal.

Similarly, with Charlotte, his having sex with her, his leaving in broad daylight, his taunting the King, etc. – I read Griffith making those choices because some part of him wanted to destroy himself, to actively torpedo the dream because in some sense he has been brought to believe that he’s worthless and so is everything he’s staked his life on.

What he did in the river, with Charlotte, with the King, even the sacrifice – none of these events had to go down the way they did. The way they went down was basically arranged to destroy every one of those “sad and frightening things,” including the dream and his own life.

In conclusion, I hope that this meta shows how centrally important the logic of Griffith’s self harm is to his actions throughout the narrative of the Golden Age. His beliefs about himself and his own suffering are shown to us to consistently shape his choices, and I think it’s also clear that this logic persists through Femto’s actions after the Golden Age.

I have some more metas planned where I’m thinking of fleshing some more stuff out that spawned out of my original meta and subsequent discussions around it, so keep out an eye for those if you’re interested.

As always, if you have any thoughts about any of this I would be very interested to hear from you.

Thank you so much for reading!

#berserk #berserkmeta #griffith #griffithmeta #griffguts

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anawkwardshit · 4 years

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Tubbo needs to step up and get his shit together. Here’s why.

Tubbo has consequently dodged the consequences of his actions, good or bad, and even though I love him and understand the hard position he’s been put into, I’m a little sick of it.

It’s already been established that Tommy has accepted what’s happened and forgiven Tubbo for it. He’s already explicitly stated that he understands why Tubbo exiled him and doesn’t blame him for trying to protect L’manberg. Tommy, despite everything, has come to understand Tubbo’s actions and accept them for what they are. Tubbo is still his friend, and he hasn’t given up on him. He’s not going to blame Tubbo for trying to do what’s right, even if Tommy doesn’t like it.

Tubbo, on the other hand, has completely dodged the results of his actions and tried to avoid the possibilities of them coming to fruition. Tubbo explicitly stated that there could have been another way other than exiling Tommy, but he made an impulsive decision based on stress and panic; he had no time to think on it. In simpler terms, he took the easy way out to avoid Dream’s wrath and complied with him to keep peace. This is a common occurrence with Tubbo, whom wants peace so badly that he lets himself be pushed around to try and keep it, but it only makes him a pawn.

It annoys me even more that Ranboo actually did end up admitting to Tubbo later that he helped in the griefing of George’s house, and he was never punished for it. Tommy was literally thrown under the bus to appease Dream, and that was it. Tubbo never addressed Ranboo’s involvement or tried to right it; he just brushed it off! He knew that doing anything would end in more consequences and outcomes that he didn’t want to deal with, so he just left it alone! That’s not justice!

Tubbo argued that Tommy’s actions were unacceptable as Vice President, but it was nowhere near the amount of destruction usually caused by anyone on the server (Dream included!) and Tommy said it was an accident. Saying others were exempt and Tommy wasn’t simply because of his vice presidency is wrong! Tommy’s place as Vice President was also given to him by Tubbo, not asked for. Tommy left presidency to Wilbur (who gave it to Tubbo) since he had business with Dream. Instead of becoming President and using the power he would have to call war on or use people to fight Dream, he left L’manberg in the hands of someone who could care for it properly (who he thought was Wilbur, but he was okay with Tubbo, too, since he thought Tubbo would be good at it) so he could deal with his own personal business by himself. He accepted the position as Vice President, likely only to be closer to Tubbo (he told Ranboo that he knew Tubbo being president would pull them apart). Tubbo uses Tommy’s position of power, which Tommy doesn’t even utilize, as a reason for him to be exiled, but Tubbo is just pulling at threads in order to make himself feel better for making the decision.

When Tommy is kicked out, he avoids visiting Tommy in order to, A) keep Dream from possibly getting upset, once more avoiding confrontation, and B) avoid facing Tommy’s possible derision or hatred of him. In simple terms, he’s scared, and therefore, he avoids facing his actions. He should have visited Tommy, should have made it clear that they were still best friends in spite of everything, and maybe then Dream wouldn’t have gotten his claws so deep into Tommy; maybe Tommy wouldn’t have downspiralled and become depressed in his isolation and abandonment. Instead, he shows up last minute and is too late to save Tommy—Tommy had to save himself in the end.

(People argue that Tommy was never alone, no matter how much he said he was. But Tommy is still a child; how is he supposed to know how to express his feelings, the difference between being alone and being lonely? Because Tommy was lonely.)

When Tubbo finds out Tommy is alive, he accuses him of siding with the enemy. But what else was there for Tommy to do? He was running from his abuser, his friends had turned their backs on him for all he was aware—he was forced to fend for himself, even if that resorted to stealing, and he took the companionship and help where he could. Techno gave that to him. Despite their ups and downs, Techno never lied to Tommy; he was honest, blunt, and even called Tommy a friend. Their relationship was healthier than Tubbo and Tommy’s has been recently! In this accusation, Tubbo is shoving blame onto Tommy and not taking into account what’s happened for Tommy to have made this choice. He doesn’t even bring up the tower or anything! Tubbo obviously knew Tommy had committed (or at this point, contemplated) suicide, but it was never mentioned! It’s like Tubbo completely glossed over the fact that something so horrible was done to Tommy in the face of his best friend siding with the person they were trying to kill! And Tommy is completely unaware that Tubbo even still gives a damn, since as I’ve mentioned, he never showed up to reassure Tommy of their friendship.

He shoved everything away, and it tore everyone but him down. The only consequence Tubbo has had to face was when he gave Dream the disk and, therefore, the free reign to obliterate L’manberg! And that was something that fucked everyone over!

I disagree and agree with many points for every character, but Dream is the one person I don’t have any excuses for. And yet he was still right when he told Tubbo he was a shit president and a pushover. Because he was.

New L’manberg was built on a crater; it was only a matter of time before it fell through.

In the end, Tommy has come to an understanding with Tubbo and his decisions. He’s faced the consequences, done his time, and come out of it persevering and accepting of it all. He looks at Tubbo and sees his struggling friend trying too hard—and I agree.

But Tubbo has not come to face that yet, not like Tommy has. When they were yelling at each other, Tubbo didn’t trust a word Tommy said, and in the end, it was more Tubbo’s fault than Tommy’s. Tubbo forgot Dream’s ways in exchange for his anger at everything and the stress on his shoulders; he could not face the reality of what his actions had caused.

With the way the story has ended so far, there needs to be closure. Tommy understands where Tubbo comes from, but Tubbo knows nothing of Tommy’s place, and even though his ignorance is not completely his fault, I still hate him for it. He knows nothing yet of Tommy’s abuse, of Dream’s gaslighting, of the ultimate truth behind the dark things that haunted Tommy during his exile; he knows nothing of its endless extent—and he needs to.

Tubbo is a child pushed into a seat of responsibility that he should not hold, but it is what it is. I’m sorry to say it, but Tubbo has killed too many, died too much, and bled too often to be a child anymore. The place he holds means he must face his actions like an adult, and he has not done that.

Tubbo needs to listen, and he and Tommy need closure. I hope to God that they do not just move on like nothing’s happened; they need to talk, to understand each other. Tubbo needs to understand that other people have suffered for his negligence, and he needs to right it.

“Can’t you see history repeating itself?” Tubbo has edged closer and closer to Schlatt through this arc, and I hope for the sake of everyone that he pulls back in time. He may be looking to steer clear of Schlatt’s path (he was all too aware of it when Quackity called for Ranboo’s blood), but you know what they say about self-fulfilling prophecies.

Whoever is writing the next arc needs to address this! Please!

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enavance · 3 years

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hi i’m here to once again start a discussion / meta about a song that i relate to cherry. on this episode, we’re pulling apart falling in reverse’s popular monster. some of the lyrics are hit or miss because you know obviously this is based on ronnie’s own experiences, but some of the lyrics are really suited to cherry and i’ll bold the relevant lines as i go or omit things as needed.

also holy shit this is like over 1600 words, not including the lyrics of course, and . . . congratulations if u read this jkbdfbkvd

i wake up every morning with my head up in a daze i'm not sure if i should say this, fuck, i'll say it anyway everybody tries to tell me that i'm goin' through a phase i don't know if it's a phase, i just wanna feel okay, yeah i battle with depression, but the question still remains is this post-traumatic stressin' or am i suppressin' rage? and my doctor tries to tell me that i'm going through a phase yeah, it's not a fuckin' phase, i just wanna feel okay

okay, yeah, i struggle with this bullshit every day and it's probably 'cause my demons simultaneously rage it obliterates me, disintegrates me, annihilates me

cherry has always been hot - tempered since she was younger, but now as she’s grown and grown into her role as the warrior of light and coupled with all of the things she has endured from the beginning of her journey to where she is now. she lived a relatively peaceful life until imperial garlean forces invaded her village and uprooted her life and destroyed everything she once knew and forced her to make anew. cherry struggles with severe depression and ptsd, and much of that contributes to her trauma response and why she’s so quick to lash out in a form of a defense mechanism.

'cause i'm about to break down i'm searchin' for a way out i'm a liar, i'm a cheater, i'm a non-believer i'm a popular, popular monster i break down falling into love now with falling apart i'm a popular, popular monster

with everything cherry goes through, it’s a wonder she hasn’t snapped completely yet, but she has come so, so, so close so many times. she is self - destructive in her coping methods, whether intentionally or not. sometimes she realizes and notices her harmful coping methods, sometimes she doesn’t, but her mindset is that if she’s not hurting anyone else, it’s fine.

however, what she doesn’t realize is that her distance and cold shouldering and keeping people at arms length is hurtful because people are just trying to be there for her, but she won’t allow them to due to her debilitating fear of allowing anyone to come near her, physically or emotionally, and risk them forming an attachment to her and vice versa.

she doesn’t want someone to feel hurt or pain in losing her and having to mourn her. cherry is a serial escapist in that she will disappear for months at a time and wander off looking for the most dangerous jobs, not only because she needs the money and thrives off of the adrenaline and that she has an inherently reckless nature, but it’s that deep - rooted self - destructiveness.

i think i'm going nowhere like a rat trapped in a maze every wall that i knock down is just a wall that i'll replace i'm in a race against myself, i try to keep a steady pace how the fuck will i escape if i never close my case? oh my god, i keep on stressin', every second that i waste is another second sooner to a blessing i won't take

cherry doesn’t see herself as a hero. to a degree, she understands that it’s not her choice whether or not she is seen as a hero. other people will call her one regardless based on her accomplishments and achievements and decorated contributions to the preservation of eorzea and the shard as a whole. as vain as she is, and as much as she boasts of her strength as a warrior, which she takes quite a bit of pride in, she’s surprisingly somewhat humble when it comes to being seen as a hero that people look to for light in the darkness and idolize. she just sees nothing special in it because of how many people still die, how many things are still lost and destroyed. her own pessimism stops her from feeling positively towards any association with being a hero. she doesn’t want to be celebrated or praised, but she won’t be mad if someone compliments her skills and says she’s strong.

cherry is an extremely guarded person and this is something i discuss at length with her keeping extremely tall and thick walls up to protect herself and the people around her due to her life experiences and the trauma she has been through from before ARR to where she is now post - SHB. she’s afraid of letting anyone in. she’s afraid of caring about people, despite the fact that she does because deep down she is caring and kind and soft and she just can’t help herself. she tries to convince herself that she’s not as close to some people as she thinks, but she is and it would kill her to lose anyone else. and deep down, cherry knows that it’s much the same for her friends as well, that it’s too late, that they do care about her and someone will be there to mourn and grieve her and she hates that. this is why she flinches at softness, any soft gesture or touch or kindness, even more so when it comes to romantic avenues. she will run and run and run until she’s sure you’ve given up on pursuing her. much of this is also tied into the fact that caring about someone is a weakness to a fault because an enemy can sniff that out and use that against her. they could take someone that she cares about and use them as leverage or kill them or hurt them to get to her and she is so deeply afraid of that most of all.

cherry refuses help constantly. she shoulders everything and is the first to volunteer to do anything dangerous. she makes her own recklessly stupid and dangerous plans and rushes in headfirst without much thought. she is stubborn and will insist on doing everything herself, even the most menial tasks. she doesn’t want to look weak, not that she is or that anyone even thinks that of her, but she doesn’t want it to appear to anyone that she has any weaknesses because she doesn’t want them to be turned against her. she refuses help that would otherwise be blessings to make her life easier.

okay, motherfucker, now you got my attention i need to change a couple things 'cause somethin' is missing and what if i were to lie? tell you everything is fine every single fucking day i get closer to the grave i am terrified, i fell asleep at the wheel again crashed my car just to feel again it obliterates me, disintegrates me, annihilates me

cherry is as honest as they come. perhaps too honest, sometimes. however, when it comes to her own wellbeing, she will lie to fool others into thinking that she’s fine so that they don’t worry about her. she doesn’t want to be worried or fussed over, and most of all, she doesn’t want to add to anyone else’s stress or make them waste their time with her. cherry doesn’t take very good care of herself, physically or emotionally or mentally. she barrels into danger without thought, is impulsive, extremely reckless, and she doesn’t talk about her feelings to anyone or discuss the traumatic events that happened to her with anyone. i think the only people she may have opened up to are haurchefant, maybe thancred on occasion, ardbert because she’s fine talking to him because her logic is “ who is he going to tell ? no one else can see him, ” maybe aymeric but never wholly in detail, and maybe estinien. cherry is terrified of opening up to people. she doesn’t care if people see her as being awful or anything, but she’s afraid of being seen as vulnerable and having all of those parts of her open and raw.

she’s not actively suicidal or anything or ever thinking about dying. in fact, she’s deathly afraid of dying because of the people who care about her and because the fate of the world rests on her shoulders. she doesn’t want anyone to ever feel the pain she did losing her loved ones. she doesn’t want them to mourn her. she doesn’t want to risk the dying of this star just because there’s so much at stake and so many people and the world depending on her success and her being alive.

still, despite that, despite knowing that and that being an enormous fear of hers, that doesn’t stop her from being reckless. she is extremely self - destructive and impulsive and doesn’t think too much, if at all, before committing to something, even if it’s an extremely bad idea. she does do harmful and self - destructive things just to feel things, hence her being somewhat of an adrenaline addict and chasing danger and diving headfirst into fights or battles and facing off with dangerous people, even if outnumbered. she revels in danger and the feeling of adrenaline rushes and actively being battered and bruised in a fight. she probably would crash a car, honestly, just to feel something that is beyond the despondence and depression that she’s come to know post - shb.

yeah, here we go again, motherfucker, oh we're sick and tired of wondering praying to a god that you don't believe you're searching for the truth in the lost and found so the question i ask is, yeah, where the fuck is your god now?

and by the end of shb, knowing the things that she knows of hydaelyn and zodiark, she’s extremely jaded and even more pessimistic than she was to begin with. in the beginning, she didn’t know what she was coming into, when joining the fray with the scions and learning of her own abilities with the echo and hydaelyn’s will and her involvement. as time passes and hydaelyn’s absence becomes more noticeable, she begins to feel abandoned, and she wonders if hydaelyn is simply content to allow the shard to die and with it, its people.

even upon learning of the mother crystal’s weakness in strength, learning the truth of everything, the forming of the worlds and hydaelyn and zodiark being primals, she begins to heavily distrust hydaelyn and wonders if everything had been a lie. what else had hydaelyn hidden from her ? what else was a lie ? cherry has never been religious, not really, and she wonders if the gods are really out there. hydaelyn certainly isn’t the god they all thought she was — she is a primal. they have placed their faith and worship in a primal who disappeared and left them in darkness and silence.

cherry is left in a pretty fragile state come the end of shb. she has lost so much more, and she feels as though she managed to accomplish nothing despite everything that she has had a hand in doing. there is always something else, always something more, and she feels as though it’s never going to end and she is exhausted. she will never tire of helping people, not truly, but she feels such an emptiness within her and i really think that losing anyone else important to her, specifically people like thancred, the twins, estinien, aymeric, she is really going to spiral harder than ever before and i really don’t know how cherry would come out of it in one piece.

#hc.#long post -#uh ask to tag ?#self harm -#kind of ????#suicide mention -#just in case #shb spoilers -#u get 500 cookies if u manage to read through this kdjfbvd #i didnt mean for this to be this long but like idk!#this song really speaks to me about cherry #this is actually quite an important hc djkbfvfd #i'll post her playlist someday if i ever finish it #not that it'll ever be finish #it'll always be a continuous wip but u know

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gcldenchild · 3 years

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Eyes to the floor. Shame in his expression. Hurt....depression. It's radiating in his heart. He's chewing on his bottom lip before he speaks. There's tears threatening to fall but it's them and only them. No one is around to hear from the safety of what has become their room and their bed.

"I...wanna know...Sol....why ya....left m'."

@alchemic-elric | what do you want to know? | accepting.

tangled limbs and hushed words. the twins are buried deep in their safe place, sun and moon hidden away where no one dare threaten them, never again. this room is their HAVEN. this nest is their HOME.

there’s a pull on his heart, though. it is home only because luna has allowed it to be. it is home because he, by some miracle, never lost nest privileges after his utterly stupid action - one that they still hadn’t talked about, be it out of fear or pain. so when that tug on their bond happens, when those tears start welling up - oh, god, he knows. it is the only thing to prepare him for this conversation that they’ve avoided for weeks - no, months now.

he said he’d never leave. he promised he wouldn’t. and then he did anyways. there’s not much he can remember from that hellish week. he’s attributing that to getting beaten senseless, of course, but ... even despite how much damage he sustained, the promise still rings true.

he remembers the argument with verna that made his little balancing board break in half. he remembers the uncontrollable spiral that threatened to kill not just himself, but luna, alphonse, and humility, too. it’s always after a meltdown that he does stupid things. he’s self-destructive, ignorant to the world around him. ignorant to how he makes others hurt until he’s driven all of them away or until it’s TOO LATE.

luna wants to know why he left. why he would break his promise. and though it’s not said ... he can just feel it. he can just read it.

as gently as he could possibly be, the sun goes to hold his moon’s hand, his metal thumb rubbing into the palm of his other half. his other hand goes to hold his own precious item - the necklace that glows a faint blue above his heart. it’s time to make it all clear.

“ ... i was bein’ stupid. there was a lotta shit goin’ through my brain then. i know y’ don’ ... go numb - y’ can’t, really - so y’ probably won’ be able t’ fully get what ‘m sayin’. ‘ll try m’ best t’ explain it. after i got - turned back int’ m’ again. an’ i rushed t’ help y’. i know y’ felt it lun’ - m’ heart ... everythin’ was fuzzy f’ me. it didn’ feel right. tha’s how i am after a meltdown. m’ emotions, m’ will t’ care ‘bout things that should matter an’ i KNOW should matter ...

it all goes away for a while. i ... usually ... takes me ‘bout two weeks t’ fully come outta it. at minimum. if - i f i rush it, or someone rushes m’, i ... i get selfish. i get stupid. i get dumber than a bag’a rocks an’ think everythin’ would be better ‘f i wasn’ around ‘cause ’m a fuckin’ suicidal bastard, lun’.

i hate gettin’ like that. but - all those voices, everythin’ pushin y’ because y’ took m’ in, everythin’ that happened t’ y’ with humility ‘cause i managed t’ run int’ y’ ... all th’ pain y’ were feelin’ ‘cause’a shit that wouldn’t have happened ‘f i wasn’ ‘round ... an’ the pushin’ of those grey bastards ... it was pushin’ me int’ “recovery” faster than i should’a been. i - i couldn’ handle it. i don’ think i even remembered where i was anymore. all i could remember was that - i was the one causin’ problems. m’ existence is what brought all those fuckers there. in some dumb fuckin’ move i thought - i thought goin’ away would make them go ‘way too. my dumbass decided t’ make an assumption about how y’ would feel when i was in a state i COULDN’ feel shit in. ”

“ there ... there’re no excuses f’ what i did, lun’. only explanations. this shit - ‘s MY FAULT, utterly an’ completely. ‘m the one who asked th’ general t’ “go home” which killed y’ an’ nearly killed m’ several times. ‘m the one who let th’ general tell vern’ on his own and didn’ think t’ ask vern if he told y’ where we were goin’ at all. they were complicit but i was th’ fuckin’ source.

‘s not your fault. ‘s mine. it wasn’ because y’ had one’a your bad days that i left - it was ‘cause th’ depressed n’ damaged part’a me that leads after a meltdown couldn’ cope with all of m’ own stupid guilt.

i broke m’ promise t’ y’ and i don’ expect forgiveness f’ it.

i hurt y’ an’ there’s no goin’ back from that. y’ did everythin’ y’ could t’ help m’ after reachin’ out and findin’ that fuckin’ mess’a emotions n’ i went an’ broke that promise that i KNEW the weight of. ‘ve got NO EXCUSE.

... bein’ separated from y’, nearly dyin’ ... feelin’ y’ respond t’ m’ calls even after what i did. tha’s ... tha’s what helped m’ break through. feelin’ our bond again. i didn’ know how serious it was until then when it was so fuckin’ obvious. tha’s ... tha’s why i started workin’ on that bracelet. why i kept it hidden until i finished it. i didn’ want it t’ be an apology. i wanted it t’ be somethin’ special f’ y’ after i went through everythin’ i needed t’ in order t’ be able t’ hold y’ ‘gain like we do now every night.

i was drownin’ in guilt but i wasn’ gonna subject y’ t’ that. not after i already did it once. it was m’ fault this shit happened but leavin’ was a dumb fuckin’ impulsive decision made without considerin’ anythin’ in th’ world ‘round me.

i love y’ so much, lun’. more than ‘ve ever loved a’yone n’ m’ life. y’ mean everythin’ t’ me. so i don’ want y’ t’ ever think that y’ deserved th’ hurt i caused y’, alright ? it wasn’ your fault. ”

#long post #suicide mention #tw suicidal ideation #cw suicidal ideation #death mention #tw death #cw death #{|❂|} THE START OF A NEW ERA | ic.#{|❂|} MOTHER'S TOUCH (HOW CAN YOU TRUST ME?) | alchemic-elric #{|❂|} TO BE WITH YOU ALWAYS | timeless dance of the eclipse verse.#holy FUCK sol you gave me so much for this

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ayatosmlktea · 5 years

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I saw your post about Crazy Levi can I make a request on when reader and Levi has been dating for more than 3 years but one day they get into a horrible car crash and Levi smashed his head making him bipolar and reader did everything in their power to help him but nothing was working and he had to go to a mental hospital. Angst plz 😂😓

TW: Self-Harm, Mentions of Suicide, Depression, Mania, Bipolar disorder. Please read at your own risk.

𝑵𝒐 𝑯𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝑬𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈

The accident had changed their lives completely, it just had to happen on one of their worst days. They had been so busy yelling at each other, fighting over something that was now so stupid and insignificant that Y/N hadn’t been focused enough to avoid the oncoming collision due to another driver running a red light. The crash hadn’t really been her fault, but her attention had been so focused on proving Levi wrong that she felt like everything that happened after was because of her petty tantrum. It was the universe’s way of saying that her habit of fighting over nothing was going to come back around to wreak havoc and destruction in its wake.

Y/N had managed to walk away with a minor concussion and a few broken bones but Levi had been less lucky. It had been three weeks since their accident and he still hadn’t woken up. She had cried until all that her body could do was feel like it was collapsing in on itself. Her eyes were constantly bloodshot and to anyone she might have seemed high, but she was preparing for the day the doctors would tell her that Levi would never walk up again. She never left his bedside unless absolutely necessary and even then the nurses would have to drag her out of his room.

“I’ve never prayed in my life and I must seem like the biggest hypocrite ever but if there’s anyone up there listening…please just give him back to me. I swear I’ll never start stupid arguments again just let him wake up” She had lost count of how many nights she’d spent pleading to whatever omnipotent being was listening to her desperate cries for help. All she wanted was to see his beautiful stormy eyes open again so she could apologize and beg for his forgiveness.

Her prayers were answered shortly after, it was a miracle! That’s what the doctors had said, and Y/N would take it. Whatever conditions were attached to him waking up didn’t matter, Levi was finally back.

“There’s been significant damage to his frontal lobe. You might start noticing some changes in his personality, if it gets to a point where he becomes a danger to himself or you give this number a call.” Levi’s primary doctor handed her a small black business card. Sina Institute for Mental Health. The words settled in her stomach uncomfortably. She really wanted to believe that Levi wouldn’t change, maybe with time he’d recover from the trauma. Maybe the doctors were over-exaggerating, Levi was resilient he’d pull through!

____________________________________________

“Welcome home Y/N! I missed you so much, you’re not going to leave me are you?” The sing-songy voice that greeted her as she walked through the front door didn’t make her feel welcome at all. Levi’s recovery was going worse than she had ever expected. The man living with her was not someone she recognized at all anymore. She never knew which Levi she was going to come home to and it was starting to make her feel anxious as soon as she started her trek home. On top of their already pricy rent and other costs their expenses had quickly skyrocketed due to their medical bills and Levi’s medication. Levi was on sick leave from his job, still not at a satisfactory level of physical or mental well being to return to work fulltime meaning that Y/N was shouldering the majority of their bills.

“I’m not going to leave you, you know I’m doing overtime at work. I called you earlier to let you know I’d be home late.” Putting her bag on the counter she walked over to the fridge to pour herself a giant glass of wine.

“I was thinking that our place could use some new furniture don’t you think? So I ordered a bunch of stuff online! Isn’t that great?” Y/N had to fight the urge to vomit while her fingers gripped the neck of her glass tighter. The stress of having to juggle all of their bills was already stressing her out to the point of not being able to sleep at night and now Levi’s habit of impulsively maxing out their credit cards was becoming too much.

“Levi we talked about this, you’re not supposed to use the credit cards unless it’s an emergency” Y/N couldn’t hold back the long sigh that left her lips, everything was just becoming so pointless.

“I know but I was cleaning before and it just didn’t feel right.”

“What didn’t feel right?” She asks not really wanting to know the answer.

“I don’t know! I just feel like something big is going to happen soon and we need to clean this dump up” His cheerful words clawed at her gut, Levi was never one to spend money recklessly. While she wasn’t as much of a neat freak as he was; she still tried her best to keep their shared space as clean as possible knowing that his mania was easily triggered by the slightest mess.

“Did you take your medication today?”

“I don’t need them! I feel better, honestly!” Her eyes began to burn with tears of helplessness. She had thought she could help him work through the mess his head was in. Researching for hours on the internet for ways to make it easier on adjusting him to being on his own without throwing himself into a depressive fit.

She’d anonymously called the number the doctor had given her asking for possible diagnosis based on the symptoms Levi displayed within the past three months. While they weren’t able to give her an accurate diagnosis without actually talking to Levi they’d been fairly sure his symptoms were similar to that of Bipolar disorder.

Y/N didn’t want to accept it at first, the Levi she had fallen in love with was stubborn and strong-willed. If anything, he was the one who had held her together. He was always rational and now the tables had been turned, Levi was not Levi. His manic episodes made him jittery and impulsive. His depressive episodes had her on edge constantly, normally she could talk him down from doing something irreversible but it seemed like their luck had finally run out.

____________________________________________

Y/N had come home later than she had intended, it was well past midnight and she knew Levi was going to be up waiting for her to come back. She had tried calling his phone but he wasn’t picking up. She bit her lip nervously, it was never a good thing when he didn’t answer his phone. Her hands were shaking with anxiety when she unlocked the door. The apartment was dark and quiet yet something lurking in the darkness was screaming at her to turn away and walk away. Flicking the lights on the sight of drops of blood trailing from the kitchen into the hallway had the hairs on the back of her neck standing.

“Levi!” She called out not bothering to remove her shoes as she followed the trail leading to their bedroom. Holding her breath she pushed open the door that was already ajar. Levi sat on the edge of their bed, his face covered with his hands and his shoulders trembling slightly.

“Levi?” Cautiously she approached him, her fight or flight response ringing like a siren in her ear to get out. His head shot up at the sound of her frightened voice, eyes red and wet with tears.

“You promised!” His tone was accusing and all too loud for her to feel remotely safe.

“I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean to get home so late! Did you hurt yourself?” Trying to stay calm enough to let him allow her to get close to him was proving to be more difficult as each second ticked by.

“I don’t want to live if you’re going to leave me! Tell me you aren’t going to leave me!” The crimson stains on his shirt and their bedsheets had Y/N on the verge of a panic attack. She couldn’t help him on her own anymore.

“I’m not going to leave you. Please let me help you, you’re bleeding everywhere!” Hysteria was creeping into her throat, every minute that she watched the shell of the man she used to know made her heart pound uncomfortably in her chest.

“I don’t need your help! I don’t need anyone’s help! You think I don’t see the way you look at me? Like I’m some kind of monster? Like a fucking freak!” Tears streamed down her cheeks as he began screaming at her.

“I don’t think you’re a monster” she choked out in between sobs trying to catch her breath. Her hands reached out to him hoping that physical affection would help calm him down. Instead Levi violently shoved her out of his way to lock himself in the bathroom.

“Levi let me help you please!” She shouted banging her fists against the door uncaring of how loud she was being. Her head started to feel light headed as she began to hyperventilate. Through blurry eyes and with shaking fingers she called for an ambulance.

____________________________________________

Levi had screamed that he hated her several times that night before the paramedics had given him a sedative. His voice infiltrated her dreams, every night she’d wake up to the image of his blood on her hands. It had been a few weeks since she’d admitted him to the psych ward, as much as she loved him she couldn’t bring herself to face him. Y/N was consumed by guilt, she’d sit in her car for hours outside the institute before going back home. There wasn’t anything she could say that would make up for her failed attempts at helping him. She had promised Levi that she wouldn’t leave him but it seemed like sometimes promises had to be broken.

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sadboyayeron · 4 years

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THE ONLY VALID MORIYAMA Nikoshi Doe

I came up with this Idea of Kevin having to raise Rikos son who’s name I decide would be Nikoshi Doe aka Niko

Enjoy

So If you Read “Tapping on my Chamber door”

You know Nikoshi’s mother, Naima Dixon was born in Jamaica but came to the states at a young age after her mom past away. She lived in the Bronx with her Aunt. She had tight curls aften in box breads or corn cornrows and dark skin with light brown eyes. She was 5’8. Had a muscular build from all the years of track and had a scholarship to run at Eager Allen University. She was soon to have a spot on the olympic team for long jump, 100, 200 and 400 meters. She was then pregnant with Nikoshi after her and Riko started there little hook up. The knew of each other but they first met in class. She noticed Riko looking at her.

“Like what you see.” I was trying to catch him off guard but he didn’t even look surprise. But then he smiled. Something sharp that left me feeling tingly, similar to how I feel before racing.

“Not to bad, no.” He chuckled, looked me up and down before he landed back on my eyes, “Want to sit.”

He left me in a trance and I took a seat next to him and sat my books in front of me. I tucked some braids behind my ear and looked at him again, he was looking back with a smug smile on his face.

At first I was thinking Nikoshi was Rikos frozen sperm and his mother was forced by Rikos uncle to have him BUT I decide that Riko died before he knew about Naima being pregnant She found out she was pregnant and went to Riko’s uncle for help and he said to give him the kid and she could get her scholarship Back. So she agreed naming him “Nico” but sadly she died while giving birth from bleeding out. Tesuji doesn’t use that name and changes it to ‘Nikoshi’ stripping him of any last name (Doe) putting the kid into the system in the same place she grow up in Bronx. Ichirou is informed of Nikoshi ten years later after having his Uncle killed. Who then informs kevin.

Nikoshi is from the Bronx has a accent when he speaks. He knows Spanish because of the amount of Dominican and Puerto Rican foster parents he’s had. Kinda understands broken english two because one of his foster brothers was from Jamaica which is cool because he knows he’s half Jamaican and some type of asian. He wears beat up high top jordan 1s baggy ripped jeans and long sleeves with a baggy jacket. He plays soccer because the system put him on a team and he’s very fast. He didn’t have much clothes but his best ones are the uniforms and he’s fine with that. He also plays street basketball and baseball with some kids in the area.

Kevin has to take Nikoshi in, according to Ichirou. Bringing Neil and Andrew with him. Ichirou just sent him a picture a kid and he was confused until he got that call that explained everything. He doesn’t need to explain who the kid is because you can clearly tell from the picture. Though the kid has milk cholclate skin, and curly hair that falls around his head in a fro.

When he frist sees Nico he has a scrape scab on his cheek, bruises on his wrist and purple knuckles. His ears a surprisingly pierced.

They find out Nikoshi Doe goes by Niko, he likes chocolate and cafe con leche (coffee), he likes shoes, he likes the color green, he uses a lot of slang and sometimes uses broken english and spanglish words, he’s quite but hyper and doesn’t know how to say still, asks why a lot, he hates math and likes to read, he loves listening to music it’s his safe place, he was diagnosed with ADHD/ADD and takes a pill in the morning and after noon on school days, he doesn’t like the way the pills make him feel, he likes Bee, Bee suspects Niko my be Borderline but it’s hard to tell, Kevin explains Riko was too. When they go to pick up Nikoshi they are informed of his diagnoses.

“So Kevin Day, It is very nice to meet you my husband loves watching you guys play Exy,” She smiled at them and then opened a drawer in her desk pulling out two folders.“ Now these paper were just printed out today. One from Nikoshi’s Doctor and another from his psychologist.” Kevin straightened his back more at that.

“Psychologist?” She looked up at Kevin.

“Yes, a lot of children in foster care go to see a therapist. It helps cope with abandonment and makes sure the kids are transitioning well in their new homes.” She opened one of the folders. “Nikoshi saw a therapist who recommended him to a psychologist. He was diagnosed with ADHD/ADD and given medication. He went through three different medications before he was put on Focalin XR. His biggest issues are impulsivity, managing feelings, and energy. There is more information in the folder with getting the prescription at a pharmacy and things to know about his behavior. He takes Focalin every morning before school, its not needed on the weekends but to long off it isn’t the best idea. Though if you want him off the medication, if you ever come to adopting him you can do that.” She looked towards the other two. “Will you two be helping take care of Nikoshi.”

“Yeah we are, is there anything else we need to know. If he needs a therapist we already got that covered. We can send her the information.” Neil replied with a bored tone but

“Thats good to know, he just saw the doctor last week. He gained some weight and is now at a more healthier weight then he was before.” She sighed. “You have to reminded him to eat, he forgets to and he doesn't ask for food. The foster home he was just at was good with keeping a schedule, he ate, took his meds, ate at school, had a snack at home, soccer practice and then dinner. He gets distracted and has little habits that cause him focus to much on random things. The meds take away his hunger also, so it important that he finishes.” She then closed both folders and stacked them together before sliding them to Kevin.

Kevin didn’t know how to process that. This information sounded to familiar. He always had to remind Riko to eat something. Riko would go days without eating, or sleeping, or even both. It got so bad the master had to tube feed him because he past out and didn’t get back up. Niko always got back up. He was taken out of his thoughts when the lady, Jennifer stood. He picked up the folders and got up following Andrew and Neil out the door. Nikoshi was still sitting in his chair, he was singing his legs slowly and seemed fixated on his hands.

“Nikoshi, these gentlemen here are going to be your new guardians,” Niko looked up at them. He got a better look at there faces, now that the glasses were off he could easily recognize who the taller man was with the chess piece on his cheek bone. He was confused o say the least. This had to be some sick joke, or a stupid stuPID dream. He looked at the other too, the screw that littered the red heads tan face and the man with blond hair and black studs.

“Deadass?” He blurted out suddenly. Fuck. He did not mean to blurt that out. Kevin day looked taken back by his statement and the other too snickered from slightly behind him. The lady looked horrified.

Riko used to self harm, stop eating for days, wouldn’t sleep for days either. His uncle had to force him into a tube feeder once because of this. Kevin and Riko had to see a therapist and she diagnosed Riko. His uncle disregarded it and gave him sum type of pills that made Riko’s anger at himself turn down a bit but he was more depressed. He tried to commit 3 times after. Kevin made him promise not to. He flushed the pills and started to abuse others.

Kevin explains this to Neil and Andrew. They then try to learn more about BPD. They watch youtube videos, read articles and books on it till they had a better understanding of the disorder. They learn about the self-destructive tendencies and suicidal gestures that are quite common with the disorder. They all try there best to build a good support system.

Niko has a hard time with his identity and ‘who he is’, he tries to remember that Kevin wants him and isn't going to abandon him, he tries to keep his shifts in moods to himself but in only makes things worse. He tends to shut down in his room more often then not. He finds himself getting angry at little things knowing he shouldn’t but he still does. Anger attacks aren't as bad as the empty feeling he gets sometimes.

When Niko meets all the foxes he drifts more towards Nicky for whatever reason. He finds that he like Nickys happy vibes and feels it radiate from him. He likes to soak in it.

Niko likes talking to Neil, he gets candy from Andrew, and he likes playing Exy with Kevin. He didn’t like school and says it’s hard for him but he still makes honor roll no problem.

During the second month of school when he first started living with Kevin he expriences racism for maybe the first time. He didn’t have any friends, nor knew anybody. He could tell he was different from the other kids. They were mostly white with a splash of color here and there. The way they talked and walked was different then how he did. He didn’t grew up with white picket fences like they seemed to. They dressed different too. He didn’t like the stares he was getting from the kids in his class.

“Nice hair are you a girl?” One of the boys said, with his little click at his back. It was recess and Niko stuck to staying to himself drawling in his note book that Andrew gave him.

“No.” The boys continued to laugh. He hated when people talked about his hair. He didn't like his hair. Especially when his foster mothers always tugged and pulled on it. That wasn't just it though. It reminded him of his foster father Mr. James.

“Such pretty hair.”

The boys crept closers and Niko started to feel closed in. One of them pulled out scissors and two grabbed him by the shoulders. One talked about how there dad said them Black boys need to cut there hair. Another used a slur Niko heard a lot back in the Bronx, used it himself when with the kids in the neighborhood but he never heard it used like this. He started to struggle but another one grabbed his face and held him down so his face fell between his knees. He felt chuncks of hair being cut of from his head as they fell down his back and some at his feet.

He felt his eyes water and struggled harder. He kicked the one to his right in the shin, knowing how much it hurt from when he played soccer with out shin guards. The kids let go of that shoulder and he swung his arm hitting another kid. They all let go once they heard a teacher yell at them. Niko reached for the scissors and threw them in the grass. The boys ran away and Niko was left to look at the small and large chunks of his hair on the concrete. He didn’t mean to bother anybody. He didn't ask to have this type of hair. He didn’t ask to be different. Sometimes he missed the Bronx but then remembered his foster sister getting shot, and his doped up foster parents he used to end up with. He didn't want to go back, but he found himself missing it sometimes.

Nobody asked abut his hair during the rest of the school day. Not even his teacher. Its fine he didn't want to bother anybody. When Andrew came to pick him up he was wearing his hoodie. Today Neil and Andrew were coming over, so was Aaron. Aaron practically lived with him and Kevin now though. He said nothing on the way home. He didn't want to bother them. He was trying his hardest not to.

But then he got home he went straight to the bathroom and locked the door. He didn’t hear Kevin nor Aaron calling him. He stared in to the mirror and glared at himself. Disgusting. You look like a girl. He ripped off his hood and he felt something in himself crack. His hair was clearly uneven. Some areas you couldn’t tell but he could see how his curls on his forehead were shortened compared to the pieces on the sides. He could tell where every spot was that had been cut, like there were circles showing him where to look. A broken sob cut through his throat. The tears rolled down his cheeks. He always thought he was an ugly crier. He grabbed his hair and pulled. He kept pulling till he felt arms wrap around his torso. He wanted to fight who ever they were off but he couldn't. They grabbed his hands but they couldn't pry them from his hair. He heard someone calling his name and found a face to that voice. He noticed another person accompanied him in the mirror. Holding on to him. It wasn’t his voice he heard though. He saw the other three at the bathroom entrance but it was Aaron standing closest to him.

“Niko its okay, let go buddy.” He didn’t know if he meant his hands or his feelings but he let them go. He saw more pieces of hair fall through his hands but ignored it and them screamed. Kevin turned him around and held him again. Kevin lowered himself to his knees to let Niko cry and scream into his neck. He rubbed his back till he calmed down. Neil and Andrew left to prepare some ice cream and play music. Kevin noticed the hair that fell to the floor and so did Aaron. It didn’t match the amount that should still be connected to his head.

Niko told them what happened at school with less emotion then he displayed before. They were all furious but chose to keep it inside to comfort Niko. They called the school and told them what happened. The school apologized but Kevin still wasn't letting Niko go back to that school. He transferred Niko to another and reassured him it was okay and it was the same distance anyways. They took Niko to the babor shop and they evened out his hair. He got it cut some on the sides as well, allowing the back and top to be longer. His hair showed more off his forehead and ear piercings now. He felt more exposed, but was happy with the hair cut.

When he meets Dan she gives him oils and creams to put in his hair. Even showed him how to wash it too, Matt helps. He got to meet there kids.

Allison braided his hair down for when he graduated Elementary School. She teaches how how to do other things like twist, braids, and box braids.

When he goes to college Renee helps him bleach the ends of his hair blond.

He has nightmares often. And likes to have hot chocolate to calm his nerves. He gets irritated easily, they learn. When he gets irritated he stops talking and fidgets, tapping his foot and cracking his knuckles.

Kevin’s night terrors slowly fade as Riko’s dark shadow fades into Nikos warm glow.

Niko definitely learns how to skateboards when Aaron gives him his old one. Kevin likes to watch them practice it together. Just like Aaron likes to watch Kevin teach Niko Exy. He joins a team in Middle School. He's definitely going to be something.

Hope you guys like this. Leave ask and suggestions about Nikoshi Doe. I would love to hear about it and write the prompts.

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bubonickitten · 4 years

Link

Summary: After leaving the Web's domain, Martin and Jon both get a little lost in their own heads. Or: Time to put the apocalypse on hold again for another Web-related navel-gazing session.

This is part of a series, but can be read as a standalone. (Part 1: tumblr // AO3)

Full text & content warnings under the cut.

CW: canon-typical spiders & arachnophobia; substance abuse (cigarette smoking & nicotine dependence); self-loathing re: addiction and obsessive-compulsive behavior; rejection sensitive dysphoria rearing its ugly head; internalized ableism & victim blaming; brief instance of (very passive) suicidal ideation; Web-typical paranoia; spoilers up to and including MAG 172.

“Yeah, screw this place,” Martin says. “Never liked the theatre anyway.”

And with that, he turns and makes a beeline for the nearest exit. Jon stands there for a moment, outstretched hand still lingering where he had offered it to Martin. A familiar gloom settles over him, stealing the air from his lungs – a sharp twinge in his chest, a cold weight dropping into his gut, a hard lump in his throat – all because of the merest hint of rejection.

Don’t take it personally, he scolds himself. Martin probably just… didn’t notice his hand. He was distracted. He's unsettled, he’s frightened, he needs to be away from here. It’s fine. Jon is just being self-centered. Again.

But as he trails Martin, several steps behind, he gets lost in his own head.

It's concerning, this pattern of Jon getting so absorbed in statements that Martin cannot reach him - and it isn't fair to Martin, left adrift and alienated in a nightmare realm that Jon brought into existence, all so Jon can take a moment to bask in the terror. Yes, Jon hates it. He hates how the fear and agony are filtered through him, even though he's become so accustomed to it - so much so that he fears eventually growing numb to it all, losing that last human spark he still curls himself around with possessive, protective fervor. Even more, though, he hates that alien thing in his head that likes it, that forces him to like it, that insists all of this is right and good and natural.

It's destroying him, it's destroying everyone around him, and he wants all of it to just stop. Except, there's a loud part of him that doesn't. He wants nothing more than to choke the life out of it.

He wishes he could go back to a time when he didn't want or need this, when he wasn't comforted by this thing hollowing him out like a tunneling worm. When did things go so wrong? Did it start when he was a child, when he found the book? Was the point of no return much later, when he became the Archivist? Or was he always doomed to be this, born with self-destruction and impulsivity encoded into his DNA, impossible to separate from himself and still remain himself?

Precisely how much of the statement did Martin overhear? Was it enough to draw the parallels that Jon himself is outlining now?

Jon never has time to process a statement while he’s in the midst of recording it. The human part of him is shelved so the Archive can go about its impartial curation without the interference of Jon's feverish running commentary. Once the trance wears off, though, Jon has time to think. To ruminate, as Martin says. To record his supplemental and dutifully file it away in the Archive, because the knowledge is not complete without Jon's lived experience to bring it to life.

FRANCIS: Please. Let me go. Just let me go.

THE SPIDER: Oh, Francis. It’s such a shame that I couldn’t do such a thing even if I wanted to. The man in the audience saw to that. I am no more free than you are, little puppet.

Not for the first time, Jon wonders about the significance of the statements he’s been channeling since the end of the world. How does the subject – victim, the still-human part of him admonishes – get selected? Does the Eye direct his focus, like choosing from a menu? Is it the choice of the Entity whose domain they're passing through? Or is it just chance – whatever instance of terror gets Beheld in that fraction of a second before the tape recorder clicks on to demand its offering?

He can’t shake the feeling that the Web did have a hand in selecting the particular show he was set to narrate just now, if only because it felt so perfectly tailored and pointed.

FRANCIS: Please. Please god, not again. I don’t want it to happen again.

THE SPIDER: Then walk away, Francis, just turn and leave. All that is required is a little bit of willpower. You have a little bit of willpower, don’t you?

Free will again, of course. Choice versus control. That thorny, sticky weed of a question that took up residence in his mind and spread its roots through every part of him, feeding and growing and seeding more iterations of itself with every passing moment of doubt. He's been over this, he's been over this; why can't he just let it go?

“Jon, we’ve been over this," Basira told him. "The key is to not force people to feed you their trauma. You know – just don’t do it?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“No, it is. Or I put you down.”

Jon remembers how, the first time he tried to quit smoking, it was framed in exactly that way: Just stop. At the time, it had seemed so simple that when he found he couldn’t manage it, he felt like an abject failure. Beyond that, though, it was like having a sinkhole open beneath his feet. Long-suppressed doubts about his own will and self-control were dredged up to the surface, where they've stayed front-and-center ever since.

He’s always had an obsessive streak, always had trouble letting go, always had difficulties with impulse control. It shouldn’t have been a surprise when just one cigarette ultimately led to an on-again, off-again addiction that he struggled with right up until the end of the world. Whether it’s nicotine or insatiable curiosity, he’s always been predisposed to fixation, hasn't he? And Beholding, well - it easily overshadowed the rest. It evolved so smoothly from routine to habit to dependence to basic sustenance, and now it’s such an intrinsic part of who he is that he doesn’t know who he would be without it.

Why didn't he see the warning signs? Or did he see them and opt to ignore them, to barrel on ahead through every red flag and concerned intervention attempt in his haste to do, to see, to know, to experience?

THE SPIDER: I want what you want, deep, deep down in the hidden bit of you you’ve tried so hard to kill. You can’t wait for the dance to conclude.

FRANCIS: I don’t want that anymore. It’s different now. I’m different now. I’ve worked so hard.

THE SPIDER: I don’t care.

Jon doesn’t want this. He doesn’t. But he does. But he doesn’t.

It’s complicated.

Jonathan Sims, human, feels nothing but despair and shame. The entire world has become a looping nightmare with no end in sight, and it’s his fault – all because, like a moth to a flame, he’s never known when to just stop. In the back of his mind burns that incessant what-if: Would it have been better had he never woken up from the coma? With his death, the others would have been free to quit; he never would have fed on his victims; he never would have opened the door. How much better would the world have been without him in it?

The Archivist, on the other hand, feels every stab of fear and pain as any human would, but along with that torment comes a perverse satisfaction in it all. Can he legitimately call himself a victim if he himself is complicit in his trauma? A steady diet of terror is what sustains him now, even as it eats away at him from the inside out. He is dependent on that which destroys him, and he hates it, and he likes it, and he needs it, and he dreads it, and he’s tired.

Meanwhile, the Archive feels only detached fascination and a deep conviction that everything is exactly as it should be. This is the role it was born to serve. This is the world in which it was so carefully engineered to thrive. This is the whole of its definition and the whole of its being and the whole of its nature, and it will record and catalog and curate and preserve every single moment for as long as it survives. Nothing lasts forever, but the Archive spares no thought for the inevitable end of its existence. There’s so much to See here, now.

The fear consumes him. The fear feeds him. The fear just is, and the Archive is here to witness and preserve every motion and every perspective and every detail.

“When has your guilt, or your sadness, or your hand-wringing ever actually stopped you from doing what it wants?” Helen said with a wicked grin.

“ I have not been taking statements.”

"You’ve sworn off other people’s trauma for now, because you’re caught. Because continuing would endanger you. But other than that, when has your discomfort ever actually stopped you walking the path of the Beholding?”

"I… I don’t know.”

Jonathan Sims can kick and scream all he wants, thrashing impotently in the corners of this shared mind. His cries will be drowned out by a cacophonous litany of horror and dread, and the Archive will pay him no mind. It has more interesting things to concern itself with than the useless self-loathing of the original owner of this vessel, still so stubbornly refusing to embrace the role for which he was so carefully groomed.

Jon has always made everything so difficult, hasn't he? Incapable of sitting still, of shutting up, of listening, of just slowing down and stopping for once. Always pushing, pushing, pushing, even when he knew the outcome would only hurt. Anything to keep moving, to secure that heady little rush that rewarded him whenever he happened upon something new and untapped. Voracious for anything to stave off the boredom and channel his restless energy.

He wants to stop. He can't stop. He did stop. He tried. He put so much distance between himself and that toxic thing to which he was beholden, and it found him again anyway. Jonah Magnus -

It does not matter. Jon's consent was never necessary. He will submit regardless. He always has.

FRANCIS only has a desire, an itch in their bones that flows into them, drip by oily drip, down the glistening strands that suspend them, guide them, hold them…. They don’t want to want it, but…

Pause for laughter.

He doesn’t want it. Except that he does.

He doesn’t want to want it. But he does anyway.

It’s horrible, but it feels right.

“Can the Web control another avatar, one that serves another power?” Jon asked, desperate and ashamed.

Pause for Helen’s laughter.

“Make them do things they don’t want to, make them – feed –”

Pause for Helen’s laughter.

“Oh, perhaps,” Helen said, delighted to watch him squirm. “Perhaps not. Would that make life easier for you? Are you so sure you didn’t want to?”

Pause for Helen’s laughter.

He did want to. Jonathan Sims may not have wanted to, but the Archivist? The Archivist would have continued hunting and preying, and he would have cycled through as many rationalizations as needed to continue the routine. But the Archivist is Jon is the Archivist; there's no use in distancing himself from accountability.

How had Jon lost himself so quickly, so easily?

When he woke up after the Unknowing, he was terrified. He didn’t know what he was becoming versus what he had already become, or the extent to which he was beyond the point of no return. Georgie had been right, when she told him that he needed people in his life to remind him of his humanity – and now he needed that more than ever.

But none of them had wasted any time in labeling him a monster.

Jon doesn’t blame them, of course. Tim was dead, Daisy was gone, Martin was Lonely, Melanie was being consumed by the Slaughter, and Basira had been left to pick up the pieces by herself. Everyone had changed; everyone had been through trauma; everyone was coping alone; everyone was afraid and angry in the face of being trapped and manipulated and exploited.

And so, so much of it was Jon’s fault, all because he couldn't just stop.

“Jon, focus,” Basira said. “Are you getting any sense of anything? Can you See anything?”

“No, I’m just seeing what you’re seeing. Still a bit weak from my trip up north, to be honest.”

“Sorry we couldn’t stop for a snack,” Melanie snapped.

Basira had laughed, then, and Jon had wanted to be angry, but all he felt was icy guilt wrapped in a layer of dull hunger.

Basira valued practicality. She simply didn't have the luxury for anything else. Jon was dangerous, and maybe a day would come when he could no longer be suffered to live, but until then, he could also be an asset. Basira asked him to Know and See when it would help their goals; she prompted him to Ask questions when they needed to interrogate someone; she wanted him at full power whenever they were heading into danger. She, like Tim, thought they would all be better off if Jon acted more like Gertrude – until he did, and they both saw the all-too-human monstrosity inherent in Gertrude’s flavor of utilitarianism.

“She got the job done,” Jon said, “and she didn’t care about the cost.”

“But I thought you did.”

He did, didn't he? When had that changed?

“I had to know, Basira.”

It's a poor excuse.

“It wasn’t right.”

No, it wasn't.

“You could have stopped me. But you wanted to know as well, didn’t you?”

She did want to know. Most people did. And that was what he was for, now, wasn’t it? The others could reap whatever benefits Jon could manage to wrest from his new inhuman existence, and all the while they could remain insulated, assured of their own moral high ground and their own humanity when compared to him.

Except that's a cop-out, isn't it? He would have hunted for statements regardless of whether it had any strategic benefit, taken over by instinct and hunger and need. No one is responsible for his actions except for himself.

Jon couldn't blame the others for how they treated him back then. But sometimes, a distant part of his mind would rail against the unfairness of it all, the double standards, the unclear and inconsistent demands. He was expected to be the Archivist - to sacrifice his humanity - whenever it was convenient, and then shamed back into submission the moment that power was no longer of immediate use. Too human and he wasn’t useful enough; too monstrous and he was an unacceptable risk. He was carving off pieces of himself to fit a mold that changed by the hour, until eventually he couldn’t recognize himself anymore.

And always there was that wrenching pang somewhere deep inside him whenever he failed to meet those expectations. It had been there since he was a child, and it had only gotten worse in recent years. He couldn’t justify his continued existence if he couldn’t prove himself useful, and now, being useful meant... well, drowning.

Excuses, excuses. He could have just stopped. He had choices, and at every watershed moment he chose to continue digging. If he had hit rock bottom, would he have stopped? Would he have even noticed?

“You knew, didn’t you? You knew the sorts of things she did, and you let her.”

“No,” Basira said. “Not exactly. I thought… it’s not that simple.”

"It never is. But that doesn’t make it okay.”

“None of us are who we were, Jon.”

It was cruel of him to put her on the spot like that, he knows. Basira had a much deeper bond with Daisy; of course she would be more willing to see and acknowledge the complexities of Daisy’s struggle. It’s… normal, to see the people you love in a rosier light than the people you distrust. Likewise, Martin still holds a grudge against Daisy for how she treated him in her interrogation, for what she did to Jon. Sometimes Martin's fingers will brush against the scar on Jon's throat and just for a moment, Jon will see a quiet, protective fury in Martin's eyes. He cannot understand how almost overnight, Jon came to see Daisy as a friend. Martin wonders sometimes whether it was just another clever way Jon had found to hurt himself, to punish himself, to put himself in danger.

But Martin didn’t get to spend much time with Daisy after the Buried. He didn’t get to see how hard she was trying to get better. Just like Basira didn't get to witness Jon’s efforts.

In fact, come to think of it… back then, Jon and Daisy both hid their weakest moments from everyone except each other, didn’t they? God, he misses her. No one else really understood what it was like to spend every waking moment resisting the call of a thing that could never be vanquished, which is exactly why sometimes Jon felt his hackles raise when they were held to different standards – especially when Daisy herself hated it just as much as he did.

None of that mattered, though. Everyone already thought him a monster, and he agreed with them. What was the point in pretending otherwise? He may as well be the monster, so no one else had to do it. (Excuses, excuses, excuses.) And besides, he liked it, didn’t he? He hated that about himself, but that didn’t make it any less true. So, he would make himself useful. If he got too dangerous, he doubted any of the others would have any qualms about putting him down. It shouldn't have been a comforting thought, but it was. Somewhere along the line, wanting to live had started to feel selfish. When had that happened?

But then… Martin.

Talk to him, said the note. An outstretched hand in the form of three simple words. A belief that he wasn’t too far gone. No, not just a belief. An expectation. He was more than what he was becoming. Or, he could be.

Martin always saw him, didn’t he? Even when Jon didn’t deserve it –

He doesn’t notice Martin’s abrupt stop until he crashes headlong into him, bouncing off his sturdy frame and onto the dusty ground with a quiet oof.

“Martin?” Jon scrambles upright.

“Yeah, I’m – I’m okay, I’m –”

Martin is standing rigidly, staring off to the side, but Jon can still see the wild, frantic look in his eyes, the slightest sheen of tears there, the way he’s gnawing on his bottom lip.

“Martin?” Jon asks again, more intent this time. Pushing himself to his feet, he reaches out a hand – and then falters halfway, leaves it trembling in the air between them. Martin sways somewhat on his feet. “Martin.”

“I – what?” Martin turns unfocused eyes on him. "Jon?"

“Martin, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s – I’m just – it’s –”

“You’re bleeding,” Jon murmurs, closing the gap between them and reaching up to brush his thumb over Martin’s lip. He half-expects Martin to pull away. When the rejection doesn’t come, Jon is nearly swept away by relief.

“Oh.” Martin looks down and his eyes widen, as though he’s just now seeing Jon.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” Jon says evenly, careful to keep the compulsion out of his voice. He moves his hand to cradle Martin’s face, and Martin leans into his touch on reflex.

“It’s… I keep thinking.”

“Yes?”

“I… it felt so much like curiosity, Jon.”

“Ah.” Jon thinks he senses where this is going.

“I – I didn’t realize until just now how it – I’m – I’m so sorry.” Martin chokes on the last word and a tear slides down his cheek.

“Come here,” Jon says, lowering himself to the ground again and pulling Martin down after him. Martin sags against him, his breath coming in quiet hiccups, and Jon curls an arm around his shoulders. “Breathe. What are you sorry for?”

“I thought I understood. About the Web.” Martin’s breath hitches. “I used to think it was – maybe exaggerated, how you felt? Or, no, that’s not the right word – I mean –”

“More like a phobia than a rational fear.”

“It’s – not that it isn’t rational, it’s just –”

“Martin, it’s fine,” Jon says, running his fingers through Martin’s hair. “I have a history of paranoia and phobias, and – and I know I obsess, I overthink things. If I was looking at me from the outside, I’d think I was overreacting, too. I probably am sometimes. Which is what the Web wants.”

“I didn’t say you were overreacting, I just thought – I thought maybe the actual threat was…” Martin bites his lip again. “That maybe it wasn’t as imminent as you were afraid it was. Or not as – as pervasive? I figured, if at least some of it was in your own head, I could actually…”

“Actually what?”

“That I could make it better,” Martin says meekly, a fresh wave of tears rolling down his cheeks. “I thought I could do something to protect you for once.”

“You already do that."

"How do you mean?" Martin laughs bitterly. "The only reason I'm still alive is because of you."

"I think I could say the same," Jon says quietly.

"You'd survive just fine on your own."

"I don't want to just survive." It comes out harsher than he intended, and Jon forces gentleness back into his tone. "You are my reason, remember? And... and besides. You do protect me." Martin rolls his eyes, and Jon rallies again. "Yes, fine, there isn't much that could physically harm me here."

Martin nods sullenly, an unspoken I told you so.

"But, I - I'm prone to self-sabotage, if you haven't noticed."

"Yeah." Martin sniffles, averting his eyes.

"You make me want to be better. You... you believe that's possible for me, even when no one else does, even when I don't believe it myself. Even when I don't deserve it." Jon shakes his head, his quiet laugh full of wonder and disbelief. "You see me in a way that I quite honestly don't understand, but it... it makes me want to be that person for you."

"You don't really need me, though."

"I do need you," Jon says fiercely. Then, softer: "And - and even if I didn't, I want you with me." Jon coaxes Martin's chin up to look him in the eye. "I'm quite fond of you, you know."

Martin chuckles half-heartedly and rubs at his eyes.

"There's something else bothering you, I think," Jon says hesitantly. "I - I didn't Know anything, I promise, I just... it seems like there's more?"

"It's fine." Martin clears his throat, and when he continues, it's with a tone that could almost be considered composed if it wasn't for the way he steadfastly avoids eye contact. "Just, you know. The Web."

"I'd like to listen, if you're willing to talk."

"You don't have to -"

"Let me take care of you?"

They've talked about this before. Martin's always been a caretaker. He's compassionate, and Jon will always be in awe of how adept he is at showing he cares with the simplest of gestures. Martin finds it fulfilling, prides himself on putting comfort into the world when it seems like none can exist. But he habitually prioritizes others at the cost of his own well-being, routinely blurs the line between compassion and destructive self-sacrifice. He never learned that cliché tenet of putting on his own oxygen mask before helping others with theirs. He doesn't know how to let himself be cared for, rarely even takes the time for self-care, and usually doesn't believe he deserves it in the first place. He feels an acute need to justify his existence by being useful, and for most of his life, it was the only way he knew to measure his own worth. The same could be said for Jon, really; it just manifested somewhat differently in his case.

But they've discussed it. They've been working on it.

Martin opens his mouth, starts to mouth the reflexive phrase - I'm fine - but capitulates when Jon says again, resolute: "I'd like to take care of you. Please let me."

"Um. I... okay. Okay. I just - give me a minute."

"Take all the time you need," Jon says, and returns to playing with Martin's hair. They're exposed here, but Jon would have ample foreknowledge of any approaching danger. Besides, this is an in-between space between domains, and Jon Knows that few things will go out of their way to seek out a confrontation with the Archive, especially outside of their own turf.

A few minutes pass before Martin begins to speak, starting slow before unraveling into a frantic confession.

“I’ve – I’ve never felt in control of my life, not really, but I’ve also never felt like I was being puppeted. It was just – circumstances outside of my control, or my own shortcomings, not – not some literal other mind pulling the strings.” One of Martin’s hands comes to rest on Jon’s knee, and he grips tightly, as if to remind himself of Jon's physical presence. “And – and if that’s a thing that actually happens, if it might be happening to me, how am I supposed to trust anything I do or think or feel? How do I – how do I know I won’t lose you, or – or betray you, or –”

“You don’t.” Jon gives him a very small smile, a cross between wry and rueful. He shifts his position until he can touch their foreheads together, moving one hand to cup the back of Martin's neck. “We can never know for sure whether we’re being controlled. We could sit here, I suppose – take no action at all, wrap ourselves in doubt and fear.” Jon nudges Martin's nose with his own, urging Martin to meet his eyes. “But then we’ll also have to wonder if that was the Web’s plan all along.”

“Oh, god, I’m dragging you back down the rabbit hole –”

“No, listen. It’s…” Jon gives a considering hum and leans away slightly. “Actually, there’s one part of Annabelle’s statement that sits with me in a good way.”

“What?” Martin says incredulously.

“Just listen. ‘We all have forces that drive us, circumstances that direct us,’” Jon recites from memory, “‘and even if we choose to ignore these and act against all logic, just to prove that we can – is that not simply allowing the existential terror of our own powerlessness to control us instead?’”

“And – and what about that do you find comforting?”

“It’s… hmm." Jon takes a beat as he hunts for a way to best convey his meaning. "Do you remember the story I told you, about Mr. Spider?”

“Of course,” Martin says softly, rubbing his thumb back and forth on Jon’s knee in a soothing, repetitive motion. Jon grounds himself in the touch and takes a deep breath before he continues.

“So - to this day, I still have the sense memory of being a passenger in my body. Like my veins were puppet strings, filled with - with hundreds of thousands of tiny scuttling legs. Like being pulled forward by a thousand minds and none of them my own.” Jon closes his eyes and swallows hard. This next part, he's never spoken aloud. “Worse, though, was the aftermath. I couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility that maybe they had never left. That maybe they had just let the strings go slack for the time being. I was always waiting for a moment when the threads would be pulled taut, and I would realize that the Spider never actually let go. Sometimes I - I still feel the crawling, the tugging. It's my imagination, I know - just a tactile hallucination - but still, it can be... rather convincing at times.”

“That’s… horrible," Martin says, and he means it, but there's a note of confusion there: he's not entirely sure where Jon is going with this.

“The Web managed to cover a lot of bases when it marked me. Fear of spiders and cobwebs, yes, but deeper than that. That split second before opening a door where my heart stops because I can never really be certain that I know what’s behind it.” Jon realizes suddenly that this is the first time he’s ever put words to that fear, let alone admitted it to another person. He shakes his head and forces himself to continue. “Being watched, being manipulated. Being controlled, or being unable to control myself, and being unable to tell the difference between the two. Infectious self-doubt, and the fear that I’ll never be free of it.”

“What does that have to do with –”

“‘Is that not simply allowing the existential terror of our own powerlessness to control us instead?’” Jon repeats, staring ahead into the barren wasteland. “It makes me think… maybe there’s some freedom to be found in giving up the illusion of control.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ll always be afraid of the loss of control, whether it comes from the Web or from my own mind. And if I let that fear immobilize me, well… that’s also a loss of control. Same outcome.” He combs his fingers through the soft, curly hair at the base of Martin's skull. “What the Web feeds on is that fear of being manipulated. It doesn’t matter what you think is controlling you or how you react to it. It doesn’t matter whether you’re frozen in place like a fly caught in a web, or if you're unable to stop at all, stuck in a loop of - of obsession or addiction or panic. The Web can feast on all of it equally.”

“You do realize that none of this is especially comforting, right?” Martin says with a nervous, breathless laugh.

“I’m getting there,” Jon promises. “The Web is an unknown variable. That's what makes it so terrifying. The only way I can think to fight back against that sort of power is to just… accept the idea that you’re not always in control, and that you’ll never know for sure the moments when you aren’t. To tolerate the ambiguity, and try to keep moving anyway. It dilutes the fear, somewhat. You aren’t as tasty a meal if you put a name to what scares you and shine a light on it.” Jon smirks. “If nothing else, it’s a ‘screw you’ to the Spider.”

Martin closes his eyes for a long few minutes, and Jon sits with the silence. Finally, Martin looks up and meets Jon's eyes again and gives him a weak smile.

"I know it doesn't solve everything," Jon says. "I still have my regular Web-related, uh... thought spirals, for lack of a better term. But I think it helps, to talk about it. The Web thrives best when its victims isolate themselves, lose themselves in hypotheticals and paranoia until they're paralyzed with doubt. It's harder to manipulate someone when they have someone to untangle them when they get stuck."

"It did help," Martin says after a moment, and Jon is relieved to hear the sincerity underlying the words. "Thank you."

“Well, the only reason I managed to come to any of this in the first place is because you gave me a stick and a dirt canvas and let me rant myself hoarse about it.”

Martin laughs, still sounding just a little raw and tearful. “I guess the conspiracy corkboard idea worked?”

“Yes, Martin.” Jon rolls his eyes, but his demeanor is thoroughly fond. “Though I think blindsiding me with the concept of 'love as a choice we make' is what got me over the line in the end. Very poetic.”

“And here I thought you didn’t like poetry.”

“Speaking of that…" Jon fixes Martin with a look of faux reproach. "Did you really imply that you hate the theatre back there? After giving me so much grief about disliking poetry?”

“I think I did more than imply it,” Martin says, and there’s a goading edge to his tone now.

“That’s…” Jon shakes his head. “Okay. Explain, please.”

“I’ve just never been a fan.” Martin shrugs, but the nonchalance falls apart as Martin tries and fails not to grin at Jon's dismay.

“Theatre is - it's such a broad umbrella, there’s no way you don’t care for all of it –”

“Poetry is a broad umbrella, too.”

“Yes, fine,” Jon says grudgingly. “Shakespeare was a poet, surely you can appreciate some of his contributions to theatre.”

“You’ve spent your whole life hating poetry, Jon. You don’t get to imply that I'm uncultured.”

“I don’t hate all poetry. Just most of it.”

“You still haven’t told me what changed your mind,” Martin says with a teasing smirk. “I wonder. Could it have been –”

“Yes, Martin.” Jon heaves an exaggerated sigh, but doesn’t bother to hide the fondness in his tone. “It was you. Obviously.”

“Just wanted to hear you say it,” Martin replies, absolutely preening at the admission. “I –”

Jon leans in and covers Martin’s lopsided smile with a kiss before he can get another blasphemous word in. The apocalypse can spare them a few more minutes.

End Notes:

Title is from Mitski's "Francis Forever".

Any of the indented bits involving Francis or the Spider are from MAG 172.

The others are from, in order: MAG 148; MAG 152; MAG 146; MAG 147; MAG 141; MAG 155.

And of course the quote from Annabelle's statement is from MAG 147 as well.

#the magnus archives #mag 172 #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tma #tma fic #long post #tma spoilers

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everyonesfavouritealiens · 6 years

Text

Interview with Tyler Blackburn from Pretty Little Liars | By Maranda Pleasant

Maranda Pleasant: What inspires you the most?

Tyler Blackburn: I know this might sound a little cliche but, I feel like everybody is searching for the same thing, and that is truth. I think that’s sort of the journey to define that which is most inspirational. Even in acting, when I watch an actor who I find to be so truthful in their craft, or a musician who gets up there and sings so truthfully—I like that. I really like individualism based on truth. That’s something I try to think about. What do I actually think about that, what do I actually feel right now? As opposed what should I feel.

MP: Love that. Powerful. What is it that makes you vulnerable?

TB: I’m very sensitive. It’s always been something I’m very in tune with. I am very emotional. Sometimes to the point of where I just want to hide away, because I can’t get a handle on myself. I don’t mind that idea. Vulnerability is kind of one of those things of, how do I really feel in this moment?

Wow, this is when I’m the most vulnerable. Obviously when I’m put in a situation where there is a lot of attention on me, it’s this weird dichotomy—I like it, because I feel like I’m a natural born performer. But I do feel the most vulnerable.

As life goes on I’m learning to trust myself more, so I am more comfortable— you have to be, doing things in front of people, especially when there’s lots of pressure. I have to make decisions. When you’re put in a position where you’re having to decide, Is this a good decision? Is this the right decision for everybody involved?—it makes me feel a little unsteady, unsure.

MP: Wow. I really appreciate that level of honesty. How do you process pain?

TB: I don’t have one go-to way to deal because circumstances change. One thing I’m recognizing more and more in myself—and looking to change—is going down more of a self-destructive path when I feel pain. I’m trying to avoid that as much as possible. That is an impulse, when I feel out of control. We don’t really understand why we feel what we do in that moment, so it’s almost like I’m trying to take control, even if it’s bad control. I do try to experience the emotions as they come, but sometimes it becomes just too much.

I lost my cousin. It’s been about a month. He’s a year younger than me. He OD’d. It was three days before my birthday. I grew up with this guy. It was such an intense scenario. I went through so many emotions. It kind of ran the gamut of anger and sadness and self-destruction and all those things.

MP: I understand.

TB: Even just talking about it, that’s very cathartic, too. That’s one way of doing that. Actually putting it out as a truth as opposed to trying to conceal it from yourself.

MP: I’m with you. I tend to isolate. Put on the Damien Rice and go paint and isolate for days and drink too much. [laughing] I get it. I’m learning more positive ways of handling myself.

TB: Absolutely. I don’t know about you but I look back at my sort of wilder days where I was doing lots of drugs, and I thought I was just trying to have a good time, but I was covering up so much pain. I haven’t done any drugs for five years now. Now I’m actually presented with these problems and I’m looking at them differently. I see even the small things. Like you said, Damien Rice—he’s perfect for those moments!

MP: You can get really f*cked up on Damien Rice!

TB: Oh my god, I know! I love the album O.

MP: When you run out of Damien Rice you always switch over to Glen Hansard. You said you’ve been clean for five years?

TB: I haven’t done any drugs for five years. I don’t even smoke pot anymore.

MP: That’s great. How was that process for you? Was there a wake up call?

TB: It mostly starts with a decision. I was inching towards making that final decision but I would always retract. It became a vicious cycle. I started realizing that I was no longer having fun with it. It was all-consuming. I had support from my girlfriend at the time. She didn’t do drugs. That was really helpful. I did do a sort of a detox program. I didn’t go to rehab or anything like that. It was a lighter detox program that really eliminates drugs and toxins from your body. Keeps the cravings and stuff from coming back. That made it a lot easier. And then just really reshaping myself.

It’s just so funny—as soon as I did that, that’s when I started booking acting work, which was my dream. So many things have gotten so much better. My life is just in a completely different place and I’m so happy about that.

MP: Deep bow. That is not an easy thing to do. Tell me what you’re passionate about? I heard you speak out against bullying?

TB: My interests lie in nurturing children. That’s part of the reason why the bullying thing has become an aspect of my life. I was bullied a lot growing up. I know firsthand the amount of life that is sucked out of you every time that happens, and how it affected me as a young adult. I was asked if I wanted to do a campaign through Seventeen magazine. And I was like, “Wow, yeah, I would like to.”

It was one of the first moments that I realized that being on a TV show didn’t stop when the director says, “Cut.” There’s a responsibility level that comes along with being a public figure. I can use this for really cool things. That really [allows] me to be very honest about my experiences.

I used to want to kill myself because I had lost so much of who I knew I was because of all the other invalidation from people. It sends you spiraling where you’re like, Wait, I know I have this quality, I know what my integrity is—until you’re being fed all this false information about yourself. You start to wonder why. You don’t feel good about yourself because you no longer believe in yourself.

It’s so important for everybody at every age, but especially kids. High school is a really strange time—you’re not a kid, you’re not an adult. You’re about to be an adult, you’re going to have to make some really intense decisions. It’s a really pivotal time to have as much self-confidence as you possibly can. Even if that means you have one friend who supports you completely. I’m sort of ranting but…

MP: I like your rant! Keep going.

TB: Thanks! I just feel like that spoke to me a lot. I know that the demographic for the show [Pretty Little Liars is pretty much high school students. Not all, but I know that’s a big part of it. I find that again, it’s beneficial to be as truthful as possible. I know that when that magazine issue came out, I got so many tweets about that, saying, Thank you for being honest. It was just really great.

I got to go to an anti-bullying rally in Washington, DC. That was really cool. Parents spoke whose kids have killed themselves because of bullying. It makes me sad. I was there and all the people on the panel were there to raise awareness about that. It’s fulfilling to me in a way that I had never experienced before. I love to act, I love that aspect of my life, but the fact that that sort of parlayed into this other sort of feeling of fulfillment was unbelievable. Now I’m Global Ambassador for Stomp Out Bully. I don’t get to do as much work with them as I would like to.

MP: Thank you for that, by the way. I was suicidal for years in my teens and even almost up into college. Just because of bullying. It doesn’t take long to start believing that stuff. Just living in fear and all kinds of self-worth issues—you don’t shake that off. It takes years to clear that.

TB: It does. In a lot of ways, certain things, it feels like they’re never going to go away. The best thing to do is continue to ask questions, look that fear in the eye.

I feel like from a very early age, we know who we are as individuals. I love when I see parents with their kids in these crazy outfits and they’re like, “That’s what they wanted to wear.” Those small things are so important.

That’s why I think children need to be nurtured for what they are as opposed to what you want them to be. I think that’s when those ideas come into your head of like, What should I feel in this moment? It’s because someone told you, “Your instinct was incorrect.” And you’re like, Why? Why is that wrong?

MP: What projects can we support you in right now?

TB: We just wrapped up the season of Pretty Little Liars. We’ve been working pretty hard on that. I am working on music presently, also through ABC Family. I’m recording some really great tracks right now.

MP: That’s right, you’re a musician.

TB: Mostly a singer. I just recently started writing lyrics. It’s been a new venture for me. I’m really proud of [what] I’m doing musically. The new season of Pretty Little Liars comes out around January 5th.

#tyler blackburn #this is an interview he did in 2013 for origin magazin #this is a real interview #I love him #he's a beautiful human being #interview #tw bullying #tw suicide

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jigensass · 5 years

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Here we are (this is very long so TL;DR this blog is getting archived)

It’s been over a week since I’ve taken a hiatus and a few close people know about what has happened. And I have made a decision in response to an insight meditation retreat I took over the course of this weekend.

I’m going to be dropping roleplaying Stephen and possibly roleplaying altogether.

First, after 5 years of this blog, you’re probably wondering why. Well, I woke up.

Yes, I’m a talented writer and I can weave your fantasies into realities. Yes, I enjoy every single person I have written for. You’re not the problem. My writings are the problem that is hurting my lifestyle and it leads to toxic behavior.

Ever since I decided to go into this hiatus and a few days prior, I’ve been peeling back that I am more sensitive than others to certain situations and at sometimes have the ability to as previously stated, weave fantasies into realities and make them feel as real as possible. This can be problematic when I get in too deep. So much as I have in the past without even realizing, begin to dissociate the line and my own reality and the one I made that I have fallen in love with. The two begin to crossover and I don’t even realize I’m doing it until it’s too late. This had led to multiple people getting hurt and I didn’t even know I was doing it. Why has this been happening for so long and I’m noticing it after 26 years? Well, no one kind of stopped me or I didn’t notice because when I was younger I lived in my own little world. And that own little world became the internet and then the internet started converging with the little world and I didn’t know what to do except the one thing I knew best: make up stories and not even realizing it, they became my own little world. It’s how I coped and got away from the actual reality that I lived in (school, work, family, etc).

Now how did Stephen come in? Well, (holy shit I’ve been in the sphere of Doctor Strange for 7.5 (8 years in the Marvel sphere) years now that’s the longest I’ve stuck to anything). There was a game on Facebook where I heard of him and at the time in 2010, there were only comics and the movie from 2006(7?) (I remember actually SEEING the commercial for the movie and asking ‘how is this guy a superhero he’s a doctor’ oh how my 13-year-old self was foolish).

I fell in love with Stephen’s character for one reason: he had all the powers of a god, yet he was still human. It would take me another 5 years to realize where my path was actually headed with this magic man and the actual man named Benedict Cumberbatch.

Along the way, since this blog was created and many rp threads later, there were many times I felt so absorbed into my work that even though I had an external life with friends and people I knew. It became...a problem. It was obvious when I began to piss off my friends in college for trying to gain this...atmosphere of Stephen Strange and then try to be myself.

But I didn’t know who ‘Crystal’ was for...like ever. Only until after this weekend did I find out this answer (stay tuned).

I kept trying different things, nothing felt good. I didn’t feel like a human being unless I was by myself clacking away at a keyboard and being absorbed with the Sorcerer Supreme who I (for the longest time) considered a reflection of who I was or what I wanted to be (at some point Magnus Bane got thrown into the pot in 2014 so that’s just a lovely stew...). It ate at me for years and I wasn’t even aware during points where I became lost that the parasite was there. The parasite was my power to get lost in worlds I created and then believe the world was still there in reality. And it (probably) hurt many real human beings in the process.

And just recently I yanked that parasite off and threw it away. Realizing that seeing Stephen as a reflection is dangerous and will get me pulled into the looking glass if I don’t stop.

So as of today for the sake of my mental health, this blog is being archived.

I’m not saying it was all bad. I wouldn’t be typing this because of roleplaying with one person in particular who, even though my coworkers were slapping me in the face (metaphorically, of course) and concerned for my life during the nine months of suffering I held at my new job, was AT THE TIME, the only person who could get through to me and wake me up. The reason this journey started because of a very deep wound that was still scarring, but this person was the one to be my guide on the path to just finding what I needed to figure out what the heck was going on.

About a month later after this realization, I joined a sangha and began meditation on a weekly basis or when I could. This (and to this day) practice has unearthed a lot of stuff that I’ve buried so deep that it blew my mind how messed up my childhood was. Why I was so...sarcastic...and had to make a joke to every serious detail...and impulsive...and...determined to get out of this hole. Like a certain....doctor

(No joke when I watched Doctor Strange in theatres in 2016 when this line was said I died laughing because of the tone and manner of how it was said was something I would do. I’m a sassy piece of shit IRL)

Back in late 2016/early 2017 right after I watched this movie, I remember wanting to embrace MCU Stephen with open arms. I felt the pain he was feeling, having to give up his mundane life to become the guardian of the Earth, and I wanted to take him down that journey of suffering, of realizing that he chose for the sake of his hands, provided him with....the power of a god yet he was still human (also I was stunned because he was (I BELIEVE right behind T’Challa) the FIRST Marvel main character to actually DIE on camera. As in no pulse, not coming back dead.

But instead I got female OCs wanting to bang and marry him, and the funk kicked itself right out the door. And this is when I got into experimentation. Demons, Mermen...the list goes on.

This is where it became obvious that Stephen was leaning towards men and less towards women and the relationships were slowly becoming....uninteresting. Either for me or the other person. Around this time this was when the shit hit the fan hard and I had a mental breakdown and contemplated suicide (it wasn’t the first time). Yeah, surprise~. The package gets nastier.

At this point, as many of you know, I was diagnosed with Attention Hyperactive Association Disorder (or ADHD) and I began taking medication which helped, but with the meditation beside it, this was where a nasty load of stuff boiled inside including:

Emotional and some Physical Abuse from my Parents

My mother almost killed me once. She nearly snapped my neck.

Emotional Abuse from Teachers and Peers in School

I was given a nickname that I just passively went with and in the end, I hated it. When I tried to change it, people didn’t listen to me.

I gave my opinion about how I did not enjoy Glee on Facebook. I was shunned by nearly every music department student.

Trust Issues that supported the Anxiety because of said Emotional Abuse (and for a point in my life, pretty sure I had Avoidant Personality Disorder)

I’ve been at the same job for over 2 years now and just last Friday I had to balls to tell someone my life was a dumpster fire.

Depression because I couldn’t hold/meet expectations that I had imagined as being next to perfect standards because of past emotional abuse to be under the impression I could meet nothing less (thus over the years I lowered my expectations, yet nothing changed). Sometimes I had suicidal thoughts and the only reason I didn’t do it was because I thought felt good to suffer

In turn, because I was abused emotionally in a certain manner that I thought that it was okay to do so when I couldn’t get a grounding of having things in my control as well because of my conditioning or just try to be noticed. At the time, it was the only way I knew how to put the board in my favor. It was when I did this and my boss wrote me up that I just...became silent. People wondered why I didn’t talk and then when I did, it was (and sometimes still is) in the most passive tone of observation. Over time I did learn this was one of the most unwholesome things I could do and I have still lost my footing in times of despair that I go back to this way of talking because I’m conditioned to beat myself up when something bad happens (and even during this weekend’s retreat those unwholesome thoughts came up).

So sorry for anyone I’ve hurt in the past because of this. I’ve disconnected with many because of my ignorance.

Thus the result of this toxic upbringing and my choice to follow it blindly led to a misunderstanding of relationships to the mundane level (romantic or platonic). Every situation that failed, I tried better. But it only felt worse since till this day every single one has failed, minus one or two, have all ended in some kind of disaster merely due to, what probably was my destructive behavior.

Even now typing this dumpster fire was difficult. Because I have 3 ways of responding

1. I’m a Bot Beep Boop How are you? Good! That’s Good!

2. I have a mask and there’s no one else here behind the ask

3. You sure you want to talk to ME? You sure you find me INTERESTING? You? Find me attractive?! Kay...Just warning you....*reveals the dumpster fire* You can go backward out the entrance door

So...yeah. I’ve never ‘felt’ until recently that my life “mattered”. That I was just...kind of an empty sponge. Day in, day out. Paying off debt for a job that I don’t even do anymore because I’m better at other things, like deduction. And working with data and information.

But anywho....if you’ve made it this far in “My Journey to Find out Who the Heck I Am” Congrats, you made it to this weekend’s insight meditation retreat. Because it was both terrible and uplifting at the same time.

yesterday we meditated for about 8ish hours and I wanted to kill myself (literally) from all the pain in my back. I questioned if I had to go see a chiropractor after it was all said and done. And then something came up that I noticed that I always was aware of.

The teacher kept referencing other teachers before her and near the end of it all when she would keep talking, the references were driving me nuts. Like, she just kept telling us to follow the Buddha like he was some holy person and it clicked: I don’t like organized religion because I’m being told how to do my practice. So when we went outside to walk, it all just kind of clicked when I found a bench off to the side of the business complex (our retreat was at our local sangha and non-residential). I sat on that bench and stared at the fence and the rain and said to myself ‘I am the River’, meaning I should go with the flow and acknowledge and be aware of any ripples made in me.

And that everything that was being instructed on this retreat had been told to me from another source: all of my coworkers who probably have not sat on a cushion in their life.

Today when we the teacher did a talk this morning about ‘self’ and ‘not self’, she, in short, repeated what I said from a quote by Thich Nhat Hanh (monk from Vietnam) about how we are not a river, but an ocean.

And even though the teacher’s story was relatable, it clicked who “Crystal” was and where Stephen stood in Crystal’s life.

Crystal is made up of many individuals parts and is just...Crystal. Stephen is not a reflection, but one of those many parts.

Even though I acknowledge this wisdom, I currently believe I do not (and might not) have the ability to return to my writings because of why I previously explained. It’s not you, it’s the current in the river.

So thank you to everyone who has befriended me along the way and helped me down this path.

Namaste.

*two minutes later* lemme find a Benedict Cumberbatch Buddhism gif to close this story, show me the money Google

youtube

GOD DAMN I-

youtube

#out of the sanctum #well then

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chasing-rabbits · 6 years

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I think something people find hard to deal with when it comes to borderline personality disorder is it literally affects ALL emotional states. Not just mania and severe depression but trust love paranoia anger anguish etc etc it affects everything and unlike most people who can stay in charge of their emotions most of the time or at least damage control most of us with BPD can't the difference is physiogically we actually feel emotions more intensely and we feel these emotions for longer so it's really hard to explain to someone why the smallest thing sets us into suciidal idealisation but to us it's a really big deal because our emotions are unstable and unregulated and it takes a lot of therapy and work that often times isn't even offered to us because alot of people are skeptical of the disorder and even then it's not something that will ever go away like an addict we will always have to be on guard of our emotions we can't even. Let ourselves just be happy because so often a normal event like for me Xmas time can trigger manic episodes and this then causes me to drink and spend excessively and to not sleep and to be super unstable and you think well hey just learn to control it but the issue is it's not a slow burner for me one minute I'm depressed and suicidal an hour later I'm triggered into severe mania and it will last the whole weekend leading up to Xmas sometimes a whole week before Xmas you know ? And it just happens like the flick of a switch and that's really hard to prepare for because in other conditions for example I have bipolar it's usually a slow burner and I can pre-empt and even figure out my cycles for example I used to be mixed affective in the new year and manic over Easter and this happened every year for 3 years before I was officially diagnosed so I kinda knew also it was never as intense I felt depressed and sad and cried I felt manic and happy and drank but BPD is on a whole other level what I felt with BPD was even more intense and more unstable because of its unpredictability than the bipolar ever was .

That's the problem . People hear bipolar and think damn that's awful people hear borderline personality disorder and think eh it's nothing she's just melodramatic because it can appear that we are divas because we get triggered by the littlest of things but that's how it is and I've been told multiple times by professionals I will just grow out of it . But honestly that idea is so toxic that it just simply goes away forever and I've been told medication won't help and the only therapy they offer includes the first half focusing on mindfulness which actually can make someone with BPD more suicidal and this group therapy isn't even specific to those with BPD it's one therapy fits all and that's toxic logic . So my mum might end up paying for therapy for me because I can't afford it.

But so many therapists and doctors aren't even educated well enough on borderline personality disorder or are critics of it so even in the professionals eyes their is stigma attached to having this diagnosis .

And there in lies the problem.

This disorder has made me attempt suicide 3 time and self harm more times than I can count.

I did everything from cutting to burning to hitting myself with heavy objects to scratching my legs to pieces .

And yet it's still not seen as serious or taken seriously or even diagnosed correctly by professionals.

And this stigma NEEDS to stop.

BPD is a dangerous disorder and often gets the person suffering it engaging in self destructive behaviours from self harm to full blown eating disorders to suicide attempts to drug and substance abuse this illness comes with deadly consequences because it leads to wreckless impulsive behaviours.

And just remember this next time we are intensely scared of abandonment and because of this we may lash out at loved ones and friends but it comes out of a place of fear and instead of dismissing us you should try to talk to us get us to communicate these fears as to better understand what may seem as histrionic diva behaviours. And then we can work on our behaviours to further better our trust issues and fears of abandonment !

For example I now express these fears with my partner and tell him directly I need you to cuddle me reassure me even if you've done it a million times today I just need to hear you say it again. And yes sometimes he gets frustrated with me because there's only so many times someone can reassure you in a day. But also this has helped me grow. Even without therapy anymore I tried the therapy offered and the mindfulness made me feel awful also I wasn't actually allowed to talk about any of my issues because it would or could trigger others in the group so it was a pile of shit.

But I've grown over time too from reading and listening to others with BPD and their experiences with partners and how they handle it . And the biggest thing was on YouTube video I found one day where she said communication was everything and how you've gotta explain the thought process behind your beliefs and actions because to an outsider even a loved one our thoughts are hard to decode even to ourselves sometimes it's hard to understand the underlying issue causing the meltdown. And also she is the one that said sometimes you have to be direct and say exactly what you need down to every last detail because yes you have to learn to handle things on your own sometimes but this idea that we cannot ever be dependent on a good support system is bullshit people with disorders and especially BPD NEED an excellent support system in which they can express their feelings and feel validated and understood and have a place they can be themselves because one of the root causes of BPD is when in childhood said child is not allowed to express emotions and if they do they are invalidated or ignored or told off for showing them.

As well as other abuses causing BPD .

So when we get older we have all these maladaptive coping mechanisms like self harm because we've been told our emotions our pain isn't real or isn't valid and causing visible pain on the form of cuts and scars and bruises or even in the form of an eating disorder almost validates to ourselves that this pain was and is real and it does matter .

And that's why self harm is a criteria for BPD.

And it's so hard because so often because of our past we now over react to little situations minor arguments with tears and fears of abandonment and this leads people to think we are a drama queen and over reacting for attention or faking it for attention but in our minds our fears and thoughts of Self harm and suicide are very very real. Because we have little handle on our emotions . Or our impulsive dangerous thoughts . So as a child we are invalidated and then when we develop BPD we are once again invalidated and this time viewed as inauthentic or over reacting drama queens for attention which then leads us to fall deeper into our pit of despair because no one understands our maladaptive coping mechanisms.

They see our bpd behaviours but don't understand the reasons why and instead of saying oh it's because she's mentally ill and has a personality disorder it's criticised as even being a disorder and is instead a young adult playing up for attention or spoilt brat syndrome and that it's something we will simply grow out of as if it's a phase rather than something that has been built out of years of invalidation and abuse and was our only way of coping and now we've lost all control of our emotional state and the issue with personality disorders is people are like don't let your mental illness define you but with a personality disorder especially one like borderline personality disorder which affects everything you think or do or feel it's very very hard because from a young teen or pre teen where we develop personality traits we have developed this disorder that literally molds and shapes our personality and what it means to be us and whilst you can change to an extent and try to overcome this it's very very hard to entirely leave it behind and yes whilst I have my own unique traits and styles of dressing and jokes and humour that you could argue make up my personality it doesn't take long to put two people with BPD in a room and see the striking similar personality traits that make us these maladaptive beings due to our past.

Whether people want to agree or not our emotions in this case are not always in our control and we aren't acting out on purpose or for attention it's usually out of fear or intense emotional pain and quite often it feels as though someone else is controlling our emotional responses quite often people with BPD have identity crises because when they are diagnosed and educated on BPD it becomes very aware that our emotions and traits are not always ours but the disorders and you find yourself questioning who am I without my disorder like I know who I would be without my bipolar but I honestly can't say I'm at the point yet where I'd say I know who I would be without bpd because for so long it's all I've known from my childhood to young adulthood I've never known anything different about myself and where does my real personality start and my disorder end because my disorder whether I like it or not does affect me fundamentally as who I am how I behave what I do and where I go and the jobs I hold etc etc and my realtionships with those around me more so than most other disorders because as it says in the name it's a personality disorder and that is why it's so hard to diagnose because the symptoms and criteria in the diagnostic manual psychiatrists use just lists mostly a list of personality traits BUT these traits are all normal traits healthy people could have as my psychology professor taught me but it's up to the professional to judge if you experience them to a higher degree than others and certain traits together then it's a personality disorder this is also why self diagnosis is extremely dangerous because you could look at the criteria for BPD and say that fits my personality but you don't know if you experience these personality traits so severely that you'd be considered as having BPD I got my bipolar diagnosis super quick but it took at least 6months maybe a year even before I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder!

This disorder has one of the higher sucide rates and this is for good reason because having BPD often brings its friends in the form of addictions and dangerous impulsive risky behaviours .

And yet no one takes it seriously we don't have documentaries about it compared to bipolar or schizophrenia or anorexia no one talks about the deadly killer that is borderline personality disorder and that needs to change !

#borderline personality disorder #actually borderline #borderline problems #being borderline #borderline things

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hayleyconway129 · 5 years

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My Experience with BPD

I’ve contemplated writing something like this for quite some time. Thinking about what I would say, how I would word everything, what people would think of me. I wouldn’t have the first clue about writing a blog or writing a story, but here we go.

In 2011 – following a suicide attempt when I was 15 years old, I was diagnosed with depression

In 2016 – I was also diagnosed with anxiety on top of the depression.

in 2019 – I was also diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, Panic Disorder and Agoraphobia. I wasn’t surprised.

See I’d always suspected there was something more. More than just depression and anxiety, something that didn’t sit right. I am a relatively self-aware person, yet I was continuously finding myself in situations out of my control. My emotions could go from happy, content and energetic to irritable, angry and snappy within a matter of minutes. It could be anything, a changed plan, a minor inconvenience, someone looking at me the wrong way. anything could send me into a downward spiral.

As I got older, I found myself avoiding social situations more and more. I was once a bit of a party girl, I lived for the weekend and getting dressed up, going out and having fun with my friends. Now. I can’t even remember the last time I had a night out that didn’t end up in a panic attack or meltdown. Actually - at this point I don’t even remember the last time I even ‘wanted’ to go out. I isolated myself more and more, I wouldn’t leave my apartment for days on end.

I’d involved myself in a lot of unhealthy relationships growing up, and was subjected to a lot of emotional abuse, because of this I fell into a pattern of doubting myself. I thought I was the problem, that I wasn’t worthy of being respected or treated well. I thought that my trust issues and insecurities stemmed partly from these scenarios, and that if I ever found someone who loved me, everything would be okay.

It wasn’t until getting into a healthy, supportive relationship that provided me with all the comfort and reassurance in the world, that I realised I was still second guessing everything. ‘Why is he with me?’ ‘He will leave as soon as he gets a better opportunity.’ ‘He is too good for me.’ Accompanied by completely invading his privacy in fear that he was ‘doing something wrong.’ Worrying every time he would leave my sight – I was terrified of being abandoned. Sometimes I would act out, cause a scene, abuse him, be aggressive and hostile over the slightest thing, to the point where at the end of the outburst I wouldn’t even really remember what it was about

And then came the guilt, OH the horrible, debilitating guilt. Every time I would snap or have a meltdown, I’d come out the other side of it drowning in guilt and shame. ‘Why couldn’t I have just handled that situation better? ‘Why am I like this?’ ‘No wonder everyone hates me and wants to leave me.’

Now comes the inability to hold a job. Throughout my 23 years of life I’ve had a billion different ideas regarding ‘what I want to be’ and each time I tried something, I would get dissatisfied and then immediately be done with it. If I have a colleague that I don’t like or get along with, I take it personally. If my superior criticises me, I’ll go cry in the bathroom. If I have a disagreement with a customer, I’ll have a panic attack. I don’t even remember the last time I properly resigned from a job; most have ended in me walking out mid shift because I couldn’t cope anymore. I know it all sounds so black and white, like stop being so sensitive right? My thoughts exactly. I began thinking ‘Maybe I am just lazy,’ ‘What if I am just a shit person?’

With all of this comes financial stress, like how are you supposed to budget when your income fluctuates constantly. ‘Oh no that impulse spending I did to try and cheer myself up has now put me in more debt and I just quit my job what am I going to do?!’ ‘Maybe my partner will leave me because I can’t hold a job and provide for this $400 a week apartment we’ve moved into.’ ‘He deserves someone who can hold their shit together.’ ‘My mum is going to hate me, I’ve failed, and she is bailing me out of a bad situation once again.’

I was always wondering why I had trouble maintaining friendships. Why I was so sensitive to everything everyone around me did. ‘Oh, she cancelled plans on me today, I guess she fucking hates me.’ - Why sometimes if I spent too long in a social setting, I’d become easily agitated and angry. Maybe I just hate people yeah? Why is it, one day I like someone and appreciate them, then be annoyed and devaluing them in my mind the next day?

Well my friends, I introduce you to Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD.) If I wanted to go into depth about which traits I most identify with and how, we could be sitting here all day. For each person it varies, and some of the traits can be easily confused with order disorders.

· Fear of abandonment. People with BPD are often terrified of being abandoned or left alone.

· Unstable relationships.

· Unclear or shifting self-image

· Impulsive, self-destructive behaviours.

· Self-harm.

· Extreme emotional swings.

· Chronic feelings of emptiness.

· Explosive anger.

I’d done a bit of research on BPD before for my official diagnosis. I knew people that had been diagnosed, I personally thought I identified with some, if not all the 9 traits. But as I am not qualified to self-diagnose and a bit of a hypochondriac at the best of times, it took a Psychiatrist and a Psychologist to confirm what I had suspected.

I had already kind of prepared myself and knew enough to know that it is something that can be treated. But that it would take hard work and time.

Fast forward a few months later and I’m still in I guess what you would call ‘recovery,’ I am on my fourth job for the year and still struggling of course, but I’m seeing a psychologist, my medication dosage was adjusted, I’ve done more and more research into my condition and most importantly, the people around me are aware of what is happening, for so long I felt like everything was all in my head and that I was just a drama queen, so I assumed everyone else felt this way about me. But I was wrong, since opening up and asking for help, my family, boyfriend and friends have been amazing. I’ve received so much love and support and not one single bit of judgement, which is what I was most afraid of.

Now that I know what I am dealing with, I have answers and I know what I need to do to get where I want to be, it’s a long road and it scares the shit out of me. But I didn’t come this far to let an illness overcome me.

#borderline personality disorder #bpd #mental health

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overthinkingkdrama · 6 years

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Violence and Dong Hoon: A My Mister Meta (Part 2)

What is his appeal? What is it about him? At first glance he appears to be a beacon of integrity and stability. The poster child for self-negating, guileless altruism. The archetypal hapless salaryman.

To the people around him, Dong Hoon is different. Dong Hoon isn’t like his brothers or his other loser friends. He’s got a good enough job to set his mom up in a house, his beautiful wife is a successful career woman in her own right, cut from a different cloth than her in-laws--a symbol of his “perfect” life. Dong Hoon is honorable. He’s filial. He’s dutiful. He’s responsible. He is everything that he, as a middle-aged Korean man, has been told he’s supposed to be.

But hear these things from his coworkers, friends, family, Dong Hoon doesn’t feel encouraged. He feels trapped. In fact, sometimes when he hears these things, he feels like he can’t breathe.

If they were to study him for more than a passing second they might realize that Dong Hoon is being slowly eaten away by the gnawing emptiness of his life, he’s terrified that at any moment the people around him will realize that his entire life is a sham.

Impostor Syndrome

It’s hard to say exactly when Dong Hoon took on the role of anchor and provider for his dysfunctional family and by extension his dysfunctional neighborhood. Token success story in a town full of losers. But it’s clear that he’s been managing his image for the people who depend on him for a long time now. It’s become second nature.

Dong Hoon feels like an impostor in his day to day life, and in some ways he is one. He senses how much people look up to him and depend on him, and so hangs on desperately to what he has for fear of disappointing them and exposing himself. We know that Dong Hoon’s internal life doesn’t line up with the image he projects from his own words. When his brother says that he knew that Dong Hoon wouldn’t get in trouble with Ji An because of how strong willed he is, Dong Hoon says he can’t know if that’s true because he’s never had any real temptations to resist.

Most of the people around him have forgotten, or perhaps never knew, what the real him looks like. Underneath his mask, Dong Hoon isn’t cool headed and humble. He’s a fighter. He’s a man of violent impulses, as we’ve seen time again when something presses his berserk button.

He isn’t a naturally docile person who finally got pushed too far and snapped. He’s always been this way, but he’s found ways to suppress it. The drama heavily implies that he uses his drinking to deal with these impulses, as well to numb his constant self loathing.

When he goes to confront Kwan Il he reveals a little bit about why he started drinking instead of fighting in his transition to adulthood. He realized that at a certain point if he didn’t put that part of himself in check that something serious might happen.

And we see after his fight with Kwang Il that it’s like something has been shaken loose in him. He even says that he feels more alive afterward, and declines drinking, because if he’s not having to constantly keep himself under that oppressive control he doesn’t need to medicate himself with alcohol.

I think if one thing is clear from the way he handled the revelation that his wife has been cheating on him with his enemy, it’s that Dong Hoon is as scared—perhaps more scared—of losing the illusion of stability in his life than he is of his marriage falling apart. If he has to get a divorce it will complete destroy the narrative he’s constructed around himself that he’s got his life even slightly together. That his marriage is perfect and his life is perfect and he knows what he’s doing. And he’s scared of what it will look like when he finally loses control of himself.

Take his interactions with Ji An and put them through this lens, and we see that while Ji An might interpret his need to push her away when she gets to close as repulsion at her feelings or as a reflection of her own sense of self worth, it’s really Dong Hoon’s fear of his own impulses and desires that compels him to run away from her.

He’s far less scared of her feelings than he is of his own.

The idea that someone knows what is really going on with him scares and depresses him.

So he has to keep himself locked up inside this prison he’s constructed. The same group of friends he grew up with. The same soul crushing job. The same failing marriage. Because if he shifts for even a second the weight of his weary life will crush him. Or worse--in his mind, maybe far worse--the real Dong Hoon will come out, and he’ll tear apart his stable life with his own hands. And then he might have to acknowledge that there is something outside of that prison. Maybe something better. Maybe even happiness.

Self Imposed Life Sentence

This problem of wearing a mask and hiding his real face has visible, quantifiable consequences for the people around him. It goes way beyond Dong Hoon and Yoon Hee and their disintegrating marriage. It’s a fundamental problem with the way Dong Hoon chooses to live his life.

For instance, very idea that he could continue indefinitely to play out the pretense that everything was okay between the two of them as long as she didn’t know that he knew about the infidelity demonstrates how twisted his view of reality has become. It never could have worked long term, it wasn’t even working short term. But he didn’t give up the notion until the very moment the whole thing exploded in his face. How does someone get to that point of self deception?

He keeps telling himself the same lie.

That this is okay. That this is normal. That he isn’t miserable because of his own choices. He’s just miserable because life is miserable, and there’s nothing he can do to change it. He just has to grit his teeth and muscle through the best he can.

Ji An wonderfully and eloquently calls him on this garbage:

As I stated in the first part of this meta, the violence that characterizes these people’s lives is of both the external and internal varieties. What Dong Hoon has not expressed outwardly, he is forced to direct in at himself. There’s a real emotional cost associated with that for him. It comes in the form of his obvious untreated depression and suicidal ideation that the drama has made a point of showing us not just once, but several times.

From spending her days listening to the dismal minutia of Dong Hoon’s life, or perhaps from her own experience with these sorts of thoughts, Ji An several times senses a change in Dong Hoon’s breathing patterns and runs to him. She watches him where he walks and won’t leave him alone until she’s certain the dangerous thoughts have passed.

The lie Dong Hoon has been telling himself, that he is living well, like the lie that his marriage is salvageable just so long as he shuts his eyes and refuses to acknowledge its fundamental brokenness can lead to only one place if left unchecked: a complete self-destruct.

Words of Affirmation

I don’t want to make it seem like all I see in My Mister is doom and gloom. I find the story very uplifting in many ways and hugely gratifying to watch. Rarely have I found character drama that is so unflinchingly realistic and yet so emotionally satisfying. But I’m also a big believer in the idea that you have to know just how dark the darkness can get in order to really appreciate the light.

My Mister isn’t just an exploration of the every day violence in the lives of ordinary people. It’s also a story about growth and redemption and finding your way out of a self-destructive cycle. With 4 episodes left, we’re far from being out of the woods, but episodes 11 and 12 finally gave us what I see as a small ray of hope.

Sometimes what you need in order to find your way out of a vicious false narrative is a good verbal kick in the ass, like the one Dong Hoon got from his monk friend.

And sometimes what you need is someone to hang on to you and tell you that it’s going to be okay.

Because another huge theme of the drama is this: If you never let anyone know what you’re going through, then you can’t be comforted either.

Dong Hoon needs a lot of things, but chief among them is a heaping helping of honesty with both himself and others. Communication. Human empathy. Healing words of affirmation. He’s tried to give these things to Ji An, though he seems incapable of asking for them himself. And he can’t get them, not if he continues to refuse to open up about his needs and his wounds.

Yes, Ji An had to spy on Dong Hoon’s every waking moment to gain the insight she has into him. And I don’t want to downplay the huge invasion of privacy that is, but Dong Hoon has made it impossible for anyone else around him to understand what he’s going through without employing literal stalker tactics. This unbridled (admittedly non-consensual) honesty has created more intimacy between these two characters than Dong Hoon has with his wife of 20 years, even if he doesn’t fully realize it or know the reason for it.

And as true as it is that betrayal and disregard from the person who is supposed to care for you the most is, in Dong Hoon’s words, like being “declared dead...worthless” the opposite can also be true. Words of encouragement spoken out of sincerity can make all the difference. They can pour life back into you. Just like how being declared dead doesn’t kill you, being declared worthless doesn’t strip you of your worth. But that doesn’t make hearing the words like “you are worthy”, “you are decent”, “you are good” (not merely as a hollow acknowledgement of the mask you wear, but as a recognition and appreciate of your true self) can make all the difference when you’re living in a very dark place.

#my mister #my ajusshi #IU #lee ji eun #lee sun kyun #meta #commentary #this got so long #but I still feel like I didn't say everything #spoilers #tw: sucide mention #again #I can't stress enough just how freaking good this drama is #if you're not watching it #well...#you probably shouldn't read this #because it's spoiler city #but if you're reading this anyway #then by all means go watch the show

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