#Last time I was in a long term period of distress was when I made this blog and I really liked vriska

[lemonlimebitcoin]

me when im NORMAL: >doesn't think about vriska at all

me when BRAIN CHEMICALS INCORRECT: wow vriska is pretty cool I like her

[lordofdestructionm]

The fear behind the manic grin

I know I have a reputation as a feral Vikdecai account (I mean can you blame me?) but all the characters in Lackadaisy are amazing and the main cast all have their own interesting stories playing out

Case in point the musical, poetic and lovably derranged Rocky Rockaby who thanks to the Pilot (for what will hopefully soon become a full series) a new large audience being introduce to

But there is one moment where the feral energetic grinning persona slips and we see the face a of a broken young man in a state of total despair, before mercifully Mitzi decides to lighten the tone

This is key to understanding Rocky and his motivations

After being abandoned by his father and his mothers death from illness Rocky was raised in his early years for a period of time by his aunt Nina along with his cousin Calvin (Freckle)

However, due to some as yet unrevealed tragedy, Rocky was ejected from the Mcmurray house and spent the following years riding the rails

He stayed in touch with Calvin, writing him letters about his adventures, and as you would expect from a flamboyant personality he exaggerates what a big adventure it was how optimistic he was feeling at this time as he travelled from place to place working various assorted odd jobs between 1921 and 1924

The Lackadaisy Wicki provides a nice breakdown

But of course the reality is quite different. Having no home, no family and no friends outside what brief and fleeting acquaintances he made on the road took its toll

But that changed when he found himself joining Zib's band in 1925 which at that point was playing exclusively for the Lackadaisy Speakeasy. For the first time in years he has not only found somewhere seemingly more long term to be but back in the place he thinks of as home

But even this seemingly positive change does not get to last long. Atlas's death in 1926 throws everything into uncertainty and without its leader and despite Mitzi's best efforts things begin to decline both financially and in terms of manpower.

Those that remain do so for various reasons despite leaving arguably being the smartest option. Rocky does so because he is done with drifting and is determined to hold onto the solid ground he has found no matter what. He makes this desperation clear to Calvin

Though it should be noted while he wants the Lackadaisy to be saved he wants it done on certain terms. Specifically ones where he is the golden boy that saved the day. He is desperate to ingratiate himself to Mitzi. This is in part due to him having a crush on her, but even this is tied to his perception of her as a "damsel in distress" that he can ride in and rescue, and in the process secure a permanant place for himself

This is why in both the pilot and the comic he is so devastated when he sees that she is dissapointed with his efforts.

This is also why in both you can see a barely passive aggresive attitude towards Wick.

Its not just that he is a rival for Mitzi's affection, the friendly wealthy industrialist who clearly has a thing for the beautiful widow threatens to make Rocky and his efforts to be the Knight in shining armour redundant and equally so Rocky himself.

If he invested his money in the Speakeasy he would be the hero and Rocky would just be the clown that tried so hard (risking his life even) but failed, only for some handsome aristocrat to stroll in with his chequebook

Rocky fears being adrift again. Of feeling alone and unwanted again. He is willing to go to extreme lengths to prevent that from happening. To feel wanted, included and loved he will start as many fires and thow as much dynamite and dodge was many bullets as it takes

Lets keep spreading the good word and hopefully our lovable pyromaniac and the rest of the cast will get the long running episodic series they deserve to have their stories told (and of course get more love for the comic)

[covid-safer-hotties]

Why do we have to keep getting COVID? - Published Aug 24, 2024

Nearly five years into life with COVID-19, I find myself selfishly wondering how many more times I – by which I mean, all of us – need to get it before we acknowledge that allowing multiple reinfections poses a very large problem? I thought my second bout of it (or was it my third?) in February, 2023, was tough – that one set me back a few months. But this nasty little bug, which is again surging here, there and everywhere, has bitten me once again, and has been a beast to overcome.

My latest infection – which began in June and is mild by medical standards – surprised me. I’m an active, healthy woman in her 40s. In addition to having been infected previously, I’ve gratefully received every single vaccine offered, including the booster shot only about 18 per cent of Canadians got last fall. I’m not sure I blame those who didn’t rush out in droves to get it. There was little public push to do so, and a general sense that infection after vaccination was okay so long as you’re “healthy.” Continued protection against a virus that makes swift and powerful adaptations is a hard sell when you don’t invest in the power of prevention, too.

Even so, after the fever passed, I spent a month largely confined to my bed, unable to do more than shuffle to my doctor’s office and back. I felt weak and nauseated in a way that made pregnancy queasiness seem quaint. My muscles felt tired or tingling or cold, or all three at once. I was regularly overcome by a sensation that I can only describe as a full-body panic attack, marked by a racing heart and rapid breathing. For weeks, I felt like my internal circuitry was on the fritz. Even my vision was blurred. It remains so.

That blurry-eyed bit has been the hardest postviral symptom to ignore. Nearly two months after my initial infection, I still can’t see clearly. This has proven to be a remarkably distressing and mildly terrifying postviral challenge to navigate.

I’ve written about COVID, so I knew that it was a vascular disease and that infection may have a range of effects on brains, hearts, immune systems and other organs. But it turns out COVID may also be associated with vision changes.

What I can read about this symptom online is far different from the help I can access. No one is quite sure how to deal with this side effect. My doctor recommended I see an optometrist, who was in turn compassionate and understanding but was unsure what to do about this either. I’m waiting for a referral to see an ophthalmologist.

In the meantime, I still need to work – I still want to work – and am figuring out ways to function without anxiety about what may or may not be going on.

I’m not the only one experiencing post-COVID complications in a health care climate that’s struggling to figure out what to do with people like me. About two million Canadians are reportedly experiencing long-term symptoms after an infection. Those numbers can only be expected to increase if we continue to behave as if there are no long-term implications inherent in allowing infections to surge twice yearly. There’s also evidence to suggest that long COVID afflicts more working-age people, i.e. the people who’ve been told it’s okay to work while you’re sick (and, by the way, you don’t have much of a choice).

This growing problem of people who don’t feel well for lengthy periods of time after COVID is also occurring as access to health care has never been more challenging. I feel immensely grateful to even have a family doctor – a privilege around 6.5 million people in Canada can’t claim for themselves.

Even with my compromised vision, it’s clear to me that with governments doing less and less in the face of a complex virus, the multiple knock-on effects of this approach are coming at a high human cost. But who’s counting that cost?

Despite mounting evidence that reinfection is equivalent to rolling the dice, we’ve yet to implement policies known to be effective at helping reduce transmission. I’m not talking about shutting things down. I’m talking about finally and decisively implementing the practical interventions that public-health advocates, epidemiologists, virologists and engineers have been advocating for since 2020: improving indoor air quality, which reduces airborne contaminants; granting workers paid sick leave so that they can rest and not infect others (even during the height of the pandemic, workers only got two paid sick days in Ontario); and instituting meaningful policies during rising periods of transmission.

Mask, stay home when sick, rest – this is the advice we’ve been getting for years. But these are not individual actions to take as much as privileges taken for granted. Kids in schools that operate without such policies or proper ventilation systems are, in Ontario, at the mercy of a Ministry of Education that once saw fit to float the notion that COVID doesn’t transmit in schools at all, and there is a persistent, convenient myth circulating among parents that infection is good for kids – preferable to vaccination, even. (For the record, all my infections came courtesy of my son’s school.)

Seniors in care homes can’t demand care workers be tested regularly for infection or be granted paid sick days or vet the air quality in their care homes. Workers aren’t entitled to paid time off and don’t dictate the terms of safe employment.

Public-health advice means little without policies in place to make it effective.

If the pandemic began with messages of solidarity, it rapidly devolved into reassurances that only the truly vulnerable would experience COVID’s greatest harms. In the shadow of that predatory view of human life, the population of the vulnerable has only expanded. Reinfection raises the risk of finding out how vulnerable you and those around you are, too.

As a new clever variant spreads, it feels wise to ask: How many times is enough to get a virus that – unlike our politicians – understands the power of rapid adaptation?

[clownrecess]

I was wondering, why don't you speak? Is it a conscious decision for your own comfort or is it that you physically can't? /g /nf

(tw for extremely brief trauma mention)

When I was a small child, I didn't have any speech delays. I developed oral speech at the same time as my peers and was able to adequately communicate using oral speech.

When I was 8, my ability to use oral speech was still existent, and for the most part easy, however when I became distressed oral speech was notably more tiring for me, and would result in me becoming more frustrated and upset. I don't believe this was noticeable to anybody else, but it is something I remember experiencing.

When I was 9 (which was a particularly traumatic time for me), I began loosing speech for short periods of time (like 30 minutes to two hours), and had made a bad quality communication board that I would use around my friends, and had an AAC app on my phone that I would use at home sometimes (albeit it was not taken seriously, and was seen primarily as something I was doing for fun). During these times I physically could not use oral speech, my brain felt like it was preventing me from accessing my oral speech.

At around 10 my difficulty using oral speech increased, and I would have no access to oral speech for time periods of around one day to a week.

When I was 11 I had my first long period of no oral speech, which was four months. During this time I originally began using a free AAC app on a really old android tablet that barely worked. Later on my school provided me with an I-Pad that had both LAMP Words For Life and Proloquo2go on it. I used both, but mostly LAMP because my speech therapist at the time thought it would be better for my personal motor skills.

After that four months I was able to use impaired oral speech at home, but not at school, this lasted for one or two months. During this time I got an android tablet with TalkTabletPRO on it.

After this I used oral speech full time with only very short two hours long nonspeaking periods during times I was really upset (for example when my fish died), for around a year (which was extremely exhausting, because I was forcing myself, which ended up making my mental health horrible and I was terribly burnt out). I was forcing myself to use oral speech at the time because me using AAC was accepted, but treated as less than, and I was scared people would be angry with me.

When I was 12 my oral speech was slowly beginning to decline again.

Later on (maybe mid 13?) I lost all oral speech for two days, and then eventually having oral speech that was really impaired. During this time I also only had acsess to oral speech at home, and not at school. Eventually resulting in a longer fully nonspeaking period.

This continued for a very long time, and my oral speech fluctuated a lot, ranging from short nonspeaking periods to longer ones.

Where I am at currently, I have acsess to zero oral speech (outside of occasionally mumbling hard to understand words when alone as a stim, or to my gecko. These words would not be able to be understood by other people.).

I currently use the same tablet that had TalkTabletPRO on it, except I now use Avaz instead of TalkTabletPRO. Avaz works much better for me, and allows me to use the voice I want to use.

It feels like there is a wall or block in my brain that stops me from acsessing the area of my brain that oral speech is located. I can try to use oral speech, but often times it just physically will not come out at all, or it will come out but is fully incoherent and I cant even understand it. Usually it just wont come out at all, though. It is not a purposeful thing I do for comfort, I physically can not speak.

I use a few different terms to describe my speech, but I usually say I am nonspeaking, primarily nonspeaking, or situationally nonspeaking. I do not feel that the term semispeaking is fitting for me, because I am not a speaking person who loses speech when under stress. I loose oral speech under stress, yes, but also loose it for no reason, and when I loose oral speech it is not usually for short periods. I loose speech for long periods of time and when I do use oral speech it is often impaired (usually just stuttering, but sometimes it is fully incoherent or doesnt match up with what I want to say.). I am also nonspeaking most of the time, which also makes me feel that semispeaking isnt the term for me. I feel most comfortable with being called nonspeaking or primarily nonspeaking, but situationally nonspeaking is also okay. I use AAC almost full time.

My experience is different than life long nonspeakers, because I am a nonspeaking person who lost consistent speech later in life. When I say I am nonspeaking online people tend to think I am a life long nonspeaker, and I want to make it clear I am not. Whilst it is important to listen to my experiences too, it is also important to listen to the experiences of life long nonspeakers.

[batbirdies]

Just have to take a moment for appreciation and shout to the world that I love my vet so much.

If you feel like reading a long boring personal story about my cats it’s under the cut lol

I had such a bad experience at the last place I went. Mochi was not eating and sleeping all the time and obviously was unwell so I took her in. They ran some blood tests and gave her an anti nausea injection. I took her home and she seemed to perk up quickly and was back to her normal self and feeling obviously better within 48 hours.

Great! Or so I thought. I went about life after that assuming the tests came back normal since Mochi was acting back to herself again and I didn’t think anything of not hearing from the vet.

I ended up discovering an email they sent me like two weeks late (like a full month after the appointment) saying they had tried to call me multiple times and that mochis blood tests came back with some concerning results they wanted to discuss with me. Cue me panicking and calling back, not having received any of their calls or messages because they hadn’t updated my contact information like I had asked previously and had been calling my old phone number.

I’m told the vet is busy but will call me again on her break that afternoon. I get no call. I call the next day and am told she’s not in the office but will call me the next day. I get no call. I call again and am told she’ll call me that afternoon. I get no call. I call again and finally someone tells me that her blood results showed low kidney function and the vet was worried she might have polycystic kidney disease which is fatal!! I’m then even more panicked and upset, I drive home from work crying. I finally FINALLY get to talk to the actual vet the next day and I tell her the reason I didn’t get their messages and why I didn’t get back to them. I tell them that Mochi was acting normal again so I didn’t think anything was wrong!!

On hearing this she changes her tune and says kidney disease is unlikely since she wouldn’t bounce back like that. But I take her back in to realest the tests and everything comes back normal. I’ve spent like $700 on this one incident at this point, not to mention my extreme distress. But phew, ok things are fine, she was probably just temporarily sick and it caused her kidneys to work really hard for a short period and now she’s better.

Move on with my life.

Even longer story I won’t get into but I had for a period fostered a cat I named Bento that had serious sinus problems. I assumed it was a bad sinus infection since it developed right after I got him and can be caused by stress and he’d just spent three days on a truck driving up here. So I took him there, they gave him antibiotics. They didn’t seem to help. I took him back, they gave him a different antibiotic. It cleared up mostly but not all the way. I called them, they told me the vet would call me back. She didn’t, some vet tech did and told me he probably had feline herpes and they could prescribe me a long term medication for him. That was all I got. No further investigation, no more tests. When I asked if they could test him for herpes they told me no, the test was unreliable.

Bento didn’t end up staying with me long term but the experience was aggravating, they were unhelpful and uncommunicative.

So fast forward. I got a kitten, Miso, who was having chronic diarrhea. I didn’t want to take her back to the old place but hardly any vets even accept new patients in this area so I did all this online research finally found this place and called them. They are not close, at least a 30 min drive, but Super helpful on the phone and had appointments available within a week!

They were so helpful and nice and gave me diff options. I tried to fill her medication at the local place (same place I didn’t like) and there was so much confusion over it and I ended up being told they would need to see Miso themselves in order to fill her prescription, so no way, I made the drive back and picked up her meds there. Made a follow up appointment for misos vaccinations and brought a poop sample with me after she’d gone through the meds. The vet was so helpful and asked about all of her previous issues.

Then today They just called me after I got Mochi home to check in and tell me they already looked at the skin sample they took and update me. And they talked to me about her medical history while I was there and already seemed to know some of it so I know the doctor actually looked at the records the other vet sent over. I just am so happy I found this place 😂😭 good vets are so hard to find and they are even relatively affordable in comparison to a lot of local places. (Cheaper than the other vet I didn’t like)

(For reference Mochi is fine but she had a bad reaction to a short stint of fleas and has been scratching up a storm and got a little bald spot on her neck, so they gave me a steroid cream)

I also just got miso spayed there and she is doing so well, her stitches look great and she didn’t have nearly the reaction that Mochi had after hers 🥲 I know that can be subjective to each kitty and their reaction to anesthesia but I just don’t trust that other vet anymore lmao.

I left the new place a google review yesterday because they deserve it lol

[electricbluebutterflies]

Kabby + "Your hands are shaking."

Post-s2 grayspace is always a fun time + honestly a squirrel bite PROBABLY wouldn't do significant damage right? PG-ish and also on ao3.

If this strange new world doesn’t kill him, she just might.

Abby is still resolving some of her emotional developments, which is to say it’s been a month since the last time she almost died and that’s given her just enough time to realize that changes in certain dynamics may not have just been temporary and panic-induced. She’s trying to be vague about it to keep her options open, because she knows this doesn’t work out long-term, because the idea of living in a world where someone who’s been her nemesis for most of her life isn’t is destabilizing and-

Fine, there are a lot of things going on and even her usual ability to thrive in chaos is hitting a few limits she didn’t know she had, but somehow this is the most distressing part. Trying to reestablish some kind of normal on the ground… not easy, not going according to anyone’s plans, but probably doable. Not knowing where her daughter is… not good, but there’s probably some kind of reason for that and Abby isn’t worried about survival abilities there at the very least. Actually caring about someone who has repeatedly and intentionally ruined her life over a period of multiple decades but apparently hit his head at some point during his attempt at getting himself killed by the elements six weeks ago and has since attempted a quiet but bizarre redemption tour…

The problem isn’t just that Marcus has rapidly and unexpectedly fixed almost every issue any living thing has ever had with his personality, although that’s still weird as hell and again Abby is pretty sure some kind of brain trauma is the most likely explanation. No, the problem is along with this sudden not-being-a-terrible-person behavior, he’s also lost the survival drive that made him useful even when he was doing unlikable things like, y’know, trying to kill her. At least up in the sky he was a competent asshole. Down here, she’s not so sure about that. Down here…

“And what exactly happened?” she asks, even though she would prefer to have no idea why she’s currently disinfecting some kind of bite on her counterpart’s thigh. At least whatever got him this time was small, but small with fangs is still not friendly wildlife, and-

“Something in the vicinity of a squirrel,” he replies in an even enough tone to suggest he probably rehearsed this explanation on the way back home. “It didn’t bite anyone else, before you even-“

“Before I what, exactly?”

She’s going to kill him. If mutant squirrels don’t beat her to it – she’ll process that that’s the latest competition later – she will, so help her.

“Never mind.”

“If you think I’m so concerned about you, you could just say-“

“I don’t need to say anything. Your hands are shaking. That’s clear enough.”

She glances down and the worst part is he’s not wrong. There is visible concern in her movements, and thankfully she’s just trying to clean the dried blood off the wound not do anything more to it, and-

“You can’t do this to me,” she murmurs, well aware that her fear will not be respected. “You can’t go and do stupid shit and-“

“I wasn’t sure you cared before.”

Abby makes a low bitter noise and looks away, not trusting how her face might betray her since apparently no part of her body is listening to her mind right now. “I’ve dealt with you in this sort of position how many times in the past few months and you still weren’t sure-“

“The debt of trying to keep someone alive is not the same as-“

“Damn right it isn’t,” she mutters. “But whatever game you’re playing… you can stop now. I don’t hate you anymore. I’m not sure I ever have. And trying to make friends with every mutant creature that crosses your path isn’t-“

“It wasn’t intentional.”

“Sure it wasn’t.”

She refocuses on the task at hand, and at least whatever bit him didn’t even go deep enough to scar. The wound had closed neatly enough before she got to it, she’s more cleaning it than actually trying to mend, and everything will be okay, and-

“I’m tired,” she murmurs, and she hasn’t said those words out loud in a very long time. “I am so, so tired. And you might be the only person who’d listen to me if I asked you to-“

“I will try not to get attacked by mutant rodents if I can avoid it,” he says, and this too feels rehearsed, like he’s trying to follow a script they used to cling to that doesn’t apply as much as it once did. “Is that what you want?”

“I need you to avoid more than mutant rodents. Unnecessary risk. Period. I know that’s not where you are right now but-“

“I don’t know where I am. But if it makes you happy…”

“You don’t need to fix what you’ve done by trying to bleed out.”

They’ve had this conversation before, a month ago when neither of them wanted to move, when they’d both nearly bled out and it had been a mutual decision to be miserable and useless together for a few days until stubbornness pushed them out of mandatory rest. It feels different now as a free choice, as something with actual motivation behind it and-

“What if that’s all there is?”

“Not right now,” she replies. “I can’t… I can’t talk you down right now. Not when you’ve just gone and-“

“Let it go. I’m fine.”

“This time, yes. Next time? I can’t know.”

They are too close to an edge, too close to too many things that could be destruction or salvation or maybe those are one and the same. But not right now. She can’t let it. Not right now. Not…

“I’ll try. For you.”

She can almost believe him.

Almost.

[rainbow-scarab]

(this is probably pretty sad even if it has a happy ending) (that being like, long periods of a specific struggle that is now over) (related to ptsd triggers) (and still having triggers but not in a bad way? that probably makes no sense--) (and like I’m happy now, I’m happy making this post, I just...think it might make others sad to read)

I’m happy I can write things now because I just couldn’t for a long time

I was never really that much of a writer. Though I wrote random short things a few times. And by that I mean I maybe put out a few super short fics I could count on one hand over my whole life.

...but I did do rp. I was very happy to have been in a group of 10-ish people writing an rp that lasted for over a year. Good times

I did have some troubles though. I had undiagnosed ptsd and...well. I did very consciously use rp as an outlet. But I also had traumas I didn’t recognize at all and they made their way into my characters too. And what ended up happening was I was repeatedly triggering myself through writing and being very confused and highly distressed. Eventually, I just became scared of writing altogether

Many years later, I did get a ptsd diagnosis and figure things out better. But. I guess the fear was still there. That there was something wrong with me, or...that there was something inherently in the process of writing that was bad for me. It was still quite a few more years before I thought I would like to try again

Maybe it just had been enough time I dunno. Or...or that I thought Hollow Knight would be good to write for. Or both. I just....decided to try. I just....I guess I find the Hollow Knight relatable in terms of ptsd and kept thinking about how vulnerable someone like that would be. So I started on a fic to heap more traumas on them

It’s been...nice. It wasn’t like it was before. I guess you can say I have been triggered writing it? But nothing like the high distress of having no idea what was happening. To know what’s happening, I dunno, the feelings seem more fleeting and I’m less worried.

I’m just glad I can write now. Even if I’m slow. It’s a good outlet for feelings. It’s fun. I can write silly things or sad things or whatever. It was a whole 12 years just about that I was too scared of writing

I dunno if anyone would like to read that one fic when it’s done. And, well, it seems several people are excited to see what I’ve write o-o and I’m floored. But I just mean, it will have some severe warnings on it that I expect will be a lot for many people. But I’m glad to be able to write it regardless

[mikeconover]

Hiring a Professional Housemaid Can Save Money And Time

Sure, we are all strapped for cash this season as a result of a bad economic climate but it doesn't necessarily imply we have to quit spending money on 'luxury things' (isn't deluxe a family member term anyways?). Right here's why: some deluxes permit us to distress (which maintains us healthy and cancer cells complimentary) or liberate our time to make even more money if that's what we choose. Deluxes that can be Thought about Basics even in a Bad Economic situation

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[dontemousser]

Hiring an Expert House Cleaner Can Conserve Time and Money

Certain, we are all strapped for cash money this period because of a bad economy but it doesn't always indicate we have to stop spending cash on 'deluxe products' (isn't high-end a relative term anyways?). Below's why: some luxuries enable us to distress (which maintains us healthy as well as cancer cells complimentary) or free up our time to make more money if that's what we select. Luxuries that can be Thought about Essentials also in a Bad Economic situation

Day spa treatments: day spa treatments are considered by professionals to not just be upsetting but body scrubs and massage therapies are wellness generating too.

Teeth whitening: that doesn't want to look good even in a negative economic climate? Teeth bleaching is a fairly inexpensive as well as simple method to really feel excellent.

Expert home cleaning: Visualize employing a professional house cleaner to deep clean your residence. Thankfully you can employ them simply when a month or twice or perhaps once a year. All I understand is that having someone concerned my residence occasionally as well as spend a long time rubbing my unclean floorings soothes a substantial worry from my shoulders! Imagine the time a service like this will save you too to make sure that you can focus on more important points.

Quick holiday: I grew up in a family that was regularly conscious of cash which it can 'become scarce at any moment!' We were never ever shown as kids to enjoy it. The problem with this is that instead of memories of enjoyable getaways we generally sat in the house. You can always locate places within an affordable range from your house that are economical to check out. Opportunities to develop unique memories with your little ones will not last for life.

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[lordofdestructionm]

The fear behind the manic grin

I know I have a reputation as a feral Vikdecai account (I mean can you blame me?) but all the characters in Lackadaisy are amazing and the main cast all have their own interesting stories playing out

Case in point the musical, poetic and lovably derranged Rocky Rockaby

There is one moment in the pilot where the feral energetic grinning persona slips and we see the face a of a broken young man in a state of total despair, before mercifully Mitzi decides to lighten the tone

This is key to understanding Rocky and his motivations

After being abandoned by his father and his mothers death from illness, Rocky was raised in his early years for a period of time by his Aunt Nina along with his cousin Calvin (Freckle)

However, due to some as yet unrevealed tragedy, Rocky was ejected from the Mcmurray house and spent the following years riding the rails

This is what we see the tail end of in the trailer for Season one

He stayed in touch with Calvin, writing him letters about his adventures, and as you would expect from a flamboyant personality he exaggerates what a big adventure it was how optimistic he was feeling at this time as he travelled from place to place working various assorted odd jobs between 1921 and 1924

The Lackadaisy Wicki provides a nice breakdown

But of course the reality is quite different. Having no home, no family and no friends outside what brief and fleeting acquaintances he made on the road took its toll

When he finally returns "home" to St Louis he attempts to reconnect with his deadbeat dad only to realize that he had skipped town quite some time ago and once again is not there for him.

Knowing better than to expect a warm welcome from Aunt Nina he is once again all alone with nowhere to go. Simply living on the streets with pidgeons as his only companions

But all that changes when he meets Mitzi May by chance around 1925 while busking in the street with his violin after charming her with his music.

This makes Mitzi his patron, and indeed his saviour from a vagrant existence when she lets him join Zib's band, then playing exclusively at the Lackadaisy speakeasy.

For the first time in years he has not only found somewhere seemingly more long term to be but back in the town he thinks of as home

But even this seemingly positive change does not get to last long. Atlas's death in 1926 throws everything into uncertainty and without its leader and despite Mitzi's best efforts things begin to decline both financially and in terms of manpower.

Those that remain do so for various reasons despite leaving arguably being the smartest option. Rocky does so because he is done with drifting and is determined to hold onto the solid ground he has found no matter what. He makes this desperation clear to Calvin

Though it should be noted while he wants the Lackadaisy to be saved he wants it done on very specific terms.

Specifically ones where he is the golden boy that saved the day.

He is desperate to ingratiate himself to Mitzi. This is in part due to gratitude to her as his "saviour", partly him having a crush on her, mostly its tied to his perception of her as a "damsel in distress" that he can ride in and rescue, and in the process secure a permanant place for himself

This is why in both the pilot and the comic he is so devastated when he sees that she is dissapointed with his efforts.

This is also why in both you can see a (barely) passive aggressive attitude towards Wick.

Its not just that he is a rival for Mitzi's affection. The friendly wealthy industrialist, who clearly has a thing for the beautiful widow, threatens to make Rocky and his efforts to be the Knight in shining armour redundant, and equally so Rocky himself.

If he invested his money in the Speakeasy he would be the hero and Rocky would just be the clown that tried so hard (risking his life even) but failed, only for some handsome aristocrat to stroll in with his chequebook

Rocky fears being adrift again. Of feeling alone and unwanted again. He is willing to go to extreme lengths to prevent that from happening.

To feel wanted, included and loved he will start as many fires and thow as much dynamite and dodge was many bullets as it takes

[douxie-casperan]

Rise of the Titans and the assassination Hisirdoux Casperan’s character development

I’ve been ranting so much since Wednesday morning that I finally condensed by thoughts of WHY this one subject keeps setting me off namely the utterly diabolical way they handled Douxie and Archie’s relationship in Rise of the Titans and how it wasn’t just enough to hit him with the nerf bat.

Please note I’m at the point where I literally cannot tell the difference between Aaron headcanons, Teny headcanons and my own they are all mixed together in the blender that does funky things. I also apologise for typo/weird wording it’s half 1 in the morning and I’d rather sleep than edit.

~

If asked to sum up Hisirdoux Casperan there are certainly several things that come to mind:

Sees the value in people as a whole and will find do anything if there is a chance of help someone out

Prefers tactics that disable/banish rather than kill an enemy yet willing and able to pull the trigger if circumstances become forced

While not academically inclined he is very capable of thinking on his feet and outside the box calling back to his time on the streets where a split-second decision making is the difference between being caught and not

Terrible at planning he’ll be in there figuring it out as he goes along which is what makes the previous point so vital to literally how he goes through life

A natural charmer that would let him talk his way out of trouble 9/10 providing a perfect cover for his distrustful nature and reluctance to be touched by random people

Very down to earth, humble and never one to brag unless outright sassing someone

Will bang out some hot tunes at the drop of a hat, his love of music has never wavered once since he caught the bug despite instrument hopping ironically becoming a jack of all trades much like his magic style

The earliest memories he can recall are him as a young boy lost in the woods where he was for an unknown amount of time before his soon to be familiar finds him amongst the roots covered in dirt and drying tears, there is nothing before that. Unbeknownst to him is the colour of his magic matches the blue of a lost mother’s eyes and the song that haunts his nightmares as much as fire could well be hers though there is no way to be sure. From that moment on Archibald, shortened to Archie, would become his entire world and their friendship only becoming closer during the years they prowled Camelot together trying to keep themselves in one piece until the fateful day Douxie tricks the wrong person leading him straight into the path of the famous wizard Merlin Ambrosius.

It's no real secret that Merlin is a very closed off person who keeps his emotions as well guarded as his secrets, prefers the style of negative reinforcement over positive encouragement and is a very strict perfectionist in his. At this point in his life he can be very easily described as a disaster that is genuinely doing his best with every little mistake held of his head and his future self when brought back to that time period is belittled by Lancelot (Errand boy) and Arthur (Boy) too meaning it’s hardly a wonder his confidence was very fragile revelling in the times where he could do things without being told off for it. With Morgana largely ignoring him too (Though personally I like to think as he got older she’d occasionally take an interest until the blistering arguments with their master started to talk over daily life) a certain disguised dragon would have remained a lifeline and give that physical affection he craved much like being told he’d done well never seemed able to earn.

With Killahead he’d lose that home and family he made leaving just the two of them behind struggling to figure out their place in the world that had abandoned them.

There wouldn’t have been the words for it back then but the way he had been treated prior was outright abusive instilling very bad habits into Douxie yet by irony he was always willing to give people the benefit of the doubt and help those in trouble without thinking earning a reputation as the Shepard of Fire. He refused to become like him seeking to be better, perhaps not as a wizard (Even though he was learning new charms and spells along the way) but certainly as a person. Despite everything he suffers through or witnesses in the intervening years, the loss of friends and kindling of far newer ones he never loses his good heart 

That said is it any wonder that after rightfully sassing Merlin for resurfacing, ignoring his existence despite being in the same town and only visiting him to run a finding errand that all the confidence he’d managed to build completely from scratch after Camelot wavered causing him to fall back solely into trying impressing his old Master who was acting like his humble apprentice must have coasted the past few centuries who himself fell back into old habits of belittling? It’s only when Merlin started to truly listen and acknowledge that this was not the same Moppet he once knew after Excalibur was fixed that their relationship finally started to become more like equals. After the defeat of Janus the changeling that broke into the castle he touched Douxie’s shoulder with a genuine smile and for a second he simply didn’t know what to do because the old man never did this before his brain kicked into gear and realised he’d finally earned that one thing he’d been so desperate for his entire life: That in Merlin’s eyes he could be more than a failure who only caused problems for the closest thing to a father figure he’d ever had, never solved them.

A staff will be earned, history would be set back on trap by banishing Morgana tag teaming with Archie because they know one another inside and out, as promised he’d get the kids back to the present but soon after things would go badly wrong. They’d lose Jim and because of his very nature he’d make a gamble to try and get him back because that life is worth trying for just for in a moment of surprising selflessness Merlin would be sacrificed to save him. The only constant in his life apart from Archie would apologise, openly express pride and how the greatest thing he’d ever done was saving this orphan, call him son for the first and final time before turning into ash in his arms. There would be no time to grieve for things will barrel into the crescendo of Douxie sacrificing his own life to buy everyone time to escape because if they did that everything he’d ever done would be worth it with one last whispered goodbye.

(Zoe sees him fall, so does Archie – His heart would break if he was conscious just like theirs does when his body crumples into the ground)

On the very fringes of the Light Realm he is gifted one more conversation with Merlin in a truly heart-breaking sequence (THANKS TENY) where they can just talk without any fear of consequence or politics and just be completely honest. Douxie is allowed to stand equal to Merlin, to have the hug he’d needed since he was a child and be allowed to simply let go of every pretense and cry his heart out because this can never happen again. He’s allowed to say goodbye to both his master and Morgana who had both shaped so very much of his life but like the painting he’d always remained firmly in the long shadows of until that moment.

When Hisirdoux Casperan finally leaves Wizards if we just accidently deliberately put the shawarma back in along with checking in with Zoe before departure, it is with having learned to live during his wandering years but this is the point of true freedom because he can finally escape into his own light with Archie by his side to keep Nari out of the hands of those that would see the world harmed. It won’t be easy but it feels possible somehow even with the knowledge everything is simply running on borrowed time.

Then Rise of the Titans happens.

At first everything is genuinely fine! No more running, they engineer a solution shut the Order’s magic down to make them a lot less dangerous and potentially at least incapacitate them until they can come up with a longer-term solution but all the best laid plans and all that. Douxie’s quick thinking stops the train from crushing any of the people below and it’s a very him style move to switch places with Nari to stall for time because for some reason the plot disabled Claire from portaling her or any of the threatened people/heroes to safety. He openly sasses the Order despite knowing the consequences will be bad for him because once again he’s managed to trick them, buy time that at the other end isn’t even slightly utilised until he’s forced back into his own body in excruciating pain. Archie immediately mobs him with comfort just as he has done every single time the wizard is distressed or collapsed with exhaustion without thinking because that is what their bond is like, incredibly close and far more than the Soul Bond mark that connects them together. They’re very alike in that regard, you have to earn the right to touch while equally knowing exactly what form the other needs the most in that precise moment in a way very few others could.

Bar the moment of figuring out that an illusion is in place to hide where the Order is opening the Genesis Seals and the brief insistence on reconnecting with Nari somehow Douxie manages to forget everything that makes him who he is after this point choosing to stand in the background being very no thoughts head empty or can only use the most basic spells of his youthful days not the seasoned master wizard he should be. Nomura is treated like an innocent slip rather than an outright death he did absolutely nothing to prevent (Not to mention the stupid daytime thing) nor seems to care particularly about afterwards yet with Nari’s he’s allowed to openly grieve in a gorgeously animated visual showing how he’d failed to keep her safe despite everything. He did nothing to help here either mind despite allowing himself to be tortured in the same piece of media to keep her safe, just watched another loss happen right in front of his eyes in his conga long line of them.

Then there’s Archie, oh god then there was Archie.

The dragon who even here he’d been shown to have an incredibly close bond with him decides you know what sod that tell him goodbye I’m going to make a joke about having a kingdom now dad and me are trapped in here forever. Douxie on his part looked sad for all of three seconds saying that he hoped he’s happy like it's a pet that wandered out into the world one day and never came back instead of a lifelong companion that has been there for as long as he can remember. He was now completely alone in the world since Zoe was also written out entirely and because every bit of his background had been forgotten about it somehow meant nothing. This wasn’t “I know you miss him, I know you need to grieve but you are running out of time” moment like things had been with Charlie, this was “cool shapeshifting dragon cat is now stuck in a plot hole that’s a shame” with zero pay off or any of the genuine reaction that should have been there or hell even trying to Ohana him back that very second because it never should have happened in the first place. Then even this wasn’t enough somehow, they managed to de-power Douxie even further into uselessness bar the (Admittedly nifty!) sticky feet stunt, the one who fought Skrael and Bellroc to a stalemate was shunted aside with barely a thought and his head would somehow get even emptier.

The one person who knew the danger of time magic the most stood by and said nothing.

The one person who would suffer the most by a reset because the lynchpin to his issues would be asleep if you got it wrong and should have drilled it into Jim’s head the best time to aim for stood by and said nothing.

The one person who had just suffered the loss of his familiar, best friend and only family along with the almost sister like Nari stood by and said nothing.

Then to add further insult to injury the caption when Douxie and Archie is shown says Some go their entire lives living an existence of quiet desperation because every drop of his character growth, his ability to finally start addressing his trauma instilled back in the 12th century, the staff he longed for was instead openly mocked by going “Aww he got his cat friend back how nice!” Everything he’d rightfully earned and had now would be unable to progress until certain criteria are met because it hinges entirely on the Trollhunter going to Merlin’s tomb and there’s only so much your support network of two (One if she’s written out) can do, the root of the majority of his issues all stem from one man.

And this folks is why I’ve been going on multiple rants about Douxie in particular, everyone was hit with the out of character bat to some degree in this film but when they came for him they didn’t just stop after they took his legs out because they wanted him to suffer from something he’s never had any control over to begin with all over again. Abuse survivors deserve better, these characters deserve better and we as viewers deserve far far better writing than we were forced to endure.

[oneoftheprettynerds]

Just My Type: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 2 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 1: Welcome to the Darkside

Main Masterlist

A/N: This chapter is 2K words more than the last chapter and I’ve second guessed every single line in this one. This story is getting a lot of traction guys and I’m equal parts happy and scared. Thank you for the nice comments, they do encourage me. Also I’m just ranting feel free to skip this note haha. Your support in any form: like, comment or reblog is appreciated greatly. Also you can dm if you want to be friends, God knows I need those. Hopefully, this chap was worth the wait. Also, I made a poster for this on the main masterlist so check that out, it might be foreshadowing dome plot.

Warning: Eventual Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks later.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can't ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can't get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Chapter 2: Just My Type

It had almost been a week since the incident and you had barely gotten a wink of sleep. When you drove back to your house that night, Steve surprisingly didn’t argue as you had expected. After that friend of his whispered something in his ears, you only assumed he was needed elsewhere and you couldn’t be more thankful for that. They escorted you to your car and Steve thanked you with a strained smile, words genuine but eyes calculating. You didn’t even wonder what went inside his head. You were thankful for the peace and quiet of your own car, content to just get out of the area and into your humble abode.

After you put the already asleep Grace to bed, you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of her room. You just sat on the floor beside the bed, hand intertwined with hers as you rested your head beside her tummy on the mattress.

Your adrenaline wore off and your limbs ached as your thoughts finally settled into place, the gravity of the catastrophe a few hours prior hitting you. Tears made their way down your cheeks as you realized that you both could have very well died tonight.

One bullet could have sealed each of your lives and you were basically defenseless had Steve not saved you against the creeping assaulter. You couldn’t commend yourself for even defending yourself against one attacker, the guilt of killing someone harboring in your tired head. Your quiet whimpers eventually wore you out, while Grace’s shallow breaths lulled you to sleep.

You didn’t manage to sleep for long though, every time your eyes closed, horrific images flashed in your mind. A blood curdling scream here, heaps of dead bodies there, with distant exploding sounds all around. You could see men clad in black holding guns to Grace’s head and whensoever you woke up, you just wondered how much more creative your mind could get, making these visuals so realistic.

When 8 AM rolled in, you didn’t wake Grace up even though it was Monday and you had work. You got up, changed into a long tee after a shower and called your office and then her daycare. You knew you would have a hard time going back to your normal life, to become trusting enough to leave her alone.

Your assumption about yourself was right. You took almost the entire week off, which your boss generously allowed you to after hearing your traumatic experience, which soon made the city news headlines. All your colleagues checked on you, almost once in the five day break you took, and sweetly enough offered to bring you anything you needed.

It was kind of them, but none of them could bring you what your heart genuinely craved: peace and assurance that you and Grace would be safe.

Even though Saturdays were off, you did go to work to see what you missed and where to start on again. You went in because you knew that the random spurt of resolution you got in the bathroom to collect your life, wouldn’t last.

To ease back into your normal life, you gathered your guts, called a babysitter and left home. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave Grace at the daycare just yet. One of your good friends offered to come in to the office and help you, even on the weekend and you were quite grateful to him.

When you both decided to take lunch in the nearby dining place, you both got to talking, the conversation obviously originating from ‘How have you been?’ and ‘Is Grace okay?’. You reminisced about how you used a photobooth to hide, grotesquely and uncomfortably chuckling when you remembered Sarah calling you her mom and how her dad saved you all.

You deliberately left the part where you killed someone and Steve shot someone too. You hadn’t come to terms with it yet and you stiffly restricted your mind whenever it tried to go down that lane.

He sensed how the conversation was becoming tense and distressing for you and briskly redirected the topic.

“I hope the dad was hot though?” He wiggled his eyes creepily and you snorted at his vulgarity, light for the first time in days.

“He was easy on the eyes; I will admit that.” You played along, recalling your girlfriends and how you used to ogle people.

“Don’t be a homewrecker though, I don’t support cheating.” He said nonchalantly, checking his phone as a notification bell rang off.

“He’s a widower.”

His eyes snapped up and met yours as his head tilted in confusion. “That’s a strange fact to know about someone you met for a few minutes.”

Steve’s even stranger comment about his dead wife popped in your mind and before you could stop yourself, you blurted that out as well.

“He even said and I quote, ‘She deserved what she got.’” He put his phone down, weirdly amused.

“Ooh Creepy! Do you think he is one of those husbands who kill their wives and bury them in the backyard? The podcasts always say that the psychopaths are visually handsome and charming. And his statement was quite vague and spooky.” He continued munching, and you felt that now Aiden was really paying attention unlike before.

“Steve did have a gun while searching for Sarah, come to think of it.” You drank your tea and awaited his response. What you did not expect was his eyes to widen and worry to cloud his features.

“Um Widower Steve with a toddler Sarah? At the place where The Vices attacked?” He mumbled, grabbing his phone and doing God knows what on it. Your eyebrows furrowed and before you could ask him what was up with his antics, he resumed.

“This is a long shot but I really hope your Steve didn’t look like this.” He positioned the phone in your vision, and you could already tell it was Steve by the sapphire blue of his eyes piercing through the screen into your soul. The picture was a month or two old, his hair was much longer when you met him than in the photo.

“This is him.” Your eyes met Aiden’s and worry visibly took over his features as his forehead creased and jaw tense.

He looked around the restaurant, finding it empty in the afternoon. He leaned and whispered, “This Steve of yours is dangerous.”

You interrupted Aiden, even though you already knew Steve was, the sight of his armed men still fresh in your head, and inquired, “Why do you say so?”

“It’s just like the fictional stories we hear from our parents, except here, in this city of ours, every myth holds true. There are really powerful men, untouchable by law, who reign the city silently and live luxuriously. Every shady, under the table deal you’ve heard of, transpires. Illegal trades, fraud schemes and bounty hunters are not fictional, they exist here. These men kill whatever hinders them and trust me, you don’t want to be the deer caught in their Jaguar’s headlights.”

Ice froze in your veins again, resembling the fear you felt that night but now because of your deemed ‘savior’. You convinced yourself that you had not wronged him in any way, instead had saved his daughter’s life.

“Are you in contact with him? If you are, distance yourself cleverly, don't block him immediately.”

“No, we just parted ways near my car, he thanked me for Sarah and was called away. It’s almost been a week and he hasn’t reached out if that’s what you mean. We didn’t exchange contacts and I don’t think I even told him my full name.” You explained yourself as if you were on the witness stand in court, trying to convince yourself more than Aiden.

“Pray that he doesn’t remember you more than that, if at all. I’m being totally honest here in telling you this, I’m genuinely worried for you and Grace. You are smart but he is powerful. He has unimaginable resources and if you become more than a speck of dust on his windshield, you are screwed. There is no exaggeration here.” You took his words to your heart and swore to be careful, if not for yourself then for Grace.

The rest of the day went by and you found yourself dwelling on and worrying about Aiden’s words. At least he put it out there as it was. Heeding his advice, you did google Steve on your phone, finally finding him in the topmost news headline when you added ‘Buck’ in the search bar as well.

‘With 38 lawsuits pending against businessman Steve Rogers, the filers have lost all hope in prosecuting him. All cases are being drawn out for indefinite periods of time by the Chief Justice Bruce……’

Aiden was right.

Businessmen was code for illegal mob heads. Cases being stretched on meant he was, in fact, invincible, at least to the common man’s fists.

You flickered through several titles, each one more surprising than the last. He was believed to be involved in the carnival attack, alleged for three hit and run cases that he didn’t lose but the witnesses swore they saw him driving and was also rumored to have brought in quintals of drugs just last week, but the packets just evaporated into thin air and there was no proof of their existence in the first place even on incessant searching.

Every crime of his made you shudder and you mentally thanked Aiden for pulling you out of your oblivion. Your mind raced and heart palpated and you cursed yourself for being so drastically unaware even after living here for almost four years. Technically speaking, Steve and you were even, him saving your life and you saving his daughter’s. No logical reason came to your mind for him contacting you ever.

You wished as Aiden said and assured yourself that your paths would never cross again, Steve not having reached out in a week, so hopefully never again.

That thought went out the window when you reached home to find a box awaiting you. Hannah, the babysitter you had called, informed you it came around 5 in the evening and was exclusively to be opened by you today.

Your mind raced as you paid the babysitter, your hands sweaty as you tried not to think about the gift and its sender. There was an apparently clear answer to who mailed it but you refused to accept that, courtesy of Aiden.

The box was of the height of Grace, it was black with red hearts painted across it; some red roses also sparingly adorned it. You opened the lid and found tons of red tissues and a multi-flower bouquet adorned with mostly red roses and a few purple and pink flowers.

Because of your frequent gardening in your backyard, you knew all the flowers’ meanings. To sum it all up, red flowers, especially roses were used for courting someone. Pink meant admiration, purple for beauty and you knew the ‘violet’ flowers were for loyalty.

As your nerves increased tenfold, you willed yourself to get it over with and empty out the box first, ignoring the little card in your bouquet, saving the ‘best’ for last. You find a mini bouquet inside but unlike yours, it had chocolates of every kind. You did read its card and cringed when it was for Grace, bothered not by the deed but by the doer.    

Further inside were some animal plushies, face masks, perfumes, scented body lotions and shampoos. Your head hurt thinking about the ‘single mother care package’ delivered to you by someone you refused to acknowledge.

As Grace sat in her playpen occupied, you dared to pick your card and read its message, your heart beating unrealistically fast for someone who refused to accept the cruciality of her situation.

~

I can’t thank you enough in this lifetime for saving my little princess. The gift of your help is more than anything money could ever buy for me. Please accept this invitation of mine for dinner tomorrow night, 7PM at La Bonne Nuit, as a symbol of my sincere gratitude for everything you’ve done. I’ll gets the kids covered and pick you up, you just be ready and look as amazing you always do.                                                                                           Sincerely,                                                                      Steve Rogers

                                                                                            ~

You stilled as you read it over and over again.

An invitation, your ass. Even in writing his authority portrayed, there was no question and hope for you coming, he just stated that you’d come. Looking pretty as always? You just met him once, in the middle of a calamity, covered in dirt and blood.

All the red roses and gifts screamed his romantic interest but you illusioned yourself into thinking they meant gratitude. You wouldn’t be able to digest it all otherwise.

Knowing what you knew now about Steve, you understood there was no denying the dinner tomorrow. You had to get out of his clutches and distance yourself, but as Aiden had so rightfully said, cleverly.

That night you laid in bed mulling over your next course of actions. You had called the gift shop to return the unwarranted presents you received but they said it was non refundable and anonymous to trace. You bitterly snorted in their face, they put a card with Steve’s name on it for heaven’s sake!

You didn’t flinch even when you realized you never gave Steve your address, neither for mailing stuff nor for picking you up. There was no number given to call him and thank or to call him and deny. The bastard had planned it all out, and you felt like you were driving in a one way lane, going deeper into the tunnel. Somewhere among your all-relentless fretting, you managed to finally sleep.

 When the doorbell rang, your eyebrows furrowed. It was just 6 PM and you weren’t expecting anybody else except for Steve. You had already begun getting ready, having developed a habit of keeping an extra margin of time now having a toddler. You still had to assemble Grace’s essential backpack, fill it with her meds and bottles.

While still putting on your diamond earring, you made your way to the door, unlocking it to find a redhead grinning at you. Before you could interact with her, a small body clung to your legs and you looked down to find the azure eyed kid that put you in this mess, Sarah, smiling up at you.

“Mama! You look pwetty!” She looked up in awe and now aware that she didn’t have a mother, you were even more so coerced into accepting this title rather than telling the kid that 'you are semi orphaned'.

“I’m Wanda, Sarah’s nanny. Mr. Rogers told me to pick her friend, Grace, up for the night?” So, this was what Steve meant. Bringing Sarah was proof enough of her legitimacy, but behind her you saw ‘Buck’ salute you from the driver’s seat of the black car. One of these days, you needed to learn his real name.

You invited Wanda inside and Sarah ran to Grace immediately, grabbing and whining while asking Grace to give her some popcorn she was munching on, her fist generously full.

In your open plan kitchen, you grabbed two plastic bowls, filled them with each with the tub of popcorn that sat in the microwave and handed each toddler one, fortunately quietening Sarah. Sarah obeyed Grace, in first thanking you, their ‘mama’ and then following her to her open playpen.

You faced Wanda again who sat on a barstool and kept on beaming. If your annoyance at her amusement showed, she sure didn’t let it falter the smile.

“Mr. Rogers told me you’d worry about your daughter, but I assure you she’d be in more than capable hands.” All you could focus on was how self-reassured she was. “I’ve served him for almost two years, the last family I served, I was there for 8 years and before them, I was employed for 3. I know the general bedtime and snacks, all I need from you is information about her allergies.”

You nodded and told her about Grace, her meds and what all you packed. When you got to know that her family owned the daycare Grace went to, you were finally somewhat convinced. After seeing them off, it was about fifteen minutes later, that the devil disguised in Prada showed up at your door.

You grabbed your purse and your keys. Wiping your sweaty palms on your dress, you opened the door. Steve stood there, a smirk lodging on his handsome face. His blue, three-piece suit perfectly paired with his cerulean eyes was impressive to say the least.

He was dressed to kill, and it appeared as if you were his first victim.

As your eyes took him in from top to bottom, his did the same lazily, taking their time, resting at certain places for longer period than others.

“You look stunning.”

You knew you did. You wore one of your more expensive dresses when you found out La Bonne Nuit to be one of the few seven-star hotels in the country. In hindsight, if you’d have dressed worse, maybe he’d have left you alone.

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?” He offered you his hand and you obliged with your palm in his. Your other hand pulled the doorknob while you stepped out, all alarms already set-in place. He waited while you locked and put the keys in and when you were done, with a soft kiss along your knuckles, he pulled you along.

The act surprised you, your stomach turning and your gut wrenching and you wondered if you’d be able to process the food after all, with your upset digestive system.

Like a proper gentleman, he opened the door for you and when you settled, he took his position at the driver’s seat. The silence was painful for you, your overthinking finally filling ideas in your head that you avoided contemplating about all day, focusing on Grace.

He was relaxed though; his humming was proof enough.

Mid way through, your thoughts were rudely interrupted when a hand housed itself on your knee. You glanced to find Steve’s palm slightly rubbing your knee. If it was meant to be assuring, you certainly didn’t feel like it.

You frowned and looked up to Steve who still had the arrogant smirk on his face, eyes straight ahead on the road, giving no indication of his inappropriate touching.

You wanted to swat his hand away but a brainwave dashed through your head and a disturbing thought made you halt, that whether he carried guns to restaurants as well, since carnivals were no big deal.

You ignored his hand and continued looking outside, pretending to ignore it as well as he did. Your scowl was a huge giveaway though.

You didn’t know that, but when your eyes found their way out, his finally rested on your face, the smirk growing even more.

Thankfully, apart from the incongruous touching, the dinner went okay-ish. The food and wine were impeccable, perfect even, the restaurant on the hotel’s top floors was so picturesque. You tried to savor your one-time experience there, knowing you’d no way be able to come back there.

Well, you tried to relish as much as you could while your mind still sat there, wary of the human in front of you. If you’d ignore your journey here, Steve was nothing short of a true gentleman, often making you wonder if you had imagined his hand on you.

This ‘friendly’ date you were having was probably one of the best you have had, he had left no expenses. He appeared to be interested in your work, about your childhood and about Grace’s but you swiftly avoided his questions about her father. He was growing a tad bit too comfortable for your liking and you still refused to entertain the idea that this was a ‘date’ date.

When you were finally onto dessert, the last course of your meal, your table was shadowed by the broad frame of a brunette and his date. He clapped Steve’s shoulder and Steve rose to hug him, you awkwardly smiled.

“It’s been far too long since you’ve been here, Cap. Why don’t you and your gorgeous date stop by my penthouse for a bit? We could finally go over the papers you sent me, in person?” He winked, they discussed something more and then went away, his date bowing and trailing after him as well.

Steve claimed his seat again, and finally told you about the interrupter. “That was my good friend, Tony Stark, always in a hurry. I’ll introduce you to him when we meet him later.”

“I think I’ll be heading home; you need not worry about my introduction, I hardly think we’ll ever run into each other again.” His eyes narrowed and you clarified, “Me and Mr. Stark, I meant.”

That’s good, don’t associate yourself with more of his kind.

“He was so kind in inviting you though, it would be rude to refuse.”

“It’s already late, Steve. And I’ve never left Grace alone for a night yet. What if she’s antsy? What if she is bothered? What if she feels unsafe? She's only used to very few people, and after last week, I-” You had started the sentence hoping to use Grace as an excuse but every word of yours succeeded in making you more apprehensive.

The carnival night flashed in your mind, along with the nightmares and you started panicking even more. Your hands clammy, your dessert spoon fell in your lap as sought your phone in your purse, hoping to call Wanda for an update. You felt like a terrible mother, who left her child with a stranger, only a week after she suffered trauma, just to go on a date with a mobster.

Steve reached across the table and grabbed your fidgety hands and as you wriggled to get your hands free, he softly called your name. Voice stern but vocals gentle. Your blurry eyes snapped to meet his while he guided you to breathe deeply, in and out.

His firm hold convinced you to listen to him, you’d never free yourself of them otherwise.

When you had calmed a bit, he withdrew his hands and fetched his phone. Your thoughts slowed down, and you wondered if anyone here was judging you. Your little scene, mercifully, went unnoticed by the other affluent people dining here.

Steve handed you his phone where four colored frames rested, the screen showing you Grace and Sarah cuddled in a frilly, pink four poster where Wanda sat too, her lips moving.

The feed was live and the screen muted, both the toddlers’ eyes fluttering close slowly, on the bridge of sleep.

You handed the phone back to Steve and drank your water while he rubbed circles on the back of one of your hands. You never freaked out like you did right now, always collected and never giving into anxiety. What had happened to you?

Well, In your defense, you had never experienced a disaster either.

“The kids are safe; I’m never putting either of them in harm’s way ever again.”

Your mind did catch the plural in his statement but you promised yourself you would not let it get that far and continued drinking your water, emptying the entire glass.

“The HD image you just saw was by cameras Tony recently developed. His technology is amazing, I’ll take you to his lab sometime.” You appreciated his attempt to redirect the topic but you also focused on how tech-savvy his friends were as well.

You hummed and agreed, trying to be ambiguous with your answer.

When you finished your dessert, you hoped he’d forget about his ‘friend’ Tony but to no avail.

“His penthouse is two floors above. He owns this hotel as well in case you didn’t notice.” He led you to the elevator as you recalled the Starks Group logo you saw earlier sometime.

Some AI named Jarvis opened the elevator doors for you in the living room of Tony’s penthouse. It was even more magnificent than the restaurant earlier, the place illuminated by several hues of different colours. Steve chuckled and strung you along, introducing you to a ginger-head named Pepper, who was Tony’s date earlier and went to search for his acquaintance.

She offered you wine but you politely declined, opting for water instead. She brought your glass to you from the extravagant kitchen and you both sat on the barstool there instead of the living room. Too anxious to say the wrong thing, you stayed quiet until her voice filled the deafening silence.

“So, Steve almost never brings dates around. You two serious?” She questioned, leaning towards you, waiting for some gossip, no doubt.

“Oh no! We aren’t dating. He just invited me for a friendly dinner. We merely met the other week.” You deliberately left out the part where there was bombing by crime families and attack on the common man.

“Honey, in the mob life, you don’t just introduce random people to the fam.”

Oh, she wasn’t being shy about the whole mob ordeal. It seemed weird to hear it from her, since you and Steve hadn’t used the word yet. Maybe he figured you already knew considering the circumstances you met in or how famous he was.

“We really aren’t romantically involved. This dinner was just a gesture of gratitude if I’m being truthful.”

She chuckled, as if you were a kid making stories and quizzed, “Gratitude for what?”

You trapped yourself into that one. You didn’t know how to answer her and your brain downright blanked. Surprisingly,, Steve came to your rescue and two voices interposed your conversation.

Steve called your name and as you turned to the men, he continued, “She’s the one who saved Sarah the other night. You know the story, Wilson probably got it printed.”

“Impressive, really. Hey, I’m Tony and I see you’ve already met Pepper, my fiancée.” He shook your hand and kissed your knuckles, much like Steve did earlier in the day. You bowed, smiled and mumbled a ‘nice to meet you as well’. They escorted you to the elevator and Tony continued.

“Well, it’s not everyday Steve brings brave and extraordinarily attractive women around. Welcome to the family, sweetie. She’s a keeper, Cap.” He winked while saying the last sentence and before you could correct him, Steve ushered you inside the elevator, bro-hugging him. As the doors closed, Pepper winked at you from behind Tony and a shudder ran through you.

Okay you had to make it clear, get on the same page.

As the elevator music filled the silence, you started, “Steve, look we aren’t-”, “I served in the army, that’s why Tony calls me Cap, short for captain.” And crudely got interrupted.

“I never wanted to get into the army, I thought people were fools to sacrifice the one life they got. But I went to make my mother’s dream a reality, I really loved her, you know? Sarah is named after her, my mother.”

His voice broke at the end and as much as you wanted to redirect onto your former topic, you couldn’t. This amiability of yours would be the death of you.

“She died alone in her bed; I was dispatched too far away to even make it back for her funeral.” He mumbled but you heard him clear as a sunny day, and he leaned back onto the wall for support while you awkwardly rubbed his shoulder to return the support he provided earlier during your mental breakdown.

He closed his eyes and gathered himself, taking deep breaths. As the elevator dinged, his eyes opened and he gave you a strained smile.  

The car ride to his mansion was painfully silent, his mind too sidetracked to focus on harassing you again. With all that you went through today, you almost forgot about that.

His mansion was enormous, twenty guards stood outside and even more patrolled the lawn. He took you inside his house, the interior even more detailed and scenic than Tony’s temporary residence.

You just concentrated on swiftly getting Grace and Uber-ing back. As Steve showed you earlier, Grace and Sarah hugged and slept and it was a meticulous task to untangle their limbs without waking either of them up andnd get Grace with her back-pack. You thanked Wanda on the way out, hoping to avoid Steve but somehow he stood outside before you, leaning on his sleek black car. He opened the door for you before you could refuse the ride. You settled with Grace in the backseat itself, trying to be smart.

He just summoned one of his guards to drive and sat alongside you in the back. You didn’t let the annoyance at his clinginess show though. You just focused on Grace who drooled over your shoulder.

Hopefully, there won’t be any point of exposure to him ever again, your circles didn’t match, both social and professional. Your Venn diagrams didn’t overlap anywhere. This should be reason enough to avoid meeting ever again.

He didn’t try anything even this ride around. You doubted it was hardly because of the toddler or because of the driver. He did as he pleased, if he wanted to he could very well grope you. Luckily, he wasn't in the mood.

When you reached your dwelling, you stepped out hastily, thanking him in a whisper. You fumbled to get your keys out, but since everything you held slowed you down, he caught up with you without even trying.

He took and held Grace’s bag while you drew the keys out, Grace still on your hip. He handed you the bag back, “So this is it, I guess?”

“Yeah, tonight was a total delight. Thanks for the dinner and everything, really.” You put up your best façade, hoping to convince him.

“It was, thanks to you. The company matters the most.”

You awkwardly chuckled and you sensed him leaning in, his eyes flickering shut. Your eyes closed as you turned your head to avoid him, so that his lips would peck your cheek.

They never came.

Your eyes opened to find his and he chuckled, leaning in once again swiftly, catching you off guard this time. He didn’t meet your lips though, he kissed the corner of your mouth, lips overlapping for a fraction of skin.

“In due time, baby.” He stepped back and strolled to his car leisurely, content in his own world.

You opened your door and slammed it shut, the peck feeling wrong on so many levels. It felt more sensual than a lover’s kiss, leaving room for intimacy and longing.

Your thoughts ran a hundred kilometers an hour, the most absurd but nauseatingly true being, this was a date and it was not your last encounter.

Steve smirked outside in his car, the dinner an absolute success in his opinion. Tonight just made him feel that you both were more than compatible for each other. You needing him during your mental breakdown, him relaxing under your shy touch, Tony’s approval, not that important though, and your anxiety for Grace was the best part, because he, more often than he’d like to admit, fussed about Sarah the same way, agonizing and fretting her well being.

A text lit up his black screen and his grin widened even more if possible.

‘The Stark cameras are up and working, Sir.’

[cowboyjen68]

Hey Jen,

I just had my first year of college and thusly had my first gay relationship with a girl. I am having some ups and downs about “getting over” her and don’t know how to begin processing our relationship. This post might be a bit of a long one as I have quite a few things I am seeking advice for from a queer elder that, especially while at home for the summer in a small rural town, I don’t have the luxury of having.

For a bit of context. We started our relationship very soon after she ended her relationship of 2+ years on good terms. We were together from the start of freshman year to the end, mutually agreeing to not do long distance. I am grateful for that, as I don’t think that we would be compatible in the long run anyways. We ended our time together on awkward terms. We haven’t spoken since her stating that she needed more time alone to sit with things. That is a very abbreviated gist of all that happened.

I see vignettes of her online and it is hard to feel anything but longing and disappointment in myself for having hurt her. Have you been in a situation similar before? I am having a lot of issues with how to break down my feelings about the range of things that happened with us and how much I /really/ miss her friendship.

I have also been dealing a lot with being in the same town as my ex boyfriend, who caused me a lot of emotional distress and damage during our time together (and that’s a whole other story ! ). I feel like I have been tussling with the label of lesbian because I have had a lot of vicious returns of comphet/bordering intrusive thoughts of talking/romancing/being physical with a man

Forever grateful for your advice,

- A young butch

First relationships that form in college or high school do not have a good track record of lasting. We just change so much during that time due to age and the massive amount of experiences we are having. Our lives are planned for the moment but rarely for the long term so it is hard to solidify common future goals together.

Breaking up because distance was inevitable is a good reason. One year of making memories and learning about navigating a relationship with a woman is a gift.

One of my lesbian mentors once told me that a relationship length is the measure of its value. Short term, destined to end, romantic and intimate relationships can be rich and fulfilling and teach us so much about ourselves and what we like and don't like.

Those early relationships are a time for growth and building skills to help as we get closer to a time and age where we can and want to settle down for longer.

It is way better to hurt each other with a break up while things are ok because waiting until things go bad can cause so much more damage and result in resentment. In my experience, after some time and distance you will come back around to a friendship based on mutual memories and shared history.

I dated men in high school, well, boys. We were young and I only knew I was SUPPOSED to date men. I didn't really think women were an option even though I knew something wasn't quite clicking. I had one last go with a man after college and actually had sex with him. Our two week dating period is a blur of alcohol and me trying to convince myself it was "doable" over a life time.

I started hanging out with more lesbians and really listening to them. They way they talked about intimacy and chemistry with women made me realize i was exerting so much effort into making myself like men and they were just easily and effortlessly loving women. They didn't say thing like "she is nice". They said things like "she is spectacular and warm and I can't wait to look in her eyes again". It was like reading an dry news article about the stock market as opposed to lovely and flowery poetry. I knew then that I was working to fucking hard when I could just stop that and embrace what came easily to me, IF I let it.

Try that. Try looking at how much exhaustive time and energy you put into thinking men are what you want. Instead of climbing a dirty, stinky, hot and sharp rocked mountain (men) lay in the soft grass in the sunshine (women) and just youself be surrounded by comfort and passion. Less work much more fulfulling.

YOU deserve to be happy. Don't let society or an abusive ex tell you differently.

[thecirculararchive]

(Questioning anon; this came out much longer than expected. Sorry for that; i'll do it all in one to avoid taking up more of your time. Thank you in advance -although again, no pressure-. And in any case, thank you for being such a neutral and unaggressive member of this community. Lovely day to you.)

1) I never did anything to create my alters. I've read of other people who were aware of them younger than i was, or thought they were imaginary friends. That isn't my case. I just started hearing J telling C to calm down one day. Then i heard them both more clearly. For a while we were aware of being 3. Then out of nowhere a 4th appeared. Then 5 who the "original" (for lack of a better term) three didn't know; but all of whomst knew each other and 4 as well. Then a last one we were all surprised by. These people appeared in my head one day and that was that. Count is currently at 13. Is this a plausible way to discover one's alters? Can they just know each other while i'm unaware of them?

2) I've had imaginary friends growing up. When i stopped thinking about them they just vanished. I can try to ignore my potential alters, or even succeed if my head's particularly quiet for a few days, but they're still... there. Idk how to explain it it's like being home alone when everyone else is sleeping? You're technically alone but you're aware there are other people around? Can this happen?

3) Two of them split, i think is the right term. M and S disappeared for a while and when they came back M was gone entirely and there were two new people in her stead, and S was still there but it had "spawned", for lack of a better term, someone else. This was during a highly stressful time but i don't recall having had splitting pains. That being said due to a physical disability i have a pretty bad case of dissociation from pain; so i can't rule out that i just missed it or shrugged it off as "another bad episode". The process lasted days. I can no longer conjure up the original M in my head. I mean i *can*; i imagine her and remember her mannerisms. But it's kind of like remembering a deceased relative, in a sense? She's not there. I can recall and recreate my imaginary friends at will. I can't do that with M at all. Is this a plausible scenario for splitting?

4) K appeared one day as an introject. She just did and she was confused. Nobody knew what to do with her so we kind of left here there wailing for days. Then she sort of sorted herself out and barely interacts with anyone now; she doesn't really care beyond not wanting to purposefully hurt anyone. The thing is i'm bodily an adult (albeit a young one; idk if that counts) and K is from a piece of media i consumed not so long ago. Can that happen? She appeared at the same distressing time period that M and S disappeared and apparently split. It was "a panic attack a day" kind of distressing and incapacitating. But am i too old for introjects?

5) I can't tell who i am most of the time. Every time i feel like i'm faking i try to ask myself that if i'm the original, the others are fake and created, right? So who could i eliminate? And the answer is none of them. There's no "original". Even when i was only aware of another 2, i couldn't narrow it down to "i'm the real one and the others are fabricated and disposable like imaginary friends". It kind of feels like we're all integral parts of a mechanism. Due to this i've been having a really hard time discerning who i am. If we're alters, idk who's fronting 99% of the time. Is this what "being blurry" refers to? Or do i have to know who i am?

6) While there's a general aura of cordiality in my head, not everyone likes everyone. Or at least not equally. Two of who would be our littles if we are a system in the end can't stand each other. I have a soft spot for found families. If i'd made this up i'm certain i wouldn't have done this. But i've also read that reaching the point of cordiality can take a while. I haven't worked on it; it's always been like this. Can we just be naturally tolerant and non-conflictive? It extends to people irl too. I'd hazard to say only 4/13 care about friends and 6/13 about some family. For the most part when dealing with someone who isn't liked, none of them are overly aggressive or try causing rifts and problems on purpose. J and A can get a bit on the cruel side with people who have hurt me/us though; but that's about it.

7) All my life i've had moments of "waking up" in the middle of doing a task. Like having been "elsewhere" and suddenly being pulled into the moment. Sometimes i have to stop and think about what i'm talking about or what i'm doing. Could this be what switching feels like? I've also had moments of "approaching", so as to speak, consciousness? Like something or someone is waking up and stirring and it takes a while but when time's up "it's/they're here", at the forefront of attention? Could that be switching instead? Maybe both or neither?

8) Despite the cordiality, sometimes there are interferences. J likes meditating. A thinks it's a waste of time. Sometimes when J's meditating he gets lost in thought. Sometimes, A starts interfering with the process. J getting lost in thought doesn't feel the same as A just being annoying. Is this possible to be certain of the difference or is my head fabricating this feeling?

9) When my head is quiet (and it can be for weeks at a time) i can sort of stop thinking about them. I still don't know who i am, i still feel them, i still deal with amnesia and flashbacks and random triggers i didn't know i had. And unfalteringly something happens to bring me back to questioning being a system again (spontaneous out of body experience, hearing one of them clearly, etc.). I'm aware from these months of research that alters can go dormant for some time; or that communication can be bad. But can communication fluctuate from being good to bad and then good again? I can also ignore pain for long stretches of time and that doesn't mean the underlying condition is gone. Can a similar thing happen with being a system? Can i just not think about it 24/7? Or if i were a system i'd be fully aware at all times?

Thanks.

Hello questioning Anon. Thank you for all your support these past few days while we waited to reply. I’m Rice, and it’s lovely to be able to speak with you! I actually wanted to talk to you personally, because while Octavian is sweet, I’ve been around the longest, and a lot of your questions just… are so relatable to my experiences. The responses will be under this cut.

1. Your alters knowing each other before you’re aware of them is absolutely normal, and also the case for me as well when I first became aware of our system. I became aware of “voices in my head” talking to each other. I just thought of them as characters at the time. Like I was RPing with myself. I never actually realized the “characters” in my head were PEOPLE in my head until college. This is an absolutely plausible way to discover your alters.

2. Alters still existing, even when you ignore them, is the norm for us as well. Our communication has gotten so good that we’re actually almost always aware of each other. Right now, LED and Ve are asleep, Roy is in his weight room, Numb and Curt are being cute, Deb and Wade are keeping a watchful eye on me, and Sierra is brushing her hair. Even when I can’t communicate with them, they’re still there – just not present in the moment. Very normal, afaik!

3. I’ve never personally had a split like this, but: splits do not require physical pain. I don’t think I’ve had physical pain when splitting? Maybe a bit of a headache. But I ABSOLUTELY have a lot of dissociation from splitting, which you describe here. I’ve also heard others experience splits like how you describe – another check in the “valid” box!

4. NOBODY is too old for introjects! We actually just split our first fictional introject at Thanksgiving this past year, at age 24. You can always split an alter at any time, especially one that comes at a distressing time. A panic attack a day sounds terrifyingly stressful, and it’s no wonder your brain did what it had to do. Also, introjects can come from any media as far as I know – so recency of media is not an issue.

5. You never need to know who you are. It’s actually pretty common for systems who struggle with communication and dissociative barriers – which it sounds like you have plenty. I am so, so proud of you for understanding that there isn’t an original alter though! That took me so long to understand, and you seem to have worked it our on your own here. This is a great way of thinking about it – you’re all parts of one mechanism. The key thing to remember is, if you are all parts of one whole, does it truly matter figuring out exactly who you are at the moment? Or is it better for you to just go with it? (We actually experienced this recently – turns out it was Wade, Octavian, and Ve all fronting at the same time. Talk about blurry!)

6. Debra purposely tried to hurt people IRL that I was best friends with. Numb would try to push people away who I was close to. Curtis would daydream about ruining my life to have fun for himself. You ABSOLUTELY will not always agree with each other, even on things as important as people in real life. I would wager that about half of my system right now doesn’t actually call my parents mom and dad. Numb tries to exclusively refer to them as “the parents.” The fact is, you aren’t all going to have the same opinions or feelings, especially about the people you’re stuck with 24/7. But rest assured, it is possible to grow and accept each other more. Curtis and Debra used to be at each other’s throats with anger and hatred – now it’s turned to playful teasing. You just need to work on healing and system communication.

7. Both of these situations sound like switching in my experience. I’ve felt these things before. Goodness, I did the “Waking up” one right before answering these asks! I opened my eyes and Octavian had already written a paragraph. (Sorry Tavi – I deleted it). Now, our communication is good and I remember vaguely talking to Tavi before switching, since we typically work together on switches now. But I think you’re not at that point yet. What you’re describing is a lot like what I experienced in freshman year of College, when fronting was more random and not as much by choice.

8. “Is my head fabricating this feeling” is such an odd question to me, now. I used to think that I was just pretending, or faking, and eventually settled on “my brain made this up.” And. Well. It did! Our brains make everything up – that’s how brains work. Colors are fake and emotions are chemicals. But that doesn’t negate ANYTHING you’re experiencing. Even though it’s just our brains Doing Something Weird, it’s our brains Doing What They Need To Do To Survive. So, J’s feelings are absolutely valid – and by that, I mean they do exist, even if it’s just within your head at the moment. All emotions are in your head. That’s because your brain controls your entire body, and sometimes, your brain can be silly. Am I rambling?

9. Communication can absolutely fluctuate. There are some days – we’ve noticed especially with Curtis – where it feels like he’s the ONLY ALTER for an extended period of time. He’s honestly had doubts more than once that he actually had DID – what if we were just a trans dude named Curtis this whole time? But inevitably, we switch, or his husband (our alter, Numb) comes back towards the front, or he realizes he’s just being depressed. You can absolutely not think about your system 24/7 – actually, that’s more normal than if you were always 1000% aware of everyone at all times.

I wanted to speak to you directly now that your questions are answered. You are, with 99% certainty from me, a system. Obviously, I’m a stranger on the internet – I can’t diagnose you. But everything you described here is what I’ve heard of or experienced for myself as a system. Furthermore – your system isn’t going to be like everyone elses. Everyone has their own lives, with their own traumas, and their own brains. Systems are, first and foremost, a traumatic coping mechanism. Your brain had to cope and survive the horrendous things that were happening when you were a kid, and so it broke your identity into multiple parts. You continue to break as you grow, because you never got to handle those stressful situations. And… Just like you said – you work together to create something beautiful. You!

There shouldn’t be any fear. I think you’re a system, and that’s just fine. That’s you, and that’s what your brain had to do. I know first figuring it all out can be confusing, and messy, and scary, but I want you to know that there is a whole entire community here who (regardless of all the hate you’ve seen these past few days) welcomes you with open arms. If nothing else, take solace in the fact that WE welcome you with open arms, and that’s 11 people who already love you.

I am so happy to answer more questions if you have them. My suggestion is to keep researching – join spaces that welcome questioning systems, and find articles centered on alters and how they function together. Please, work on system communication – your dissociative barriers sound REALLY strong. Maybe consider keeping a journal, or a record of your thinking/emotions. If you hear someone, write it down! And consider seeking a therapist if you have not already. It sounds like you could use some more direct help than my tiny little tumblr can offer <3

I hope this all came out well. It’s my first time out in months, and I just wanted to reassure you however I could. I’m not always the best with words, but hopefully I could be comforting. 😊

[comfortwriting]

When You’re Gone - F.W

Fred Weasley (and George) x fem reader, inspired by the song ‘When You’re Gone’ by Avril Lavigne.

A/N: If any of you are struggling with loss, grief or need someone to talk to, my inbox is open and I’ve re-blogged support hotline numbers.

About: The reader is mourning the death of her boyfriend, Fred Weasley. She’s struggling to move on, finding herself lost in both the past and present. Unfortunately, she loses her grips on reality and George has to put on the mask and pretend to be Fred.

Warnings: Grief, sadness, death, depression, flashbacks, some fluff here and there, deterioration of mental and physical health, mention of hospice care towards the end.

Three months ago your long term boyfriend, the man you planned to marry, was killed in an explosion during the battle of Hogwarts. His death changed your life forever.

You found it hard leaving the bed, eating and showering. At first you tried to accept that he was gone but no matter what it got harder to do so, you just wanted to hide away, fall asleep forever to wake up again one day with him next to you.

I always needed time on my own I never thought I'd Need you there when I cry And the days feel like years when I'm alone And the bed where you lie Is made up on your side

“Come on Y/N, you should write back to them, they want to know how you are.” Your mother said softly, trying to encourage you.

Ever since Fred’s death, the Weasley's wrote to you every week when they had time, you couldn’t bring yourself to reading whatever they wrote, let alone reply. You didn’t want to hear from them or see them, the guilt you felt for their sons death was eating you up inside - you didn’t want to lie to them about your state either. 

“Maybe another time mum” you replied, staring at Fred’s side of the bed. 

Your mother sat next to you and placed a hand against your tear stained cheek “He isn’t coming back, you can’t just leave everything how it is.”

You sighed and stood up walking over to the window “I’ll send them a Christmas card and apologise for not being able to protect their son.”

“It’s August, Y/N”

“Right.”

“And it wasn’t your fault!” Your mother cried.

Slowly but surely, you were losing track of time, of what was and wasn’t real, you found yourself over the next year getting more confused and plummeting even more into denial - your parents believed you didn’t want to move on - but you couldn’t to no fault of your own, you didn’t have a choice.

Your stress and grief shaped your brain and changed it, changing your reality and everything around you to create a world in which Fred would be coming home.

When you walk away I count the steps that you take Do you see how much I need you right now?

“Fred you can’t be serious” You sighed, rubbing your temple.

“Harry is like family to me, to us. He needs me there and I’m not going to allow.. WE need him gone to be able to have the life we want together, Y/N.” Fred argued back, pacing around the much brighter and cleaner bedroom.

“How am I going to protect you? I am in no state to be entering a war when I’m already so badly injured. If something goes wrong out there when I’m not with you...”

Fred walked over to you and placed a finger on your lips, shushing you. “Nothing is going to happen to me, my love.” he reassured you.

You shook your head “We don’t know that, please Fred, stay.”

Fred frowned and walked away from you “you know I can’t.”

When you're gone The pieces of my heart are missin' you When you're gone The face I came to know is missin', too When you're gone The words I need to hear To always get me through the day And make it okay I miss you

“Fred” you whispered, sitting in the shower, the water storming down upon you. “Please come back soon, I know you can and I hope you will.”

Your mother rubbed the bar of soap on your back before rinsing it with the water “I know we argued last night but I trust you, I know you’ll make it out alive.” you whispered again.

Your mother stopped washing you for a moment, taking in everything you had been saying, finally understand that something had gone wrong and your frame of mind wasn’t the same as it used to be. She knew deep in her heart you weren’t calling out for his spirit, she knew that you truly believed that he had just gone to Hogwarts - you were reliving the same period of time over and over, from the moment Fred left up until you would panic, running to the windows and asking members of the public if they had seen him.

Fifteen months on you were sitting at the table in the kitchen with your parents, you felt nervous at Fred’s silence.

“It’s a shame he can’t use a muggle phone” you muttered to your dad, taking a sip of your tea “I’d be able to hear his voice if he did.”

You started to bite at your nails whilst your legs couldn’t stop shaking “I bet his owls bloody snuffed it” you muttered again “he’s not replied to any of my letters, he must not be receiving them.”

Your parents exchanged a worried glance and sighed, your mental state crumpling even further. Recently, you were caught writing to Fred over and over again, asking how Harry was, how the war was going and if he’s okay, telling him you loved him. Your parents would tell you they would send the letters, but didn’t - Fred was dead and wouldn’t be coming back.

Even when they told you over and over again, within hours you would be back to writing those letters and talking about him in present tense.

Luckily George (and Arthur) finally learned how to use a muggle phone. Your parents decided to tell the Weasley family the truth, Molly, Arthur and George were heartbroken. George would ring up weekly to see how he could help and for updates on your condition.

“George she’s getting worse, we think she’ll stay where she is but she doesn’t she just goes further and further into madness.” Your mother said down the phone.

George sighed on the other end “I’m sorry-”

In the background George could hear you calling out in a panic “Dad! Dad! Where is Fred? he should be back by now and he isn’t here!” you began to cry.

“She’s like this as soon as the sun sets, every single day.” Your mother told George.

“I’ll be round in the morning” George replied.

I've never felt this way before Everything that I do Reminds me of you And the clothes you left, they lie on the floor And they smell just like you I love the things that you do

Rocking in your chair you looked around the room, feeling the same nausea as usual, waiting for Fred to return home. In your lap was one of his jumpers Molly made him one Christmas, you would wear it all the time, and if you got too hot you’d clutch to it like a toddler with a blanket.

Hearing the door open, which was incredibly unusual in your house you got up to your feet, your mouth dropping wide open when Fred, now with much longer hair came walking inside.

Your parents were hoping George’s visit would help break away at the cloudiness in your brain, but all they did was make it worse.

“Freddie!” You squealed out, running over and wrapping your arms around him “You’re finally home!” 

You noticed behind his hair, he was missing an ear, but your overwhelming happiness of finally being reunited with him distracted you from asking questions. 

George could feel his heart ache and his stomach drop, realising how much worse his visit would impact you. You got on your tip toes as you always did and placed a long and loving kiss onto his lips. 

You furrowed your eyebrows at who you thought was Fred, George couldn’t bring himself to kiss you back, he felt cruel for doing this, but your parents had never seen you so calm and so happy in almost two years.

George looked at your parents for a moment and decided to try, he sighed and shook his head, not wanting to lie to you.

“I’m not Fred, I’m George.”

When you walk away I count the steps that you take Do you see how much I need you right now?

You let out a laugh “You need to come back from war with more than longer hair and a missing ear to try and trick me.” 

“Fred died, Y/N. He was killed in an explosion.” George told the truth.

You shook your head in disbelief “No? You’re right in front of me.” you replied “I know you like your laughs and jokes Fred, but that’s not something to joke about, George should know better too for putting you up to this.”

You walked into the kitchen forgetting what you went in there for and walked back into the living room, taking a seat.

Your mother burst into tears and walked out of the room, your father following her to give comfort. You stared at them, not understanding why they hadn’t welcomed your boyfriend back into warm open arms.

George knew that no matter how hard he tried he wouldn’t be able to get you to see the truth - you couldn’t no matter what, they were living in your world now. George sighed, almost kicking himself for what he was about to do.

“I’m only joking, I am Fred.” 

When you're gone The pieces of my heart are missin' you When you're gone The face I came to know is missin', too When you're gone The words I need to hear To always get me through the day And make it okay I miss you 

Waking up from your nap you jolted up and noticed the darkness through the window outside, feeling the panic brew inside your tummy you started to worry.

“It’s okay I’m here.” George, playing Fred, patted your shoulders, walking around your chair.

He was carrying a bowl of soup in his hands nice and warm, just for you. 

Your parents and George were taking you care of you full time now, George had been living as your pretend boyfriend for just over seven years now and his heart broke even more as your state worsened.

You couldn’t feed yourself, wash yourself, get your self dressed or brush your hair. You couldn’t communicate through speech properly either, you would instead pull faces, point or stare into the same four walls, and every day was exactly the same; waiting for Fred to come home, being nervous, overjoyed when you’d see him, in distress when George would leave the room or when your parents would take over his shift.

You smiled at Fred, as he blew on the soup filled spoon, making you drink it. It took you ages just to finish eating and drinking, it was hard to simply exist, but staring into those beautiful eyes you never thought you’d see again calmed the storms that distressed your seas and damaged your boats.

George finished buttoning up your pyjama shirt and got you to lay down in your bed, he sat beside you and stroked your hair until your eyes fluttered shut. Once he knew you were dreaming far away from home, he stood up and met your parents downstairs.

“George, our daughter... well you know all of this is no good, not getting better.” Your father tried his best to explain, swallowing the great big lump in his throat.

Your mother took over “What we’re trying to say George, is that, we’re looking to place Y/N in a twenty four hour care facility. She cannot speak, she cannot look after herself, she’s incredible vulnerable and she’ll be getting the care she needs - you’ll be able to get your life back.”

We were made for each other Out here forever I know we were Yeah, yeah And all I ever wanted was for you to know Everything I do, I give my heart and soul I can hardly breathe; I need to feel you here with me Yeah

Today was your 40th birthday, twenty whole years since Fred died along with a part of yourself no one would ever see again. 

Now due to your bedbound state, you were laid in bed and the care assistant next to you got out your photo albums from all of your years at Hogwarts. She adjusted the height and position of the bed with her wand, making you more comfortable. 

Placing the photo albums on your lap she took you through them one by one, the memories flashing before you like a movie reel as you watched the photos move.

The twins on the train going home after their first year at Hogwarts, Fred flying on his broom during Quidditch. Fred and you on your first date in Hogsmeade, him dancing around the tent with a giant shamrock painted on his face, the two of you pulling faces and giggling in the kitchen at the burrow, Fred proudly standing in front of his shop, the two of you in your house just before he left for the war.

The care assistant pulled out the letters he had written to you over the years on your birthday, placing them in front of you to read. Despite his death - absence - from your life, you could still hear his voice as clear as day, making re-reading these letters all the more special.

When you're gone The pieces of my heart are missin' you When you're gone The face I came to know is missin', too When you're gone The words I need to hear Will always get me through the day And make it okay I miss you

Overtime, your muscles weakened and so did your organs, and unfortunately this years cold, flu, and sickness season didn’t go easy on you. The whole facility lost many residents this time of the year but none as young as you.

Your parents who would much rather be grandparents sporting perfect silver hair and wrinkles were notified of your deterioration, being told that now would be the time to come and say goodbye. Your parents notified George and he left his wife and children at home, coming to visit you.

In a deep sleep you could hear your parents talking but couldn’t quite make out what they were staying, you didn’t have the strength to open your eyes either. After struggling to leave the room, George finally switched over from them and sat in the chair next to you, taking a hold on your hand.

When going through the room he and his brother shared, he stumbled across a letter Fred had written but never sent in one of the pockets of the last coat he had ever worn. George brought it with him after reading it, knowing it would help you reach the reality with Fred you yearned for.

My Dearest Y/N,

I’m sorry that I had to go and leave you behind, but don’t be scared, don’t worry about me, my love. You are strong and you are brave, no matter what happens - I promise we’ll meet again. Just keep those beautiful eyes of yours set on the horizon, and when the time is right, we’ll know where to meet again. 

George felt your grip on his hand tighten, tears rolled down his face.

I know it’s not been easy and I know that it’s been calm, but we’ll have forever together and we’ll be away from harm. So keep on smiling and searching beautiful, the adventure is not so far away.

Love Always, Fred.

Letting go of the weight on your shoulders, you stumbled through the forest, feeling the sun beam on your skin. Following the chatty Magpie you stopped in your tracks, your whole world standing right in front of you.

“You got my letter?” Fred asked, who had aged like fine wine.

You grinned widely and nodded, tears forming in your eyes and ran into his open arms. 

“I missed you.”