Thinking about Wade just... being normal(?) For a day. Doing house hold chores, watching shitty live tv, goes out to walk Puppins, showering with no smart remarks.
Yes, he still hums and taps on stuff, but it's much.. calmer.. now. In the sense that he doesn't want to cause a scene and would rather just be left alone right now.
But then... when he gets out. Surely he's going to be his silly self and say something, right?? Right???? Wrong.
He just... sits there. Boredly looking at those free magazines that you find sometimes at doctors' offices. The ones that are like "Home improvment for your loved one with dementia" or "50 dinner ideas for someone with diabetes"
Logan just blinks after watching him all day and goes "...Are you okay?"
Without a beat, he awnsers pretty monotoned. "I can't be manic all the time. That's just stupid to think." Before realizing he said it outloud. He perks up and starts laughing. "I mean- Yeah I'm great! What about you, Tiger?"
Again Logan just stares, blinking some as he tries to process.
"....How long have you kept up that act..?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, pumpkin!" It was like watching someone trying to impersonate themsleves.
"....Wade.."
"What is it cupcake?"
"...You don't have to do that."
"Do what? Gosh your so silly. My silly little sunflower."
Logan just stares at him for a bit more and quickly he panics, swallowing and starting to say anything he can to make him believe it was a joke but he dosn't believe a single word of it.
"...its not an act.. is it?"
It eventually ends with wade running out of excuses or things to lie about. He sits there, tears starting to run down his face as he thinks of words to say. You can see just how desperate he is to say something but he can't seem to get it out.
"..I....I-i."
"I know."
Wade just looks at him with this big scared eyes as if he was about to accuse him of faking or telling him he liked this wade better or something terrible like asking how to keep him this way but Logan pulls him into a side hug.
"...are you okay?"
His throat tightens, shaking his head. "..no."
"That's okay." Turning to give him an actual hug, Wade cries. Not because he's sad though. But because to Logan, it doesn't matter how high or low he was on the chart, who he was or how he acted. He loves him. He understands that acting like a crazy childish phycopath isn't a mask but rather who he was sometimes. And sometimes he prefered to silently lay his head on his shoulder.
Eventually Logan asks him if he has a personality disorder and Wade just shrugs. "Probably.... is that an issue..?"
"No.... do you want diagnosed?"
Wade pauses, remembers the last time he asked for medical help and shakes his head. "Nah... I'm good.. besides. I've come to like him."
"How long has he been in there?" Logan playfully knocks on his head and wade giggles a bit. A genuine true laugh. "I don't know. Probably forever.... are you sure it's not a problem?" He bites his tounge, waiting for the "because I like him better" but it never came.
"Why would that be a problem? Sure, you're a pain the ass but you're my pain in the ass." He says, mindlessly sitting for a second before quickly saying "DON'T-"
As wade is on the brink of explosion from laughter and some smirky comments.
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This whole "you're responsible for your triggers, nobody else >:(!" argument is weird to me because it's like... we know that ultimately, we are in charge of our trauma and our trauma responses, and I don't think everybody genuinely thinks that they have no agency over how their trauma can impact their life and the way they navigate it. So it's weird to me when peoples' first response is to remind us that our trauma is only up to us.
To me, it comes across like people are upset that traumatized people and people with triggers have boundaries related to their triggers and that it would be an asshole move to be like "fuck your boundaries! I do what I want around you!"
It is completely understandable if you're not able to accommodate somebody's triggers, but you don't have to put up a veneer of putting the blame on everybody else. It's okay to have conflicting needs, and that isn't really anybody's fault. Just move on, and don't engage with that person. There doesn't always have to be a Bad Guy in every situation.
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like i see people say stuff like “rei is a deconstruction of the idea of like the perfect girl in a male gaze-y way” and and i'm ready to agree until they go “it’s because she’s creepy and weird and bad!” like no. rei's a deconstruction of misogynistic ideas of womanhood because they’re ideals forced upon her that damage her, not because she’s in any way “creepy”. like, the fact she’s a fourteen year old girl who was basically used as a substitute wife by her father bc she looked like his own dead wife is not something that is meant to make rei look bad like holy shit.
like both rei and asuka are very obviously like. showing fantasised and misogynistic ideas of an idealised woman don’t work irl yeah. shinji's misogynistic view of them is wrong. but that’s not because rei and asuka are bad people it’s because like. “fourteen year old who's flirty and seductive” and “fourteen year old who's a quiet obedient object” are major signs of abuse and trauma and anyone actually acting in those ways at that age clearly isn’t normal. asuka is desperate for attention in any way she can get it, even unhealthy and dangerous ways. rei is at the very least I has a weird pseudo-incestous enmeshment filled abusive relationship with her father, even if she's not actively being sexually abused. asuka is seeking support, rei is a grooming victim. these are not things that are flaws in their character the entire point of subverting the expectations is to show how those expectations are unhealthy to rei and asuka like. god.
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Crying while getting fucked. Hurt me. Invade me. I'm begging you to tear me apart, to see right through me, to know this hurts and not care because you know that I need it. Strangle me until I turn purple, until veins burst in my eyes. Take my hands ever so gently before snapping my fingers backwards. Punch me until I start spitting blood, until I can't get back up. Make me yell, screaming for you to stop. Mock me, rip out my hair, tell me you'll stab me in the heart if I don't stay silent like a good puppy.
Then hold me like the most precious of things. Tell me how much you love me. Touch me like you're scared of breaking me. Wipe away my tears and kiss my sore body inch my inch. Help me fall asleep in the warmth of your embrace.
Help me live a cathartic experience without having to put a bullet in my brain.
The purest form of love is destruction.
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wayne bailey was now fully aware that he was suffering with memory loss. a memory loss that was triggered by his seemingly untimely death. not that he could remember shit about his past. perhaps he was a coward for not instantly hitting the records to find out what exactly it was that he had done. however, he was good at following his gut and something told him it wouldn’t be good for anyone – ANYONE, if he remembered what he was and why he had started this in the first place. no, not remembering – keeping this new life was better for everyone’s sakes. right? being a traffic cop and writing up tickets for people all day got him a lot of grief, he didn’t need it in his personal time either. it was why when he felt eyes on him, he did his best to ignore it at first but he was on edge as it was. someone out there had killed him and he didn’t remember who or even why -- although the why was beginning to get easier to figure out. “do i know you?” turning at who he presumed was staring. “look, i’m on my down time so i’d appreciate if you left me the heck alone.” @walstarterblog
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