#and are upset these new ghosts haven’t introduced themselves yet

[theshadowrealmitself]

If I were Phantom I’d just crawl out of people’s tv’s like the girl from The Ring, especially if they were in the middle of a horror movie

Danny using that to mess with people he doesn’t really like, but going all out with a disguise to really creep them out, and making everyone in Amity think there’s more ghosts out there than there actually is

[ganymedesclock]

There’s so many interesting questions raised by Lace, though.

If we assume she’s the one who broke Hornet’s seal- which looks likely given the white fly that did so is the same as the ones that she’s ‘conducting’ when she talks to Hornet, and given that she knows Hornet arrived in a cage...

Her immediate willingness to end Hornet’s life to prevent her from reaching the top, even if she seems to bear Hornet little ill will / her saccharine trash talk doesn’t seem to be hiding genuine revulsion or hatred, would suggest she hardly did so for Hornet’s benefit.

So Lace is acting on, presumably, her own agenda here. The way she talks to Hornet certainly sounds like her decisions aren’t coming from anyone else’s, and musically, her being depicted as a conductor suggests her associates, as the demo mentioned she’s part of a group (presumably, Sharpe’s gang), might actually be subordinates who she is directing, much as she is those butterflies.

 Since a conductor is generally someone called upon to preside over a band with multiple individual players- but while they might all be looking at the sheet music, the conductor is the one they’re reading all their cues from. We don’t know if Sharpe et. al have overt musical motifs of their own, but, if Lace did free Hornet, that suggests a certain penchant for acting from afar by proxy- certainly the tactics of someone with subordinates and a sense of delegation.

But this all would seem to suggest Lace is in direct conflict with the Bell Cultists- who appear to be deeply entrenched in Pharloom, possibly being the soldiers of the citadel, and, thus, the kingdom. Since the bell cultists seemed to want to ferry Hornet all the way into Pharloom and right up to the top- the way her cage is positioned on the cart, she’s being presented like an offering, more a material good for delivery than a hostage or prisoner.

Lace makes it clear when she and Hornet meet face to face that she sees herself as sparing Hornet the agony of the top. To a certain degree, she seems to enjoy toying with Hornet- she’s gleeful when Hornet tells Lace to fight her- but she’s also actively saying that she thinks Hornet is better off dead than whatever fate the bell cultists seem to have intended her. Which would certainly explain the nature of Lace’s ‘help’ early on- she, didn’t exactly follow up once the cage fell to see if Hornet made it out, given she remarks on Hornet’s escape with surprise. Her objective there was to interrupt the delivery- make sure it didn’t reach its destination. Wherever else Hornet went was inconsequential to Lace, it seems.

While Lace in some ways seems a very deliberate echo of where Hornet was in the previous game- 

Right down to, if we presume Deep Docks is the second area unlocked after the Moss Grotto, then, Lace being the boss of Deep Docks would line up with Hornet being introduced as the boss of Greenpath, the second area of Hollow Knight-

-this certainly suggests she’s a bit more proactive. Hornet only attacked Ghost because she caught sight of them following her, and led them to an arena of her choosing to confront them and defeat them. Her only real conversation in the matter is to make her judgment of the situation clear, and then go for the kill.

Lace, conversely, has a larger game plan and the majority of her eye is on that. At this point, she’s not really considering Hornet a piece on the board, it seems- just an obstruction to remove. That’s probably going to change given Hornet thwarted her assassination attempt. But she’s proactive in setting this situation up- she’s unsurprised when Hornet arrives at the Deep Docks stage, which could suggest Lace was waiting for her, or it could suggest that Lace is simply not easily ruffled by new developments.

Either way, Lace seems like she’s trying to manipulate the situation a great deal, and she’s much more focused on some other enemy. Hornet at this point matters to her in the sense of making sure her enemy doesn’t get Hornet- she’s not really bothering to think that much about what Hornet herself wants, except a sort of backhanded insinuation that Hornet very much does not want the kingdom’s peak.

We really don’t know who’s up at the Citadel. Presumably, the ruler of the kingdom- possibly the “heart” spoken of in the poem, but I would presume not, because they hardly seem “bound in slumber and servitude” if they’re demanding timed deliveries of metal, coal, and the fealty of all of their workers. If they’re the one whose figurative voice is ringing through the endless, endless bells of the kingdom, then they have immense power here.

On the other hand, if they’re also driving the entire kingdom towards an objective, they may indeed be bound one way or another, and are actively working towards their freedom, the ‘waking’ spoken of in the poem.

Either way, someone in Pharloom has an enormous amount of power, is consuming the labor of countless subordinates, likely the nexus of the haunting that’s overtaken the kingdom since it’s working so charmingly in their favor. (Forge Daughter noting that all of her colleagues have lost themselves- but are still doing their jobs perfectly)

And Lace seems to be fighting that individual. Which is, interesting because much as Hornet doesn’t like Lace at this point, that dislike is basically reactionary. Hornet was pretty prickly and bellicose in Hollow Knight, and Silksong is exploring a whole new dimension on that- it’s pretty clear Hornet hates the idea of being threatened, bullied, or pressed into anything. She retaliates in an extremely destructive manner against the caravan as soon as she’s able to, attempts to threaten the Church Keeper on the idea that the other might be a threat even if Hornet can barely stand at the moment- and her dialogue towards Lace furthers this.

Lace threatened her, and Hornet outright says, “if you are my enemy,” to quit dancing around the point and put that shiny weapon of hers to use. Her only enmity towards Lace is just, “if you mean me badly, then act on it. if you don’t, don’t talk like you do.”

Which is one big reason I don’t think they’re going to stay enemies. Lace doesn’t hate Hornet because she doesn’t really care about Hornet. The only real opinion she has so far is that she likes the cut of Hornet’s jib. This seems to be a move Lace is making against a different opponent, where their actions mean everything to her, and Hornet’s actions haven’t really distinguished themselves yet.

Hornet doesn’t like Lace because Lace threatened her, and Hornet is obstinate in the face of threats, or perceived threats, or anything that seems like it might be dangerous. Honestly it just seems like Hornet is the equivalent of an angry cat. Nobody gets to touch her if they want to keep their fingers attached, unless she has personally decided it’s okay, and if you even come near her when she hasn’t signed off on it you’re on thin fuckin’ ice.

And ultimately, I feel like just from what we know tenuously about Lace and her enigmatic enemy, Hornet’s likelier to take Lace’s side than the others’. Hornet is the last person who’d sign off on something like Pharloom’s haunting and the way it appears to seize and overwrite the personalities of its afflicted. This is too much like the plague, that Hornet was actively willing to give her own life in the service of stopping.

Lace isn’t exactly spotless, here, but, she hasn’t crossed any lines Hornet herself has proven willing to cross in terms of a worthy cause. Hornet was willing to murder one of her half-siblings in cold blood, even when she finds the vessels’ plight upsetting and not something they deserve (she calls Hollow “birth-cursed”) just to avoid Ghost potentially unsealing the Radiance. So with a broader understanding, I don’t think Hornet would begrudge Lace trying to run her through.

But like... if Lace hates, presumably, Pharloom’s royalty, or whoever else is up there at the Citadel, then why? The obvious answer is fixing the haunting, but, if it’s as easy as just getting the drop on her enemy and making with the stabbing, Lace probably wouldn’t hesitate. It’s entirely likely, given what of the game’s themes have been revealed to us, that Lace is herself bound to a role in some way, which might explain why, unlike the very direct Hornet, Lace is a lot more cloak and dagger about her operations- she has no problem being candid to Hornet, because she was under the impression Hornet wouldn’t survive the conversation, and, besides which, a foreigner probably isn’t going to have the context to blab Lace’s movements to the right person to get Lace in trouble.

This is a lot of conjecture, obviously, but, that’s just one potential angle to take to this. What’s up with you, Lace. 

[jakattax]

You wanted a scary story, I’ll give you one

May I introduce you all to St. Botolph’s Church, Lincolnshire (aka Skidbrooke church, aka demon church)

A 13th century Anglican church near the market town of Louth in my home county. As you can see the church is disused, abandoned and was declared officially redundant in 1973.

Like all abandoned buildings, especially places of worship, ghost stories abound. The church is widely regarded as one of the most haunted locations in Lincolnshire with tales of phantoms, demons and satanic activity.

https://forums.digitalspy.com/discussion/1891120/the-most-haunted-derelict-demon-church-in-the-uk-has-been-cursed

https://www.google.co.uk/amp/s/www.bostonstandard.co.uk/news/offbeat/lincolnshire-s-top-8-terrifying-and-bizarre-paranormal-cases-1-8190903/amp

https://hauntedhistoryoflincolnshire.blogs.lincoln.ac.uk/surrounding-areas/skidbrooke/

https://www.google.co.uk/amp/s/www.louthleader.co.uk/news/experts-claim-church-is-paranormal-paradise-1-1015932/amp

https://youtu.be/mZdlERW6iJI

So the story goes is that a coven of satanists performed dark and profane rituals in the church in the 1970’s and 80’s and there was a resurgence in 2004 of animal sacrifices, occult symbology and evidence of fires being burned. Now any self respecting occultist will know that just because a pentagram is involved and a few chickens were sacrificed it does not make it satanic (well certainly not LaVeyan Satanism which was at its most popular in the 60’s and 70’s as killing an animal goes against the tenth Satanic Rule on Earth) and that the deeds could have been carried out by any magical practitioner. It just sounds more dramatic and spooky to blame the satanists.

Anyway.

Skidbrooke church has a very menacing and a very infamous reputation among pretty much every one in the county, it becomes a rite of passage almost to go there and check it out. And so I did.

It was perhaps 4 years ago around midsummer and my best friend Dom decided he wanted to drive to the church and see what ghosts and ghouls we would encounter. This was a point where my occult side was just one of my many eccentricities, I certainly wasn’t an open magician yet so I was asked to tag along. It was myself, Dominic, Laura, Yas and Sam.

The drive from Grimsby to Skidbrooke isn’t long , probably around 40 minutes through the gorgeous Lincolnshire wolds, just expansive farmlands and rolling hills of woodlands. Proper farmers country. I remember the drive profoundly well because I was desperate for the toilet, and these long country roads don’t really have lay-bys. I was genuinely on the verge of pissing myself and Dom refused to stop until I threatened to piss in his new car and he eventually found somewhere so I could relieve myself. Weird diverge i know but I need to recount the tale from memory.

So we got to the church, or should I say the gated road that leads to the church. It was twilight so the sky was that beautiful dark orange colour, just as it meets the pale blue. The sun was setting and darkness was coming. The thing about Skidbrooke church is that it’s in the middle of fielded land and the only way to it is to park by the road and walk down a small country road to it. The road towards the church is gated off so driving there is not an option. The fields were wide and open so the sound of the wind and rustling of nearby trees were quite loud. Sound carried very well. It was very children of the corn, as in the grass in this field was huge. Very daunting, very atmospheric.

So off we went. There was definitely a sense of fear among us all, but we were quite jovial about it all, it was thrilling, fun almost. Dom and Sam are sceptics, they were adamant nothing was going to happen. Yas and Laura weren’t really 100% comfortable, especially when I was boasting that I was going to stir the supernatural pot. In all honesty I had no intention to perform a ritual as I didn’t have any tools or books with me to do so, I was just trying to spook my friends.

The thing about the church grounds is that they’re well kept and groomed. It’s a grade I protected building so I imagine the national heritage employs some poor bugger just to keep the grounds tidy. And it was a functioning church until the 70’s so it’s only respectful to keep the graves nice and clean. It was quite an awesome sight to be honest, the building is quite beautiful. Dom and Sam weren’t so much afraid of ghosts and Demons but more if the church was used by homeless people who might take umbrage to us poking around. We swept the graveyard before entering, just to make sure no one was around who’d fuck with us.

And we were indeed all alone. And so we entered the church proper.

An abandoned church is a bizarre thing. No pews, no altar, no stained glass, just a large bowel of rotting stone and pigeon shit. That’s what hit us, just the smell of dirt and decay. The only features that remained was the heavy oak doors, everything else was gone. From a place that is steeped in centuries worth of devotion and joy is now just a stone skeleton, forgotten in the middle of a field in England.

What struck me probably more than my friends was the heavy atmosphere of the place. Not saying necessarily negative but certainly a strong, musky and intense heavy energy attached to it. We explored the building briefly but honestly it was just a big empty room. It was getting progressively darker and I think we were all starting to spook ourselves a little.

So me being me, I rallied the troops and said I was going to call out. Now I applied no serious occult method here, I just gathered my friends and did the whole “I call beyond the veil, make a noise if there are spirits present” routine. I specified that if Spirits were present they should make themselves known by knocking on the oak doors. I added some flourishes to my calls, adding the names of Malach Ha’Mavet (an angel of death) and some other terms just for the dramatic effect. In hindsight very silly of me to do, but I just wanted a thrill, a bit of a spook. The worse thing was is that it was enough for Yas and Laura and they wanted out. Very douchey thing of me to do really, just to scare them for the sake of it.

We decided it was probably best to leave now. We were all realising that we’re in the middle of nowhere in the dark and me being that weird occultist was trying to commune with the dead (again in actuality I did no real magic here, bit of foolery) and me realising that I’ve scared my friends I didn’t feel too proud of myself so we go.

Our pace is significantly faster as we go back down the road to the car, now it is fully dark so we’re relying on our phones to light the road. Sam walks ahead with the girls, me and dom walk slower behind as we smoke. We decide to look back on the church, and it looked just damn ominous now under cover of night. And that’s when we saw something, or perhaps someone.

On the small belfry tower to the left of the picture, standing on top of it was the distinct figure of a dark shrouded man. It was faint to see with the figure being black against a dark sky and it was very small but it was there. It’s horribly cliche to see a dark hooded figure but that’s what we saw. Hard to define as we were a distance away but it moved and swayed in the wind violently. We thought it was a flag but as you can see there is no flagpole.

It’s fair to say we lost our shit and pelted it to keep up with Sam and the girls. We told them what we saw and they thought we were fucking with them. We were all now running back to the gate and the car. I did look back a few times but couldn’t make anything out. Back to the car and were out of there to a local pub to calm our nerves.

Was it a ghost? Was it a flag or natural phenomenon? I don’t know. It could entirely be a trick of the mind, and it could have easily been a ghost upset at petulant kids poking around his church. Or it could have been demonic, a force stirred up by the sorcery which profaned the hallowed ground. Even though I’m a practising magician and I’m use to stirring up spirits to some tangible form, it’s still chilling to see something out of the blue. Did I unintentionally summon something with my pseudo-magical calls?

In all honesty I put this one to a case of psychology. I think due to the atmosphere, the fame of the building, the situation we put ourselves in we were simply seeing things the mind wanted us to see. We went looking for s ghost and we got one. In the darkness the mind plays tricks, let alone when your in the darkness in an abandoned ‘satanic’ church with a history of haunts and black magic. Yet also as an occultist and magician I must acknowledge that places do indeed carry on the scars of magical influence, a church is such holy and sacred ground that it inherently carries vast potency, especially a church that has been there for 700 years. And i must acknowledge that “satanist” or not, groups of people do gather at the church and vandalise it with pentagrams and carry out rituals, so it is soaked in the supernatural.

Whatever we saw, if we saw anything at all was more than enough to scare away. I haven’t been back to Skidbrooke, but being a more responsible, learned and all around proficient magician makes me want to. Not to try and stir anything up, just to investigate with a more clear head.

Want to come with me?

[fyeahfantasticfour]

Fantastic Four: The Basics -- Part 1: The Birth of the Marvel Universe

We start at the beginning...of, well, everything. Fantastic Four v1 #1 is one of the most important comics ever published -- it's the comic that kicked off the Marvel Universe, and it revolutionized the broader comics industry by giving us, for the first time, heroes that behaved like real people. They bickered and fought, they had flaws, they didn’t always do the right thing, they loved and lost, they failed miserably and then picked themselves up and tried again. They grew and changed and learned from their experiences. I know that nowadays this is fairly normal in comics -- we complain if characters remain too static, if they’re too stilted, if they don’t feel real. But before Fantastic Four v1 #1 was published, no one had ever thought that it was possible for heroes to behave like actual people or for their lives to resemble those of their readers. They were perfect. The ideal. What everyone strove to be. And then came Ben, Reed, Sue, and Johnny, and they changed everything.

Fantastic Four v1 #1 opens as a monster story where the FF, our heroes, are the monsters. Well, really it’s a story that puts their apparent monstrousness into question by showing us that a) it is the result of a tragic accident and b) that they have the best and noblest of intentions. That’s the question this comic asks, over and over -- what is it that makes someone a monster? Is it entirely dependent upon their appearance, upon the possession of bodies that do not conform to the norm?  Is it that they are capable of feats your ordinary human is not? Is that enough to make someone a monster? And if they are neither monster nor ordinary human, then what are they? Is there a third space of possibility that the FF can occupy? The comic shows us, throughout the course of this story, that the FF are, in fact, heroes, specifically because they have selflessly chosen to help those around them rather than harm them. What makes the FF heroes rather than monsters, thus, is their choice to be good -- their behavior is all that matters, not their appearance or their abilities. 

Cut for length.

But when you start reading FF v1 #1, it’s not clear at all that the FF are going to turn out to be the heroes and not menacing villains. They look like they might be villains. They even initially act like villains. Everyone around them reacts with horror and calls them monsters. I think it’s easy to miss that because we are looking at this from a 21st-century perspective -- we all know who the FF are. They’re heroes. They’re explorers. They’re a family. We know this. Readers in 1961 who were opening up this comic for the first time would not have known. And we can see that doubt, that ambiguity, even in the first page -- Reed shoots off a flare that terrifies the people of Central City, California (which is where the FF were initially based). The police begin talking about mass hysteria over rumored alien invasions. Reed is introduced as a shadowy, nameless figure -- we’re told he’s the leader of the FF, but there’s no real explanation just yet of what the FF are. We know that this nameless man is capable of achieving the impossible -- he fired off a flare over the city and it magically spelled out the words “The Fantastic Four,” and we’re told twice that he’s strange, but that’s it.

We’re introduced to Sue next, and she seems normal. Innocuous. Unthreatening. She’s having tea with a friend! She’s dressed in pink and she seems very petite and pretty and feminine. 

And then she vanishes into thin air. 

Her friend reacts to her disappearance not with wonder but with terror. And Sue’s words -- “There can be no turning back!” -- are no less ominous than the strange words in the sky. The people outside of her friend’s home find an invisible Sue no less terrifying than her friend. They even compare her to a ghost, a creature of myth and horror. 

Sue then, while still invisible, gets into an empty cab -- which the driver doesn’t even notice -- and terrifies him by waving money in his face when she’s ready to get out. He behaves as though he’d just seen a ghost too and flees in abject terror.

Ben is introduced next -- he’s at a men’s clothing store, completely covered by a heavy coat, hat, and glasses, and trying to order clothing. He’s complaining that everything is much too small for him when the salesman sees Reed’s signal in the sky. Ben strips off his coat and reveals that he doesn’t resemble a human being at all. He’s a rocky orange monster. The salesman faints in terror, and policemen, horrified, begin firing at Ben, so Ben ducks into a sewer. 

When he emerges from the sewer, a car plows right into him...and everyone in the street flees from him, screaming in terror. The Central City Police’s Riot Squad are called to the scene to stop Ben -- and they show up fully armed and ready to hurt him, but Ben is long gone. I think it’s interesting that the police chief says that there are “scattered reports of monsters walking the streets,” because the only people we have seen who could conceivably be those monsters are Ben and Sue. They are the monsters. Sue just as much as Ben.

Next, we’re introduced to Johnny, who, like Sue, seems totally normal at first. He’s a teenage boy working on a car with a friend in a local service station. Smiling, joking...he seems entirely normal. He mentions that there’s only one thing in the world that he likes more than cars, and I think we’re meant to infer that he’s referring to girls, but he isn’t. That becomes obvious when the boy he’s with says there’s a four in the sky, and Johnny, much to his friend’s horror, bursts into flame and flies away, while explaining that this. This is what he likes more than cars. 

Johnny flies off to meet Ben, Reed, and Sue, but the people of Central City don’t know what to make of him. Is he a comet? Is he something human? Is he somewhere in between? They’re horrified, so they call the police, and at this point the governor is fed up and decides to call in the National Guard, which deploys fighter jets against little teenage Johnny. Johnny does his best to warn them away, but of course they can’t hear him, and of course Johnny doesn’t have enough control over his flame just yet to keep from melting their planes. They manage to eject out of their planes, but they also manage to shoot off a missile at Johnny before he does, and Johnny, thinking it’s a nuclear bomb, is sure he’s dead until Reed plucks the missile from the sky and throws it into the ocean. And then he saves Johnny’s life, which is the first heroic action any of the FF have taken.

But still we don’t know who they are. We haven’t even been told Reed’s name yet at this point. We don’t find out until the next page, when we finally get the FF’s origin story. That’s when we learn that he’s Dr. Reed Richards and that he planned a mission into space in order to win the space race, a mission that Ben warned him against because they hadn’t adequately researched cosmic rays (Ben’s reasons for objecting have changed drastically over the years but the fact that he did try to warn Reed and was right when Reed was wrong hasn’t). Reed refused to listen, believing he knew better and that they would be safe, despite the fact that nearly everyone around him warned against it. 

But that brings me to what’s most remarkable and revolutionary about this origin story, namely that the Fantastic Four acquired their powers because of Reed’s error in judgment, because he was reckless and arrogant, because he refused to heed Ben’s warnings, because he thought that he knew better than everyone else. Because, and this is the crucial bit, he is a flawed human being, and he is capable of making mistakes. This type of origin wasn’t possible until this moment, when superheroes were at last allowed to be less than perfect ideals we should all aspire to imitate. The FF’s origin is the humbling of Reed Richards, where he learns in the most painful, traumatizing way possible that he doesn’t know everything, that even he, for all his tremendous intelligence, can neither control nor predict the world around him, that he may be capable of much beyond the abilities of your average human but even he has his limits, and the price he paid for that lesson was higher than anyone should ever have to pay. Reed’s origin story set the paradigm for so many of the very flawed Marvel heroes who followed in the FF’s wake -- for the likes of Stephen Strange, Tony Stark, and Peter Parker. Their mistakes, their bad choices, the direct result of flaws in their personalities, led them to learn the impossibly hard lessons they needed in order to rise above and become heroes, which represents their attempt to take responsibility for their mistakes and become better people. But none of them would have been possible without Reed.

And look at the way the rocket crash is framed in the actual comic -- Reed, by the time they land, is mostly grateful they survived at all. Sue is upset because she believes their voyage to the stars was a failure, and all of Reed’s hard work was for nothing. This isn’t a moment of triumph. They are all shaken and devastated. This is a failure. Reed failed and misled them and put all their lives in danger because of his arrogance, and that’s a mistake for which he subsequently dedicated his life to taking responsibility. 

Reed also says that they may have survived the crash, but they aren’t safe yet. The cosmic rays doubtlessly affected them, they just don’t know how yet. And then Sue starts to turn invisible, and everyone is horrified. No one knows if her invisibility is permanent. (Lee and Kirby originally wanted Sue to permanently be invisible, so that she’d have to wear a mask every time she went out in public.)

This isn’t wonder. It’s horror. They are just as horrified at themselves and what their new bodies are capable of as the denizens of Central City would be later. They see themselves as monsters too.

Reed hugs Sue tightly and comforts her after that, grateful only that she’s all right, but Ben, ever the perceptive one, points out that she really isn’t. She could turn invisible again. And perhaps that time she will never become visible again. And if Sue’s body has been changed by the cosmic rays, everyone else’s likely is also. Reed snaps at this point, angrily telling Ben that he didn’t cause the flight to fail on purpose. Ben is furious and they get into a fight...but as they do, Ben’s anger triggers his transformation into the Thing, and Sue is horrified. She begs Reed to run away, because Ben has become a monstrous Thing. Ben becomes even more furious at Sue’s desire to protect Reed from him because he can’t understand why Sue loves Reed and not him. She’s in love with the wrong man, he’s sure of it. While trying to subdue Ben, Reed stretches his body around him, and that’s when it’s clear that he’s changed too. “Oh, Reed...Reed...not you, too!” Sue laments tearfully. Johnny, horrified, cries out that they’ve both turned into monsters, right before he lights on fire as well. 

Johnny’s experience of his powers is by far the most positive so far -- but notice that at this point they are triggered whenever he becomes excited. He has very poor control over them, and the fear of potentially harming someone came to weigh on him greatly.

So at this point, the FF narrowly survived a rocket crash, which symbolized also the destruction of Reed’s life work. Reed was terribly, terribly wrong about the safety of his rocket ship, and as a result, his body and those of his family were changed irrevocably without their consent in ways that they all experienced as horrifying and monstrous. I think it’s very much to their credit that they did not give up immediately, and that their initial reaction to becoming more powerful than any human who had ever lived was not a desire to conquer the world -- they all instantly knew that they had to help humanity. And this is what makes them heroes rather than monsters: the choice to use their powers for good rather than evil.

Later on, writers would return to this moment and complicate Reed’s motives for proposing that they use their powers to help humanity. Reed knew that their lives would be in danger from the government and the public at large, who would doubtlessly (as they, in fact, did) fear the FF, and that this was the only way to ensure his family’s safety. The FF’s celebrity was Reed’s deliberate creation, meant to function as a shield that allowed Reed to protect his family to make up for having failed to in this moment.

The final third of the book, in which the FF voyage to Monster Isle, similarly differentiates between the FF and the Mole Man. Reed explains that he called the other members of the FF to his lab because he has realized that someone is stealing nuclear power plants across the globe. He tells them that he’s figured out where it’s coming from -- Monster Isle, which Ben dismisses as a fairy tale. They go anyway. The moment they land, they are attacked by a three-headed monster, and Reed catches it in a lasso made out of his arm and tosses it into the sea. The ground beneath his and Johnny’s feet collapses, and they end up in a tunnel beneath the Isle. They’re knocked out, and when they awaken, they’re with the Mole Man, who quickly begins to tell them his origin story. He was mocked and rejected all his life, and thus he decided to reject humanity and become king of a mythical kingdom beneath the Earth.

But a terrible accident, a fall through the earth which culminated in a terrible crash, one that parallels the FF’s rocket crash, ended up costing him his ability to see — his body, like those of the FF, was modified without his consent as the result of a crash. He managed, nevertheless, to conquer most of Subterranea. And now he is planning to wipe out humanity in retaliation for their cruelty. The Mole Man, thus, is monstrous not because of his appearance, but because he has chosen to use the great power he’s accumulated to conquer, hurt, and kill. But the Mole Man’s behavior following his acquisition of great power likewise demonstrates the path the FF chose not to take — that of the selfish accumulation of power and wealth rather than a desire to selflessly help those around him.

The FF manage to escape from the Mole Man by sealing the entrance to the Isle against the monsters the Mole Man sent after them, and then, the Mole Man, in response, blows up the Isle and seals off any possibility for communication between Subterranea and the surface world. The comic ends with Reed acknowledging that there’s no place for the Mole Man on the surface world and wishing him well by hoping that he finds peace in Subterranea. This issue doesn’t do much to problematize the fact that, based on the public’s reaction to the FF at the beginning of this issue, there doesn’t seem to be much of a place for the FF themselves in the human world — acceptance is something for which they will have to struggle.

[thatdragonsdrabbles]

[This is a continuation off of this ask. It was a fun piece to write! And I'm going to have fun with this one too!]

FellSwap!Papyrus & FellSwap!Sans (aka Swapfell-Red), still haunted

Sans hadn't thought that their house would get another individual in it, let alone keep them... but he admitted, at least in his head, that he liked their once-uninvited guest.

They were strange, no doubt. They didn't speak in full sentences, or in many words at all. He had never seen them, only seen what they manipulated. Both of these factors made it more difficult to learn more about them, which frustrated him. How was he supposed to introduce them to anyone who visited? Or to describe them in conversations?

But, despite the inconveniences they caused, they also solved many others. He didn't worry about anyone breaking into their house anymore, after Alphys had come in unannounced and gotten assaulted. He wasn't too happy about the new dent in a rectangular pan, but he supposed it was better than getting blood on the carpet. He could always count on them to be conscious. They were also eager to help around the house, which was useful when his brother tried to leave messes or Sans wanted a kitchen helper.

Overall, the small Co-Captain of the Royal Guard could tolerate this guest. As long as they didn't cross into his bedroom, and continued to be helpful instead of a nuisance.

The former of these rules was broken in quite the unexpected way.

He didn't often remember his dreams, but he definitely remembered this one. It was one where he woke up in his room to find a glowing orb. Just... floating there. He tried batting it away, blowing on it, even using his greatest magic attack, but it wouldn't leave!

“You will exit my personal quarters,” he finally told it, voice low. “If you do not, I will be forced to eradicate you as the intruder you are.” It was the voice he used for those attempting to deny him the respect he deserved.

At last, the light flickered, and then vanished. In its place, was a small rabbit.

Sans stared at the rabbit.

The rabbit stared back.

When he lifted his arm, its ears flicked upwards. He paused mid-summoning. Had it squeaked?

“Please no!”

No, that wasn't a squeak.

“A talking rabbit,” he muttered. He hadn't had this dream in years. After all, adults don't read Peek-A-Boo With Fluffy Bunny. His arm returned to its crossed position as he glared at it. “State your business, Fluffy Bunny.”

“Uh... well.” It would've been strange to see a storybook character come to life outside of a dream. There are rabbit monsters, yes, but only one Fluffy Bunny. Said bunny sat back on its hind legs in a rather uncomfortable pose. Was it trying to stand like him? “I wanted to... introduce myself.”

“I know who you are,” he cut in. “Fluffy Bunny, the main character of a children's storybook.” Did it think he was an idiot?

“Wha... no, no! That's because of your perceptions!” The way it waved its paws was amusing, in a way. Such a fragile creature trying to be so forceful. “I just didn't want to alarm you!”

“...very well, Not Fluffy Bunny, then who are you?”

“I... am the one who's been living with you two for a... a while.” It had to be referring to him and his brother. But of course, he hadn't housed a rabbit, monster or otherwise. The only individual it could be referring to is...

“You claim you are the invisible trespasser, who has made themselves at home here.”

The ears flicked up, then lied flat against its head. “I'm... still a trespasser?” It seemed to falter, looking rather upset for a rabbit.

Sans considered this. This was most definitely a dream, so he doubted any of this was real. But if it were, he disliked the thought of the banshee returning to their troublesome ways over a perceived insult.

“...perhaps not entirely. You have been quite the useful addition to our household. However,” he continued when it perked up at the praise, “this does not grant you permission to break the house rules!”

“The—the rules?”

“You are in. My room.”

The rabbit squeaked, then flung itself at his feet. “I'm sorry! But—but this was the only way I could figure out how to talk to either of you!” It quivered, careful not to actually touch him even now. He didn't really like watching his childhood hero curled at his feet.

So he grabbed it, holding it up by the scruff of its neck. “Then talk,” he commanded.

“A-ah, p... please, just... just put me down and I'll, I'll talk, I'll tell you whatever you want to know! Please, please—”

Thump.

Sans narrowed his eyes as the rabbit scurried out of arm's reach. Why were its little paws reaching for its neck? Surely it knew it couldn't properly grasp it. That at least proved whatever it was normally had a reasonable reach of its own. Perhaps it was a dead human? A ghost with limbs? Though the ghosts in the Underground have never had issues becoming visible. He would get his answers.

“What do you look like, when you aren't impersonating a storybook character?”

Finally giving up on its gesture, it had a good shake and started to clean one of its ears. “I don't look like... much of anything,” it admitted. Its gaze was elsewhere. That won't do.

“Yet you have influence on the physical plane.” The tap of his shoe brought its attention back to him. Him tapping a bone on his arm ensured that he kept it. “You must have a form behind it.”

Its nose twitched. It was not cute.

“It's... It's not really a physical form, like how you and your brother are. It's... I'm there. I exist. But, I also don't, exactly?” The bone tapped more loudly, and it cowered. “I-I... what I mean is—”

“How did you come across our home?”

“I found myself inside of it, and I—”

“What caused you to pester us?” When the rabbit clammed up, Sans pushed, “Why can't you always speak with me? Is barging into my dreams really the only way?”

The bombardment of questions had been too much. The rabbit had crouched lower and lower, until suddenly, it released an ear-splitting scream. He clutched his skull, despite not having ears, the high and shrill noise piercing like a rail spike. It sounded like a child's last cry for help.

Then a burst of light filled the room, blinding him. And he woke up, for real, sitting straight up in bed. The rabbit was not there, of course. Because it was a dream.

Nothing but a dream.

.

“Papyrus.”

“Yeah, bro?” The taller skeleton, leaning against the wall, cocked his head. “'Sup?” He could tell this was A Conversation.

Surprisingly, Sans didn't immediately dive into it. That is, there was a second of hesitation before he began, “Have you had any sleep at all?” It was enough of a pause to catch Papyrus' attention. Something had thrown his brother off-guard.

“Some, yeah. Why?”

“Good! You need proper rest every day, to be prepared for the next!” He tapped a bone on Papyrus' arm in warning, before folding his hands behind him again. The makeshift baton began a soft, steady tempo. “...now. Have you had any dreams?”

“I only dream 'f my great bro, o' course.” Papyrus accepted his punishment for teasing his brother, another whap of the baton. “Somethin' up? Been 'avin' bad dreams again?”

“Of course not. Don't be ridiculous.”

Yeah, there was something up. To be fair, Papyrus wasn't fibbing. He just wasn't going to tell him that his dream was of him having to eradicate his brother's doppelganger, when it tried to cajole him into something. The details were fuzzy... but he remembered a bright light, and something suddenly taking Sans' face for their own. The dream ended the moment after he disposed of them, and it didn't return the next night, so he had put it out of his mind. Hope he's not 'avin' THAT kinda dream.

“...anyway! Where is our hidden guest? I have a new recipe ready to concoct, but they haven't responded to my summons!”

“Y'mean, you shoutin' at them like yer maid,” Papyrus chuckled. “Yeah, wonder why.” Interesting subject change.

“Don't get smart with me! In fact, you are now my kitchen helper! Come along, brother!”

Shrugging, Papyrus fell into step behind him. “Eh. Suitable punishment.”

...it was kind of weird, though. Normally, the poltergeist would show signs of their presence: A counter cleaned with their designated rag, or another tally on the “Successful Dishes Washed By Guest” sticky note. Thinking back, Papyrus realized it had actually been a few days since he'd really been sure of their presence. Sure, it hadn't felt like they had up and vanished, but they also hadn't... really been present, either. But he didn't want to bring it up while Sans was busy cooking. He knew how his brother reacted to having his groove thrown off, especially with their “guest.” Neither had admitted it yet, but they kind of liked having them around.

Hope they come back soon.

.

Sans was always punctual, in every aspect of his life. He woke up, left the house, came back, and fell asleep at the same time every day. There was a set schedule that he followed to the millisecond. Others could use him to set their clocks. He would prefer they do so, because he hated tardiness.

But could he call the poltergeist tardy if he had never confirmed an appointment with them? And if their only clock was the one in the house?

He was ten whole seconds late in falling asleep, scrutinizing his room for the seventh night in a row. Their guest had been quiet, only opening two cabinets and moving three utensils in that timespan, and he was hitting his limit.

“I demand you speak with me,” he said aloud to the room, before lying down to sleep proper. He really was a marvel.

Instead of his room or an inky abyss, Sans' dream took place in a large open field. Delicate flowers and soft grass spanned the distance to the horizon, with a circular clearing at the center where he stood. As he was again aware of his own slumber, he did not try to look around and find an explanation for his presence here.

He took a seat, cross-legged with hands braced on his knees, and closed his sockets.

And waited.

Eventually, he opened his eyes to find a glowing ball of light before him. Instead of snapping or threatening, he gave a short gesture, and waited some more. It took a bit of time... but eventually, the ball dissipated, and the rabbit had returned.

“...hi.”

What an anticlimactic greeting. His sockets narrowed for a moment.

“...you are the poltergeist, correct? Not Fluffy Bunny?”

It began cleaning its ears again, clearly nervous. “Yes... I am.”

“You have been avoiding us.”

“N-no, not... avoiding.” The longer he stared, the more the rabbit drooped. Finally, it turned its head and mumbled. “Not entirely... I, um... I only have so much energy, and this... this takes a lot out of me.”

“Then we only have so much time to speak like this,” Sans deduced.

When the rabbit... poltergeist... When the rabbit-geist nodded, he mirrored the gesture, before glancing down into his lap. A paper had appeared there, his own handwriting upon it. Bah, I don't need this! He had everything memorized.

But it caught their attention. “What is that?”

Begrudgingly, Sans flipped the paper around for them to see. They cautiously approached, until their beady eyes could read for themself what he had written there. “Guest... List?” Their head cocked, ears slanted to the side. It definitely wasn't cute.

“A list about my guest,” he corrected, earning their gaze on his face. “I know almost nothing about you. You haunt my home, you assist in chores, and you ward off intruders. That is all.”

The rabbit-geist looked back to the paper. Nose twitching. Then, they glanced at its paws.

“...um...”

Scoffing, Sans returned the list to his perspective, now clutching a pen. If only real life was this convenient. He pointed it at the rabbit-geist. “I will fill it out. You will talk.”

They didn't seem too enthused, but they were definitely obligated to sit there with him and weather his interrogation. But with a proper list in mind and some time to mull this over, Sans did a much better job in pacing the questions to ensure efficiency. It went much better, thanks to that. His brother might poke fun at how meticulous and exacting he could be, but he couldn't deny that it streamlined many processes that would've been agony otherwise.

There might have been many things Sans couldn't learn about the rabbit-geist. Either they didn't know or couldn't remember (the exact nature of their being was still strange to them), or they were too uncomfortable to share for the time being. I hate not having all of the answers.

Despite this, it wasn't a total loss of a dream. Having it set in such a peaceful, quiet place let him enjoy the stretches of silence that spanned between them in between the tougher questions. Flowers had never held his attention for long, but the way they swayed in the distance, slowly becoming like waves on an earthy ocean...

Once the last line was filled, he rolled up the paper to watch it vanish. The contents would be ingrained into his memory, because he had never forgotten an important detail and he wasn't going to start now.

The rabbit-geist looked up at him, eyes a bit dull. Perhaps it truly did take a lot out of them.

“I have to leave soon,” they whispered, confirming this. Their head dipped once, as if exhausted, before their little furry forehead pressed against his knee.

Sans stilled.

They were barely audible, but he heard them anyway. “Can... can you stay with me... until the end?”

He stared, examining the vulnerable, softness of their borrowed form. Though he didn't agree to this, they took the lack of denial as confirmation—or they were simply too tired to move away. Glancing at the shifting flowers, dancing in a silent breeze, he chose to simply sit there until wakefulness returned to him.

Of course, he woke before sunlight had a chance to peek in through his window. It was the brightness of a full moon that trespassed instead, painting the walls of his bedroom. For a moment, he thought he saw something beside his bed.

It was gone before he finished sitting up.

Staring at the spot, Sans was nearly a minute late in preparing for his day. It was quite unlike him, but no one was witness to his lapse. So he was able to mull over their last words without interruption, the ones mumbled as if he wasn't there.

“...always hate... end comes too fast..”

[totallyrealhoroscopesdaily]

9/7/2018 Horoscope

Aries: There’s only one bottle left in your house, and that’s not enough, but your head is pounding and you feel wrong and you need a drink, so you chug it down. There’s a sharp sting of disappointment in your chest as you do, thinking of Dea’s scornful parting words, but you ignore it. You’re a bundle of lonely, isolated misery, what’s a bit of self-disappointment added in?

Taurus: You’re resting with Tinap, laying out on the grass. Your head is on their chest, listening to the ticking of their newly mechanical heart. It keeps a de-de-dun de-de-dun rhythm, a 3 beat heartbeat. It’s so pretty, you love listening to it. Tinap’s face is frozen in their overly wide smile. Such a nice day.

Gemini: It’s strange, being back. You’re you, but you also aren’t, because you’re both yous. You keep looking around your apartment and it looks the same as it always has, and it’s as familiar to you as the back of your hand, yet it’s also brand new to your eyes. Same with your memories, you keep looking back and seeing them in new ways. You remember having red hair and trying with all your might to hold onto something broken, and there’s a new part of you that says you should have just let that go. You remember having green hair and tearing through your neighbor’s apartment in a full-scale invasion due to a baseless suspicion, and there’s a new part of you that thinks that was awfully rash. You wonder if you can still see ghosts and all of you hopes you can’t, though for various different reasons.

Cancer: You finish some work and send it forward to your partner, then realize that you haven’t spoken to him in ages. Not unless it was for business. If you’re honest, you can’t remember when the last time you two hung out just for the hell of it was. If you’re even more honest, you’re desperate to have someone to talk to again, even if it means trying to revive a practically-dead friendship.

Leo: Fira looks scared, you want to comfort her. You try to step forward, smile on your face, but she steps back. Your face falls and you tilt your head. With a soft voice, like you’re trying to calm a wild animal, you ask her what’s wrong. She shakes her head, says this is wrong. You ask what’s wrong. You, you’re wrong, you aren’t here, this isn’t you, this is all wrong. She’s shaking her head and you take the opportunity to take another step forward, you don’t know what’s got her so upset. You’re here, you’re you, who else would you be? Now, she should really stop fighting it, it means no harm. She’s scrunched her eyes closed and looks like she’s about to turn and run, she snaps that it’s controlling you, that you aren’t saying this, that it’s saying this, it’s making you say this, and you step forward again while she can’t see. You croon gently to her, you aren’t being made to say anything, you’re saying this. You step forward and you’re close enough to touch her, so you cup her face in your hands and her eyes fly open. Everything’s fine, it just wants to look at her, she just needs to stop fighting, isn’t she tired? Your voice is sweet as honey and she’s trying to stammer out something, but her voice seems to have fled. It’s hands that aren’t start to appear, start to reach for her, grab her, grab pieces of her to pull away and examine. She tenses and you get the feeling she’s about to jump away, but you hold her firm. She’s sagging and frayed from her struggle, and she whimpers as more hands that aren’t pull more shining pieces away from her, taking them off to twist and turn and examine, and that’s wrong, she shouldn’t whimper, your Fira doesn’t whimper, especially when there’s nothing to be afraid of. You shush her, comforting mummers falling from your lips. She just needs to relax, just let it happen, everything is okay, it’ll put it all back when it’s done, it just wants to look, she’s okay. You mummer and croon and shush her, gently yet firmly holding her face, watching as the hands that aren’t take more and more pieces away, watching her be disassembled, until there’s nothing left for you to hold and they take the last piece of her away. You smile and fall backwards into it’s embrace. Everything is okay.

Virgo: You have the radio on in the background as you run your shop. It’s playing some pop song and you’re smiling at costumers. You’re having a good day and you don’t want to examine that because you’ll ruin it if you examine it. You just want to enjoy this. Pablo comes in, and he looks uncomfortable, worried, and he opens his mouth to tell you something, asks if you’ve heard the news- You cut him off, saying not today. Please, not today, you want to enjoy today with your flower biscuits and your happy pop songs. He pauses, and a range of emotions plays over his face, then sighs, he’ll leave it ‘til tomorrow. You have a good day.

Libra: Lambab comes by and drops his kid off. You ask how things have been with him, he says they’ve been better and worse, what with people suddenly taking more notice of magicals. You say sorry, but he tells you not to be, this is good, it just has to get worse before it gets better.

Scorpio: I think that people write about their days and their thoughts in journals, but how do I do that?I’m pretty sure that most people start off with “Dear Diary” or “Dear Journal”, but then again, most people are writing in an actual journal, not on some weird program that installed itself on their computer. Should I introduce myself? Would that be weird? How do I start with this thing?

Sagittarius: You ask the priest about his goddess, about what she demands. He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, then takes another slow drag of his sugarsmoke. He breathes out, letting the smoke float unformed, and says that her price is the same as her rewards: secrets. She only asks for you to whisper to her your deepest thoughts, your desires, and she collects and holds each as a treasure. She’s more like an older sister or a confident than a goddess. You say there has to be more than that. He shrugs, says that the more faithful, the more loving of her followers leave a place at the table for her, set a plate of food there for her to enjoy and when she doesn’t show, give it to someone in need instead of eating it themselves. She’s a goddess of shadows and secrets, she doesn’t ask for much. You know and don’t know why you’re so curious.

Capricorn: You aren’t really sure what to do with yourself. Well, you know one way to fix that. You sit up, suddenly filled with a stubborn, stupid sort of determination. If you can’t find a story here, can’t find a meaning, then you’ll go searching somewhere else.

Aquarius: You hurt, and you know why. If there’s one thing you can understand, it’s love. You love Suzy, and you love Linda, and you think you were starting to love, or maybe you already loved, this town, and that makes this, everything, feel so much worse. You follow your routine, but avoid teatime with Linda and dinner with Suzy. Suzy keeps trying to catch your eye, trying to find something to say, while you’re in her gym, but you’re angry and hurt and you avoid her.

Pisces: You sing to your plants, to your siblings, as you care for them. Little Rose is trying her best to help, but she can mostly only water them at her age. She’s better with the plants than Marie, though, who is sitting against the shady side of your cottage, reading from a picture book. You can see her mouthing the words from where you are, trying to decipher their unfamiliar language. She looks up and you smile at her. She smiles wide back. At least that seems to be universal.

[saihara-shuichi-imagines]

Counting Down the Days: SaiMomo

Hey hey! Ships are allowed, right? Can i get saimomo angst fic if it's not too much of a bother? Please ignore this if the requests are closed though Thank you ^^ your works are great!!

I have plenty of healthy Angst for your face - Mod Korekiyo

"So why don’t people like pineapple on pizza?” The Astronaut asked, talking the shy boy’s ear off. He didn’t mind. The detective liked hearing his mindless ramblings and found it cute. He’d never admit it though. Of course not. Momota Kaito was a ladies man. He had a new girl almost every week and Shuichi Saihara was just always there... on the sidelines. He smiled weakly when being introduced to the latest bimbo that thought she was good enough to even be worth Kaito’s time. While it angered him, he had to admit that it made him insecure. His unrequited loved burned a hole in his heart. He couldn’t deny it. That goofy grin. That fire in his heart anytime he spoke. Shuichi Saihara was in love. “Do you like pineapples on pizza?” Momota asked suddenly, snapping Shuichi out of his thoughts. He blushed, upset that he spent that time ignoring his best friend. “I-I haven’t tried it.” He lied, not wanting to accidentally offend him. “Man, You don’t know what you’re missing... Anyway, I really came over to tell you somethin’.” Kaito switched gears, scratching the back of his head and shuffling foot to foot. “I..I got into this program that wants to send me to space.” Shuichi grinned, thoughtlessly hugging the man in front of him. “Kaito that’s great!” “Yeah.... yeah.. I have to leave the country in 3 days.”  “...What?” Shuichi didn’t break his hug. He just stayed in that embrace, frozen by what he just. He felt his throat close, uncomfortable with the thought of him leaving. “Okay.” He said lowly. “...When did you find out?” “Last night... You’re the first person I told. I-I’m sorry.”

When Kaito left, Shuichi’s emotions finally wretched forward. Broken sobs clawed their way out of him, tearing up his heart on the way out. Only one person could understand right now. He reached for the phone, dialing the pianist and hoping she wasn’t busy. She answered quickly, a smile obvious in her tone. “Hello!” “K-Kaede?” Shuichi tried his damnedest to not sound pitiful but it didn’t work. Akamatsu immediately gasped, and Shuichi could hear her pull a chair, probably to sit down. “Oh, Saihara please, Calm down-” “H-How can I!?” “These things happen all the time... Kaito still wants to be friends right? I’m sure things won’t be awkward with him knowing you’re gay!” She said positively, trying to lift his spirits. Shuichi stopped being upset for a second, slightly offended. “....What?” “...Oh! Well... I was assuming that you told Kaito how you felt and... got rejected?” “Should I be concerned that you are prepared for me to be rejected!?” “No No! Just.. um.. So what happened!” “Kaito is leaving the country.” There was a long silence. It was like Kaede didn’t know what to say to that. Shuichi decided to just unload. “What am I going to do?” “Tell him how you feel?” “So he can reject me and you can give me your premade speech?” “You won’t know unless you try right?”

The passing days were awkward. Shuichi avoided him like the plague the first day, slightly upsetting the astronaut. That day ended with Kaito waiting at Shuichi’s house for him to come home. He stayed the night and they talked about him going over seas. The second day he never left Kaito’s side, dropping subtle hints that he wouldn’t know what to do without him. Momota took note, promising to keep in touch and figuring ways he could at least call. The end of the third day saw them spending the day together and sharing no words. This was the day. Saihara has to be the one to break the silence. As the stars made themselves known and their walk in the park was illuminated by the vibrant night sky, Shuichi deemed it the perfect time. They were walking side by side, staring up at the sky as they walked through the park. Suddenly, the detective stopped, staring at the ground. “Momota...” Kaito hadn’t stopped walking for another second or two, creating a large gap between them. The boy clenched his fist, taking in a deep breath to control the lurching despair in his throat. “...Shuichi?” “...You’re leaving tomorrow morning. I wanted to tell you that... I’ll miss you.” He said lamely, afraid to throw himself out there. Kaito grinned, unsuspectingly. “I’ll miss you too, Man-” “No..I um.” Shuichi stumbled on his words, trying to determine the best way to go about this. “I’m gay!” He blurted out, thinking that this was the best way to start. Kaito’s mouth hung open for a minute and the detective assume he messed up... until he started laughing. “I knew it.” He said triumphantly. The blush on his cheeks went unnoticed in the near dark. “I mean, I had... figured. I had always thought you were just... afraid to tell me thinking I’d be upset. Saihara,” Kaito approached him, grabbing his shoulders and forcing him to look at him. “I want you to know this doesn’t change a thing! You’re the best friend I could ever have and nothing will change it!” The boy was just flabbergasted. The support was welcome but the word friend is NOT what he wanted to hear right now. His breathing became quicker and Momota immediately panicked, assuming the boy was having a panic attack. He rushed Saihara to the nearest park bench, sitting him down and instructing him to take slow deep breaths. It served only to frighten him more. His heart beating out of his chest. “Shuichi, Calm down!” “I-I..I..I can’t-” “Shuichi, What’s wrong? I-I thought... did I say something wrong?” Kaito’s concern was so cute. The detective was having all his thoughts at once. Momota began to spout apologies and his hands moved from his shoulders to his hands. He was holding his hands. Saihara held his breath for a moment and with no words he slammed his lips into Momota’s. Kaito, obviously, went wide eyed, not expecting the sudden kiss. He broke away quickly and stood up, looking down on Shuichi on the bench. He was frozen now, his face red and his brain telling him he screwed up. Kaito looked so... angry. “Shuichi-” The boy rocketed off the bench, running away from the astronaut. He heard Momota yelling and then he heard the vicious running through the grass. The next thing he felt was his body being tackled into the grass. He closed his eyes tightly as he was flipped over, feeling Kaito hovering over his body. “Shuichi.” He didn’t respond. “Shuichi look at me!” “I’m sorry!” He yelled, still keeping his eyes shut. “I-I just... I couldn’t let you leave without doing that! P-Please tell me this still doesn’t change anything!” It was quiet. For a long time. He kept his eyes shut tight and could feel Momota still staring at him. Still pinning him to the ground. “Saihara... Yeah... This changes things.” Shuichi stopped breathing, hearing the calmer tone. “Look at me.” When the boy didn’t open his eyes, the astronaut cupped his face in his hand. Slowly, Shuichi opened one eye. Then quickly opened the other. Kaito’s face held one solid emotion: Hurt. “...K-Kaito-” “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, exasperated. “Because it doesn’t matter-” “It DOES matter, Jeez Saihara. You should have told me.” “What does it matter! You’re not gay and you’re leaving tomorrow for almost a year!” He snapped, closing his eyes and choking out a few tears. Kaito chuckled lightly, getting closer to the boy. Shuichi’s breath hitched, feeling Kaito’s lips ghosting over his own. “You’re half right.”

“So have you tried pineapples on pizza yet!” Shuichi heard his boyfriend on his laptop. He was busy cooking dinner, video chatting from across the sea. He smiled, gracing the camera with his presence again. “I’ll get around to it.” “You have to try it! I’ll mail you some!” “That doesn’t sound like it’ll work.” “Ugh, don’t have time for your unrefined tastes!” He joked, making Shuichi giggled. “What are you cooking?” “Just fish. Nothing special.” “Go get some pizza-” “Momota.” Shuichi was about to begin scolding until an alarm went off on Kaito’s end. The Astronaut was conflicted. He loved his work but he loved Saihara more. “Ugh great.” “You get to work,” Shuichi smiled. “I’ll call you later.” “I’m going to space tomorrow! I’m so excited. Oh Saihara I’m going to take so many videos for you!  I’ll be home in 6 months. I can’t wait to get home to you, babe.” He said eagerly, making the boy’s smile widen “Me too, I’m counting down the days.”

-Mod Korekiyo

[kahliethefangirl]

Hedda Pt.1

Part 1. Part 2.

Pairing: Ivar x OFC Rating for chapter: G Warnings: None Note: So I thought I’d try to post this. I don’t know how many parts this one will be. English is my second language and I taught myself so I’m sorry for whatever mistakes there may be.

- Chapter 1. Awake.

________ I stand with the woolen blanket tightly around me as I stare to the servant girl pouring the last bucket of steaming water into the wooden tub.

Her face is sweaty from the heat and exertion and if it wasn't for my useless hands still hurting from the frostbite I'd like to help her.

"If you like I can help you wash; the queen says you can't have your hands in the water yet." Ida, as the servant girl had introduced herself as, have a hard time not staring at my white eye.

I look down to my hurting fingers; red and stiff unlike the rest of my pale body.

"Thank you." My voice is a useless whisper and if it wasn't for the fact that a bath was so tempting I'd like to go back to the bed I've been in for around seven days. I haven't been counting, hardly conscious most of the time but seven days is what I'm told I'd been in it for.

She helps me put the blanket away and softly she holds my one arm as I step into the water.

It's hot and burns my skin yet the intense winter outside is creeping through the wooden walls and crawling under the floor of the building: so the heat is welcome.

When sitting down I can see my own reflection in the black water. My hair is a complete mess and although they must've tried to clean me up when in bed dirt and sweat was obvious on my freckled face.

"Lean back and i will try to was your hair." Ida instructs and willingly I do as told.

Her fingers massaging my scalp and attempting to untangle my raven hair sends a shiver of pleasure through my body.

If I wasn't so tired and sore all over I'd like to walk around, stretch my stiff legs and find my forgotten muscles.

"This is oil." With a pop she removes a cork from a small vial and a sweet scent spreads in the steam like a vail around me in the water.

I can feel the knots in my hair ease when she puts the oil in and soon I can feel it untangle and tickle my shoulders.

"You're queen is most kind to help me." I mumble when enjoying the treatment.

The queen, Aslaug, reminding me much of a fox with her cunning eyes and soft hair, had been most keen to have me washed and later fed when they forced me out of bed this morning.

She, a few servants and a healer had been the only ones visiting me during my time under the heavy furs; as far as I remember at least.

"Yes." Ida nods, keeping whatever thoughts she have, for herself. "Would you like me to help you with the cloth?" She wonders and I nod.

I remember my hands almost constantly being in a bowl of lukewarm water and it had started to chase the frostbite away but it would be foolish to have them endure this hot water just yet. At least I will keep my fingers.

The linen cloth is rough yet lovely, scrubbing all dirt and sweat away from my sleepy body.

When they forced me out of bed this morning I've had gotten the usual broth I'd been served since I apparently got here and then I was ushered here to get cleaned up. But the queen had made sure to put in a short interrogation between it all.

But I can't remember. I can't remember why I was coming to this town on that horse in the heart of the fierce winter.

I can't remember where I came from and who I was. I can only remember my name.

Why my name and not the rest? Why not everything but my name?

I'm aware the queen could've thrown me out but for some reason she hadn't. She could've let someone else nurse me but she had been keen to keep me here and take great part in me personally. I don't know why.

The angry winds tugs at everything it reaches outside and the walls chides with complaint at its force. Sometimes the wind howls like a wolf and sometimes it may even have been a wolf.

When done bathing Ida helps me get dressed.

The dress is deep green and simple and a modest fur and woolen cloak to wrap my shoulders with.

She braids my black hair into a long snake resting over my one shoulder before finishing it all with rubbing the minty concoction on my hands and fingers to ease the pain.

I watch her work curiously. She's very quiet, rarely looking me in the eyes. I don't know if it is out of fear for my eye or if she tries to show me some  form of respect.

Truth is however; I'm most likely no greater than her. If I had value and power then why would I be on a horse between the mountains in the middle of deadly winter?

"What is that?" I blurt out without thinking, curiously eyeing a red mark peeking out from under the shoulder of her dress.

Ida looks to her shoulder, panic in her eyes and she pulls the dress up.

"Supper will be served soon but I will fetch you some bread and ale." She scurries off, dragging me along and leaving me in the room I'd woken up in.

It's small, the bed good but simple. A bowl with new water and a cloth is on a small table and the chest by the foot of the bed is most likely empty.

I don't remember much coming here but I can't imagine I had anything with me. Checking the chest confirms my thought.

Ida soon comes back with the bread and dipping it in the ale I take a few careful bites, not wanting to upset my stomach.

A rustle by the door have me stare to the gap, slowly swallowing the bread and a shadow over the floor make me frown.

"Hello?" I put the food and ale aside before slowly standing up. The shadow suddenly jerks and with a most odd sound it disappears.

In a way I'd like to open the door and look what it was but my tired legs force me to sit back on the bed.

With a sigh I look around and I find myself looking for something that would trigger my hidden memories.

Nothing seem to remind me of anything and I taste my own name on the tip of my tongue; but it refuses to give anything away.

I should probably be more scared and confused than I am about this. Anything could happen to me and I don't even know what I was running from. I must've been running away.

The howling wind rushing through the doors of the great hall is snapping me out of my thoughts and the cold seem to find its way through the building quick enough.

Voices booms as soon as the doors are slammed shut and I lean forward to listen more carefully.

"I thought you'd never come." I can hear the fox queen, her voice like honey talking to the visitors.

"The storm kept us back and we lost track of the doe." Someone answers.

"Is she awake?" A third voice and I wince a little, hardly imagining it meant someone else than me. I had only seen the queen and servants all day.

"She is." Aslaug says and the curiosity inside gets the better of me.

I open the door a bit more but the drapes and heavy nets hanging from the roof forbids me to see anyone but the queen.

"Has she told you anything?" Shadows plays on the floor but still there's only the queen and her face twists slightly when she shakes her head.

"Bet one-eye is full of secrets. She looked like a rag when coming so she's probably just an escaped servant." A snide voice speaks up and a sting inside my chest pulls me back a step.

It may very well be true yet the way the phantom gave air to his thoughts was full of mockery.

"She has been outside in this weather, it would be hard looking like different. You should now about getting dirty." Someone laughs and the snide voice grunts.

"Perhaps you have a friend now brother. One-eye and boneless!" Laughter spreads and even the queen smirks; sending a shock of heated anger through my body.

I have no idea what that meant; yet the way they spoke of me was like having my face rubbed in the dirt under the heavy snow.

They didn't know me! I didn't even know myself so to mock because of pure speculations was so below anyone, I'd think.

"Don't mind them." Ida pops up in front of me and with a hushed wail I step back. "They speak like that all the time." She explains with a nervous face and I can see how she wants to cover up the red mark on her shoulder once more but holds the impulse back.

"One of them out there did that to you?" For some reason it makes me very upset. I may not know Ida but I have a hard time imagining one could be more timid and shy. Hurting someone so timid and shy; perhaps the people outside is just as repulsive as they made themselves sound.

"The food is served and the queen has requested you." She moves so I can walk past her and with a small gulp I have to force my feet to move. I don't feel like meeting the voices behind the drapes. However it would be most rude of me to deny the request when the queen had done nothing but helping me.

There's four of them. Four young men now all sitting around the table with Aslaug situated on the far end of it.

I stop as Ida nods to a free seat beside one of them; tall and with his braid still wet from the snow outside.

"Hedda, come sit! This is my sons Ubbe-" she nods to the one moving slightly to the side so your given seat grows bigger.

"Sigurd and Hvitserk-" the one named Hvitserk smirks and the other one just stares as if he'd seen a ghost.

"And Ivar." He's the only one with dark hair, his blue eyes intense where he eyes me like I'm some horse on the market.

"Hello." A meek voice out of shape; spitting out how uncomfortable I am all over he table.

The one named Ubbe trying a soft smile before nodding to where Ida had guided me seconds ago.

I sit down, keeping my distance and I try to stare down at my plate and avoid their gazes like heavy stone upon me.

"You have met Ivar before but I doubt you remember." Aslaug breaks the silence whilst Ida walks around filling the cups with ale.

The one named Sigurd following her with his eyes being the only one not staring you down.

"No I- I'm afraid I don't." I chew my lip as I look to the mentioned man across the table.

He simply grins, rolling his tongue along the bottom row of white teeth and a shiver of unease spreads within.

"Don't be sorry, you haven't missed much." Ubbe snickers beside me whilst sipping his ale and Ivar glares at him.

"Enough. Let us eat. I'm sure Hedda must be starving." The queen puts an temporary end to the teasing and curious eyes around the table and all focus is put on the roasted chickens waiting on a tray at the middle of the wooden table.

Are they living here? Are these four men going to be around all the time now?

My chest churns at the thought and all the time nibbling at the tender chicken i feel aware of so much, yet I can't put my finger on just what it is.

[smb3]

Ghosts

The opposite of love isn’t hate; it is indifference. Ghosting, for those of you who haven’t yet experienced it, is having someone that you believe cares about you, whether it be a friend or someone you are dating, disappear from contact without any explanation at all. No phone call or email, not even a text. Ghosting isn’t new—people have long done disappearing acts—but years ago this kind of behavior was considered limited to a certain type of scoundrel. In today’s datingculture being ghosted is a phenomenon that approximately 50 percent of men and women have experienced—and an almost equal number have done the ghosting.1 Despite ghosting's commonality, the emotional effects can be devastating, and particularly damaging to those who already have fragile self-esteem.

Why do people ghost?

People who ghost are primarily focused on avoiding their own emotional discomfort and they aren’t thinking about how it makes the other person feel. The lack of social connections to people who are met online also means there are less social consequences to dropping out of someone’s life. The more it happens, either to themselves or their friends, the more people become desensitized to it and the more likely they are to do it to someone else.

“I didn't understand exactly how I actually felt at the time, so instead of trying to talk it out, I ghosted.” 2

“I used to disappear when it was all I thought it was [a fling], or I got scared of finding what I wanted…Or some kind of fear factor from a past relationship kicks in.” 2

“Looking through the lens of a coward, passive withdrawal from dating seems like the easiest and nicest route…until it’s done to you.” 3

“I kind of think that it's part of what makes the online dating scene so appealing. Since you don't have friends in common or weren't introduced through some other channel, it's not the end of the world if you just drop off the face of the earth.” 4

“I, for one, consider myself to be an honest and straightforward person. And yet I’ve ghosted...And I’ve told myself, time and time again, that it’s all the fault of the toxic dating culture we’ve created. And at the end of the day, I think that’s what we’re all telling ourselves.” 5

How does it feel to be ghosted?

For many people ghosting can result in feelings of being disrespected, used and disposable. If you have known the person beyond more than a few dates then it can be even more traumatic. When someone we love and trust disengages from us it feels like a very deep betrayal.

“I felt like an idiot. Like I had been played a fool. And more so I felt disrespected. Take the romantics away, to have a great connection with a new friend and then all of a sudden never hear from them again? That’s painful and really disappointing. No one deserves to be blown off.” 6

“It still felt a bit like someone had punched me in the gut when it happened. The disregard is insulting. The lack of closure is maddening. You move on, but not before your self-esteem takes a hit. The only thing worse than being broken up with is realizing that someone didn’t even consider you worth breaking up with.” 7

“Going from texting every day and seeing each other a couple times a week to nothing without the slightest hint of why was a kick in the gut.” 8

“Ghosting is one of the cruelest forms of torture dating can serve up.” 9

Why does it feel so bad?

Social rejection activates the same pain pathways in the brain as physical pain.10 In fact, you can reduce the emotional pain of rejection with a pain medication like Tylenol.11 But in addition to this biological link between rejection and pain, there are some specific factors about ghosting that contribute to the psychological distress.

Ghosting gives you no cue for how to react. It creates the ultimate scenario of ambiguity. Should you be worried? What if they are hurt and lying in a hospital bed somewhere?  Should you be upset? Maybe they are just a little busy and will be calling you at any moment. You don’t know how to react because you don’t really know what has happened. Staying connected to others is so important to our survival that our brain has evolved to have a social monitoring system (SMS) that monitors the environment for cues so that we know how to respond in social situations.12 Social cues allow us to regulate our own behavior accordingly, but ghosting deprives you of these usual cues and can create a sense of emotional dysregulation where you feel out of control.

One of the most insidious aspects of ghosting is that it doesn’t just cause you to question the validity of the relationship you had, it causes you to question yourself. Why didn’t I see this coming? How could I have been such a poor judge of character? What did I do to cause this? How do I protect myself from this ever happening again?  This self-questioning is the result of basic psychological systems that are in place to monitor one’s social standing and relay that information back to the person via feelings of self-worth and self-esteem. When a rejection occurs your self-esteem can drop which social psychologists propose is meant to be a signal that your social belonging is low.13 If you have been through multiple ghostings or if your self-esteem is already low you are likely to experience the rejection as even more painful, and it may take you longer to get over it as people with lower-self-esteem have less natural opioid (pain-killer) released into the brain after a rejection when compared to those whose self-esteem is higher.14

Ghosting is the ultimate use of the silent treatment, a tactic that has often been viewed by mental health professionals as a form of emotional cruelty.  It essentially renders you powerless and leaves you with no opportunity to ask questions or be provided with information that would help you emotionally process the experience. It silences you and prevents you from expressing your emotions and being heard, which is important for maintaining your self-esteem.

Regardless of the ghoster’s intent, ghosting is a passive-aggressive interpersonal tactic that can leave psychological bruises and scars.

How do you move forward?

The important thing to remember is that when someone ghosts you, it says nothing about you or your worthiness for love and everything about the person doing the ghosting. It shows he/she doesn’t have the courage to deal with the discomfort of their emotions or yours, and they either don't understand the impact of their behavior or worse don’t care. In any case they have sent you an extremely loud message that says: I don’t have what it takes to have a mature healthy relationship with you. Be the better person, retain your dignity, and let him/her go peacefully.

Don’t allow someone else’s bad behavior to rob you of a better future by losing your vulnerability and shutting yourself off from another relationship. Keep your energy focused on doing what makes you happy. Know that if you are someone who treats people with respect and integrity then the ghoster simply wasn’t on your wavelength and someone better is coming your way, as long as you keep your heart open and your focus forward.

[unforgettaeble]

Saudade

the re-do!

saudade:  a feeling of longing, melancholy, or nostalgia for someone or something that has been and will never be again

that gif hurts me 

“Looking back on it all, it’s funny actually.”

“Funny?”

“Yeah, funny. Not ha-ha funny, but the weird, ironic funny.. You and I burned too brightly in the beginning, we were never going to last, I see that now. I just didn’t think we were going to end up here. It’s better this way Yoongi, we would have hurt each other much more than how you’re hurting me now. I’ll just go.”

Watching his shoulders droop as he accepted your decision put a crack into your already weak facade, if you didn’t leave soon he’d witness your complete and utter breakdown. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your phone and pushed past him, fleeing for the comfort of your best friend’s arms, his whisper following you into the night.

“Good-bye, Y/n.”

                                                      ********

One glance.

One glance was all it took for you to fall deeply, unabashedly in love with the boy known as Min Yoongi. His gentle smile that turned goofy and gummy when happy, his pecan brown eyes that glinted with intelligence as he challenged you in the debate team, all of these things--and more--had you pining for him for a full year.

The devil known as Jung Hoseok, in other words your best friend, saw fit to let slip how you felt about Yoongi one night during a field trip, the blush that colored his cheeks even as his smile widened into the one that you adored was one that you’d never forget; blush pink becoming your favorite color and taking over your wardrobe.

Your penultimate year of school was a blissful one, each day happier than the last. Yoongi waiting by your locker in the mornings never failed to make your heart go pitter-patter in your chest, embarrassment coloring his cheeks as you were absolutely positive he could hear it.

Featherlight kisses brushing your cheeks, nose, eyes, before finally landing on your lips had you melting into his embrace, their power never waning.

The day he called you ecstatic about an audition he’d landed with a company had you screaming into the air, forgetting to put on a matching pair of shoes in your rush to go over and celebrate with your friends, the other five boys in the group making you feel like one of their own the minute Yoongi introduced you.

Nervous glances your way, twitchy fingers and random kisses let you know just how anxious Yoongi was about this audition. Your efforts to calm him and make him happy were rewarded with a fervent kiss, followed with the words you’d waited to hear from him your whole life-- “I love you, Y/n. God, do I love you.”

                                                           **

A weekend excursion to Seoul left you breathless, an overnight stay in a run down motel leading to the best night of your life.

Your moans painted the ceiling of your room, his groans washed over your body, his fingers burned holes into your skin and his tongue licked fire across your flesh as you both climbed towards your peaks, yelling on the way back down.

Gentle caresses across your abdomen, teasing kitten licks to your breasts and the hungry look in his eyes sped up the wait time for round two. Quiet whispers were your background noise as you fell into a dreamless slumber, Yoongi’s raspy voice following you into the depths, a smile evident in the tone.

“How did I ever end up so lucky, Y/n? What did I ever do to deserve you? I hope you know you’re with me for life, can’t get rid of Min Yoongi that easily.”

                                                      **

Tension filled silence followed you home, anxiety that he somehow regretted that night clawing it’s way down your throat to settle into the pit of your stomach. Yoongi did nothing to dispel your fears, absent-mindedly brushing a kiss onto your forehead as he left your car.

You were left to stew over the next few days, your anxiety boiling in your heart like some witches’ brew--a cold bedsheet replacing the eye of newt.

A call in the middle of Calculus the following Tuesday sent you scurrying to the ladies’ room, an apologetic ‘it’s that time of the month’ saving your behind from a trip to the principal’s office.

A panicky hello was all you could muster as you waited with bated breath to hear what emergency made Yoongi call you in the middle of your favorite class, sweaty, clammy palms gripping the hem of your Totoro sweater.

“Y/n, I did it! They’ve accepted me into the company, I’m officially a trainee at Big Hit!

Hey, did you hear me?

Come on, say something, aren’t you proud of me?!”

Anger tainted his melodious voice, his inability to realize you were crying until the first sniffle comical, his hurried sorry’s! making you giggle, relief evident through his sigh.

An afternoon of kisses, tears and laughs as you two reminisced over your relationship, his quiet assurances that nothing has changed except where I live, Y/n. I still love you and I will keep loving you even after I’ve become a relic of kpop days past, you’ll see while you hiccuped and tried not to ruin his favorite jeans with your tears. His words didn't help in the least bit, a sense of dread tinging your happy day with streaks of gray anxiety. 

You knew you were being melodramatic, it wasn’t the end of the world that Yoongi would no longer be at your locker every morning, he was graduating this year--it was bound to happen. Yet the weekend you spent poring the memory over your time in Seoul proved to be a poison, a thorned wedge driving itself between the two of you.

That night was your first fight, a morbid need to see him upset and wanting to placate you, to comfort you fueled your rant. 

Words flew through the air like missiles, your accusations he would find another woman while in Seoul hurting him, yet he refused to fight back. He stood there, calm and steadfast against your barrage of abuse until you’d dared utter the thought that maybe you never loved me and just needed someone to distract you while you waited for what you really wanted.

His mask broke, and a fury you had yet to see in your loving boyfriend came through.

“Okay, say you’re right Y/n! Maybe I never loved you!”

Your hands flew to your mouth, covering it as you crumpled to the floor, a sobbing heap. Heavy steps pounded over to you, his bare knees coming into view as he crouched down to face you.

“You know I didn’t mean that, right? How could you possibly say that when you know damn well I’m head over heels in love with you, Y/n? Your eyes hold a world that I want to get lost in for all eternity, your hands give me sensations I didn’t know existed time and time again.”

His lips ghosted over your face as they collected your tears, murmurs about how he loved you and the things he loved about you reaching the small crack in your heart and effectively putting a bandaid over it, bringing along a sense of shame that you acted so rashly out of fear.

Head tilting back to meet his lips in a gentle embrace, your fingers rose to tangle themselves in his hair, clothes falling off like a bird molting as you made your way to his bed.

Make-up sex was amazing, just like Hoseok had said.

                                                     **

The first few months of being away from Yoongi were lonely but bearable, the two of you spent every moment you could texting, calling each other and Skyping. You got worried and fretted over how tired he looked, his insisting that he was fine adding to the worry.

Your one year anniversary came up, and it was everything you thought it would be. Somehow Yoongi had wrangled some time off and he surprised you at school, whisking you away to take you home, ordering you to put on what he’d brought.

You paused while descending the staircase, the sight of Yoongi in a suit and tie drying your mouth. You gulped and continued on your way, watching as his eyes locked on your satin-clad form and brightened immensely, the grin on his face blinding.

“I’m such a lucky bastard, Y/n. But now I don’t know whether I should show you off or rip that dress off your body and take you right here on the floor.”

You reached a compromise, sliding the zipper down and stepping out of your dress, your lack of underwear making Yoongi’s jaw drop.

You arrived to dinner an hour later than anticipated.

                                                        **

Graduation came and went, your college entrance exam results coming in and making you shriek with joy. You called Yoongi with the good news, sadness dampening your mood as you told Yoongi’s answering machine to call you back, you had big news.

You couldn’t help the bitter tone that crept into your voice as he called you back four hours later. You laughed drily as he asked what was up and replied, “oh no biggie, I just got accepted into the college I wanted because it was closer to you.”

The accusation in your words was clear and Yoongi scoffed.

“What’s wrong? I thought you’d be excited about this.” 

You broke then, tears clogging your throat and making it hard to speak. You explained past the clump in your throat that you were so goddamn excited but you were scared of being closer to him.

“I mean, what if even with me a mere 30 minutes away you decide you want nothing to do with me?”

“Hey, hey Y/n shut up for a second and listen to me. If I haven’t already gotten tired of you, even with the stress of being so far apart with you and trying to manage my schedule, what makes you think I’m not going to want you by my side at all times when you get here?”

Sobs subsiding, you began talking about dorm life and how you’d have to sneak over to his place--the girls at your school wouldn’t keep quiet about seeing up-and-coming rapper Suga sneaking into a room.

Laughter echoed in your room, fingers playing with your hair as you listened to Yoongi get sleepier until his soft snores were all you heard.

                                                     **

Move-in day passed by in a blur of tears and sweat, your parents making you promise to call them at least once a week.

You settled into college surprisingly quickly, the routine helping things feel familiar in a strange place. Yoongi called less, saying their debut had been moved up and they were busier than ever. Yet he still found the time to send you sweet messages throughout the day, raising your mood just when you needed it the most.

Your first semester ended abruptly, affording you the opportunity to visit Yoongi and the rest of the group, something you were eager to do--you hadn’t seen Yoongi since your anniversary and that just wouldn’t do, no sir. 

Reading up on the group’s favorite colors and hobbies, you showed up at the dorms, arms full of gifts, and rang the doorbell with your elbow.

Guided into the building by Yoongi, you were struck again by his pale face and his pecan eyes that spoke volumes. He grabbed the gifts from you and dumped them to the floor, ignoring your protests.

Pulling you into him by the collar of your coat, your lips crashed against each other, heavy pants and mewls filling the entryway. A knock on the wall surprised the two of you and you broke apart, panting as you looked at boy around your age grimacing and gesturing to the two of you to get a room, god some people want to use the front door!

His permed hair looked like an afro and for a moment you wanted to laugh, but reigned it in at the last moment. Walking forward, your friendship with the group named Bangtan Sonyeondan began with a grimace and shouts of glee at your gifts.

                                                      **

The rest of your school year passed by uneventfully, Yoongi keeping up with his small, loving gestures even during their debut. How they had managed to be ready in such a short amount of time baffled you, but you knew Yoongi was behind it all, his drive and passion for music awe inspiring.

Your second anniversary rolled around and you kept it a small affair, the boys had been gaining a bit of attention and you were supposed to keep your relationship a secret from the world. It put you in an ill mood to pretend you weren’t hurt when Yoongi mentioned he had no time for dating, music and Bangtan all he had time for.

Try as you might, you couldn’t hide this from Yoongi, he knew you too well.

“Y/n, talk to me. I know something is bugging me and you know I hate it when you shut me out. Talk to me, please baby girl.”

Heaving a sigh as you slumped down onto your bed, you fiddled with the strings on your torn jeans as you gathered the courage to speak your mind.

“I’mtiredofpretendingwearen’ttogetherYoongiI’mtiredofthis”

“I’m sorry, what was that? You’re tired of what?”

“This. I’m tired of hiding that we’re together. I mean I get that it’s important since you guys just started but it hurts seeing you talk about not having any time for dating or any inclination to do so.”

A sigh.

A very weary, annoyed sigh.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I really wish it didn’t have to be this way either, but I have to do this if I want to stay in this path. I’m so close to my dream I could taste it, so please, bear with me okay? I promise it will turn out okay.”

You nod and tell him you have to go, the first tear streaking down your cheek as you mumble, “I love you too.”

                                                       **

For the first month after you spoke about your weariness, everything seemed fine. Yoongi still texted you, and he even skyped you sometimes.

And yet, you couldn’t seem to shake the feeling he was starting to feel differently.

At first, it was subtle. Not meeting your eyes when he told you he loved you, talking to the boys when you were connected, even walking away from the screen to answer the door for the pizza man.

You resolved to not be whiny about it, like you had been before. You would simply step up your game by sending him and the boys food while they filmed or renting that movie he has been blabbering about to Namjoon while you overheard through the screen. You pulled him into empty rooms when you visited, ignoring with all your might that he was barely responding to your touch.

What used to be a constant litany of groans, curses and your name, was now a grunt and a smirk. “I love you” become “love you” then a grunt when you said it first.

You felt as if you were being ripped apart from the inside out, the ache in your chest making it hard to breathe. You wouldn’t lie to yourself, it fucking hurt and you were pissed that he was doing this to you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to confront him about it. 

You were scared of what he might say.

So instead you decided to take the easy way out--as if anything about this was easy--and make one last visit, choosing to part with the love of your life on amicable terms.

The dorms had been locked up and dark, a sign they were at the studio. You made your way over to it, repeating in your head what you planned on saying to Yoongi in your head as if memorizing a script. 

The elevator ride up to their floor was an agonizing one, your resolve crumbling once or twice only to strengthen when you remembered how empty his eyes looked when you kissed him. Walking into the studio, you noticed it was bare of any of them, so you settled onto the couch in Yoongi’s studio to wait.

A ding interrupted the stuffy silence, Yoongi’s phone chiming with a message.

From: Ji Hyo, 8:32 PM

Hey you. We still on tonight? I’m surprised you had time, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you :(

You stood up abruptly, the bottom of your stomach dropping out and leaving you feeling like you were a hollow shell. You turned to the door and froze, Yoongi standing between you and the exit.

“Wait, Y/n I can explain--”

“Explain what? That you have no time for your own girlfriend, but you have the time for a date with another woman?!”

He stood motionless, staring you down without an ounce of love in the eyes that once warmed and brightened at the sight of you.

Hurt and betrayal made your lips move of their own accord, your voice thick with the dam you were desperately trying to hold back.

“Looking back on it all, it’s funny actually.”

“Funny?”

“Yeah, funny. Not ha-ha funny, but the weird, ironic funny.. You and I burned too brightly in the beginning, we were never going to last, I see that now. I just didn’t think we were going to end up here. It’s better this way Yoongi, we would have hurt each other much more than how you’re hurting me now. I’ll just go.”

Watching his shoulders droop as he accepted your decision put a crack into your already weak facade, if you didn’t leave soon he’d witness your complete and utter breakdown. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your phone and pushed past him, fleeing for the comfort of your best friend’s arms, his whisper following you into the night.

“Good-bye, Y/n.”

[zeppelinwormwood]

The opposite of love isn’t hate, it's indifference. Ghosting, for those of you who haven’t yet experienced it, is having someone that you believe cares about you, whether it be a friend or someone you are dating, disappear from contact without any explanation at all. No phone call or email, not even a text.

Ghosting isn’t new—people have long engaged in disappearing acts—but years ago this kind of behavior was considered limited to a certain type of scoundrel. In today’s dating culture being ghosted is a phenomenon that approximately 50 percent of men and women have experienced—and an almost equal number have done the ghosting.1 Despite how common ghosting is, the emotional effects can be devastating, and particularly damaging to those who already have fragile self-esteem.

Why do people ghost?

People who ghost are primarily focused on avoiding their own emotional discomfort and they aren’t thinking about how it makes the other person feel. The lack of mutual social connections for people who met online also means there are fewer social consequences of dropping out of another’s life. The more it happens, either to themselves or their friends, the more people become desensitized to it, and the more likely they are to do it to someone else.

“I didn't understand exactly how I actually felt at the time, so instead of trying to talk it out, I ghosted.” 2

“I used to disappear when it was all I thought it was [a fling], or I got scared of finding what I wanted… Or some kind of fear factor from a past relationship kicks in.” 2

“Looking through the lens of a coward, passive withdrawal from dating seems like the easiest and nicest route… until it’s done to you.” 3

“I kind of think that it's part of what makes the online-dating scene so appealing. Since you don't have friends in common or weren't introduced through some other channel, it's not the end of the world if you just drop off the face of the earth.” 4

“I, for one, consider myself to be an honest and straightforward person. And yet I’ve ghosted... And I’ve told myself, time and time again, that it’s all the fault of the toxic dating culture we’ve created. And at the end of the day, I think that’s what we’re all telling ourselves.” 5

How does it feel to be ghosted?

For many people, ghosting can result in feelings of being disrespected, used and disposable. If you have known the person beyond more than a few dates then it can be even more traumatic. When someone we love and trust disengages from us it feels like a very deep betrayal.

“I felt like an idiot. Like I had been played a fool. And more so I felt disrespected. Take the romantics away, to have a great connection with a new friend and then all of a sudden never hear from them again? That’s painful and really disappointing. No one deserves to be blown off.” 6

“It still felt a bit like someone had punched me in the gut when it happened. The disregard is insulting. The lack of closure is maddening. You move on, but not before your self-esteem takes a hit. The only thing worse than being broken up with is realizing that someone didn’t even consider you worth breaking up with.” 7

“Going from texting every day and seeing each other a couple of times a week to nothing without the slightest hint of why was a kick in the gut.” 8

“Ghosting is one of the cruelest forms of torture dating can serve up.” 9

Why does it feel so bad?

Social rejection activates the same pain pathways in the brain as physical pain.10 In fact, you can reduce the emotional pain of rejection with a pain medication like Tylenol.11 But in addition to this biological link between rejection and pain, there are some specific factors about ghosting that contribute to the psychological distress.

Ghosting gives you no cue for how to react. It creates the ultimate scenario of ambiguity. Should you be worried? What if they are hurt and lying in a hospital bed somewhere? Should you be upset? Maybe they are just a little busy and will be calling you at any moment. You don’t know how to react because you don’t really know what has happened. Staying connected to others is so important to our survival that our brain has evolved to have a social monitoring system that scans the environment for cues so that we know how to respond in social situations.12 Social cues allow us to regulate our own behavior accordingly, but ghosting deprives you of these usual cues and can create a sense of emotional dysregulation where you feel out of control.

One of the most insidious aspects of ghosting is that it doesn’t just cause you to question the validity of the relationship you had, it causes you to question yourself. Why didn’t I see this coming? How could I have been such a poor judge of character? What did I do to cause this? How do I protect myself from this ever happening again? This self-questioning is the result of basic psychological systems that are in place to monitor one’s social standing and relay that information back to the person via feelings of self-worth and self-esteem. When a rejection occurs your self-esteem can drop, which social psychologists propose is meant to be a signal that your social belonging is low.13 If you have been through multiple ghostings or if your self-esteem is already low, you are likely to experience the rejection as even more painful, and it may take you longer to get over it as people with lower-self-esteem have less natural opioid (pain-killer) released into the brain after a rejection when compared with those whose self-esteem is higher.14

Ghosting is the ultimate use of the silent treatment, a tactic that has often been viewed by mental health professionals as a form of emotional cruelty.15 It essentially renders you powerless and leaves you with no opportunity to ask questions or be provided with information that would help you emotionally process the experience. It silences you and prevents you from expressing your emotions and being heard, which is important for maintaining your self-esteem.

Regardless of the ghoster’s intent, ghosting is a passive-aggressive interpersonal tactic that can leave psychological bruises and scars.

How do you move forward?

The important thing to remember is that when someone ghosts you, it says nothing about you or your worthiness for love and everything about the person doing the ghosting. It shows he or she doesn’t have the courage to deal with the discomfort of their emotions or yours, and they either don't understand the impact of their behavior or worse don’t care. In any case, they have sent you an extremely loud message that says: I don’t have what it takes to have a mature healthy relationship with you. Be the better person, retain your dignity, and let him or her go peacefully.

Don’t allow someone else’s bad behavior to rob you of a better future by losing your vulnerability and shutting yourself off from another relationship. Keep your energy focused on doing what makes you happy. Know that if you are someone who treats people with respect and integrity then the ghoster simply wasn’t on your wavelength and someone better is coming your way, as long as you keep your heart open and your focus forward.

[ulrichfoester]

Being in a Relationship with an Adult Child of an Alcoholic

Amy Eden, an adult child of alcoholics and long time writer and teacher on the subject, offers insight into navigating the waters of being in love with an “ACA.”

Have you heard the one about the confused man whose girlfriend of a year and a half suddenly got mad and left him? Just up and left. They’d never fought, not once. The relationship seemed perfectly fine. He’d introduced her to his friends and his whole family. They were engaged. They were going to get married. Then she split.

Haven’t heard that one? Well, I have. Time and again. Loving someone whose parents are alcoholics is challenging and often unpredictable territory.

How can anyone really know if their partner, potential husband or wife, came from an alcoholic household? It’s rarely clear. Sometimes it’s not known that someone’s parents are alcoholics — plenty of people have alcoholic parents without realizing it. Other times a person can have alcoholic parents and know it, but not understand the extent to which growing up in that environment affected them.

While the confused man stands shell shocked, we can examine his fiancee’s perspective. She met and fell for a wonderful man. He had his life together, treated her kindly, and wanted a future with her. It was love (it must be)! Everything seemed to be going well, and although she’d never had a healthy relationship modeled for her, this seemed good. She didn’t know that she was supposed to just be herself, be vulnerable, honest, and imperfect as well as expect to be loved for all that. One day after being and doing what she intuited her boyfriend expected of her, she finally broke. It was too much to continue faking a perfect self, being pleasing, affable, not having needs, or sour moods. The skills that had served her so well in childhood weren’t working. She felt imprisoned and false. She had to get out, to flee, to breathe.

For people who grow up with an alcoholic parent, getting into relationships is like getting on a fast ride with a one-way ticket. We commit to someone who’s interested in us because we’re the ever-loyal children of dysfunctional, rigid parents, and then we buckle up and enjoy (or something) the feeling of rushing along, fast, on a course to…wherever. The sensation of beginning relationships is much like being swallowed whole and re-wiring one’s self for a new identity — the identity of our new love, whatever he or she needs us to be. With that kind of beginning, it’s easier to understand the hallmark get close-pull away pattern that often gets established in relationships in which one partner grew up around addiction.

The Survivalist Approach to Childhood Works, Yet It Doesn’t Stop

Children of alcoholics are survivalists by nurture. We do quite well in crisis and seem most calm during chaos. We are not very at ease when things are calm and ordinary because in our world calm always meant a storm was around the bend. The ability to survive an emotionally and often times physically abusive childhood environment was essential. The ability to survive required a tough exterior or a polished one (we’re often called “well-wrapped”), our armor. It required a hyper-vigilant awareness of impending danger: bad moods, yelling, or violent outbursts, all of which could strike at any time. We came to expect the unexpected and predict the unpredictable behavior or our volatile parents.

Unfortunately, we continue to live in survival mode after we leave home and set up our own lives. There’s no national agency that visits the apartments and condos of newly sprung children of alcoholics to present them with a certificate of completion. If they did, it would read: This Certifies that You Survived Childhood and Must Now Learn to Thrive in Life. The fine print would read: It’s time for a paradigm shift, so surround yourself with uplifting people, stop trying to be what you’re not, tame your true inner self, and spend the rest of your life coaxing that person out into the open and experimenting with loving yourself unconditionally.

The Characteristics of Adult Children of Alcoholics

Two important individuals in the awareness-raising of the issues adult children of alcoholics were Tony A, author of The Laundry List and founder of the original twelve-step group for adult children of alcoholics (now ACoA) and Janet Woititz, author and psychologist. Each developed a list of characteristics and common traits that children of alcoholics struggle with. Those include:

We judge ourselves mercilessly (we considered ourselves unlovable as children)

We don’t easily relax and have fun (chaos is more comfortable)

We feel somehow different from other people (sensing deep down that something is wrong)

We have a tendency to isolate (because we feel like freaks)

We have a tendency to be afraid of authority figures (because our original ones were volatile)

We seek approval (because our self-esteem is under-developed)

We feel guilty about our needs and shame about our true feelings (needs and feelings were unwelcome in childhood)

We get addicted to excitement (like a moth to the flame that is chaos)

We react to others rather than act from our desires (because being our own self was risky if not deadly)

We tend to be very serious (we’re not sure it’s okay to let our guard down)

There are more ACA traits and characteristics on Janet and Tony’s lists.

Watch out for the Trespasser Known as Transference 

If your partner hasn’t yet done the work to distinguish between their past and their present, they may be subconsciously reacting to you as if you are their parent or as if current struggles are actually past struggles. This can be very confusing for both of you.

How might you know if your partner is transferring feelings from childhood onto a present-day situation, or onto you? Their reaction may be much bigger than the situation calls for, but not only that — their reaction will also have a feeling of intense or deep emotion and they won’t quickly recover from the upset. You might sense that something else is going on, something deeper or complex, given the level of hurt your partner is showing. You may feel that a great misdeed is being attributed to you, and that despite your apology and explanation, noting seems to lessen the hurt for your partner. They are stuck in the hurt.

When someone reacts to you, or your actions, based from their feelings about another person from the past, that’s known as transference. This happens when a person transfers their thoughts or feelings about one person onto another. (Transference is different from projection, which is when another person accuses you of embodying their own thoughts, feelings, or traits.) Because children of alcoholics grow up with so much unprocessed emotional trauma, it’s easy to understand why they would transfer their hurt feelings onto someone who resembles the original source of upset — they are yearning to have the reaction and process that was never allowed and was tamped down for years.

A transference dynamic can be wearing on a relationship; it puts one partner in the position of role-playing the childhood of the other partner with no knowledge of what’s going on. It means that one partner is having the other’s feelings and possibly accusations directed at them from another time and place, not based in the present situation. This makes it hard to learn the other person’s emotional landscape. Part of getting to know a partner involves coming to understand what they like and don’t, what pushes their buttons, and what brings them joy or causes them sadness. It’s hard to get an accurate reading on a partner’s emotional landscape if they are living in the past, still wrestling with old wounds.

And from the perspective of the person who grew up with emotional trauma, it’s confusing to be unable to differentiate the amount of hurt that comes from past wounds and what amount of hurt is coming from a present scenario. By relating to a partner as if they’re the ghost of our past, like a hitching post for us to tie our hurts to, we’re unsuccessfully resolving past issues as well as distorting what’s occurring in the present. This can bring anguish when what we most desire is to be truly present and participate in the relationship in an authentic and productive way.

Seeking to Understand, Resisting Fix-It Solutions

It can feel like walking on eggshells at times with someone sensitive, who has been emotionally traumatized, and who seeks approval. Tiptoe-living is an exhausting life. If your partner had childhood trauma, they have some self-healing work to do. It’s important for you to internalize the distinction between what “understanding” looks like for you and what “fixing” looks like. As a partner, you show love through listening (especially active listening) and by learning about and understanding the person you love, where they come from. That’s all. In terms of helping, fixing, and changing your partner and their resolution of a difficult past — that is not your terrain to adventure through. If your partner is ready and willing to do the work of helping and healing themselves, they’ll do it. It cannot be rushed and you cannot do that work for them.

Be sure that you understand where the line is between understanding and fixing, and remember the simple truth that to love is to listen and to understand. (The fix-it work is the work for a therapist and your loved one.) What does that leave you with? That leaves you with the responsibility of loving your partner as he or she is, for who he or she is, rather than who they will become or what you can shape them into.

When a partner has emotional work to do, it’s easy to make a habit of focusing on their issues. It’s incredibly common — many of the emails I receive from readers of my blog include exasperated pleas for helping their boyfriend or girlfriend get un-damaged. I can only tell them that when their partner is ready to do the work, they’ll do the work. It’s fine to share a book or forward a link to someone and let them know you think they’d be well-served by reading it, but the work cannot be forced and it cannot be done by proxy.

Turning your focus to your own personal work crowds-out the habitual wondering and worrying you’ve been doing about your partner’s problems.

What might you do with the newfound time you no longer spend attempting to fix your partner’s problems? Why, taking a look at yourself of course! It’s worth considering whether there is something about this person’s history that drew you in, that clicked-into some issues or emotional habits of your own that need to be understood. If you’ve been focused on your partner’s shortcomings, create a new habit around looking into your part in the relationship dynamics. Indulge in a self-inquiry and see what you might uncover about the assumptions, expectations, and perceptions you bring to the partnership.

Upholding Responsibility and Accountability in a Partnership

Each of us wants and deserves a partner who is responsible and respectful to himself, to us, and to the relationship. Regardless of what one’s background of emotional struggles are, meeting one another at the point of shared self-respect is how relationships maintain balance and thrive.

Being in a Relationship with an Adult Child of an Alcoholic published first on https://familycookwareshop.tumblr.com/

[ulrichfoester]

Being in a Relationship with an Adult Child of an Alcoholic

Amy Eden, an adult child of alcoholics and long time writer and teacher on the subject, offers insight into navigating the waters of being in love with an “ACA.”

Have you heard the one about the confused man whose girlfriend of a year and a half suddenly got mad and left him? Just up and left. They’d never fought, not once. The relationship seemed perfectly fine. He’d introduced her to his friends and his whole family. They were engaged. They were going to get married. Then she split.

Haven’t heard that one? Well, I have. Time and again. Loving someone whose parents are alcoholics is challenging and often unpredictable territory.

How can anyone really know if their partner, potential husband or wife, came from an alcoholic household? It’s rarely clear. Sometimes it’s not known that someone’s parents are alcoholics — plenty of people have alcoholic parents without realizing it. Other times a person can have alcoholic parents and know it, but not understand the extent to which growing up in that environment affected them.

While the confused man stands shell shocked, we can examine his fiancee’s perspective. She met and fell for a wonderful man. He had his life together, treated her kindly, and wanted a future with her. It was love (it must be)! Everything seemed to be going well, and although she’d never had a healthy relationship modeled for her, this seemed good. She didn’t know that she was supposed to just be herself, be vulnerable, honest, and imperfect as well as expect to be loved for all that. One day after being and doing what she intuited her boyfriend expected of her, she finally broke. It was too much to continue faking a perfect self, being pleasing, affable, not having needs, or sour moods. The skills that had served her so well in childhood weren’t working. She felt imprisoned and false. She had to get out, to flee, to breathe.

For people who grow up with an alcoholic parent, getting into relationships is like getting on a fast ride with a one-way ticket. We commit to someone who’s interested in us because we’re the ever-loyal children of dysfunctional, rigid parents, and then we buckle up and enjoy (or something) the feeling of rushing along, fast, on a course to…wherever. The sensation of beginning relationships is much like being swallowed whole and re-wiring one’s self for a new identity — the identity of our new love, whatever he or she needs us to be. With that kind of beginning, it’s easier to understand the hallmark get close-pull away pattern that often gets established in relationships in which one partner grew up around addiction.

The Survivalist Approach to Childhood Works, Yet It Doesn’t Stop

Children of alcoholics are survivalists by nurture. We do quite well in crisis and seem most calm during chaos. We are not very at ease when things are calm and ordinary because in our world calm always meant a storm was around the bend. The ability to survive an emotionally and often times physically abusive childhood environment was essential. The ability to survive required a tough exterior or a polished one (we’re often called “well-wrapped”), our armor. It required a hyper-vigilant awareness of impending danger: bad moods, yelling, or violent outbursts, all of which could strike at any time. We came to expect the unexpected and predict the unpredictable behavior or our volatile parents.

Unfortunately, we continue to live in survival mode after we leave home and set up our own lives. There’s no national agency that visits the apartments and condos of newly sprung children of alcoholics to present them with a certificate of completion. If they did, it would read: This Certifies that You Survived Childhood and Must Now Learn to Thrive in Life. The fine print would read: It’s time for a paradigm shift, so surround yourself with uplifting people, stop trying to be what you’re not, tame your true inner self, and spend the rest of your life coaxing that person out into the open and experimenting with loving yourself unconditionally.

The Characteristics of Adult Children of Alcoholics

Two important individuals in the awareness-raising of the issues adult children of alcoholics were Tony A, author of The Laundry List and founder of the original twelve-step group for adult children of alcoholics (now ACoA) and Janet Woititz, author and psychologist. Each developed a list of characteristics and common traits that children of alcoholics struggle with. Those include:

We judge ourselves mercilessly (we considered ourselves unlovable as children)

We don’t easily relax and have fun (chaos is more comfortable)

We feel somehow different from other people (sensing deep down that something is wrong)

We have a tendency to isolate (because we feel like freaks)

We have a tendency to be afraid of authority figures (because our original ones were volatile)

We seek approval (because our self-esteem is under-developed)

We feel guilty about our needs and shame about our true feelings (needs and feelings were unwelcome in childhood)

We get addicted to excitement (like a moth to the flame that is chaos)

We react to others rather than act from our desires (because being our own self was risky if not deadly)

We tend to be very serious (we’re not sure it’s okay to let our guard down)

There are more ACA traits and characteristics on Janet and Tony’s lists.

Watch out for the Trespasser Known as Transference 

If your partner hasn’t yet done the work to distinguish between their past and their present, they may be subconsciously reacting to you as if you are their parent or as if current struggles are actually past struggles. This can be very confusing for both of you.

How might you know if your partner is transferring feelings from childhood onto a present-day situation, or onto you? Their reaction may be much bigger than the situation calls for, but not only that — their reaction will also have a feeling of intense or deep emotion and they won’t quickly recover from the upset. You might sense that something else is going on, something deeper or complex, given the level of hurt your partner is showing. You may feel that a great misdeed is being attributed to you, and that despite your apology and explanation, noting seems to lessen the hurt for your partner. They are stuck in the hurt.

When someone reacts to you, or your actions, based from their feelings about another person from the past, that’s known as transference. This happens when a person transfers their thoughts or feelings about one person onto another. (Transference is different from projection, which is when another person accuses you of embodying their own thoughts, feelings, or traits.) Because children of alcoholics grow up with so much unprocessed emotional trauma, it’s easy to understand why they would transfer their hurt feelings onto someone who resembles the original source of upset — they are yearning to have the reaction and process that was never allowed and was tamped down for years.

A transference dynamic can be wearing on a relationship; it puts one partner in the position of role-playing the childhood of the other partner with no knowledge of what’s going on. It means that one partner is having the other’s feelings and possibly accusations directed at them from another time and place, not based in the present situation. This makes it hard to learn the other person’s emotional landscape. Part of getting to know a partner involves coming to understand what they like and don’t, what pushes their buttons, and what brings them joy or causes them sadness. It’s hard to get an accurate reading on a partner’s emotional landscape if they are living in the past, still wrestling with old wounds.

And from the perspective of the person who grew up with emotional trauma, it’s confusing to be unable to differentiate the amount of hurt that comes from past wounds and what amount of hurt is coming from a present scenario. By relating to a partner as if they’re the ghost of our past, like a hitching post for us to tie our hurts to, we’re unsuccessfully resolving past issues as well as distorting what’s occurring in the present. This can bring anguish when what we most desire is to be truly present and participate in the relationship in an authentic and productive way.

Seeking to Understand, Resisting Fix-It Solutions

It can feel like walking on eggshells at times with someone sensitive, who has been emotionally traumatized, and who seeks approval. Tiptoe-living is an exhausting life. If your partner had childhood trauma, they have some self-healing work to do. It’s important for you to internalize the distinction between what “understanding” looks like for you and what “fixing” looks like. As a partner, you show love through listening (especially active listening) and by learning about and understanding the person you love, where they come from. That’s all. In terms of helping, fixing, and changing your partner and their resolution of a difficult past — that is not your terrain to adventure through. If your partner is ready and willing to do the work of helping and healing themselves, they’ll do it. It cannot be rushed and you cannot do that work for them.

Be sure that you understand where the line is between understanding and fixing, and remember the simple truth that to love is to listen and to understand. (The fix-it work is the work for a therapist and your loved one.) What does that leave you with? That leaves you with the responsibility of loving your partner as he or she is, for who he or she is, rather than who they will become or what you can shape them into.

When a partner has emotional work to do, it’s easy to make a habit of focusing on their issues. It’s incredibly common — many of the emails I receive from readers of my blog include exasperated pleas for helping their boyfriend or girlfriend get un-damaged. I can only tell them that when their partner is ready to do the work, they’ll do the work. It’s fine to share a book or forward a link to someone and let them know you think they’d be well-served by reading it, but the work cannot be forced and it cannot be done by proxy.

Turning your focus to your own personal work crowds-out the habitual wondering and worrying you’ve been doing about your partner’s problems.

What might you do with the newfound time you no longer spend attempting to fix your partner’s problems? Why, taking a look at yourself of course! It’s worth considering whether there is something about this person’s history that drew you in, that clicked-into some issues or emotional habits of your own that need to be understood. If you’ve been focused on your partner’s shortcomings, create a new habit around looking into your part in the relationship dynamics. Indulge in a self-inquiry and see what you might uncover about the assumptions, expectations, and perceptions you bring to the partnership.

Upholding Responsibility and Accountability in a Partnership

Each of us wants and deserves a partner who is responsible and respectful to himself, to us, and to the relationship. Regardless of what one’s background of emotional struggles are, meeting one another at the point of shared self-respect is how relationships maintain balance and thrive.

Being in a Relationship with an Adult Child of an Alcoholic published first on https://familycookwareshop.tumblr.com/

[ulrichfoester]

Being in a Relationship with an Adult Child of an Alcoholic

Amy Eden, an adult child of alcoholics and long time writer and teacher on the subject, offers insight into navigating the waters of being in love with an “ACA.”

Have you heard the one about the confused man whose girlfriend of a year and a half suddenly got mad and left him? Just up and left. They’d never fought, not once. The relationship seemed perfectly fine. He’d introduced her to his friends and his whole family. They were engaged. They were going to get married. Then she split.

Haven’t heard that one? Well, I have. Time and again. Loving someone whose parents are alcoholics is challenging and often unpredictable territory.

How can anyone really know if their partner, potential husband or wife, came from an alcoholic household? It’s rarely clear. Sometimes it’s not known that someone’s parents are alcoholics — plenty of people have alcoholic parents without realizing it. Other times a person can have alcoholic parents and know it, but not understand the extent to which growing up in that environment affected them.

While the confused man stands shell shocked, we can examine his fiancee’s perspective. She met and fell for a wonderful man. He had his life together, treated her kindly, and wanted a future with her. It was love (it must be)! Everything seemed to be going well, and although she’d never had a healthy relationship modeled for her, this seemed good. She didn’t know that she was supposed to just be herself, be vulnerable, honest, and imperfect as well as expect to be loved for all that. One day after being and doing what she intuited her boyfriend expected of her, she finally broke. It was too much to continue faking a perfect self, being pleasing, affable, not having needs, or sour moods. The skills that had served her so well in childhood weren’t working. She felt imprisoned and false. She had to get out, to flee, to breathe.

For people who grow up with an alcoholic parent, getting into relationships is like getting on a fast ride with a one-way ticket. We commit to someone who’s interested in us because we’re the ever-loyal children of dysfunctional, rigid parents, and then we buckle up and enjoy (or something) the feeling of rushing along, fast, on a course to…wherever. The sensation of beginning relationships is much like being swallowed whole and re-wiring one’s self for a new identity — the identity of our new love, whatever he or she needs us to be. With that kind of beginning, it’s easier to understand the hallmark get close-pull away pattern that often gets established in relationships in which one partner grew up around addiction.

The Survivalist Approach to Childhood Works, Yet It Doesn’t Stop

Children of alcoholics are survivalists by nurture. We do quite well in crisis and seem most calm during chaos. We are not very at ease when things are calm and ordinary because in our world calm always meant a storm was around the bend. The ability to survive an emotionally and often times physically abusive childhood environment was essential. The ability to survive required a tough exterior or a polished one (we’re often called “well-wrapped”), our armor. It required a hyper-vigilant awareness of impending danger: bad moods, yelling, or violent outbursts, all of which could strike at any time. We came to expect the unexpected and predict the unpredictable behavior or our volatile parents.

Unfortunately, we continue to live in survival mode after we leave home and set up our own lives. There’s no national agency that visits the apartments and condos of newly sprung children of alcoholics to present them with a certificate of completion. If they did, it would read: This Certifies that You Survived Childhood and Must Now Learn to Thrive in Life. The fine print would read: It’s time for a paradigm shift, so surround yourself with uplifting people, stop trying to be what you’re not, tame your true inner self, and spend the rest of your life coaxing that person out into the open and experimenting with loving yourself unconditionally.

The Characteristics of Adult Children of Alcoholics

Two important individuals in the awareness-raising of the issues adult children of alcoholics were Tony A, author of The Laundry List and founder of the original twelve-step group for adult children of alcoholics (now ACoA) and Janet Woititz, author and psychologist. Each developed a list of characteristics and common traits that children of alcoholics struggle with. Those include:

We judge ourselves mercilessly (we considered ourselves unlovable as children)

We don’t easily relax and have fun (chaos is more comfortable)

We feel somehow different from other people (sensing deep down that something is wrong)

We have a tendency to isolate (because we feel like freaks)

We have a tendency to be afraid of authority figures (because our original ones were volatile)

We seek approval (because our self-esteem is under-developed)

We feel guilty about our needs and shame about our true feelings (needs and feelings were unwelcome in childhood)

We get addicted to excitement (like a moth to the flame that is chaos)

We react to others rather than act from our desires (because being our own self was risky if not deadly)

We tend to be very serious (we’re not sure it’s okay to let our guard down)

There are more ACA traits and characteristics on Janet and Tony’s lists.

Watch out for the Trespasser Known as Transference 

If your partner hasn’t yet done the work to distinguish between their past and their present, they may be subconsciously reacting to you as if you are their parent or as if current struggles are actually past struggles. This can be very confusing for both of you.

How might you know if your partner is transferring feelings from childhood onto a present-day situation, or onto you? Their reaction may be much bigger than the situation calls for, but not only that — their reaction will also have a feeling of intense or deep emotion and they won’t quickly recover from the upset. You might sense that something else is going on, something deeper or complex, given the level of hurt your partner is showing. You may feel that a great misdeed is being attributed to you, and that despite your apology and explanation, noting seems to lessen the hurt for your partner. They are stuck in the hurt.

When someone reacts to you, or your actions, based from their feelings about another person from the past, that’s known as transference. This happens when a person transfers their thoughts or feelings about one person onto another. (Transference is different from projection, which is when another person accuses you of embodying their own thoughts, feelings, or traits.) Because children of alcoholics grow up with so much unprocessed emotional trauma, it’s easy to understand why they would transfer their hurt feelings onto someone who resembles the original source of upset — they are yearning to have the reaction and process that was never allowed and was tamped down for years.

A transference dynamic can be wearing on a relationship; it puts one partner in the position of role-playing the childhood of the other partner with no knowledge of what’s going on. It means that one partner is having the other’s feelings and possibly accusations directed at them from another time and place, not based in the present situation. This makes it hard to learn the other person’s emotional landscape. Part of getting to know a partner involves coming to understand what they like and don’t, what pushes their buttons, and what brings them joy or causes them sadness. It’s hard to get an accurate reading on a partner’s emotional landscape if they are living in the past, still wrestling with old wounds.

And from the perspective of the person who grew up with emotional trauma, it’s confusing to be unable to differentiate the amount of hurt that comes from past wounds and what amount of hurt is coming from a present scenario. By relating to a partner as if they’re the ghost of our past, like a hitching post for us to tie our hurts to, we’re unsuccessfully resolving past issues as well as distorting what’s occurring in the present. This can bring anguish when what we most desire is to be truly present and participate in the relationship in an authentic and productive way.

Seeking to Understand, Resisting Fix-It Solutions

It can feel like walking on eggshells at times with someone sensitive, who has been emotionally traumatized, and who seeks approval. Tiptoe-living is an exhausting life. If your partner had childhood trauma, they have some self-healing work to do. It’s important for you to internalize the distinction between what “understanding” looks like for you and what “fixing” looks like. As a partner, you show love through listening (especially active listening) and by learning about and understanding the person you love, where they come from. That’s all. In terms of helping, fixing, and changing your partner and their resolution of a difficult past — that is not your terrain to adventure through. If your partner is ready and willing to do the work of helping and healing themselves, they’ll do it. It cannot be rushed and you cannot do that work for them.

Be sure that you understand where the line is between understanding and fixing, and remember the simple truth that to love is to listen and to understand. (The fix-it work is the work for a therapist and your loved one.) What does that leave you with? That leaves you with the responsibility of loving your partner as he or she is, for who he or she is, rather than who they will become or what you can shape them into.

When a partner has emotional work to do, it’s easy to make a habit of focusing on their issues. It’s incredibly common — many of the emails I receive from readers of my blog include exasperated pleas for helping their boyfriend or girlfriend get un-damaged. I can only tell them that when their partner is ready to do the work, they’ll do the work. It’s fine to share a book or forward a link to someone and let them know you think they’d be well-served by reading it, but the work cannot be forced and it cannot be done by proxy.

Turning your focus to your own personal work crowds-out the habitual wondering and worrying you’ve been doing about your partner’s problems.

What might you do with the newfound time you no longer spend attempting to fix your partner’s problems? Why, taking a look at yourself of course! It’s worth considering whether there is something about this person’s history that drew you in, that clicked-into some issues or emotional habits of your own that need to be understood. If you’ve been focused on your partner’s shortcomings, create a new habit around looking into your part in the relationship dynamics. Indulge in a self-inquiry and see what you might uncover about the assumptions, expectations, and perceptions you bring to the partnership.

Upholding Responsibility and Accountability in a Partnership

Each of us wants and deserves a partner who is responsible and respectful to himself, to us, and to the relationship. Regardless of what one’s background of emotional struggles are, meeting one another at the point of shared self-respect is how relationships maintain balance and thrive.

Being in a Relationship with an Adult Child of an Alcoholic published first on https://familycookwareshop.tumblr.com/