#conditioned my entire life to think of those things as lies and that the only truth is im unlovable and undeserving of any positive

[aqent8]

they need to invent people that make me feel at ease, safe and love me unconditionally

[copperbadge]

hi, i had a medium to big question. in your post about the adhd self-help book you mentioned people with adhd being conditioned to be nonconfrontational, but i've never once in my entire life connected the two? can you break down the connection for me so that i can once again (this week, even) have my understanding of my own condition blown wide open?

So, you are not the only person to ask about this, but that's on me for being unclear -- I wasn't trying to assert that kids with ADHD are automatically conditioned to be nonconfrontational, I was more trying to be like "Hey not everyone needs lessons in medical self-advocacy but a lot of nonconfrontational people do." And I think there is a higher population of people with neurodivergence who are deeply confrontation-averse, but I don't have like, numbers for that, it's just an assumption based on other knowledge.

It gets complicated; ADHD is a disease based heavily in acting impulsively against your best interests. But yeah I do think people with ADHD are often conditioned to avoid confrontation because of two main factors: rejection-sensitive dysphoria and executive dysfunction.

RSD, which I hate perhaps more than any other symptom or behavior associated with ADHD, automatically kicks our nervous system into high gear in social situations and encodes embarrassing moments in our memory with high-def clarity. Because RSD naturally causes a level of anxiety around socialization, it tends to make us nonconfrontational simply because a) we don't want to be yelled at, b) we don't want to embarrass ourselves by getting emotional about something that may not warrant it, and c) by the time we realize what's happening our body is already on high alert which means we are likely to go into fight-flight-freeze mode.

Me, I freeze, usually, but none of those three options are great for fast thinking during an argument. I used to lose arguments a lot simply because I couldn't think or react as fast as the neurotypical person I was fighting with, so I simply stopped having fights. Notably, I did not have this problem when fighting with my brother, who is also neurodivergent and has many of the same freeze reactions I do.

If people disagree with me, even when I know I'm right I also know I probably won't be able to vocalize it properly, so I back down. Usually it's trivial so it doesn't matter, and I've gotten strategic about how and when I argue about things that do matter; it's also a lot easier to do with strangers or professionals (like doctors) where I don't have to worry about long-term social repercussions. But yeah, our own nervous system tells us "hey maybe don't pick this fight" about every single fight and if we do pick that fight, it treats our opponent as a dangerous predator.

Executive dysfunction's interaction with nonconfrontation is something I have less problem with because while I do have poor executive function, I've spent a lot of time and energy training myself to cover the Important Stuff. I have mild ADHD so I'm capable of this; I'm not trying to say everyone with ADHD is, because lord knows it's exhausting for me and I've been doing it for roughly thirty years. But essentially, I cover where it counts: if someone needs me to do something I do it, I meet deadlines, I pay bills.

So with that disclaimer in place, a very common issue especially for children with undiagnosed ADHD is that they'll be told or asked to do something and simply be unable to begin or complete it, then when they're asked why they didn't do it they can't explain. Even if they try to explain that they simply couldn't, like they were incapable of doing it for reasons they don't understand, that usually doesn't hold water with a lot of parents and teachers.

"I couldn't bring myself to write this essay," is actually something I told myself a few times in college, but it's not something I'd bother trying to tell someone else, because if you think you're neurotypical that sounds very insane. So I'd lie and say I forgot, or I'd take the fail, or I'd simply drop out of the class. Crucially I would not fight with the authority figure who was questioning me about it, because I knew I wouldn't be able to explain myself, and I'd just end up getting in more trouble for longer.

Our culture is structured for neurotypicals, and it's not even structured for all neurotypicals. Behavior that deviates from Approved Neurotypical even when you think you are Approved Neurotypical is highly punishable. So if your options are passivity, even when passivity leads to pain, or confrontation, most people who aren't Approved Neurotypical will opt for passivity once they've had a taste of where confrontation leads. I know I do.

And the thing is, there's nothing actually wrong with that. It's a strategy calculated to minimize pain. Even when I'm firing on all cylinders on a fresh dose of Adderall, I still generally let fights go unless there will be actual real consequences, because it's just not worth it. But knowing we have ADHD and knowing we fall into this pattern, I think it is good to be aware that sometimes letting a fight go is really going to fuck you, and at that point even being bad at it is better than not engaging.

I'm pretty good at calculating those, but it's a lifelong process, knowing which hills to die on when you assume you will automatically die if you ever get above sea level.

[mymarifae]

i just want to share my thoughts about akito and Death. because even now—even off the back of an event like burn my soul—people STILL talk about him like he's an explicitly depressed, suicidal character whose every action is cause for concern.

i think the idea that akito is suicidal has been floating around for a very long time. and while it's not entirely without merit (more on this in a bit), it's still a misconception. and it really feels like kashika exacerbated the issue. which is unfortunate! it's sad to see such a beautiful song be misinterpreted like this.

now don't get me wrong! kashika is about death. but two things:

1. kashika may have been written for akito, but it's not just for him. it's also deeply personal to ryo haruka. there are certainly similarities and haruryo undoubtedly understood everything akito felt during the events that led up to the crawl green incident, but i don't think it's entirely fair to equate his very real emotions and struggles to those of a fictional character. he and akito share kashika! you can interpret it through either lens, but trying to do so through both is where things start getting messy

2. whiiiiich leads me to my second point. who decided that the only way to interpret kashika and its themes of death is literally?

i think it's pretty common for people to automatically interpret any themes of death literally—or at least very negatively. we're naturally conditioned to fear death, and then we're taught to fear it even more. it's the change. it's the unknown. it's the very idea of an "end." most people aren't very fond of these things! understandably so. but personally? i think the symbolism that can exist behind death is beautiful.

Death is the 13th card of the major arcana. above all else, it symbolizes change (positive change; it's always, always about what's ultimately best for you). Death tells you it's time to move forward; this part of your life is done. there is more waiting for you—new opportunities, new experiences, a brighter, more fulfilling future—but you must be prepared to let go.

the habits and routines you have now? the mindsets that have kept you alive? your current sense of self? whatever it is, whatever Death is asking for, you have to let it "die." it won't serve you anymore. it will only drag you down. and it might be terrifying and you might not be able to comprehend what lies ahead and you might want to kick and scream and struggle, but you can't cling forever. endings are never easy, and sometimes they hurt like hell, but with each end comes a new beginning.

and yes if you've read burn my soul this should all sound very familiar lol:

looking at death from this perspective, kashika and the entirety of find a way out should read a lot more like akito caught on the cusp of a monumental transformation. suspended between "life" (the old) and "death" (the new) so to speak.

up to this point he's been fueled by spite and desperation. two very intense, very negative emotions—but it's an intensity that worked. everyone else on vivid street had years of musical experience, and he had 0. he needed to catch up and he needed to catch up quickly because it's not like he could put the whole world on pause. he could take his time to learn the basics, sure, but every other vivid street musician would continue improving and growing while he did that. there would always be a gap between him and Them.

unless... he worked harder—WAY harder—than all of them combined.

and maybe that wouldn't do it either. maybe he would be stuck in place forever, always playing catch-up, always struggling to stay afloat, always being left behind. he knew this. and he knew the amount of destruction he'd end up inflicting upon himself if he went down this path. but in his mind, it was okay. it was worth it. because he'd rather die endlessly pursuing what he loves most than live not trying at all.

but in find a way out, when facing off against his old bullies, he starts to realize that he was wrong. he's not just stuck in place. he bridged the gap a long time ago, and he almost didn't even notice. and where he's going now, spite and desperation are the wrong emotions to sing from. he needs to let the unhealthy, extreme mindsets die, but also it's hard to let go of something when you would have given up a long long long LONG time ago without it.

but with time, and enough poking and prodding from ken and luka, he does it. he lets go. he lets the old parts of him die, and he passes on to the next stage of his life.

akito's character arc has always been about growth. improvement. learning. Becoming Better. and not just in a musical sense although Yes That Is A Huge Part Of It. his arc is also about his growth as a person. it's about him becoming more confident, and learning how to be kinder and more patient with both himself and other people. it's about him learning how to let his walls down and let his loved ones in. and to trust that they won't start kicking him to death once they're in there.

it's about him learning to exchange the Spite and Desperation for Passion and Love.

it's about him becoming happier.

which is why it's so fucking startling when people talk about him like he's suicidal and on the verge of a breakdown. like, woah, what?

as i said though, kashika isn't the only source of this misconception and i find more merit in the other sources because they're actual aspects of his character and scenes in the story and not song lyrics that shouldn't have been read so literally in the first place. like, yeah. we've seen a ton of unhealthy behavior out of akito. he's had a very extreme perspective on his place in the world from a super early age, and while the severity frequently gets exaggerated in fanon spaces, the shinonome household isn't exactly sunshine and rainbows.

he's been moody, he's been prickly and abrasive, he's lashed out. he keeps most people at arm's length and builds walls so high not even toya can get through them at first. he had to! he wouldn't have survived if he didn't! like, he was targeted and bullied by a group of adults when he first started singing on vivid street. that is actually a genuinely traumatizing thing to happen to a kid!

so no, i'm not against the idea that akito has experienced depression and suicidal ideation in the past. kinda comes naturally with the territory he ended up in. but that's the key word: past.

i get confused when the idea is dragged into the present. because again! the whole point of his character arc is he's overcome all that PAST adversity! recovery isn't linear but we're not about to see him hit rock bottom any time soon. or ever, actually. you know why? because we've already seen his rock bottom. stray bad dog. that event was his big breakdown moment. that's what opened him up to try to start healing.

we're not getting another stray bad dog. stop expecting another stray bad dog.

he's alright, i promise. he's growing up. he's gotten better. he knows he belongs in vivid bad squad. he knows he's loved. he knows his friends will be there to catch him when he falls. he's always been strong, but now he's even stronger. he's excited for his future, and i think we should be too.

[gaysindistress]

Связи (n.) connections - four

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

pairings: mob!bucky x reader

Summary: “Did you think you could hide from us? That’s adorable, little one. There’s no where on this planet where you could hide from the Shostakov Bratva and even if you did manage to evade us, the Barnes Bratva would find you. Your связи, your connections, will always come back to haunt you, Y/N.”

Warnings: cursing, Carol not being nice

Word count: 3.4k

part three | series masterlist

taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @unaxv @identity22

A week passes by in a blur of moving and staring out the window while that stupid song, Possibility by Lykke Li, plays in the back of my head. Bucky arranged for all of my stuff to be moved into his penthouse but promised to keep my apartment for me. I think he even offered to take over my rent but honestly I don’t remember. I’ve tried to tell myself that I haven’t fallen into a depression but that would be a lie.

Between having my world crumble around me and then rebuilt by others, it’s to be expected that I’m feeling…awful. That’s not the right word but it’s all that I can think of to describe the feeling of complete isolation and loss of control that’s taking residency in my chest.

Bucky and Sam did stay around for the first couple of days, probably to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid but after that, it was just me, the two guards who never look like they’re doing anything, and two other staff members. Thor, the massive blonde guard, lounges at the kitchen island everyday and flirts with the golden haired cook named Jane. The other guard, Valkyrie, is always within sight of me and moves when I do like a little shadow but I rarely see Loki who I can only assume runs the entire place. If he’s not on the phone, he’s just hanging up or is excusing himself to answer it.

I’m grateful to have had time to process and grief before being shoved back into my life and forced to act like nothing happened. Tony and Steve both have called numerous times to make sure I’m okay after randomly taking a week off but it’s Carol’s insistence on texting, calling, DMing, and FaceTiming that gets to me. I have half a mind to show Bucky and get him to do something about however something tells me that I won’t like his methods.

His question comes in the form of a text the first night he’s not around. It was simple; “what’s your favorite food?”

“Are you really going to waste your question on that?”

“It’s a question all the same.”

“Pho but it has to be from the place down the street from my apartment.”

The next day Jane brought me that exact meal and made a point to show me the note that accompanied it.

“See? Not a waste.”

It wasn’t signed but I knew it was from him. Although I wanted to be angry with him for the part he’s playing in all of this, I couldn’t be. I can’t. He’s just as stuck as I am.

We’re both stuck being pawns for a giant game of chess that neither of us want to play.

A debriefing with Wanda and Carol wasn’t exactly what I thought my first day back at work would entail. I’d hoped for a relaxing day with my head buried in paperwork so I could avoid any questions but apparently not.

It surprised me at first that I would be allowed to go back to work but my father apparently hadn't cared enough to make any terms and conditions regarding me after I married Bucky. His concerns lay in the merging of their lower men and giving the directive of “shoot first, ask questions later” if they saw Antonia or any of her people to their Brigadiers. Neither of those things involved me and seeing as I was now a member of the Barnes Bratva, I became Bucky’s burden to bear.

The lack of rules regarding me meant that I could return to work and use it as a cover to help with the FBI’s investigation. Hence why I’m being forced to endure Carol’s stare as Wanda gives me the complete run down on Alexei. The entire time Carol’s been burning holes into my back and Tony’s done the same to her.

The moment I walked in, he had grabbed and yanked me into his office, demanding to know what the fuck happened. I explained as much as I could without putting him in danger but he refused to hear it. He’d threatened to send Steve after me if I didn’t give him the full story and the thought of Steve lecturing me was enough to have me spill everything. I swear tears pricked his eyes but he was quick to engulf me in a hug and promise to do whatever I needed him to.

“Anything at all, you call me. I don’t care what time it is, you call me,” he’d whispered into my hair and I nodded.

I honestly think if I asked him to make Carol disappear, he would. He might even be trying to do that now with the way he’s shooting daggers at her. Wanda pretends to not notice but the air is growing too hot around us and she lets out an annoyed huff.

“You need to figure your shit out right now. I don’t get paid to deal with children so you better grow up and sort it all out right now.”

Carol is the first to speak, “this isn't safe anymore. We need to call it off and find another way to get evidence.”

Wanda arches one auburn brow, “and why isn’t it safe anymore?”

“You know why.”

“I do but if you’re going to suggest something that stupid, you need to back it up.”

Tony snickers to himself and earns a glare from Carol.

I interject, “the operation is fine and we all know nothing is ever going to be ‘safe’ not when you’re dealing with criminals. Your best chance is me. Alexei will trust me more than anyone else you’d send in. It’ll be slow and you probably won’t get anything useful for a few weeks but sending in more people or even pulling anyone will be suspicious and he’ll catch on. I’ve been made Bucky’s Sovietnik and he’s obviously a part of all of this so I’m already in a good position to infiltrate Alexei’s organization or at least get someone else in.”

“Barnes made you his advisor already?” Wanda asks with curiosity and something else edges her voice.

“He only did it to piss me off,” Carol snips as she moves to make herself coffee.

“I’m starting to think you’re the problem, Danvers. Maybe you need to be reassigned,” Wanda snips back as she goes back to look at the file splayed out on the table. She’s leaning over the table and Tony joins her, coming to sit next to where her hand is on the table. They begin to speak in low voices and I take that as my cue to take a break or make a run for it. I still haven’t decided as I get up and excuse myself to go to the bathroom. Carol’s lurking on the other side of the room, angrily stirring her coffee and staring at the ground so I think it’s safe to slip out.

Alas, everything I think is apparently wrong and I don’t see her follow me out but she makes her presence known when she grabs my arm in the hallway and stops me.

“What is it with people grabbing me?” I sneer at her as I spin around and pull my arm away from her before she can say anything. Hurt flashes in the eyes that I once loved to get lost in but that was before I found out she’s been using me. Now they’re dull and lifeless like a painting that’s been sitting in the sunlight too long. “What do you want?”

“I…” she stammers clearly not expecting me to snap at her and that makes me even more angry. Did she really think I could forgive and forget, move on after hearing that she’s the reason my sister is dead and that she’s been lying to me since we met? The void that’s eaten away at me now fills with molten anger and demands to be released.

“Spit it out. I have to pee.”

“I'm sorry. I wanted to say I’m sorry and ask if you’d come over for dinner tomorrow.”

If I were feeling anything other than anger, my jaw would’ve dropped in surprise but instead it clenches and I raise a brow at her.

She continues, looking around to make sure no one hears a single desperate and disgusting word she’s saying, “please, Oksana…”

When I didn’t think she could fuck up anymore, she does and she knows it by the way her face pales.

“Let me make myself perfectly clear; my name is Y/N and I want nothing to do with you after all of this is over. Bucky already told you that we can’t be seen together anymore. We can’t be together anymore and nor would I even want that if it was a possibility. I will be professional because we have a job to do but don’t expect me to come running back to you because you said you were sorry. It means nothing to me.”

Something shifts in her and she takes a step forward as a dark look overtakes her features, “but it means something when he says it?”

I narrow my eyes at her and scoff. Jealousy is a terrible look on everyone but on her it’s appalling. Shaking my head, I turn to the bathroom and she yanks me back, pinning me between the wall and herself. She leans down to whisper in my ear, “because he’s the good guy, right? The guardian angel who saved you from turning out like your sisters? Is that it? Is that why you didn’t even try to stop the marriage and just rolled over like a fucking dog?”

“No,” I grit out as I try to push her but she doesn’t budge. “Move.”

She presses further into me and I gasp out of anger, shock, rage, take your pick.

“He’s the criminal here, don’t forget that,” she whispers in my ear and I squeeze my eyes shut at the feeling of her breath washing over me.

“I can see it clear as day now,” I whisper back and she pulls away with pinched brows. Dropping my head back against the wall, I use her confusion as my chance to slam it forward and smash my forehead into her nose. She lets out a shriek of pain and jumps away from me as blood gushes from her nose. I can feel where my forehead made contact with her nose and blood drips down my face but I don’t care.

“Tell whatever story you want, Carol, but don’t think you can make me the villain without forcing me to turn into one. You don’t know me half as well as you think you do nor do you know what I’m prepared to fucking do if needed. You are a pathetic excuse for a human being.”

Finally she’s silent and I straighten my shoulders at my victory before giving her a look that would make even Alexei shrink away. I know that someone will have something to say about what just happened but for now, I’ll bask in the glory of getting her to leave me alone and clean up my face after I pee like I originally wanted to.

Tony is sitting on the bathroom counter when I open my stall and go to clean up. He doesn’t look pissed but he doesn’t look happy either. I choose to ignore him as I gather paper towels and wet them so I can dab at my forehead. He takes them from my hands and finishes the job.

“You need to be more careful.”

“I’m aware.”

“Are you though? I don’t know exactly what Barnes has worked out with the Feds but I’m sure there’s a clause somewhere that lets them drop you whenever they want.”

I stare blankly at him and he rolls his eyes; what a perfect duo we are.

“All I’m saying is that if something happens, I don’t know that I can help you.”

I step away from him, narrowing my eyes at him, “I don’t need you to save me. I don’t need anyone to save me, I can take care of myself. If something goes wrong, I’ll be fine because that’s always what happens; I find a way out.”

Tony’s eyes soften and he drops the bloody towels into the sink, “I didn’t say you needed saving, I said I might not be able to help. Those are two very different things and this..”

He gestures under us as if the lies are tangled into the air, “this is different. This isn’t a bad day on a case or even a criminal who got away. This is your past. These are your connections that you’ve tried to sever for years coming back to show you that you won’t be free until every last one is gone. All I’m asking is for you to be careful please.”

I nod and shift my stare to the woman in the mirror that looks vaguely like me. Her forehead is a collage of dark hues, throbbing under the surface but the blood is no longer visible. Her eyes are void of anything, any life, any emotion whatsoever but there is a slight curl to her lips, a shadow of a smirk.

Oksana is staring back at me and I find myself welcoming her home after so many years.

The first thing out of Sam’s mouth when he sees me is “Jesus fucking Christ” as he hands me an ice pack. It’s been a few hours so it’s not like it’s going to do anything but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless.

“You should see the other guy,” I half joke as I take the pack, pressing it to my forehead with a wince and he shakes his head even more.

Bucky on the other hand is silent, nothing betraying what he’s thinking as he stares at me from across the kitchen island. It’s unsettling. It’s unrelenting. It’s enough to make me want to vomit.

Sam notices and clears his throat, drawing me into a debrief about the meeting with Feds. He sits beside me and doesn’t hesitate before diving into how I got my lovely bruise. Only then does the Pakhan speak and causes us both to freeze mid sentence.

“Question for a question,” he barely utters as he leans back against the cabinets and crosses his arms. “Did she threaten you?”

Sam’s eyes dart between us as I carefully pick my words, “In a way, yes.”

“What do you mean?”

I raise a finger at him, “it's my turn, what changed that night?”

Vague sure but he understands.

“Take your pick. Alexei’s men came in too early, Joseph was killed, you fought me more than I expected, Yelena wasn’t sedated and then she bit Sam.”

I nod, satisfied with his answer and tell him to ask his second question which he repeats. Sam and him give each other a look before he slips out of the room and leaves just Bucky and I in the kitchen. Jane had left us all plates in the fridge but only Sam and Bucky had eaten. Mine still sits untouched only a few inches away on the island but I’ve been too focused with talking to even think about eating.

“She followed me to the bathroom and grabbed my arm.”

“There’s more.”

Damn, he’s getting good; stating things so that I have to either confirm or deny them but not outright asking.

“No there’s not.”

“Yes there is, tell me what else happened,” his voice is stern and it sends a shiver down my spine.

“There’s really not.”

“So your forehead just randomly bruises like that,” he states with a bored look and gestures to the darkening spot on my forehead.

Suddenly my food looks appealing. He calls my name, softer this time and I let out a sigh before looking at him over my food.

“She pinned me against the wall and wouldn’t move so I made her.”

“And head butting was the best option?”

I narrow my eyes at him, “one at a time.”

“Fine, ask yours then.”

I chew my food, pretending to think of one even though I already have one in mind. I maintain eye contact with him as I swallow.

“How long were you and nat together?”

He rubs his jaw and scratches at the stubble that’s grown into almost a beard since the start of this all. Eye bags are slowly starting to form and I wonder if it’s from me or the Feds or anything other aspect of his life. Everything seems to be complete chaos around him albeit organized to some degree.

“We weren’t.”

My brows knit together in confusion, “what? She was in love with you, she wouldn’t shut up about it.

He shrugs before sliding off the counter top and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. “Some things are better left alone.”

“Are you always this frustratingly vague? No wonder Sam is always in a mood, you only speak in riddles and sarcasm.”

Bucky chuckles. “And I’m guessing you have a habit of picking fights when backed into a corner.”

“I was raised by the one and only Alexei Shostakov; isn’t that what he’s known for?”

He nods in agreement with a smirk but doesn’t say anything. We settle into silence as I finish eating and he stands guard with his arms crossed while leaning against the wall closest to the front door. The penthouse isn’t extravagant but it’s not homey either. Steel, concrete, and dark wood cover every surface giving it a showroom vibe and the severe lack of any personal touches makes it worse. The room I’ve been staying in was like a hotel room when I first moved in but now it’s at least comfortable thanks to my things. I tried once to be a minimalist but after years of not being allowed to enjoy life, I couldn’t deny the little girl in me that anymore.

Plants line the window seals and terribly hand knitted blankets cover the white bedding I couldn’t get rid of. While it might have felt sterile at first, the sheer comfort and luxury of those sheets and blankets convinced me to keep them. Where there aren’t plants, I put candles and small lamps so I don’t have to turn on the main lights. My little haven is the complete opposite of the kitchen that feels even colder with Bucky’s cold stare but it’s mine and mine alone.

He breaks the silence before I can escape to it and watches me closely.

“Has she hurt you before?” he asks, his voice dropping an octave in an effort to not scare me off I assume. I freeze as I’m putting my dishes into the sink with my back to him. I know who he’s talking about and I know my answer but I can’t figure out why he cares.

He seems to see the hesitation in me and taps my elbow to get my attention. I’m thankful he doesn’t grab me and I suck in a breath before turning around.

He is unlike any of the other Bratva men I’m used to. The others are filthy, worn, and all around awful to be near from their lives in crime but there’s something about this man that’s different. He looks every bit of the menacing Pakhan that he is, however I still remember that laughing young man who pulled pranks on my sisters with me. The years aren’t usually kind to the children raised in Bratvas but he’s found a way to make them work in his favor and at 34, Bucky is the most respected while fearsome Pakhan this world has seen.

The kitchen light above us emphasizes the dark flecks in his blue eyes and amplifies the sun kissed hue of his skin. The dark blue threads of his eyes rival that of any ocean wave I’ve ever seen and mild concern lurks in them as they bore into me.

“Has Carol…” he starts and I interrupt him.

“No. She’s…she wasn’t like that at all. She’s never even raised her voice at me before.”

“Lisichka,” he murmurs to me and the nickname catches me by surprise.

Little fox.

“Don't call me that,” I spit out and clench my fists at my side before storming off to my room.

Little fox.

He used to call Natasha that.

[bowserwife]

The term "anti-depressant" is incredibly insidious to me.

It implies that depression is some solid, identifiable thing, a disease in the brain that can be specifically targeted and directly counteracted by the right formulation of medicine. That is not what anti-depressants do. Anti-depressants are a mind-altering drug that induce a certain mental state. Their status as medicine is one of social construction: they are not any more or less inherently medicinal than alcohol or LSD. And certain people have decided that this mental state is preferable to the symptoms of depression--or at least that it will make a depressed patient more able to "function in society" (i.e. go to work.)

"Depression", of course, does not refer to a specific condition: it is rather a term that groups together a nebulous set of symptoms, not the thing that causes those symptoms. This is true of most psychiatric designations. And though the serotonin and chemical-imbalance theories of depression have been largely discredited, the drugs developed on these theories (mainly SSRIs) are still prescribed en masse and are referred to as simply anti-depressants. One big problem with studying the efficacy of these drugs is that it must be done almost entirely through self-reporting; through asking patients if they believe the drugs they're taking are helping.

For my part, I was prescribed ADHD medication when I was 8 years old. When I was 14 I told my parents I was thinking about killing myself, and I was started on anti-depressants: for around the next decade I would cycle through several different SSRIs, other anti-depressants, mood stabilizers, and anti-psychotics. All of these made me feel terrible in different ways. After a suicide attempt at 23 landed me a stay in the psych ward, I threw all of my meds in the garbage at once and blocked my psychiatrist's number.

And thru all those years of taking the meds, every time, every single time they asked me, "Do you think the medication is helping?"...I would say yes!!! Even as I was getting worse! Even as I was at the absolute lowest point of my life, which I only just barely survived! And I said yes because I really, really wanted the medicaiton to work. Of course I did. I needed it to: I was dying. And I thought that some group of smart doctors had come up with this pill to counteract my exact condition, so I reasoned, "well, I feel different, so I guess that must be the medicine killing the depression."

Well, I was lied to. I fell for the propaganda machine designed by faceless pharmaceutical companies who would gladly see me dead if it meant they had profited off my prescription. If you are on any kind of mental health medication, and you feel it's helping, I am not telling you to stop. But I am asking you to ask yourself: do I actually like the way these things make me feel? If you do, then that's fine. I'm a big proponent of taking drugs that make you feel good. But remember that that is all they are. A drug that makes you feel a certain way. Not a cure.

I know making the choice to go unmedicated carries a massive social stigma: many times when I tried in the past I was shamed back into the drugs very quickly by doctors, family and friends alike. But I can tell you that I am 5 years clean of any and all psychiatric drugs and I have never felt happier or more in control of my mental health.

[isleofdarkness]

Do you honestly think that the Aks are being completely brainwashed? Like they were being told that the vks were evil?

TL:DR; yes, though not completely. I think they've just been fed a lot of propaganda and a lot of facts have been left out of their education. Because that's really the only thing that makes sense.

In this essay I will be drawing from my school experiences as well as those of my brothers and friends. I will also being drawing from my mother's experiences, as hers are the same but her school was far larger than my first high school (graduating class of both of my high schools was less than 100. Her graduating class was over 7,000.) Also I've been working on this for an hour so it might not make that much sense.

I think they were definitely being fed a lot of propaganda and that they had no idea how bad conditions on the Isle were. I also don't think it ever occurred to them that the villains would be terrible parents. Why would it? All of their parents seem to love them and I doubt they have education on what abusive parenting is because, let's face it, I can name a few that are probably abused (Jane, Ben, etc.) I think they were misinformed, probably actively lied to by the monarchy, and that's why they thought the Isle kids were going to be evil.

Look, if they just had the notion that the Isle kids would be evil because of their parents, their minds would have changed far sooner. Teenagers are petty but not like that. If they knew what the Isle was like, knew what abuse from a parent was, I don't think they would have actively hated the Isle kids like they did. Jay and Carlos- okay, maybe their first impression was a bit of a what the fuck moment, but they were literally boys being boys. And then they both go for tourney and Jay is an incredible player, he clearly has the time of his life, does his dorky little victory dance.

Then Coach calls him over and Jay comes over looking like he expects to get a verbal smack-down. When Coach praises him, Jay lights back up. And the entire thing... that's just not normal. The way Jay deflated was just too much for a usual "oh great, a teacher's gonna yell at me," his joy completely vanished and he looked almost scared. And then Coach praised him and Jay nervously smiled as though he still expected to be yelled at. It's only when Coach welcomes him to the team that Jay seems to reignite, grinning like he just won the Olympics. From that tiny bit of relief and that tiny bit of praise, Jay went from somber and silent to absolutely thrilled, and the way those tiny things caused such extremes raises a red flag for me.

Carlos, however, sucks at tourney. He's terrified, audibly screams and panics, and that's not normal, either. A nerd in gym class will be a bit nervous and awkward, sure, but I've never seen a nerd full-on panic the way Carlos did. And yeah, maybe that could be a confirmation that Jay is violent and Carlos knows it, but the way Carlos reacted. He didn't run away. He didn't throw his stick directly at Jay, just at his feet as though trying to scare him away. When that doesn't work, he hunkers down, taking cover behind his shield rather than literally taking two steps to the side. That's not a normal reaction. None of that is normal, not even for a nerd in gym class. Even if he realized that Jay was way bigger, stronger, and faster, that's still not a normal reaction. No, that was 100% fight-flight-freeze-fawn, and the way Carlos pretty instantly went to fawn raises red flags with me. Fawn isn't like the other three. The first two are seen as simple adrenaline responses, freeze raises some eyebrows but can also just be an adrenaline response that's just a bit abnormal, but fawning is pretty much always seen as a trauma response. All literature on fawning calls it a trauma response- either present trauma, such as getting jumped and badly beaten, or past trauma. No present trauma, so that leaves past trauma. Again, could be with Jay, but that's still not normal.

But sure, maybe Auradon kids haven't taken intro to psychology like me and couldn't pick up on the fawn thing. What did Carlos even do? He was just sitting there the entire movie? Then he adopted a dog and didn't try to skin it? Carlos was very clearly not a threat- they didn't know he was a genius, after all. But they still treated him like a villain. They were still afraid of him for no reason. That doesn't really make sense to me, it's not a reaction to new information I would expect from high schoolers. Sure, maybe he'd get bullied, but the nerd friend group would open up to him. Clubs would become available. Maybe a study group or a tech guys group. None of that. Despite him not being a threat, they held onto the idea that he was dangerous despite all evidence to the contrary and kept excluding him. That tells me they had been told beforehand, a lot, for many years, that anyone on the Isle was evil. That way, when Isle kids did come over, they assumed Carlos was an evil villain despite all evidence to the contrary and excluded him.

Evie... what did she even do? Was she too pretty? Too smart? Let me tell you about high school boys as someone who was a high school boy a few years ago- they flirt. They like to see which girl will turn red with a glance, a few words, a simple touch. They like to ask girls out just to prove they can- sometimes they even ask girls out as a joke, which is really fucked up bullying done to girls seen as undateable. A large amount of them would jump on the chance for a date, a night, and/or a relationship with a pretty girl. And Evie is an extremely pretty girl. And yet they stay clear. Chad and Doug are the only two that take interest- Chad, who sees someone he can manipulate because he could probably tell she had been making eyes at him, and Doug, who was also from the gutter (dwarf kin, nerd, not all that hot,) but who, very importantly, spent a lot of time around her and actually knew her as a person. And that's all, despite Evie pretty clearly not being in a relationship as Chad sure never spent any time around her. Notably, Chad's friends never hit Evie up for homework. I've no doubt he was bragging all about it, but they never hit her up for an easy way out of homework. Evie is an easy girl to get a date with and an easy girl to manipulate, as she's so desperate to please her mother by getting a prince, but no one really takes advantage of any of that other than Chad. Even though she hadn't done anything, they still stayed away from her. Whether it was hatred or fear I don't know, but it's strange behaviour from all of the boys in an entire high school.

Mal... don't remember her doing anything before the whole hair spell thing. All I remember her doing is Jane's hair, magically. Then Lonnie walks in and asks for her hair to be changed even though "I know you're like, evil and all." Mal hadn't even done anything but Lonnie called her evil, which, yeah, could just be a simple preconceived notion- at my school, we thought the transfer from our "mortal enemy" (yes, midwestern schools apparently have mortal enemies with other schools in the area) school was some kind of plant. She joined the football team (American football) and it was like, great, she's going to sabotage us. But then she played football like everyone else and we realized that she wasn't a plant and she pretty quickly assimilated into the middle school. When the kids from other schools came over and didn't do shit to bring down our school, we relaxed within a few weeks and they assimilated easily. Mal has been there for more than a few weeks, not doing anything, but still hasn't assimilated. Even when she helps people with her hair spell, she still doesn't assimilate. Even when she starts dating Ben, who seems to be extremely popular, she still doesn't assimilate. They don't try to assimilate her. I know I keep saying assimilate like they're the Borg, but assimilating into a new high school is a good thing. It means you get friends to sit with at lunch, clubs and "elite" classes you can take (such as this business class at my school, which the teacher had to invite you to join. People would always get the teacher to let their friends join because it was a very easy class,) jobs, and, most importantly in this example, general acceptance from the school at large. Mal, despite doing nothing, then starting to help people, then starting to date the popular guy, never seems to assimilate. She never gets general acceptance from the school.

None of them do.

I need to stress that, in the first movie, the Isle kids hadn't done anything. If you haven't done anything, it's fairly easy to assimilate (in my experience, the only people who had trouble assimilating were narcs (as in snitches, not people with NPD.)) In fact, there's usually at least one friend group that literally exists to help people assimilate- some extrovert keeps adopting all of the loners into the group and that's a huge part of them assimilating. Don't let those high school dramas fool you, it is not hard to assimilate and you will almost always be assimilated whether you like it or not. But the Isle kids, who have never done anything, do not assimilate. They are outsiders for pretty much the entire movie and seem to still be outsider'ed in the books. The Auradon kids really stick to the idea that these kids are evil despite all evidence to the contrary. It takes them a long time to warm up and some of them, a seemingly not insignificant portion, never do. That's not normal high school behaviour and I speak as the guy who literally came to a new school in a sundown town dressed like a punk and still found a friend group within two weeks.

High schoolers are a pack species and when someone doesn't have a pack, they try to find them a pack or an existing pack opens up for them. And there are all of these inter-pack relations- the gamers are cool with the geeks, the geeks are cool with the nerds, the popular girls are actually usually cool with the weird kids, the weird kids are cool with the Edgy TM (the punks, goths, and emos, may be in one group or in multiple depending on how big the population is) kids- there's a whole political system going on in high schools. There may be a Switzerland group that kind of keeps to themselves, but the other groups will usually stand up for them on the basis of "they never did anything to harm anyone." A North Korea group, which is a group that is largely disliked by the population but does have an ally or two, is super rare and they've always done something- in my school, that group was made of narcs. The Isle kids seem to make up a North Korea group, largely isolated due to dislike from the general population but with a few allies. But, again, they haven't done anything. High school kids aren't just going to force an innocent group of new but peaceful (and actually beneficial) people to be a North Korea group.

But if high school kids aren't like they are in high school drama movies, why are the Isle kids exiled as hard as they are?

Simple, because the Auradon kids have been fed incomplete facts, misinformation, and propaganda for their entire lives.

Yes, I know, this is probably actually the creators refusing to acknowledge what high school is actually like, but I am going to maliciously comply with suspension of disbelief because I hate Disney. I am going to pretend they did everything for an in-canon reason. And the in-canon reason, due to all of what I've outlined above, can only be false teachings from Auradon because high school kids are not like this.

[cdragons]

Revenant

Summary: Kol Mikaelson's soul manages to leave and travel while he still remains daggered in his coffin. While he wanders around and bitches about his life, he meets an unexpected friend. Warning(s): VERY HEAVY crack fic, technical crossover of fandoms, weird shit, Kol is a horny-ass gremlin, Druig & Kaety are obsessed with each other, Kol has a thing for witches bc he got mommy issues, Klaus is a bitch

Note: Merry Christmas to all who celebrate it! This fic came from an idea that I shared with @ethereal-athalia, and it is VERY much a crack fic. I don't have any plans in continuing this idea, but I wanted to write it out as a Christmas gift to @ethereal-athalia for how much of a good friend she's been to me. I never would have been able to do any of my fics without her in my corner. I own only my Hecate!OC. I do not own either Druig from Eternals, or Kol from TVD franchise. Also, Druig still very much exists in this fic and world bc I physically CANNOT write Kaety without Druig. Stay safe and hope that your upcoming year brings you all good health and happiness!

Kol hated being dead. Truly dead. Dead in a way that he couldn’t move or speak or live.

At least when he turned as a gift Mother Dearest he could still walk, even if he couldn’t use the arcane anymore. But of course, he would still always find his way back to witches and their magic. He couldn’t help it if he exuded that charm that made him so irresistible.

Gods, just remembering how pathetically sex-deprived his physical form was currently almost made him weep. He couldn’t wait until the moment he got that fucking silver dagger out of his chest. Nik was going to get it when he finally got out.

Sure, he may have crossed a line when he stated that Nik had a pair of buttocks flatter than a sheet of paper. But was he the one that gave his brother such lacking assets? No. That fault lied entirely with their mother and his biological father, thank you very much.

But alas, here his soul was, walking in a forest in the middle of some mosquito-flooded country.

At the very least, his gorgeous body was safe from the onslaught of bug bites and sweltering humidity. Only in the fucking Amazon did winter feel like summer.

Kol audibly groaned once more at the thought of his immaculate figure rotting away thanks to Nik. He couldn’t bear to think about how his illustrious fair skin being that dull grayish hue from being confined by death. At least when Bekah got daggered, Nik had the decency to make sure that her body remained stored in proper conditions and carefully encased in magic to prevent any harm coming to her. He had no guarantee. No, such love and devotion only went to ‘Lijah and Bekah when it came to Nik.

Story of his life: always an outsider, even with his own fucking siblings. Gods, he wanted nothing more than have his powers return to him. At least with magic by his side he’d finally be able to show Nik he wasn’t the only one with threats, he’d show him, he’d –

“Well, well, well,” came a new voice, “aren’t you a strange sight?”

Kol immediately turned his head to locate the mindless idiot that dared to interrupt his thoughts. Did humans devolve so pathetically that they no longer understood that when they see a soul wandering alone, that soul would likely be uninterested in any attempts of conversation? But looking at the individual who spoke to him, he was shocked beyond himself to witness such a devastatingly gorgeous woman before him. She had dark almond-shaped eyes and tall with legs that went on for miles. And her thick and illustrious raven waves practically flowed down the middle of her back like a black waterfall.

Dare he say it, this woman was almost as beautiful than him.  

But regardless of how pleasing her outward appearance may be, she still would not be spared from his fury.

Pity, he would have loved to wrap those legs around his waist if he were actually here.

The corners of the woman’s lips went upward, and the cupid’s bow of her mouth was slightly pursed as she smirked, making her lips look plumper and more bitable than how they had right to be in the Original’s opinion. It was only a few seconds before the succubus burst out laughing. Her entire body arched with her back as she simply couldn’t contain herself.

“I’m sorry,” she said once he began to calm down, “but I’m afraid that I happen to be very happily married. In fact, I have been for the past near seven thousand years.” After making a quick glance up and down Kol’s near transparent form, she continued with a cat-like grin. “And I highly doubt someone as woefully young as you could satisfy a woman like me.”

Oh, now he was offended. Not being able to satisfy– did this woman have any idea who she was talking to? The list of names of men and women that swore they only believed in Heaven when Kol fucked them was so long that it would wrap the Earth twice. And she better believe than each time was more than consensual – they were begging him very enthusiastically to say the least. Who was this lady to assume –

Wait, did she say seven thousand years?

As if she could hear his thoughts, all the woman did was smiled before extending her hand.

“I think I’d like it very much if you and I became friends.”

Extending his own, Kol was surprised to see that his hand didn’t just pass through like it normally would for most physical objects. He could actually grasp her hand and feel the warmth passing through it. For the first time in…forever, Kol felt warmth flooding through him. He stared into her eyes, wondering how on Earth someone could live for seven thousand years. Even if she had the gift of mediumship, his presence was too well-hidden for even the most gifted and powerful medium to sense him.

Kol had to know more of her. He’d go mad if he didn’t.

“What are you exactly?” he carefully asked.

He could sense that this person was a being of extreme power. In the top of her finger, she likely contained far more power than Nik could possibly imagine, even in his wildest dreams. It seemed that being an invisible soul floating in the wind had its perks after all. If he was alive, walking and about, he’d never come across this marvel of a woman.

“I’d prefer if you began that question with ‘who’ than ‘what,’ but I suppose that matters little in this situation. My name is Kaetlyn, I prefer Kaet for my friends, but you may know me better as-”

“Hekate,” he whispered in awe, “Goddess of Magic. Titaness Mother of Witches and Monsters.”

“Surprised in a good way I hope?” Kaet asked with one brow raised.

“More or less, but I did imagine you about 30 feet taller with the night sky for skin and two more heads.”

“Well,” she softly chuckled, “I hope I didn’t disappoint you with my appearance. Now I’ll forgive you just this once for interrupting me. But only if you allow me to take you to my home.”

“Oh?” Kol asked, a salacious grin spreading across his face. Now things were getting interesting.

“Save it Kol Mikaelson-” ordered the ancient goddess as she raised her hand to her face as she pointed at him in warning- “I am taking you to the village that I run with my husband. So, I suggest that you keep your hands to yourself because he has a nasty little habit of being showing exactly how off-limits I am to youngsters such as yourself.”

“I never told you my-”

“You were once a witch, and I am the mother of magic. All witches and their magic came from me, including you.”

It really was so unfair how good she looked while talking over him. Oh well, he might as well play along. Finally, something interesting was happening in his life.

“So, who is this husband of yours, darling? And how can you be so sure that your husband could be a threat to me? You know who I am, what I became. What makes you so sure that once I enter your village, I won’t use my ghostly ways to end him.”

When Kol finished, he immediately felt a shift in the air. It was as if the sun had disappeared and the jungle went silent. It seemed that the animals that served as their audience went dead silent as if they were in anticipation for his end. The kind and amiable mirth of the chthonic witch shifted to dangerous and cold.

Kol had lived for over 700 years and after everything he done and witnessed, he had never felt such chill run down his spine.

“Listen well,” she began – her tone laced with the power and authority that came from someone of her position, “I won’t try to humor you with answering that ridiculous question, nor do I intend to let you presume that my kindness can be mistaken for naivety. My husband is one with abilities as ancient and powerful as mine. If you truly knew what he was capable of, you’d be far more terrified of him than you ever were of your father. That being said, if you ever try to threaten my husband or even think about go so far to joke about it again, I promise you that I can produce torture and incite fear that would make the devil weep in pity for you.”

Oh fuck, even as a ghost, Kol should not have been as aroused by her threats as he was in that moment.

But soon the tension dissipated and warmth from the sun returned to pass through him once more.

“Now that we have that matter cleared up, we really should get going. The sun’s about to set and you never know what or who would be lurking at night.”

With that being the final word, The Good Lady of the Night and Shadows turned around and made her way back to where he presumed to be the location of her home village. And what else could he do but follow her by how the slight sway of her hips seemed to beckon him.

Threats and chills mixed a beautiful witch with magic more ancient than time itself, Kol couldn’t remember the last time he felt so alive.

Authors' Note: And when Kol enters the village, he tries to flirt with Kaet in front of Druig like a dumbass, and his soul gets a major ass-whooping.

Tagging: @ethereal-athalia, @valeskafics, @klauslove, @carolineforbae, @misssophiachase

Reblog and comment and like and share to anyone you think may like to read this fic!

[callipraxia]

As semi-promised on Thursday night: here is a fuller explication of my thoughts after reading @zephrunsimperium's post about Ford and anger (which you should go check out their various Ford analysis pieces if you haven’t, they’re excellent and, unlike me, actually get to the point in a timely manner!)...thoughts which ultimately melded with some attempts at another essay I had semi-abandoned a few months ago, so hold on tight, friends, you’re in for quite the long ride with this one, should you choose to wade through it to the end, for this essay is more than 10,000 words long. Numbers in parentheses indicate endnotes, which can be found at the, well, end. Trigger warnings for extended discussions of multiple kinds of abuse portrayed/only thinly made into metaphors in the GF canon, and for discussion of mental health. For anyone feeling up to dealing with all that...read on below the cut.

To my way of thinking, one of the most essential things for understanding Ford lies in recognizing all the gaps between who he is, who he wants to be, and who he wants other people to think he is, and the intersection of anger, the performance of masculinity, and his long, long history of relational traumas is the fateful crossroads which those gaps emanate from. At the risk of sounding unduly like a pop psychologist, I also think his father is an important individual to consider in light of these issues.

Filbrick, as Stan tells us in ATOTS, was a strict man who had “the personality of a cinderblock.” Stan is not always a terribly reliable narrator, but he seems to lack the ability to lie to the flashback camera, and the first few flashbacks of the episode give us a glimpse at what the Pines family was like in the sixties which supports Stan’s assertion about his father. In those scenes, Filbrick is the only character we don’t see expressing strong emotion of some kind before the science fair, something that makes the ‘sound and fury’ of the scene where Stan is disowned, when it comes around, all that much more shocking. Until this point, Filbrick came about as close to physically resembling a cinderblock as his personality was said to; even when he expressed approval of Ford in the principal’s office, it was a relatively muted display, barely more emotive than his earlier “I’m not impressed” or his silent disappointment in the season one flashback when Stan recalls the summer Filbrick first sent him to boxing lessons. We learn after the science fair that he can, apparently, express anger very vividly, but “Lost Legends” further underlines how he is otherwise mostly emotionally inaccessible to his family; Stan (despite being far more aware of his emotions than he might like to admit that he is) cannot just talk to his father about how he feels, and once again, the only concrete emotion Filbrick shows on-screen is anger. Pictures near the end suggest possible mild experiences of a few other feelings, and the adult Ford, narrating many years after the fact and very probably after Filbrick’s death, speculates about what might have been going on in his head, but those feelings are never made explicit the way his anger is. We don’t know why Filbrick is this way (the closest thing to a hint we get is the information that he was a World War II veteran - there is, after all, a reason for the common portrayal of the Stan twins’ entire generation as one which was saddled with cruddy fathers in the aftermaths of World War II and Korea – but for all we know, Filbrick could have been like that before the War, too. What was his family life like, growing up? His financial condition? Could he just be someone who was born with a strong predisposition toward an emotional or personality disorder, regardless of whatever else happened in his life? We just don’t have enough information about him to say for sure), but it seems safe to speculate that he was this way pretty consistently: whatever else was going on with him, the only emotion he seems to have felt comfortable expressing was anger.

And this is the guy Ford and Stan had held up to them as their first, and quite possibly most influential, example of what being a man is.

I’d argue that – when they were children, at least – this was more of a problem for Stan than for Ford. Filbrick presumably saw them both as shamefully weak as children, but Ford, at least, had another route to the old man’s approval readily available to him. If Filbrick was at least grudgingly proud of Ford’s intelligence, then Ford could receive the measure of parental approval which Stan craved and could never get; we also see that Ford could apparently hold his own while sparring with Stan by the time they were teenagers, so it’s likely enough that he no longer had to worry about physical assault from his classmates by the time he was in high school, either. Though still isolated and insecure underneath it all because of his childhood experiences and probably in part due to his ongoing social isolation, Ford was able to find a path to a kind of self-esteem: he was both brilliant and quite capable of using his six fingers to break your nose if you had too much to say about them, and he knew it, and everyone else knew it, too. He also had his brother as a constant source of support. When Ford was made to look ridiculous by having a drink thrown in his face in public, Stan promptly threw a drink in his own face in order to look even more ridiculous. When Ford won competitions, which he seems to have started doing at an impressive rate very early in life, Stan seems to have been almost over-enthusiastic in his approval: he looks as delighted about Ford winning the science fair (at the time, before the meeting with the principal) as Ford himself does, if not even happier about it. Even his habit of copying off Ford’s papers in class could have served as a reinforcement for Ford’s ego: he not only could manage for himself, but he could even allow someone else to depend on him.

In this way, by the time everything went wrong, the teenaged Ford had probably already developed a degree of self-respect and self-sufficiency that Stan was still struggling to reliably maintain forty years later. Neither of them could ever be the kind of man Filbrick was, or of which they thought he would approve, they were both too emotionally vulnerable and expressive for that, but it’s probably noteworthy that Ford kept pictures of famous scientists (instead of family photographs) around him during his college and young adult years: because he could also do something Filbrick never could, he was able, to some degree, to carve out an idea of “how to be a man” on his own terms. If Filbrick’s approval was an immovable object in the path between Stan, Ford, and healthy expressions of adult masculinity, then where Stan flailed against it, Ford simply walked around it by choosing new conscious role models.

Tesla, Sagan, Einstein, and company were “great men,” successful (well, at least remembered posthumously) and respected, who were also given to Nerdy Enthusiasms. Said enthusiasm, an open delight in the marvels of the natural world, was therefore an emotion besides anger that Ford could express freely without compromising his view of himself, and it seems that he did so regularly. This appears to have worked well for him; we know very little about his college years – only that he worked very hard, that he made at least one close friend and (based on his usage of the plural ‘friends’ when discussing DD&MD) possibly even had a social group of sorts, and that he continued to indulge his creative side to a degree by playing DD&MD, which was as close as someone in his late teens and early twenties could probably get to continuing the kind of fantasy play he’d enjoyed as a child without sabotaging his probable adolescent desire to feel very grown up – but it seems they were productive and reasonably happy. Six years after them, a slice of his life comes into focus for us in the form of his journal. He was probably around thirty to thirty-three years old when it was written(1), give or take a year or two, and we find him several years into the circumstances he was in when he says, as a much older man, that he’d finally found somewhere to belong. He could be lying - Ford, unusually, even has the ability to lie to the flashback camera, or at least omit things - but we don't really have any reason to believe this; when the flashbacks turn to Stan making an abortive attempt at contact, Ford on the phone sounds cheery. His lack of paranoia and surprise about someone phoning him is also not the only evidence that, at this time, he may not even have been totally socially isolated in Gravity Falls – in the same years, he goes to the public library with some regularity, he declines to buy cookies from a zombie Boy Scout, he converses sometimes with the mailman, and he is on friendly enough terms with Dan Corduroy, even some years after Dan finished building Ford’s house, to know that Dan’s family had a holiday cabin and to ask to use it. Clearly nobody was too close to Ford even then, but his chosen path was going reasonably well for him; it's possible that Stan might have found him rather harder to replace at this point than he did later, after an unspecified time lapse, which may have lasted as long as a year,(2) during which Ford had gradually became a complete recluse as he became more and more consumed by his relationship with Bill Cipher. Before that time lapse, Ford the man seems like a logical enough place for Ford the boy to have ended up; after it…..

Well, after it is where we get back to the topics of anger and its intersection with various aspects of identity and self-concept.

A decent place to begin is with Fiddleford, and with why, exactly, Ford asked him to come to Gravity Falls. Ford tells us that he asked Fiddleford to come because he (Ford) did not have the technical know-how to complete the Portal. There is some evidence to support the veracity of this idea: Fiddleford is, after all, the man who later proves able to build astonishingly lifelike robot monsters whilst homeless (and thus, it seems safe to assume, without conventional sources of funds or supplies), and he is the one who sees the flaws in the Portal design. Indeed, he seems to start spotting them before he even has a chance to physically see them: Ford tells us that Fiddleford started suggesting revisions to the plans over the phone while still in California, in the same conversation where he agreed to come. In the third portion of the Journal, the sixtysomething Ford also mentions hearing about how a Parallel Earth Fiddleford was convinced to come back to the project, at which point the Parallel Portal was stabilized and became something that could be used the way Ford had intended to use it (as opposed to how Bill had intended to use it). The implication is that Ford not only didn’t understand how to complete the Portal, but that he also didn’t understand the plans even as far as he thought he understood them. Certainly the Fiddleford of the main timeline, who would have worked with him before, was instantly suspicious about the existence of a third collaborator once he saw how far Ford had gotten without him, which further supports the idea that Ford was more of a theoretician than a mechanic. This does, however, run somewhat against the grain of much of what we see Ford do on-screen. As a teenager of modest economic means, he was shown to be as comfortable working with his hands as with his pencil, and he was able to build something which acted enough like a perpetual motion device that he won a state-wide competition and drew the attention of an elite university. At university, he created the mind control tie – something which appears, both by its existence and by the glimpse we get of how it’s wired in “The Stanchurian Candidate,” to involve electronics more sophisticated than what Fiddleford was shown working with in roughly the same time period. I tend to run with the idea that the events of the episode “The Stanchurian Candidate” only happened in a particularly vivid nightmare of Stan’s, and therefore include the tie simply because it was in the Journal, but if one goes with official canon and accepts that “Stanchurian Candidate” happened, then Ford somehow, in a matter of hours, with no budget or supplies, invented a thousand-year lightbulb that also improves the complexion of the user in the same episode that shows us the wiring of the tie. In the eighties, he also seems to have developed his mind-encrypting machine as a private project, and in the Multiverse, he survived entirely on what he could steal or construct for thirty years, and it seems he had progressed a long way toward the development of the Quantum Destabilizer on his own before he stumbled into the ‘Better World’ dimension; Parallel Fiddleford really just sped the completion process up because he’d happened to discover a useful fuel source for presumably completely unrelated reasons years before Ford showed up. Clearly, Ford can more than hold his own as an engineer, and as one with a particular flair for doing impossible things with electricity and the laws of energy conservation; even Fiddleford trusted his gift in that area enough to, however reluctantly, briefly accept his claim that he had been working alone despite his serious doubts about the idea, and to allow Ford to bully him into silence about the Portal’s design flaws for weeks or possibly months before the confrontation at the diner. Why, then, did he suddenly become convinced, during that fateful July, that he could not finish the Portal without Fiddleford?

The answer may lay a few pages further back in the Journal. Not long before he calls Fiddleford, Ford makes notes on the plans for the Portal that Bill had showed him in a dream. One of these notes is “I MUST NOT LOSE MY NERVE!” Later, in a state of mind where he is increasingly paranoid and beginning to lose a degree of touch with reality, he reflects repeatedly about Fiddleford’s nerve in similar terms. There may well have been some level, deep down, on which Ford knew he was getting in over his head, and he was scared out of his mind by that realization. If this is true, then, on some level, he knew something was...off, with what was going on around him. He knew he needed help from someone he trusted and who was not Bill. And so he reached out to his college roommate for that help, and he did so in a way that allowed him to still plausibly deny just how much trouble he was in, both to himself and everyone else, and he didn’t only need that deniability because he was inviting a third party into the isolation of an increasingly abusive relationship and would need an excuse if Bill took exception to the idea of Ford relying on anyone or anything other than Bill. He also needed that plausible deniability to preserve his self-concept, because by this time, whatever he had or hadn’t been earlier, Ford Pines had become a deeply, deeply dishonest man.

One of the key moments for understanding this - and, in many ways, the character overall - occurs in “Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons.” There, Ford delivers the exasperated line, “if my hands were free, I’d break every part of your face!” If that line was taken totally out of context and shown to a casual viewer, the casual viewer would likely misidentify it as a line of Stan’s. Stan is, after all, the character with the hair-trigger temper and violent tendencies, right?

To an extent, yes. In “The Golf War,” Stan asks Soos if it would be “wrong” to punch a child (Pacifica) – probably more of an indirect threat in response to Pacifica’s insults toward the Pineses than a true question, but Stan’s moral code is sufficiently different from the standard issue that one can’t completely dismiss the possibility that he really wanted to, well, punch a child. And who can forget his antics in “The Land Before Swine” or “Scaryoke,” where he punches his way single-handed through monsters which had defeated the rest of the cast? Or in “Not What He Seems,” where he takes on multiple government agents in zero gravity while, for at least part of the time, he had his hands fastened behind his back? Or that glorious moment in the finale when he did, in fact, break every part of Bill Cipher’s glitched-out face? Stan is also the character who lost his temper to the extent that he lashed out at Ford physically in the middle of the save-the-world ritual, and Stan is the one who keeps his old boxing gloves around his bedroom, along with owning at least one set of brass knuckles. As an old man, he still seems to take pride in having learned to fight back against the world physically as a child, and he recommends that Dipper try knocking Robbie unconscious bare-handed when Dipper is challenged to a fight. And, of course, the man is a menace whenever he gets within a certain radius of the Stanmobile, the vehicle that can take out roadway railings, light poles, and theme park gates without showing a scratch. There’s no denying it: Stan is perhaps many other things, too, but he’s also a very physically aggressive kind of guy. If, therefore, someone in this series was going to threaten to break someone’s face, it seems obvious it would be Stan…but it wasn’t. It was his supposedly milder-mannered, “goody nerd-shoes,” brother who, on examination, actually behaves far more casually violently than Stan does throughout his sadly short time in the series. To demonstrate:

Ford sets foot in his house for the first time in thirty years and identifies the first person he sees as his brother. Later, writing in his reclaimed journal, Ford describes his own reaction thus: “instinct took over and I punched him right in the face. I feel kind of bad about that!” 

In the very next episode - aside from his antics in the first scenes(3) and the already-mentioned description of what he’d like to do to Probabilitator after the wizard captures him - we also have Ford’s immediate reaction to the wizard’s materialization. Stan is, naturally, most clearly unnerved by an evil math wizard suddenly materializing in the TV room, but there’s a moment where he glances sideways at Ford after Ford pulls a gun; to me, at least, this glance made it seem like he found that behavior pretty disturbing as well. For the past several hours, after all, Ford had been playing board games. Most people do not bring concealed guns to game night with their nephews. Ford does.

Stan and Ford both have wanted posters that show up ‘on screen’ – Stan’s in his box of memorabilia in “Not What He Seems,” and Ford’s in Journal 3. Stan’s talks about “scams, frauds, and identity theft” - all potentially serious crimes that can ruin the lives of the people on the other ends of them, but ones which follow the general tendency (per the reading I did last March) of real-world con men to avoid violence in the commission of their crimes. Ford’s, on the other hand, refers to its subject as ‘armed and dangerous,’ and as someone with a bounty on his head. From the way Ford depicts his own appearance in it, it seems likely that particular version of the poster is at least ten to fifteen years old, but in “Lost Legends,” he is still instantly recognizable in the multiverse for his criminal shenanigans, even in the company of his near-identical twin. In his own words, “a number of dimensions consider me an outlaw to this day.” If one uses the dictionary definition of the term - and considering how much variety comes up just in the few examples Ford gives of worlds he’s visited, there’s no reason to assume he hasn’t visited a few Premodern Justice Dimensions - this means there could be multiple dimensions out there where the authorities took the time and trouble to formally declare that he had done something shocking enough to justify the revocation of all rights and protections he might have otherwise enjoyed under the law, thus allowing anyone to do anything they could physically manage to him with no fear of any negative repercussions except those he could personally inflict on them. He also refers to his own  exploits as “swashbuckling” (a term which brings piracy to mind) and offhandedly mentions travels with “bandits” (a term which describes practitioners of behavior usually classified under the ‘organized crime’ umbrella due to the cooperative nature of the often violent or potentially violent crimes in question).

Much of this behavior, it’s true, can be attributed to a combination of trauma responses and, in the Multiverse, sheer necessity. He refers in the journal to talking “my way into and out of food and shelter,” and the “out of” comment underlines how, like Stan before him, he very abruptly went from having a relatively stable situation (at least in the material sense) to being homeless, which would be at least a serious shock to the system of almost anyone, including people in much better mental health than he was in at that time. Then there’s the more complicated non-material aspects of his previous situation. As an adult reader, it’s stomach-knotting to go through the 1980s portion of the journal, because if you look at the behaviors and dynamics and leave out the “incorporeal eldritch abomination” element, it only takes a very little extrapolation from the material for his ‘partnership’ with Bill becomes an uncomfortably realistic depiction of a domestic abuse situation. Considering that either of these major traumas of 1981-1982 could (and, if the fantastical elements are stripped out, regularly do) induce PTSD in nearly anyone, and considering how many more traumatic events he doubtless went through in the years following, it’s not implausible that the man would develop a tendency toward believing that the best defense is a good offense. However, there is also evidence that at least some of these tendencies predated Ford’s major traumas, and that – despite how he would very likely insist this was not the case - the trigger-happy adrenaline addict we meet in “A Tale of Two Stans” may not represent a total change in character from who he was before the Portal – or even before Bill. The evidence here is admittedly scarcer and more ambiguous, but to illustrate:

In Journal 3, Ford seems sincerely puzzled about why Fiddleford would show signs of trauma after the gremlobin incident. This incident involved Fiddleford being shown his worst fear (something which ended in tourists being removed from the Mystery Shack via stretcher in apparent catatonic states. Fiddleford was a  man who probably had an anxiety disorder to begin with, who was just accepting the reality of the supernatural, and who was living, for at least several months, hours away from where his wife and young son were, something which seems to have troubled him at the best of times. It's remarkable he was functioning at all after the gremlobin incident). He was also hit with a bunch of venomous quills, and flown through the air by something which clearly had no good intentions for him in mind…and that was all before the solution to the situation ended up involving Ford crash-landing everyone through the roof of a barn, breaking Fiddleford’s arm in the process.

The gremlobin incident is not the only time Ford, even before the multiverse, appears bewildered by perfectly ordinary responses to frightening stimuli. While Fiddleford admittedly may have had some form of anxiety or compulsive disorder to begin with (an idea supported by events like his tearing out his own hair under stress and his need to correct the Cubik’s Cube), his reactions to monsters appear far more reasonable than Ford’s offhand assertion that he has survived many monster attacks without registering any of the experiences as traumatic.

When Fiddleford was in danger, Ford’s automatic response involved, essentially, jumping off a cliff and hoping the magnet gun-to-hyperdrive attraction would first catch and then carry him long enough for him to catch up…and that he would then somehow figure out how to land the improvised gremlobinmobile without killing himself, Fiddleford, and the monster all in one go.

When we go into the bunker in “Into the Bunker,” Soos finds a candy dispenser in a cabinet filled with weapons. These weapons appear to be a mix of firearms alongside various medieval or Renaissance-style pieces. It is, of course, possible - though to my mind, improbable; Fiddleford seems to prefer indirect methods of aggression, mostly in the form of homicidal robots - that some or all of these weapons belonged to Fiddleford, but there is also evidence that there was a similar mix of weapons in the house which later became the Mystery Shack: sside from Ford’s singular ideas about how to answer a door in “A Tale of Two Stans,” we also see a box of other manual weapons which Dipper has access to in “Boss Mabel,” and which Stan is seen rifling through to find a crossbow - presumably the same one which had come alarmingly close to his nose thirty years earlier – at the beginning of “Love God.” Stan further asserts there are ten guns in the Shack during “Fight Fighters,” but we never see them; even while fighting against zombies, while following pterodactyls into caverns beneath the town, and during Weirdmageddon, Stan routinely arms himself with bludgeoning weapons, not ranged ones. The only time we see him use a ranged weapon (at least that I can recall) is the time he aims the crossbow at a balloon, which was out of reach. Ford, however, despite demonstrating almost immediately upon arrival that he’s quite capable of fighting without one, repeatedly uses ranged weapons even in close quarters: the crossbow in Stan’s face, the handgun in the living room, the Quantum Destabilizer during Weirdmageddon, the spear in the closing montage of the finale. These examples are, of course, all justifiable enough in their various contexts, but the combination of several incidents and all the weapons around the house and its environs makes it seem eminently possible that Ford was a bit of a weapons nut long before he became an interdimensional fugitive, and that if there actually are ten guns in the house, Stan may have more or less 'inherited' them along with the Stanford identity.

When Bill - who knew Ford very well before the Portal - shows Ford a vision of a possible future in an attempt to convince Ford to join him in his conquest of the universe, it is a vision of complete destruction. We see Bill’s giant finger tearing cities apart in an uncomfortable amount of detail, and are treated to the sight of planets being munched on like apples…and this is Bill’s sales pitch, the ‘party’ he is inviting Ford to and really, really wants Ford to agree to attend. This leaves us with two options: either Bill can’t understand that anyone might ultimately desire anything beyond or besides the chance to participate in unlimited, consequence-free violence (something which doesn’t square too well with Bill’s otherwise apparently excellent grasp of human motivation and how to manipulate it to serve his own ends), or Bill has some reason for thinking that the prospects of immortality and a group of ‘friends’ to destroy things with on a massive scale might genuinely appeal to his “old pal” just as much as the prospect of being “all-powerful” and “all-knowing” would. This is also hinted at by how Bill appears to try to convince Ford to relate to him by revealing that he was once mortal himself and explaining that he burned his dimension before offering Ford the chance to effectively do the same to the universe of the canon timeline. 'Become a god of destruction' or 'get tortured a lot' were also not the only possible options Bill could have offered; he could, for instance, have tried to convince Ford that if he (for all intents and purposes) became a god, then he could save at least some sapient life-forms in the universe from Bill by setting up his galaxy as a benevolent dictatorship or the like, with the alternative being that everyone would die if Ford didn’t take that deal. Bill did not attempt anything of the sort. Bill, at least, thinks Ford is not only capable of observing or even committing acts of great violence, but that he is capable of relishing the opportunity to do so.

Why are all these things easy to overlook? In part, it is because Ford wants us to overlook them, because they do not ‘fit’ with the person Ford wishes that he was. He wants, very much, to see himself as a cool-headed, utterly rational, cultured figure – not least because this would represent a total contrast to his twin brother and everything Stan stands for, either in reality or inside Ford’s imagination - and so he uses long words and is usually fairly softly-spoken. He emphasizes his “well-ordered and scientific mind” even as he behaves in ways which suggest he’s highly volatile and puts in writing (however carefully concealed the information might be behind veils of words) that he planned to make his name on a scientific project which wasn’t of his own design, a behavior which indicates a comfort with shortcuts even more potentially disastrous than Stan’s. When he does, rarely, have to acknowledge something that he would rather not acknowledge directly, he always immediately justifies the potentially unflattering behavior in fairly grandiose ways - stealing radioactive materials, for instance, is rationalized as a ‘doing a public service,’ and all the things he did to become a wanted man in multiple dimensions are, similarly, lumped together and dismissed as crimes committed “for a noble purpose.” No doubt some of them were, but on the page about the Infinity Die, one doesn’t really get the impression that he was particularly discriminating about when he used that thing, considering the usage statistics we’re given. The page informs us that the Die saved Ford’s life three times, endangered it “around 20,” permanently changed the color of a sky one time…and that it’s been used enough other times besides these that he can note the odd frequency of rolling a four(4). When talking to Dipper, he also seems quite confident about just how far the Die can warp reality - he doesn’t speak as if “the universe could turn into an egg” is an exaggeration. Use of the Infinity Die would not be a reliable way to limit damage or even to advance his goals while committing other crimes, so it becomes a bit difficult to justify his apparently relatively casual use of it as something he did only as a last resort and/or only in service of a noble purpose. Most fans recognize that he clearly started over-identifying Dipper with himself toward the end of the series, but he identifies Dipper with himself only when it comes to traits he is proud of having; otherwise, the “grammar, Stanley” remark is one of the few criticisms he has of Stan which doesn’t also come across as something he might want to say about himself and his own less desirable qualities, if he could only bring himself to acknowledge them for what they are in plain language. It reads, to borrow from someone I once talked about the character with on Reddit, like “my man is just as chaotic [as Stan], he just manifests it differently.”

Part of this difference lies in their respective approaches to the truth. Neither is anything you could reasonably call an honest man, but the distinction lies in how Ford appears to lie to himself a lot more often than Stan does. Stan, outside of ‘working hours,’ is utterly up-front about who and what he is and what he cares about: he’s a crook and a grifter and a liar, interested only in that which benefits him and the small number of people he personally cares about. Only once, when contemplating his epitaph in “The Stanchurian Candidate,” does he show anything even vaguely resembling shame about this, and even then, he still includes the detail that he would, of course, be a crooked mayor if he became one. It's entirely possible that the only ultimately sacrificed himself to destroy Bill because of the direct and imminent threat Bill represented to his individual relatives. As the man himself once said: it wasn’t enough for him to be the town’s hero, because his real agenda was being Dipper and Mabel’s. Ford, on the other hand, seems to have shared many of Stan’s desires (wealth, respect, shortcuts to these things) as a young man, but also to have always felt some need to convince himself that he wanted more (for lack of a better term) socially acceptable ‘side features’ as well. When he dreams of scientific accomplishment, he will admit he looks forward to riches and glory...but he also throws in that he wants to revolutionize science to enhance the well-being of all mankind, too. When he writes down the story of how he began his quest to kill Bill, he acknowledges that he wished to “wreak vengeance for the life he stole from me” - but only after saying he would “save the multiverse from [Bill’s] wrath.” Later, though, when talking about his meeting with a parallel Fiddleford, he refers to his vow as a “vendetta” - a word defined as “a blood feud in which the family of a murdered person seeks vengeance on the murderer or the murderer's family; a prolonged bitter quarrel with or campaign against someone.” The word can be used far less precisely in casual conversation, of course, and he probably does sincerely see it as his duty to atone for his mistakes by removing the entity which seeks to exploit them, but at the end of the day, despite his attempts to frame his behavior in terms of doing what is objectively right, there’s also a massive degree to which his quest is personal. Anger and revenge and personal concerns ultimately prove just as important to him as they are to his brother, if not even more important. This is illustrated perhaps most dramatically in the lead-up to the Final Deal: one can only imagine what Bill’s back-up plan was, because Bill came close to not needing one. Ultimately, when put to the test, the principles which went along with the persona Ford tried so hard to project crumbled: the family was, in the end, more important to him than saving the world, just as it was for Stan. He never mentioned the idea of making any attempt to save himself in the deal (on top of doubtless believing that such an effort would be doomed to failure, there are hints that Ford always planned to die in the execution of his revenge, or at least never saw a way around doing so), but he was willing to let Bill take over the galaxy “or worse” just to save (or at least exempt himself from the responsibility of personally dooming) three other people on a probably quite temporary basis. If Bill was unraveling reality all around them, after all, where exactly were Stan and the twins supposed to go?

“What other choice do we have?” It took no few viewings of the finale for it to register why I always find that line so wrenchingly uncomfortable to watch. At that moment, finally, for the first time on screen, Ford admits that he cannot save the situation, or even himself. That he’s been backed into a corner – trapped – forced to acknowledge that another entity can and will hurt him, and that it can and will hurt him on as many levels as it pleases. He’s been taken right back to where he was when his first grade classmates nearly put him in the hospital, and he can’t hide it from himself or anyone else anymore...and it’s after this moment that we almost immediately see a dramatic change in Ford’s behavior and self-representation. The same man who remained remarkably defiant, all things considered, when tied up by an evil sorcerer who was gloating about its plans to consume his brain, or even in the midst of what was probably several days of severe torture,(5) visibly flinches, his hands shaking, while using the memory gun; in the aftermath of that moment, we then see him standing in a corner, looking helpless and at a loss for what to do while other people (specifically, mostly Mabel) try to figure out a solution without his assistance, as he's meekly accepted the situation instead of trying to change it. Dipper notes that some point in that day was the “only time” anyone had ever seen Ford cry, a statement that implies there had been other occasions where Dipper expected him to cry when he didn’t do so – perhaps it’s just because Dipper is used to Stan, who cries rather a lot, but for some reason, Dipper regarded this observation as specific enough to underline the severity of the situation during the first hours of Stan’s amnesia. The closest Ford really gets to his pre-Weirdmageddon demeanor again is when he takes the long way around the block in order to ask Stan to accompany him to investigate some anomaly up north, just as he’d previously made the same excuse about being too old to manage on his own anymore for asking Dipper to stay in town after the summer ended; since even unbending enough to, effectively, ask anyone not to leave him was already a step away from his isolated-hero act, it’s far from one of his more distinctive adult characteristics reasserting itself. Something, it seems, in the man profoundly broke in the throne room of the Fearamid, and based on his worryingly fervent attempts in the last pages of his journal to represent both Stan and Fiddleford as plaster saints, it doesn’t seem like it’s getting fixed any time soon.

I noted earlier that I suspected Ford had no intention of surviving his duel with Bill in the Nightmare Realm during “Not What He Seems.” There are a few reasons for this. One is simple probability, of course (even if he had destroyed Bill, there would have still been plenty of creatures around that would have been more than happy to eat him, and his death ray was almost out of power). More pertinent, however, are a few of Ford’s own words. Twice, he refers to Stan as having “saved” him – not ‘rescued’ ‘retrieved’ ‘gotten back’ or any other possible combination of words, but “saved.” The first, where he’s still grumbling about it, is when he shows Dipper the Rift and explains why he was angry at Stan for this seemingly charitable behavior: he saved Ford’s life, but at the cost of endangering the world, and at that time, Ford was still deeply committed to the idea of himself as someone who sacrifices, not someone who sacrifices are made for. On the second occasion, while trying to explain what just happened to Dipper and Mabel after they realize that Stan no longer recognizes them, he sounds almost bewildered as well as moved as he makes the statement. Shortly before that second occasion, in the Fearmid itself, he also, infamously, uses the word “suicide” on the Disney Channel, when he tells Dipper and Mabel that any attempt to take on Bill – or, in other words, to undertake the very task he was attempting when the Portal reopened in NWHS – was a “suicide mission.” His behavior, from the moment he comes back, is usually varying degrees of reckless, and the Journal illustrates that this isn’t an entirely new tendency: aside from vowing to undo the damage he’d done “or lose my life in the attempt” at the end of the 1980s section, he also put himself through the kind of work conditions that can literally kill a person for, it seems, months before he realized Bill had played him; afterward, he proceeded to have a breakdown while continuing, or even increasing, his dangerous habits of sleep deprivation and stimulant overuse. And even before that, as previously noted: he once didn’t think twice about jumping off a cliff. There has, at least since he came to Gravity Falls, always been a part of Ford which seems to have had some inclination toward self-destruction; he may not have been suicidal as such in the early years, but even then, he seems to have been more than merely indifferent to his own well-being. It is at this point that all the disparate threads of this essay will begin to gather back together into a single line, because this behavior can be interpreted as Ford, essentially, daring the universe to so much as try to make a victim of him, because it was at in those years that he began to feel the need to assure himself that he wasn’t one. After he admits he’s out of ideas in the Fearamid, though, he finally has no other choice but to admit that he has in fact been victimized – specifically, by Bill Cipher.

When Ford chose to adopt famous scientists as his models for how to be a man, he began to lie to himself about himself to some degree. He insisted he was rational and unemotional when he was anything but. He retained some pride in being in better physical condition than the other men close to him during both his scientist and hero arcs, but he downplayed his quite real attraction toward violence (recall that on two of the three occasions where he and Stan came to blows, Ford was the one who escalated the conflict) and thrill-seeking, trying to veil them from himself as well as the reader. Ford’s tendency toward black-and-white thinking didn’t disappear at the end of the show; he simply reversed the polarity, so that now, instead of him being the hero, he recast others in that role and was at least attempting to accept a place among the ranks of those who’d needed saving. This was something that he’d been denying he was for a very long time, even at the price of focusing on anger-inducing aspects of the past, perhaps distorting them out of proportion in his memory so he could keep his mind on the future. Unable to cope with the loss of control implicit in his situation with his 'Muse,' acting as the agent of something else and being manipulated in deeper and deeper over his head, he directed his attention to a future where he would be on top again, focusing on anger toward the past instead of on his fear of the present.

For most of the show, Ford has real issues with anger, and I tend to believe that quite a lot of them had to do with the need to protect two things after the disintegration of his relationship with Bill Cipher. One is his image of himself, and the other - arguably, something dependent on the maintenance of his self-concept - is his sanity – or at least, if not his sanity, then his ability to function. As noted the other night – anger might not feel good, exactly, but it can feel so much better than hurting that it can be mistaken for feeling good. Fury can be paralyzing, yes, but it can also, when directed outward, keep you moving – spite, as they say, is the source of many an accomplishment Self-loathing, on the other hand, will crush you like a boulder, sooner or later...and it’s painfully obvious, in the scrambled, increasingly unhinged journal entries between the Portal test and his decision to call Stan, that Ford is capable of intense self-hatred. Even in later years, when he has focused his entire mind on revenge for decades and reviles the traits in his brother that he dislikes in himself, there’s still that undercurrent of guilt and self-hatred running just beneath the surface, so close to the top that even he can never really fully ignore it. He doesn’t really know how to accept help while maintaining his self-respect, and here’s where we get to him being both an abuse survivor and, arguably, specifically a male one.

Earlier, I referred to his partnership with Bill as an uncomfortably realistic depiction of a domestic abuse situation when you strip the supernatural frills away. Bill could well have marked off items on some kind of manipulation checklist: he would flatter Ford to draw him in, and then withdraw without explanation, leaving Ford despondent and thus that much more dependent on Bill upon Bill’s return. Bill convinces Ford that nobody else really understands him like Bill does, and that nobody else ever could do so. They are all parasites who want to ride on Ford’s coattails, or steal his work, or are people who will hurt him because they are jealous of him; Bill is the one who inspires him, because he’s just that deserving of inspiration...except, of course, when he isn’t. When the Muse would go silent for long stretches of time, waiting with highly uncharacteristic patience until he got just close enough to desperate for a breakthrough. Then the whole cycle would begin all over again, until finally, by 1980-1981, Bill had succeeded in reducing Ford’s world to little more than himself. Based on the state of Ford’s study, he was, by the end, probably literally worshiping Bill as a god.(6) It is therefore possible to argue that the relationship included spiritual abuse in addition to the blatant psychological, physical (“enjoy the mystery bruises”), and financial (in that much of the grant ended up being used to pursue Bill’s agenda instead of for its intended purpose) abuse...and all of that happens before the possession sub-plot after the Portal test, where any illusion that their association is consensual or in any way for Ford’s benefit falls apart. Bill systematically violates every understood boundary within the relationship during the weeks between the Portal test and the Portal incident, and Bill very clearly enjoys doing so. He takes the time to taunt his victim by scribbling in the Journal when Ford blacks out. He seems to derive a great deal of satisfaction not only from the ability to completely deprive Ford of all mental and bodily autonomy on a whim, but from reminding Ford that he had this ability: he seems to have gotten a twisted satisfaction from knowing that Ford knew that, sooner or later, he would be unable to physically prevent himself from sleeping any longer. The hopelessness and inescapability of his situation are thrown in Ford's face again and again, and apparently for no better reason than that Bill is a physical and psychological sadist. Other people's misery and horror are like a drug to Bill, and we see, again and again, in the series that Bill will even undermine the pursuit of his own goals in order to enjoy it.

And the person he did all this to was Ford. Someone who already had profound trust issues (from his point of view, everyone he ever cared for had betrayed him to one degree or another), and whose formative years were during early fifties. This is significant, even aside from the impact of personality flaws specific to Filbrick Pines on his son’s development. Even today, in our rather better-informed times, many people dismiss the idea that men and even boys can be victims of abuse entirely, and even some of those who acknowledge the possibility won’t take it as seriously as the idea of men abusing women and girls. When Ford was physically and verbally bullied in elementary school, the only solution his father could offer was “learn to hit harder than the other guy.” If someone hurts you, you hurt them back; this, in the earliest examples he seems to have had, is how you reclaim power, and if you can’t do that, then Filbrick thinks you’re weak, that you’re an embarrassment, and that he just wishes you were gone, to very nearly quote Stan from “Dreamscaperers.” This was also a general attitude of the surrounding culture, without a lot of prominent examples of better options. Years later, it follows - horrible though it is to say – reasonably enough that when Ford realized he’d been manipulated and used by something that couldn’t be punched in the face, he began to have a breakdown, which only began to resolve in a small way when he convinced himself there was, in fact, a way to do something at least equivalent to punching Bill in the face. His plan was irrational and poorly strung together, and it did require him to ask someone for help, which must have galled – but it’s only Stan he has to ask, after all, and Stan doesn’t really count, and Stan owes him anything he might choose to ask for anyway, and besides, he’s not really asking Stan to help him deal with the problem, is he? He’s going to be the one who defeats that bastard or dies trying. Stan’s just...going to hold his beer, so to speak. Or book, as the case may be. Because he doesn’t need Stan. He doesn’t need anyone. Because he’s in control of this situation. He’s going to save the universe, and then everything will be fine again (or so he tells himself), because then he will be, once and for all, beyond the reach of anyone who might want to hurt him again. Because if he can pull this one off, then who would dare? Who would even want to? He’ll be a hero, a savior, someone deserving of everyone’s respect – and if not, he’ll at least be a martyr, which to him likely seems like a better second choice than continuing to live with the thought that he’s vulnerable and that everyone knows it.

An interesting thing to examine at this point is the similarity between his approaches to Fiddleford and Stan in the eighties. Earlier, it was argued that Ford may have reached out to Fiddleford as much out of repressed fear as from any real need for technical assistance. When Fiddleford first comes to Gravity Falls, Ford cannot stop talking about Fiddleford’s excellence, praising it even above his own. Fiddleford is his friend, his partner, his companion on this path to glory. Slowly, though, it changes. He begins to cast more and more doubt on Fiddleford’s capabilities, in a way, at first, which almost seems reasonable due to Fiddleford’s neuroses. He begins to feel that he is doing Fiddleford a favor – many favors, in fact – by allowing him to participate in “making history” like this. He projects and lashes out. This shows up even more clearly when he writes to Stan. He does not, admittedly, start out with praise in that case, but he still clearly goes through the same process of progressing from acknowledging a need to twisting it around in his own head so he no longer has to do so, just at a higher rate of speed. Almost as soon as he decides to write to Stan, he adds in his journal that “perhaps he can prove his worth to me.” This is followed by some prevarication – the line about how perhaps the mistakes of the past can be made right could apply to his thoughts on how he feels Stan wronged him, his thoughts on his situation with Bill, or even his past actions toward Stan, and when Stan arrives, Ford initially seems to present the matter as one where he needs a partner-in-crime because Stan is the one person he can trust – but within minutes, he shouts about how he’s offering Stan the one chance he’ll ever have to do something meaningful in his entire life. He’s progressed again to the idea that he doesn’t need help, and that he’s just doing these people - people who he has ostensibly asked for help - a favor. He is still in control. Because he doesn’t need them. He doesn’t need anyone. And when he triumphs over Bill, then….

...Then….

...Then we get to the bit I did write about on Thursday night. Specifically, how there’s very likely going to come a day when Ford will start finding it very, very hard not to have Bill around to hate anymore. To paraphrase zephyrsimperium - even when anger is hurting you so much that even you can see that it’s doing so, even when you know, intellectually, that it doesn’t really feel very good at all, it still hurts less than actually cleaning out the psychological wound.

To a certain extent, Ford’s anger did save him in 1982. Coping mechanisms can be necessary, for a time, when a trauma is too close to deal with. Truly dealing with it would be healthier, but there are situations where some distance has to be put between oneself and the trauma before it can be addressed; situations where you’ve just very suddenly become homeless and are being hunted by your reality-warping abuser would, it seems safe to say, be among these. Too much pain from too many sources could not be addressed all at once, especially by someone who, for reasons both cultural and innate, possessed none of the psychological tools or self-awareness to even begin to work through it all, and so when survival became a priority, focusing on hating Bill more than he hated himself probably was the only choice Ford realistically had in that moment. At the end of the show, however...Bill’s gone. Ford no longer has that mission to focus on, and at some point, that’s likely to mean waking up and realizing – if I may be forgiven for quoting a song from the Dark Ages, aka, my childhood -

“Wherever you go, there you are/You can run from yourself, but you won’t get far.”

Learning to defend himself as a child wasn’t enough – he still had to seek validation, acceptance of some kind, through all those competitions. Winning the competitions wasn’t enough – he still needed to find a place where he could fit in, somehow, either as a genius or as an anomaly. Going to college, finding someone he considered even more brilliant than himself, winning a grant – somehow, it still wasn’t enough, he needed to discover a new theory and emblazon his name in the history books...never realizing that even if he’d succeeded in that endeavor, it still wouldn’t have been enough. And all that was before Bill. Afterward, sure...he killed Bill. The being that made him feel weak and stupid and helpless all those years ago, it’s gone now. He won. And it still won’t be enough, because removing Bill doesn’t undo what Bill did to him. It doesn’t take away the difficulty of trusting anyone else after such an acute betrayal. It doesn’t take away the anger at himself for being someone who got duped. It doesn’t take away all those years out in the Multiverse, and the memories of whatever less-than-ideal things he had to do to survive them, or the impulse to hit first and ask questions later that he’s developed, or anything else. Nor is throwing himself into being the Perfect Friend or Perfect Brother in an attempt to make up for the past going to ultimately help much – he can’t undo whatever wrongs he did Fiddleford or Stan any more than they can undo the ones they did him, and all three of them are likely in for a rough ride of learning how to have relationships where sometimes you clash and disagree, but you trust the other person enough that you can have a relationship with them when neither of you is a Perfect Anything to the other…and where you trust the other person to still want to be your friend after you demonstrate that you aren’t perfect, or even able to perfectly fit into a simple, clear mold. As hard as accepting onself as a flawed individual with vulnerabilities that can be exploited is, it's probably still child's play compared with then, after having been taken advantage of in the past, to trust anyone to not do so at the first opportunity again.

Despite the somewhat gloomy tone of this essay, there are reasons for hope. One lies simply in the fact that Ford got this far. His story, after all, follows the arc of many a tragic hero, and yet, he manages to end the show alive and without having gone over to the Dark Side (even if he came dangerously close and was only pulled back from the edge by Stan’s quick thinking and acting skills). Another, more promising, is in "Lost Legends," where we get a glimpse of the Pines family in the week between Weirdmageddon and the birthday party. We see that Stan has recovered his normal personality and memories enough that he and Ford manage to annoy each other throughout the adventure. They disagree on how to proceed, which of them is more competent to look after the twins, etc...and the incident ends with a truce, rather than each of them slinging blame at the other for the situation Mabel ultimately has to rescue them both from. Ford is able to accept that they both contributed to the problem, rather than it being a black-and-white situation, the way he seems to have viewed most situations for quite some time. He even lets Stan play with the super-glue gun of science. It's progress. Here's hoping, for everyone's sake, that it's one step among many to be taken.

Notes

(1) See my essay “The Trouble With Timelines” on AO3 for an explanation of this assertion.

(2) Reasoning for this hypothesis can also be found in “The Trouble With Timelines.”

(3) Based on his lack of alarm when a second specimen later attacks him in the lab, my theory is that Ford staged the near-escape of the Cycloptopus at the beginning from first to last - note how he appears to have a pretty solid grip on it when he enters the gift shop, and later turns to the family, holding it up and smiling brightly, after subduing it as though looking for approval from others before indicating that he’d like to be included at meal times. Later, in “The Last Mabelcorn,” we learn from the read-out of his thoughts that he lurked closely enough behind the vending machine to eavesdrop for at least long enough to hear Stan refer to him as a “dangerous know-it-all;” since his other thoughts in that sequence all involve loss, anxiety, regret, and childhood bullying, it seems reasonable to assume that whatever he had hoped  to overhear, it wasn’t that. Considering how Ford agreed to avoid the children at the end of “A Tale of Two Stans,” it seems likely to me that Ford staged the Cycloptopus incident just for an excuse to interact with the rest of the family for a moment without obviously trying to do so, and that the creature was not actually especially dangerous.

(4) Though it is possible that some of the times Ford rolled a four were among the 20-odd times the Infinity Die allegedly endangered his life; if he was already in a bit of a bind and decided to risk getting a solution that way, rolling a four with something that is highly illegal to own - and, therefore, probably even more highly illegal to roll - would be unlikely to improve his situation

(5) I saw an essay once where someone actually tried to figure out what, if Bill was accurately portraying his own usage of electricity, happened there: best-case scenario involved convulsions violent enough to dislocate joints accompanied by severe internal and external burns. It seems, considering the contrast between his first appearance in “Take Back The Falls” and his relatively physically normal behavior during the rest of the episode, that being turned into gold again resulted in the instantaneous restoration of his pre-torture physical condition, but this would probably provide small comfort if you are under the impression that every time you ‘wake up,’ you’re just going to go right back through the same thing again...and again...and again….

(6) Comments in the codes of all Journals and in invisible ink in the blacklight journal make the question of Ford’s religious beliefs another interesting one; we know he was raised Jewish, but his few remarks after dealing with Bill could suggest that, by the story’s main time, he may have become some form of dualist. An argument which can be used either for or against this idea is the apparent existence of the Axolotl cult, as shown in exclamations by space refugees, carvings in Jheselbraum’s shrine, Bill’s dying invocation, and a bumper sticker in “Lost Legends.” On one hand, Ford expresses confusion about what the refugees meant by “praise the Axolotl!” and makes no explicit connection between the statement and the carvings he later sees in Dimension 52; when he speculates on “the opposite of Bill?”, it is unclear if he is referring to Jheselbraum or her background art/presumed patron deity (“Oracle” is suggestive of the Oracles of Delphi, who were priestesses of Apollo and were supposed to prophesy through divine inspiration, so it does seem likely that Ford, Jheselbraum, or both believe that another entity is the source of her prophetic gift). It is also unclear what, exactly, the power dynamic between Bill and the Axolotl is; the fact that Bill invokes it in the hopes of returning from his deletion implies it is far more powerful than him, but it is unclear (both in Bill’s invocation and in the Axolotl’s prophecy in “Time Pirates’ Treasure”) if the Axolotl could choose to ignore the invocation if it wished to do so. Bill, we know (or are at least told), was once a mortal being which sought escape from all laws, including the laws of nature which dictated his own mortality; we do not know how the Axolotl came to exist outside of time and space, or what this implies about its nature. When Bill muses on his enemies, however, he swears that neither Time Baby nor “the big frilly jerk” will stop him; this could imply that he sees Time Baby and The Big Frilly Jerk (most likely Axolotl, unless the canon version really does have a twin brother) as equal threats, and that perhaps “the ancient power” is something they are all in some way bound to/reliant upon for their seeming immortality? Bill was able to reduce Time Baby to his component molecules, but word of author is that TB is not actually dead and will eventually manage to pull said molecules back together into a Time Baby-like shape again, which renders the issue of power levels even murkier.

[thefisherqueen]

I'm reading Letters from Watson's The three Garridebs as a bedtime story tonight. First things first - what even is this title?? *some research later* Oh, Garridebs is a last name, apparently. Wouldn't have guessed that. Yet another story title I will never be able to remember

It may have been a comedy, or it may have been a tragedy. It cost one man his reason, it cost me a blood-letting, and it cost yet another man the penalties of the law. I'm intrigued. They surely didn't still do blood-letting in the early 20th century? Or does this mean that Watson gets wounded in this case

I remember the date very well, for it was in the same month that Holmes refused a knighthood for services which may perhaps some day be described. I'm having a bit of trouble telling apart when Holmes wants attention and when he does not. He seems to thrive upon Watson's attention, and to immensely enjoy the attention he receives by acting Dramatic(TM), yet public praise or fame is to be avoided?

I only refer to the matter in passing, for in my position of partner and confidant I am obliged to be particularly careful to avoid any indiscretion. Partner, confidant, collegue, companion, intimate friend. In other words, 'you are so important to me'

Holmes had spent several days in bed, as was his habit from time to time It's been years since I spent an entire day in bed. I wonder if that means that I'm doing better, or if I'm just not allowing myself enough time to rest and recover from Life

"Have you ever heard the name of Garrideb?" I admitted that I had not. Same, Watson, same

"Why do you say that, Mr. Holmes?" I seemed to read sudden suspicion in those expressive eyes. "Your whole outfit is English." Mr. Garrideb forced a laugh. "I've read of your tricks, Mr. Holmes, but I never thought I would be the subject of them." Oh my. This man does not like to be deduced. I have a feeling he's going to be difficult

"Why did he ever drag you into it at all?" asked our visitor, with a sudden outflame of anger. "What in thunder had you to do with it? Here was a bit of professional business between two gentlemen, and one of them must needs call in a detective! Ah, here we have our trouble. I hope Holmes politely yet ruthlessly will tell him to shut it and keep his calm

"And now, sir, since you are here, we had best have a clear account from your own lips. My friend here knows nothing of the details." Mr. Garrideb surveyed me with not too friendly a gaze. "Need he know?" he asked. Not even an actual king could pry these two apart, sir, you better not even try. They come Together

He made his money in real estate, and afterwards in the wheat pit at Chicago wheat pit: a market or exchange where wheat stocks are bought and sold (merriam-webster dictionairy)

one day I had a visit from the old man, and he was tickled to death to meet another man with his own name 'tickled to death' is one of the many amazing expressions I'm going to incorportate into my vocabulairy

I told him I was a busy man and could not spend my life hiking round the world in search of Garridebs. 'None the less,' said he, 'that is just what you will do if things pan out as I planned them.' I thought he was joking, but there was a powerful lot of meaning in the words, as I was soon to discover. "For he died within a year of saying them, and he left a will behind him. It was the queerest will that has ever been filed in the State of Kansas. His property was divided into three parts, and I was to have one on condition that I found two Garridebs who would share the remainder. I... wow. That is some typical rich guy bullshit. I wonder if a third one exists at all?

"I am wondering, Watson—just wondering!" "At what?" Holmes took his pipe from his lips. "I was wondering, Watson, what on earth could be the object of this man in telling us such a rigmarole of lies. I nearly asked him so—for there are times when a brutal frontal attack is the best policy—but I judged it better to let him think he had fooled us. Well. That does changes things. I'm joining Holmes now in wondering what that unpleasant american is up to

It was twilight of a lovely spring evening, and even Little Ryder Street, one of the smaller offshoots from the Edgware Road, within a stone-cast of old Tyburn Tree of evil memory, looked golden and wonderful in the slanting rays of the setting sun. I think I read about this place. An execution site, if I remember it correctly. *googles* Yes, it was a gallows. From marble-arch.londen:

It is impossible to know exactly what form the original took as there are so few written reports. In fact, during their first hundred years from 1177 to 1273, only eight single executions were deemed interesting enough to make note of.

But we do know that in 1571 a permanent triangular frame was erected – a mammoth structure that could, and sometimes did, hang up to 24 people at a time. The Tyburn Tree was of such renown it is even mentioned in Shakespeare’s Love’s Labour’s Lost: “Thou mak’st the triumviry, the corner-cap of society, The shape of Love’s Tyburn, that hangs up simplicity.”

Many met their end here. Records from the 1570s alone report that 704 felons were sentenced to be hanged there throughout the decade, for crimes ranging from murder to stealing cattle. Finally taken down in 1759 (presumably due to wear and tear), the structure was eventually replaced by a gallows that could be easily erected and dismantled each time. A gruesome early iteration of the London ‘pop-up’.

The last execution upon the tree was that of robber John Austin in 1783. The new place of execution became Newgate Prison. Today, a circular plaque embedded into the pavement on a traffic island at the entry to Edgware Road marks the spot of the Tyburn Tree

The house had a common stair, and there were a number of names painted in the hall some indicating offices and some private chambers. It was not a collection of residential flats, but rather the abode of Bohemian bachelors. Didn't bohemian bachelors have some queer connotations? Sometimes I read so much I get it all confused. Damn, if I'm distracted by research all the time I'm not going to finish this letter before bedtime. Still going to do that *10 minutes later* I can't find much at the moment, save the definition in the Urban dictionairy, which I'm def not going to type here. Anyone who knows more?

The room was as curious as its occupant. It looked like a small museum. It was both broad and deep, with cupboards and cabinets all round, crowded with specimens, geological and anatomical. Cases of butterflies and moths flanked each side of the entrance. A large table in the centre was littered with all sorts of debris, while the tall brass tube of a powerful microscope bristled up amongst them. As I glanced round I was surprised at the universality of the man's interests. Holmes will love this place

But you are a Britisher with solid references, and he is bound to take notice of what you say. I would go with you if you wished, but I have a very busy day to-morrow, and I could always follow you if you are in any trouble." The American fellow is unavailable for the very thing he claims to have come to England for? Sounds like an elaborate ploy to get this mr. Nathan out of the way for a while. Little clue as to why yet. I assume he wants something that the man has?

“I wish I could look over your collection, Mr. Garrideb,” said he. “In my profession all sorts of odd knowledge comes useful, and this room of yours is a storehouse of it.” Our client shone with pleasure and his eyes gleamed from behind his big glasses. “I had always heard, sir, that you were a very intelligent man,” said he. “I could take you round now if you have the time.” “Unfortunately, I have not. But these specimens are so well labelled and classified that they hardly need your personal explanation. If I should be able to look in to-morrow, I presume that there would be no objection to my glancing over them?” Holmes def has his suspicions and is not leaving the collection unguarded. Excited to learn how this will turn out

By the way, who is your house-agent?” Our client was amazed at the sudden question. “Holloway and Steele, in the Edgware Road. But why?” I should go to sleep. I was convinced this was the adress of the American, but instead Watson just mentioned that street as he and Holmes walked past

“This is a more serious matter than I had expected, Watson,” said he. “It is fair to tell you so, though I know it will only be an additional reason to you for running your head into danger. I should know my Watson by now. Holmes has finally accepted that Watson would never let him go into danger alone. This is so cute

I have identified Mr. John Garrideb, Counsellor at Law. He is none other than ‘Killer’ Evans, of sinister and murderous reputation.” “I fear I am none the wiser.” “Ah, it is not part of your profession to carry about a portable Newgate Calendar in your memory. Plot twist! Also, how funny it is of Holmes to acknowledge that it is not really Normal to memorize entire lists of prisoners

I'll give you an hour for a siesta, Watson, and then I think it will be time for our Ryder Street adventure.” Since when does Watson get to have siesta's? I'm jealous

So these two are stuck behind a cupboard instead of a curtain this time. Fun times!

Then my friend's wiry arms were round me, and he was leading me to a chair. “You're not hurt, Watson? For God's sake, say that you are not hurt!” It was worth a wound—it was worth many wounds—to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation. “It's nothing, Holmes. It's a mere scratch.” He had ripped up my trousers with his pocket-knife. “You are right,” he cried with an immense sigh of relief. “It is quite superficial.” His face set like flint as he glared at our prisoner, who was sitting up with a dazed face. “By the Lord, it is as well for you. If you had killed Watson, you would not have got out of this room alive. Ok not so fun times. Although Watson seems 100% fine with it. I've seen this scene quoted several times already, but didn't know it was from this case. This is some quality hurt/comfort. It has blood, desperation, removed clothing, and an excellent threat as the cherry on top. Brilliant

those bundles on the table are two thousand of Prescott's notes worth a hundred each and fit to pass anywhere. Help yourselves, gentlemen. Call it a deal and let me beat it.” Holmes laughed. “We don't do things like that, Mr. Evans. There is no bolt-hole for you in this country. Loving the implication that US is lawless territory

Well this was a fun case. Such a complicated ploy to get one old man out of his house, and some great Holmes/Watson interaction. I really need some sleep now

[pianocat939]

Love to hear your thought or hcs on Yandere Leo (platonic or romance or both ) with a reader who escapes from him ( could be from using his sword , when he’s on a mission or lies to him to sneak away ?) also hi hope your doing ok 🌙

Apologies for the long wait, but then again this is the last request of the set

I'm going to assume you want to be added to the anon list as 🌙

Tw: gore (a brief mention but is there), manipulation, isolation, and some overly possessive behaviour

Platonic:

Now I think there is no chance that you'll get away with lying. The reason is simple: he's the most deceptive of the bros and maybe even the entire show. In multiple points, he tricks his opponents using his psychological skill, like the time he made a deal with Big Mama.

So the only option is to use his sword.

I have done a possibility analysis on escaping by using their weapon a few days ago. But, I have not done the more emotional, thought term all that much, so, that's what we're going to discuss about.

I think the easiest way to steal his sword is by causing a distraction somehow. You know how Raphie always has to guide back Leo and Mikey (and occasionally Donnie) back to the main task? It works like that. I suppose you can try the tbh stereotypical "gain their trust" tactic but that doesn't go through with him. He can perceive your emotions spot on so he knows if it's a façade.

Next question: How would he feel once you've escaped from him?

He's insulted and surprised.

He thinks he's the perfect friend for you so it offends him you would leave him like this. Isn't he your best friend? The one who'll always be there to protect you and keep you happy? It pushes him to do better so that he doesn't feel useless. If he retrieves you back, consider yourself in a neverending cycle of things being bought for you and a heavy people-pleaser friend wanting to do everything.

The only thing he's surprised about is how his manipulation hasn't taken effect on you. He planned you to be under Stockholm Syndrome (I know the condition was romantic but for the sake of this post let's assume it includes platonic as well) by now so imagine the disappointment in himself when it didn't work.

"I can't believe that didn't work! My skills are the best out there!"

Finally: How does he get you back?

Simple, he annoys the fuck out of Señor Hueso. Assuming you have both swords he goes to the Hidden City for help. Oh and Baron Draxum as well since he is a magnificent warrior alchemist.

Romantic:

Just a few details since I explained most of the situation.

He gets really clingy after the escape because 1. you escaped 2. the more affection the more likelihood of Stockholm Syndrome. Cuddles, kisses, nuzzles he's bombarding you with it.

At night if you ever fake sleep or try to sleep but are not quite there, you can hear him whisper a few gory details. It doesn't matter if anyone helped you on your runaway, he just hates the thought of anybody being closer to you than him.

Tw: gore

"Those people that you love so much? I'm going to peel layer after layer of their body until there's nothing but muscles and guts. No one can be better than me, I am the one meant for you."

If you do fall under Stockholm Syndrome he's going to revert to a pretty normal boyfriend, except for friends. No friends except his family and April.

He'll take you out to the Hidden City, going on some corny ass date. And maybe just maybe, you can go back to the life you lived.

No friends. He's better.

——————————————————

I ruined my sleep schedule so bad that I stay up until 4 AM each night but today is especially worse I haven't slept

What a life I have writing about traumatized turtles with unhealthy mindsets ;-;

- Celina

[ellmaii]

I’d like to make something very clear. I do NOT have a problem with Byler. You might disagree and that’s fine but I think the ship is one sided attraction. That’s MY opinion.

My problem is with everyone who is trying to manipulate and twist events in the show to feed their own Byler fancies. It’s not only annoying and ignorant but sometimes harmful.

Tumblr is a place that seems to attract people who have difficulties in their personal lives. That doesn’t apply to everyone but for a lot of people it does.

-people throwing accusations of homophobia. I don’t need to explain this one, It doesn’t go amiss

-People being ebleist (not always intentionally). Eleven has disability. You can say she’s ‘just’ traumatised and uneducated but it’s clearly had a profound impact on many areas in life. Trauma itself can cause that. ‘A disability is any condition of the body or mind (impairment) that makes it more difficult for the person with the condition to do certain activities (activity limitation) and interact with the world around them (participation restrictions).’

-Disregarding and invalidating trauma and grief. “She lies to him because she doesn’t feel like she can be herself around him” “he can’t say he loves her because he actually loves Will” “she didn’t look happy when he confessed his feeling to her because she realised she didn’t love him like that” “Mike didn’t look happy when she said I love you too” Not everything is related directly to their relationships, Im sorry but it’s not. How people behave and respond to situations often goes deeper than what they’re actually arguing over that minute and these characters and their past go wayyy deeper than that. You can disagree but you don’t have to twist everything and anything to make it about Byler.

-No platforming. It’s dangerous. Don’t refuse to engage in a balanced debate because it crushes your Byler fantasies (same goes for Mileven). Sharing opinions and debating them is how we learn, but do them in a way that is respectful and sticks to facts. Not made up facts, if it’s not confirmed then ‘I think’ or ‘from my opinion’ are appropriate to use before sharing. Those are opinions, fell free to share opinions but don’t state them as fact.

-Open lack of compassion. Some of you love to criticise Eleven because she gets in the way of Byler. You can dislike her but at least try to understand her feelings and behaviour. Again, stop invalidating. She’s been severely abused and neglected her entire life, Im sorry if you find her “annoying” or “a bad girlfriend” but grow up

If you haven’t realised by now this post itself goes deeper than Byler and Mileven. It’s about respect. People like to use their fandoms as an escape and a coping strategy. Don’t call people homophobic for sharing an opposing opinion. How do you think child abuse victims or people with autism or learning difficulty or dealing with grief feel when coming across anti-Mileven post that invalidate Elevens issues or use them against her to further their own ideology. The lack of compassion and understanding then the refusal to educate themselves. All for what, to promote a freaking Tv show couple??

We grow attachments to fictional characters often because we can relate to them on a personal level. What you say about a fictional character can make someone feel bad about themselves. It can cause offence to people who love somebody who they think are similar to the fictional character.

We all have different opinions and fell free to share them, it’s how we learn and grow as people, but be considerate and educate yourselves first instead of spreading ignorance. And most importantly, STOP using these things for the purpose of promoting a freaking relationship between fictional characters. For example, saying El can’t understand romantic relationships and isn’t ready for one. If you believe that that’s fine and I respect it. However, it is completely irrelevant to Byler so don’t use it and point it out solely to feed your own fancies.

[bleakyblues]

The 2nd Reiteration of “I’m on your side”.

The problem with having so much happen in the last episode is that it kind of overshadows what has happened in the previous one. We spent the entire episode 13 with Porsche’s suspicions and lack of trust. The show pretty definably established that he not only doesn’t trust Korn but also to some extent doesn’t trust Kinn. Yes he trusts Kinn’s love and in Kinn as a person but he doesn’t trust Kinn to have agency. He doesn’t even expect Kinn to look beyond his father’s lies and he knows directly going against Korn without knowing the complete truth will just hurt Kinn. And there is also the fact that Porsche is canonically the person with the greatest trust issues. We’d expected it to be Kinn but he trusts Porsche completely. Porsche can’t do the same because he is more familiar with the realities of life. That a person who has multiple allegiances can never offer complete loyalty to someone, especially when those allegiances have the potential to come into conflict. I believe that’s why he and Vegas work so well together. Both are aware that their trust in each other is conditional and they clearly negotiate those conditions. Hence, why they are able to shift between being allies to enemies to allies again so easily.

That is the emotional state we move into episode 14 with. Even on their 2nd confrontation, Korn gives Porsche absolutely no reason to change his stance. So when Vegas calls and asks Porsche to choose, Porsche makes his choice and his choice is Kinn. The “I am not on the major family’s side. I am not on the minor family’s side. I am on your side.” may seem like a romantic declaration at first, and it is, but the practical implication of the statement appears through the context Kinn, himself provides Porsche and the audience, that is - “If you believe my father, you’re on the major family’s side. if you don’t believe him (and later on, believe Gun instead) you are on the minor family’s side”. Thus, Porsche is essentially telling him, he doesn’t believe in them but loves Kinn enough to override that disbelieve.

Then Korn goes and gives him the proof that he is lying and hiding things and Porsche is ready to shoot him again . . . except Kinn steps in the way. 

You can literally see here the realization dawn on his face that he has lost before he even knew he had a battle to fight. It is pretty well established by now that he will do anything for the people he loves and Korn has his grip on all 3 of his loved ones - his mother as Korn’s step-sister who seems to feel comfortable with only him (she tries to hide behind Korn and grips his arm tightly), Chay as a step-nephew who Porsche himself brought under his roof and most importantly, Kinn who will never leave his father even if Porsche manages to get the other 2 out. So he lowers his gun and agrees to take the ring, knowing that it is essentially going to be a leash. And the most fucked up thing is that, we know Porsche will not only happily wear that leash but even think of it as a diamond necklace, if it means it can keep his loved ones safe and happy.

And this finally brings me to the 2nd reiteration of that dialogue because the context still stands and Porsche’s answer is still the same. He knows he’s being lied to and yet he’s still choosing Kinn. But this time around, it comes with the added context of Porsche being the literal head of the minor family. He is quite explicitly telling Kinn that the family does not matter to him. He would burn it down without hesitation, destroy even that what he was now responsible for, if it weren’t for the person in front of him. And then he drives the nail into the coffin by saying that “All my life . . . is all yours.” and I don’t think Kinn fully understands the implications of what Porsche is saying. Porsche, a person who doesn’t trust completely is giving his complete loyalty to Kinn. He is not only giving in but he is giving up. He is giving up his right to find the truth and get justice for his parents, he’s giving up his agency, he’s giving up his freedom for Kinn. His mother had wanted him to be a phoenix and fly to freedom. Porsche puts on shackles and cages himself in that family for love. He’s placing himself right under Korn’s thumb just so he doesn’t have to let go of Kinn’s hand. And the ironic thing or the most fucked up thing really, is that he is genuinely happy doing so. His search for truth means nothing to him in the face of the peace and stability and happiness, him being Korn’s puppet can bring for Kinn and Chay.

I guess what I am ultimately saying is that at the end of the day, Porsche will be a perfect little chess piece for Korn but his obedience will be more absolute because unlike Kinn, he is consenting to it with both of his eyes open. And at the end of the day, it will finally come down to Kinn after all - whether he will treasure his father or his lover more.

Edit: Just gonna add this gif to drive home the fact that Korn makes sure it is Kinn's hand that puts the 'leash' on Porsche and Porsche realises this as well. (not a part of this gif but you can see Porsche staring at the ring with furrowed brows)

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Azusa Ecstasy [08]

ー The scene starts in the ballroom at the Sakamaki Castle

Kanato: ...

Yui: ( ...I didn’t think we’d be allowed to meet Kanato-kun so easily. )

( I don’t know how this will end, but now that we’ve made it this far, we have no other choice but to try and get our message across... )

Kanato: So? The two of you came all the way over here, so you must surely have a reason?

Yui: ...Well, we’d like you to call off Ruki-kun’s execution. 

Yuma: We’ll do anything if it means you’ll spare his life. So...!

Kanato: I don’t mind, really.

Yui: Eh!?

Kanato: Of course, not for free. I do have a condition for me to call of his execution. 

Yui: A condition? 

Kanato: One, for you to return to my side.

Two, I want all four Mukami’s to show themselves before me. 

Yui: All four...?

Kanato: Yes. Kou and Azusa are missing. Where are they? 

Yui: Well...

( I am ready to submit to Kanato-kun. )

( ...But Azusa-kun is not allowed to do anything to help Ruki-kun without specific orders from the Church... )

( Even if we could get Kou-kun to come, Azusa-kun can’t... )

Yuma: Azusa can’t come here ‘cause of personal reasons. Can’t ya give us another condition? 

Kanato: Then I won’t call off the execution. I can’t make any more concessions. 

Yui: No way...

Selection

→ Try asking him one more time (❦)

Yui: Kanato-kun, I’m begging you!!

I want to save Ruki-kun no matter what, for everyone’s sake...!

→ No point in asking, is there? 

Yui: ( Now that Kanato-kun has made his decision, there’s nothing we can say, right? )

( Ruki-kun... )

Kanato: ...

...What other choice do I have?

I am being driven in a corner by the Adler and Wolf Clans as well. 

If I leave things be, it is very much possible those two will form an alliance to come attack me. 

Yui: ...Ugh...

( Right...I’m sure Kanato-kun has got his own reasonings as well. )

( He inherited the title of Vampire King, so it only makes sense that he’s trying to think for the wellbeing of his entire Clan... )

Kanato: ...Well, if you can’t make your decision, why not ask Ruki for advice?

He is in the underground dungeon. You may go see him if you please. 

Yui: We can...?

Kanato: I don’t mind. I mean, it’s not like any of you can escape this place.

Yui: T-Thank you...!

ー The scene shifts to the stairway

Yuma: ...I pinpointed Ruki’s exact location. Guess we’ve got no other choice but to flee this Castle all together.

Yui: But...The whole Sakamaki Family as well as their Familiars live here...

Yuma: But as long as Azusa can’t come here, there’s no point in goin’ to see Ruki, is there?

We gotta convince that guy to escape his cell. That’s all we can do.

Yui: Yeah, you’re right...

( ...But Ruki-kun came here out of his own free will, didn’t he? )

( Kanato-kun told us where he is without hesitation as well, so I can only pray this plan will work... )

ー The scene shifts back to the ballroom

Kanato: ...That’s what you wanted me to say, right, Reiji? 

Reiji: ...Yes. Well done. 

I mean, it is not as if you told any lies, so please don’t take it to heart.

We have come to a point where we simply have no other choice but to get rid of the entire Mukami family. 

Kanato: ...Please do not get the wrong idea. I am not hurt in the slightest. 

I honestly do not care what happens to them. 

I just don’t want my reputation to get ruined any further.

Being a King is rather troublesome, isn’t it? 

It’d be so much easier if I didn’t have to do it the ‘formal’ way and could simply kill them as soon as I get the chance...

ー The scene shifts to the dungeon

Yui: ( We were told that Ruki-kun is here but... )

*Flip* 

Yuma: Oi, that cell over there...

Yui: Ah.

*Flip*

Ruki: ...Oh.

Yui: Ruki-kun...

Monologue

Ruki-kun was reading a book by himself, sitting in the very back of the dungeon.

He furrowed his brows for a split second,

but perhaps he had somewhat expected for us to come. 

He immediately returned to his usual composed demeanor,

returning his gaze to the book in his hands.

As long as we cannot fulfill Kanato-kun’s condition (条件),

we want Ruki-kun to escape (逃げて). 

We have no other choice but to somehow convince him. 

For the sake of Azusa-kun who can’t come here,

as well as Kou-kun waiting for us,

back at Rotigenberg...

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[classpectingcaxy]

could you analyse the maid of rage! im thinking that might be my classpect but im still unsure

Can do!

Analysis below the cut!

Maid

Maids are the active creation Class. They make their Aspect, or make by using their Aspect, and use their creations for themselves. The Maid is marked by a lifetime of suppression, either of themselves or of their desires.

A Maid is one who knows the feeling of being subjugated, of being "kept down" in the metaphorical, or even literal, sense. This leads to them being very "yes-man" individuals, not out of want to be or some such, but rather because they have been conditioned to believe they have no choice but to give up their desires, their feelings, for the sake of others.

They are passive individuals despite their active Class, but therein lies the secret to a Maid's power. They are reserves of pent up potential, raw ability and competence and power held back by a lifetime of conditioning to make them believe they have none, that they deserve none.

And when that conditioning is overpowered, by circumstance or an explosion of emotion or a sudden epiphany, whatever may do it, it triggers massive and instantaneous growth for the Maid, causing them to realize their potential in one fell swoop.

This does not mean that they don't show signs of it early on. While the Page, another potential-based Class, may show no sign of improvement and then find sudden swells of it, the Maid is different.

Maids show signs, inklings of what they could be, in the form of outbursts that fade as quickly as they appear. These outbursts may come in the form of positive or negative emotions, stubbornness or willingness to change, it depends on the Maid and which type of conditioning they've been put through.

In all cases, the Maid creates their Aspect or creates through it, and while their true potential is high and realizing it is instantaneous upon a trigger event, they will, unlike the Page, show strong signs of that potential. The important thing is for those around the Maid to ENCOURAGE these outbursts, to let them freely swing from extreme to extreme until they have their realization and hit the perfect balance between the two.

This is difficult for many, which can cause the Maid to fall outside of standard social circles, often on the edge or the outskirts, and rarely within the line. This can exacerbate their problems, or it can lead to the solution, it depends on the Maid.

Rage

Rage is the Aspect of emotion, passions, literal rage, and negativity.

Rage players are either deeply in-tune with their emotions or completely cut off from them, depending entirely on their Class. Rage players, regardless of class, ARE deeply in-tune with OTHERS emotions as well, and typically are slave to their passions.

A Rage player will often have one or two major hobbies or interests, and a few minor hobbies or interests, and yet an outside observer will never know the difference as to a Rage player, "minor" and "major" hobbies and interests are only differentiated by how worked up they get about that particular thing, not by how much effort they put into it.

Rage players put their all into anything they do, be it 100% of their apathy or 100% of their devotion. They may seem laid back and nonchalant at times, but don't mistake this for mere boredom. Rage players are rarely bored or any other mild feeling, but more often entirely apathetic or simply withholding their sheer excitement. The one constant you can be sure of with a Rage player is that they either feel nothing...

Or they feel absolutely everything.

Maid of Rage

The Maid of Rage is one who creates Rage or creates by using Rage, using their creations for themselves.

They would create emotion, passion, literal rage, and negativity, or channel those things into creative effort. They have a difficult life however. The Maid being what they are, a Maid of Rage is one who has their Rage suppressed, conditioned out of them. They may have little to no emotion, or be a naturally angry person who is forced into bottling it up rather than dealing with it in a healthy manner.

They may also be glass-half-empty and forced to act as glass-half-full for the sake of those around them, or it may be even more extreme and they may be kept on medication or even physically forced to suppress their emotions by those around them. Whatever the case, the Maid of Rage will have been kept from showing their Rage and it's concepts, kept from acting on their passions and hobbies and interests, prevented completely from allowing their negativity to show, causing a very bottled personality deprived of any of it's own feeling.

However, they would be prone to mood swings, emotional outbursts, and sudden bouts of hysteria as a result of these suppressions. When they snap, it would be violent and explosive, a sudden burst of the dam they've been forced to build to protect the world from their feelings.

After this explosion, they would find their center, their balance, swearing off letting others dictate what they can and cannot feel, and would settle into letting themselves process and show their Rage in healthy, constructive ways.

[dream-cloudss]

I feel like this is the only place I could say anything. It's hard being in a relationship. Let alone being in a relationship that was long distance. 4 years of it. This one relationship that I thought could work. The one I thought this is it.  I found my person. Instead, I'm here typing up this message broken in pieces. Yes, things get hard, and all I keep thinking is it's my fault it ended.  I had trust issues because of how I was treated previously. Getting left for someone else or cheated on. How my family treated me. Never told me the truth. Always hid things from me and manipulated me into thinking that was the truth. Imagine having to live with constant lies around you 24/7. At times, yes, I did not believe her because I was scared. And I shouldn't have. That's probably one of the reasons she left. But if I didn't trust her, why would I stay for 4 years.. i had this one condition that I asked of her that entirely failed the relationship. Yes, I made that mistake. I didn't know better. I believed in what I believed in, and we went separate ways. To sit here after 3 months after the break up thinking I lost the one person that understood me. I never opened up before. I never talked about my feelings with anyone. I never told my deepest secrets but with her I let down all my walls, my vulnerabilities, my heart. I told her everything. My pain. My worries. My past. My life. To sit here today thinking I wish things were different is an understatement. I had to change my ways to love this person. It pains me to think she forgotten the good I did for her. I found her alone. Broken, sad, lonely but mostly lost. I'm not that type of guy to leave a person in such pain in their life. I wanted  to help and helping her was my way of healing and through this process I fell in love with her. A love a never ever felt like this before. To look at someone and smile, laugh, feel like everything else didnt matter. The feeling of comfort. The feeling of support. To be silly. To be myself with no barriers. The feeling of joy. I helped her to open up her potention. To watch her grow from nothing to absolutely the best she can be made me love her more. I feel nothing. The countless nights of staying awake. The countless times of comforting her when she cried. I gave her strength. Courage. To be better. No one else would be there for her. Not even her family. I was. No matter how harsh when it came to helping her, it built her to be better. To see those changes meant everything to me. Watching her succeed. How proud I was. To comfort her when she was at her lowest. To support her through her hardest. To be right beside her when no one else was. No family or friends. I was. I was there. I realised how much pain I put her through aswell because of my own problems because of my own self trust and I could never forgive myself. What pains me the most is how she thinks i made her feel guilty about her feelings that i manipulated her? Of her feelings for me? To make her feel like she was not wanted? To make her feel like she wasnt desevering of love? Even writing this got me broken. I loved this women. I never made her feel like she was not worth it. I never made her feel like she was not good enough. I always reassured her even in the worst fights. I never guilt tripped to feel crap about her self. If anything i had to put my pain away so she does not feel sad. I had to hide away from my pain so she does not have to. I had to make her happy after arguments even if i was hurting. And yet i never stopped loving her. This breaks me all the time. How can one feel like that and forget i only wanted the best version of her. She left because the distance bothered her. She left because she stopped loving me. She left because she gave up. She did not want to be patient anymore. She left because i was not enough for her no matter how much i tried to.  I lost someone who meant dear to me. My best friend. The love of my life. My comfort. Its gone. She's gone. I sit here now absolutely broken. I feel numb. My heart feels lost.

[violetxia]

...

Loneliness.

Loneliness is something every human being has experienced-maybe at least once in their entire life. It is usually a temporary feeling, but for some people-it is a permanent burden, buried deep inside their hearts.

Loneliness is truly dangerous, it has enormous potential-that is often overlooked and ignored-so cruel, so merciless-it can drive a person to the edge. The feeling of being truly alone, not by choice-but by force-the feeling of having no one by your side, the feeling of being betrayed by society, the feeling that no one truly ever understands you, the feeling that makes life seem like a challenge-a war- which one has to face alone..

Seclusion isn't always peaceful, Solitude doesn't always put the mind at ease- sometimes-its chaotic, messing up everything-one's mind and one's feelings-gradually ruining their mental state. Sometimes it's full of conflicts, arguments and disputes-Except the fact that those conflicts, arguments and disputes are not with someone else-but with one's own mind, with one's own self-making them crumble more and more-suffering silently-under the spell of their own poison, created by their own minds.

A type of paralysis, a condition that prohibits one to show their feelings. One can feel everything-all the buried feelings they delayed to express overlapping, feeling unbearably overwhelming-yet express nothing-not a single emotion. Its as if I want to tell someone-anyone-anybody-but I just cannot-I try to utter, at least a word-but no sound comes out. My mouth stays open like a hollow pit, only taking in air, producing nothing out-and making my throat dry. A force holding me back. Preventing me, disallowing me, prohibiting me. so I crumble and fold up all those emotions, all those feelings, all the things I want to say-to my never-ending collection of traumatic memories and unsaid secrets and-wait. Wait alone-desperately-for something, for someday, to come. The arrival of an unknown thing, object, or person-so dearly wanted by me, so deeply craved and yearned by my lone heart. I don't know what I'm waiting for, I'm not aware of what lies in the near future, but the thought of waiting for it consoles me-comforts me. I feel hopeful, maybe a little happier, a little more secure. The heavy weight comes down from my heart for sometimes-even for a few minutes-my heart stops beating so rapidly, and spares me a moment to catch my breath. I keep convincing myself with false beliefs that something better awaits for me, that everything happening at present has a reason- a good reason-has the intention of teaching me an essential lesson, But at this point-I'm starting to think I'm delusional. Lost, brainwashed and manipulated.

Being a person who cannot handle reality and truth, So I escape it, by my own means .Escape it by my delusions, Escape it by my fantasies, Escape it by making my own happiness, by staying in my own made-up world. A world-my world-where I'm the main character, because in this world, I wouldn't ever be the centre of attention-let alone be the main character .But I rather be alone ,I rather bein solitude, than be with people who could care less about me. Maybe they don't,  actually. This world is cruel-a world where emotions are considered weak. But are they truly? I think not .People are just cowards. Scared of showing others  their true selves. nobody is born tough, Nobody is emotionless, They act to be. They pretend to be. These acts of pretentiousness and ostentatiousness influence young minds, manipulate them into thinking they are emotionless and bland robots, with no empathy or sympathy-just apathy, copies of hundred other robots in the world, just born to work and earn money. Society has developed, but has it, truly ?A world where moral values are decreasing day by day, A world where making degrading remarks towards someone is considered to be comedy, A world where-Words don't reflect true opinions, and promises don't have any value, instead-they are broken, like a brittle rock. Taken up, and thrown-shattering one's trust into pieces.

A world where breaking hearts is considered to be worthy of praise, a world where people humiliate someone's insecurities, someone's cause to feel-or think themselves as unworthy, someone's cause to be self-conscious of the body they were gifted-for fun-to potray a joke-when there is nothing funny, or even the slightest humorous. So at the end of the day, is my loneliness to blame for, only on me-solely-and not the society-even a bit?