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meeeepymeeperton3rd · 4 months

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Dumb rant, and I'm fully aware I'm not a perfect human being, and I can be a jack ass at times

Also, this is the account my friends don't know about

(SA trigger warning ⚠️ and SH warning ⚠️)

For context, i was screwed over for the entirety of my first ever relationship(6 months). I didn't tell any of my friends the messed-up things my ex did. When i finally broke down and told my best friend(a HIGHLY sugar coated verson of hSAing me), he told me I had to break up with my bf (no shit, been trying to for 3 months at this point). When I finally did, my ex was completely an asshole about it and tried to gilt trip me. Thankfully, I used some of the techniques from therapy and was able to cope.

This is where the current problem started(last November). After breaking up with my ex and telling everyone, "He was a jurck, and I do NOT want to elaborate." Some of my friends didn't get the memo. Specifically, 2 of them.

(Friend 1) was in a club with my ex and friends with him. When she found out she (despite the fact that i was vulnerable and actively crying) tried to GUILT TRIP ME INTO TELLING HER!!! When I say that, I mean despite the fact that my ex was known to make 'krill your self jokes' towards my best friend, and i said I broke up with him for treating my poorly, she INSISTED that I MUST tell her specifically why I broke up with him so she can decide whether she wants to stop being friends with him or not. (I never said she had to stop), and it was like 2 seconds after she found out we broke up) She felt that she was entitled to knowing because he was her friend and she had a right to this knowledge( for some fucking reason) and wouldn't take "ask him" for a answer.

Then my wanna be mom friend (friend 2 is really just bossy) decided to join in. She kept insisting I tell everyone on why because how are my friends supposed to help me (I didn't want help, I wanted to cry and be by myself). (Friend 2) tried to make it sound like she just wanted to help, but she has a track record of getting people to open up and then dumping them on to other people. She constantly tells people they need to get better at setting boundaries when all she dose is break them. This friend also trys to act like they are a "therapist" when their one of the only people in the group who haven't even taken a psychology class.

The breaking point was my BEST FRIEND agreeing with them. (He really just wanted me to feel like I could confide in them if I wanted to).

So despite not wanting to air out my dirty laundry and be known as someone who let herself get SA, I give in after saying no multiple times, I tell them.

Then, because I'm such a mess, I confide in my one friend, only for him to start flirting with me and saying how he would never hurt me like my abusive ex so I think he is a safe person. Only when we start dating, he completely changes. He makes fun of my getting SA. He is rude and controlling. He tries to talk for me constantly. And I found out that he cheated on his ex, AND he was still with his ex when he started flirting with me. He also lied about no longer being friends with my ex. I end up breaking up with him after a week, and he is still convinced we're getting back together (since last December).

Once winter break started, I proceeded to lose months of progress from therapy(definitely not good). Won't go into too many details, but I started SH again after months of work, and now my clean streak is ruined.

I've been back at school for 3 days. Day one, I accidentally let it slip that I was mad at someone other than my ex. My best friend forced me to tell him. I told him about our 2 friends and he agreed that it wasn't cool. The next day, we get into a stupid argument. I'm a loud person, sure, but I wasn’t yelling at him.

He mentioned (friend 1) being upset.

I say I didn’t care because she was rude.

He takes that as me thinking (friend 1) was because for venting in the group chat and is condescending when telling me that she wasn't rude.

I think he means in general, and I get upset because gilt tripping is MEAN. So I get defensive.

He's upset that I'm mad and apologize for not understanding, but he doesn't lose the hostility.

I'm upset, want to cry, and was all worked up. I think who cares and confusion dealt with, but I'm still frustrated. I say 'whatever' and end up leaving cause he needs to catch his bus, and I need to meet up with my ride

He's upset shouting something about saying he was sorry as I'm walking

And I'm like,'doesn't even matter. I'm not doing this right now.

When I got how I cooled off. I texted him an apology and offered to sit somewhere else at lunch. I was left on 'delivered' and assumed he was busy. When I returned, I saw that he vented on his Tumbler that are friends fallow him on about how shitty his day was and how his 'best friend' yelled at him for no rest and he mentioned that I 'apologized but now I wanted to sit somewhere else for lunch' he would only know that if he read my text. He was too petty to click on my message and mark it as read and still blow up about what I said on his Tumbler. I sent another apology and explained that I didn't want to upset him more by sitting with him. IM STILL LEFT ON FUCKING DELIVERED! I say fuck it we'll fix it tomorrow we alway do he just needs space right now.

Today I didn't see him in the morning because his bus was late. I didn't see him at lunch when my friend and I looked for him before getting lunch. I shot him a total of 3 new texts today, saying that I hope he made it to school safely and that the group was going to the commissary.

I walk to my next class missing my best friend only to see him in the hall way. He ate lunch alone. So I'm asking I'd he's ok and he brushes my off. I then say that I was sorry in person this time and say that he doesn't have to forgive me...

I go to advisory, and I'm trying not to cry the whole 90 minutes. At the end of the day, I go to return his jacket to him(i always wear his jacket). he acts cold to me and tells me he doesn't want it. So I leave and try not to cry.

He's condescending and rude and says that he knows I'm sorry cause I sent him 900 messages. 8 over the span of 2 days isn't a lot(we normally spam each other with hearts), and he left me on delivered for all of them. We go to our class, and since it's an online class (we're all on laptops), he asked to work in the other room(we sit next to each other in that class). So there I was sitting there by myself on the verge of tears the entire time. When I saw him in the hall, he made it obvious that he wasn't looking at me.

I'm still left on delivered BTW

#stupid vent #vent post #tw sa #tw sh related

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traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors · 1 year

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Hi. Can't think of trigger warnings, maybe for crappy therapy and a bad therapist and some mentions of physical illness. Looking for advice. Nickname purple

I'm just wondering if you have any advice on how to get over a fear of/reluctance to seek therapy (and to am extent medical care in general). More and more often I'm starting to think I'll never be able to function normally without some help but I'm so scared to get it. In part I think this came from my mom's own mental illness and how whatever pills she took (no idea what they were or even what they were for besides that there were a lot) left her so out of it all the time and sometimes made her destructive on top of neglectful, and from my dad's distrust of the medical system as a whole, to the point of ignoring his doctors after a heart attack, not seeing care for cancer until it had progressed too far too fix, and generally being reluctant to get me any medical care and being mad at my mom if she took me to the doctor for anything, because it was babying me and would make me think it was okay to be weak and I should be stronger and trust God before 'weird medicine'. Between that and most people in my life growing up basically thinking mental Illness isn't real and anyone who claims to have it is faking maliciously or, especially if they claim to have significant past trauma, flat out delusional (and yes, they applied this to me, even when I was actively suicidal or had visible marks from abuse).

I got sent to a therapist when I was twelve, against my will in a whole court ordered thing, and while I don't remember many specifics of the first session I know I was reluctant to talk and he ended up screaming at me until I shut down. The few additional sessions there were went better, though only because I coasted through and just tried to give the most 'normal' responses to anything he said so I'd be allowed out of it all sooner.

Now, well into adulthood, my issues have only gotten worse and worse. It feels my mind is falling apart and I'm so frequently scared, my emotional regulation and memory are practically non-existent. I can't get away from self harm or disordered eating (though I often doubt a therapist would think those things are significant), can barely keep myself from falling back into substances. I can barely get a job or keep it and sometimes the only thing keeping me here is being scared to die though sometimes that doesn't even work (I'm not actively suicidal right now just to clarify). More than ever it feels like I'm barely real or even alive.

But I'm still scared to even try to schedule a therapy or psychiatrist appointment. I'm scared I won't even be able to talk when asked what's wrong since more and more now I've been having verbal shutdowns, especially in frightening enchantments or under the slightest stress, which I respond to worse than ever lately. I've been thinking of writing down a summary of what's going on but I don't know if they'll accept that, if they'll want me to talk normally. I'm scared they'll want me to go into past trauma but I just can't, not to a stranger or sometimes to anyone at all. I'm scared they'll think I'm just making everything up and turn me away. I'm scared they'll think I'm just a whiny child that can't handle normal life, or I'm just looking for some excuse to not participate in society or get drugs or something (funny, since I'm afraid to take meds and I'd probably just refuse if prescribed something controlled). I'm just scared and I know I won't be able to take it if I get even a fraction of the treatment I did at that therapist back then or most other times I've tried to bring up anything wrong with me to people in my life. I just don't know what to do I'm sorry I'm sorry

Hi Purple, I am so sorry for your experiences, and would like to start by validating your mental health struggles, and trauma history, and commend you for the self awareness it takes to want to develop new coping skills for a healthy functioning base line. We all deserve the space and time to explore what that means for us, and I hope you find yours as well. It makes all the sense in the world to me, that with both your background, and experiences, that the thought of seeking out therapy would feel the way it does for you. I deeply empathize with it, and know it is something that unfortunately does happen within the medical community. I had the opportunity to reply to a previous ask about something similar that I'll link here as well, but essentially, I'd like to copy over two core parts of it: This link about red flags in therapists (not to discourage!) but to help validate your experiences and not potentially self-gas light yourself as you navigate new medical professionals along your healing journey.

But also this part:

"Of course it’s very understandable that without feeling safe, the appointment could feel so jarring that even if you meet a kind one, it could be hard to convey what you’re looking for.

My first advice would be to ask if someone can go with you, someone you feel comfortable with, and who you might even be able to practice a dialogue with beforehand.

Even if they can, or cannot come, my second piece of advice is to have your questions written down as well. Worst come to worst, if you feel unable to verbally share your concerns, perhaps you could slide them over so they can reply.

My third piece of advice is to ask for a print out of the after visit summary, with clear instructions and follow up to what the next steps might be - something you can refer to in the future as well." Regardless of what you choose moving forward, I hope you find someone who helps you feel seen, heard, and encourages you along your healing path.

Mod Kat

#trauma talks #mod kat #therapy #purple

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aeipathcy · 5 months

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11. what’s something that you don’t get to express with your oc often? [ for reanne! ]

MEME┊accepting.

What’s something that you don’t get to express with your oc often?

OOC. tldr, ended up being an unorganized ramble that probably isn't very well organized or cohesive. I lost sight of some ideas as I was typing (big sad).

call out/acknowledge Reanne's bulimic eating habits if muses end up going out to eat somewhere

sibling dynamic conversations/conversations about siblings

idk how to express this but maybe someone noticing something behind the confidence she always has? I don't think muses really see her glaring issues despite how open she is with a lot of troubling things.

I believe I've mentioned this one in the past on random blog posts but I haven't gotten many opportunities for other muses to actually call out how abnormal Reanne's food-related (bulimic) tendencies are or even just acknowledge said abnormality (she still has them, and yes she is very stagnant with her therapy—honestly at this point I believe she stopped going since it wasn't helping, just haven't made it official until this post ig). Like, I can allude to them but they're never the focus of threads outside internal thoughts. I recall there was one muse I was able to kind of touch on that with but that mun decided to cut ties with me out of the blue. I was saddened by it since we had a good, but not so perfect/smooth dynamic building which is prime for exploring not so nice aspects of muses.

Lately, I haven't done anything related to it, but it is still a huge aspect of how Reanne copes with and processes her emotions (eating to chase away anxiety or sorrowful moods, depriving as form of punishment/dealing with guilt, purging out of guilt when she eats too much, freaking out when she weighs herself despite knowing she's supposed to weigh a little more to be healthy, constantly hating her body despite progress, etc.). Despite being better about anger, lashing out, and trauma dumping, Reanne cannot seem to cut the unhealthy eating patterns out of her life. She still carries trauma related to her body and appearance no matter how confident she acts—her outward confidence and almost ideal skinny body shape make it hard to actually see this, especially since Reanne would never step out of her house if she felt less than presentable. And considering she still obsesses over making sure her freckles are never visible, there's obviously still an issue that's unresolved there. I mean, Reanne is a walking contradiction that's hard to explain.

Even though Keith outwardly shows his issues more, Reanne is probably in a much deeper trench than he ever would be as the difference in their support systems is massive—she doesn't have anyone to help her through any of her impulsive binges or get through emotional spikes, and she is much more likely to relapse because of how quickly she turns to binge-purging as a coping mechanism. She cannot forgive her family for everything they've done to her, and she cannot confide in them, making it more than difficult to combat a habit that's been ingrained into her since well before her teenage years. Fashion industry, going out to eat, and clothes shopping are all very large potential triggers depending on her mood. Kinda forgot about this modern verse addition (alcohol cw, binge drinking cw, alcohol poisoning cw) but she also has an alcohol issue (underage drinking + binge drinker). Thankfully, she doesn't drink, and the most she does is threaten people with the cost of a hospital bill if they try to entice her that way.

This also brings me to a second point I don't get to explore. Sibling dynamics. I don't know what it is, but I want more of these conversations. Reanne's story is definitely triggering for people so I understand if others don't want to write anything that steps on the field of landmines that will come up, but this helps explore underlying drives behind how she acts (as all her responses and beliefs all lead back to her sister and upbringing). I've mentioned it before but Reanne does everything in her power to be someone different from her younger sister, Elanor. She is the older one, but at the same time, she feels completely inferior to Elanor. I have a number of posts talking about the contradiction surrounding this entire sibling relationship so I won't go into it here. Err, maybe I don't but I'm not making a new one or anything anytime soon.

Now that I think about it, nobody has seen behind her outward confidence and demeanor or thought to look beyond it (because of how straightforward she is) except for Keith (mainly because of the lore behind modern verse and he's technically known her for two lifetimes already). I find it funny how Keith is the person who tries to pass lies to hide problems and issues but everyone can see through him and acknowledges his issues, but Reanne is the person who openly shares almost everything so clearly yet nobody really bothers to acknowledge the issues and problems she's been blurting out to the world.

#disordered eating cw #purging cw #bulimia cw #bulimia nervosa cw #alcohol cw #* ✭ ❪❪ asks ❫.#unladielike #;; why did this turn into a long ramble about nothing important?#;; the more I use Keith & Reanne to compare situations the more I realize they really are just two polar ends of coping with similar issues #;; and even though they're friends at best they both go really astray if one of them dies #;; I mean their canon endings for main verse are SUPER DEPRESSING AND TRAGIC

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casspurrjoybell-29 · 5 months

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Forging Ties - Chapter 29 - Part 1

*Warning Adult Content*

"I wasn't expecting you to come back by ship," Yore said as they headed back down the stairs. "Did you make some new friends?"

"Ah, yeah, quite a few of them," Slone said. "Ended up on the other side of the mountains and had to sail back."

"Sounds like quite the adventure. I thought it was impossible to sail that way, though."

"Well, what does impossible mean, really? Don't think anything's impossible, really. Not when there's magic."

"That's true."

"I'll let Hamish catch you up on the full story later. It's a good one." Slone offered Yore a smile as they stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

"You look good. You move different. Like it don't hurt."

"Ah. I'd been trying not to hobble around like an arthritic old man but I guess I failed."

"I'm your brother. I can tell when you're hurting."

"Well, you're right. I'm in a lot less pain these days. Fanner's already done so much for me. There are so many others who need his help, so I told him not to worry about me but he insisted on saving some energy and making time each evening to work on a part of my body. He said that it's his ability and helping me is how he wants to use it and I couldn't really argue with that."

Slone grinned.

"He's got you figured out, huh?"

"Seems like it. I do feel much better, though. I keep thinking I'm fine and then he'll fix something else and I'll realise just how much I was simply accepting. The other day he asked me if anything hurt and I said no. He sat me down and ran his hands over my body and then he asked if my neck ever hurt and I said yes. That my neck always hurts."

Yore shook his head.

"He looked so upset. He asked me why I'd lied to him about it. All I could tell him was that I hadn't. Not intentionally. Until he'd specifically mentioned it, I'd just forgotten that stiff achiness wasn't simply how having a neck felt."

"Damn. Guessing he fixed that?"

"Of course. I think that experience was good for us, though. The fact that he was able to express that hurt so openly and so clearly really matters. Since then, he's stopped just asking me to tell him what hurts. He has me lay down and really think about it or he has me do stretches until I find something stiff or painful. It's never a long search. I've just forgotten what normal is."

"You'll get there again. Sounds like he's determined."

"He is. He's going to take a few days off helping me to fix Duran's back now that he's home, though. He felt so bad that he didn't get to it. That he didn't make time for it. He just gets overwhelmed when there's too much going on and has trouble prioritising things."

"Yeah, I get that."

"You're alike in that way," Yore said. "Not so much in how you cope with it but I could always see when you were younger that you weren't being lazy. You'd just get overwhelmed or distracted, and you couldn't help that."

"Speaking of, I need your help with a few things," Slone said. "You got a few hours? It's kinda important."

"If it's for you and it's important, I can make time."

"Not for me exactly, but... ah, you'll see," Slone said. "Well, first off, we got a man on the ship named Perry. Nice guy. Smart. He wants to see about maybe having a permanent place here somewhere."

"I can certainly talk to him about that."

"That ain't the important part, though."

Slone pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and held it out to Yore.

"I borrowed this from one of Perry's notebooks. Didn't want to say anything to anyone unless I was one hundred percent sure but well... does this mean what I think it does?"

As Yore read what was written on the piece of paper, his eyebrows slowly lifted and his lips parted in shock.

"It sure does."

********

Skye crouched down in the crowsnest and peered over the edge.

He had been considering going down and talking to Perry but then Slone had come back and he had a stranger with him and they were talking to Perry.

It sounded like they were going to take Perry from him and keep him here.

Where was Skye even supposed to go now that everyone else was going places and doing things?

Was he going to stay at this new place as well or would he just wait on the ship and leave with Miriam and whoever else when they sailed back?

He was Miriam's employee, so it made the most sense to stay with her he supposed but he really liked Duran and Hamish and Slone and Perry.

That was a lot of people to like and just sail away from.

But Miriam was his employer.

He had a job.

Maybe that didn't matter anymore, though.

How could he be a courier when he'd probably just wander off and never come back the first time he was on his own for too long?

Slone and the stranger ended their conversation with Perry but then instead of leaving the ship, they turned and walked towards the crowsnest.

As the stranger looked up at him, something sank like a rock in the pit of Skye's stomach.

Dark, wavy hair and amber eyes.

The man in front of him wasn't Nim but he looked enough like him that it made Skye's chest hurt.

"Go away," Skye said before Slone or the stranger could say anything.

"We just wanted to have a talk," Slone told him.

"No," Skye said, turning his back to them so that he didn't have to look at the stranger's face anymore.

"Your name's Skye, isn't it?" the stranger asked.

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baptistsuicidewidow · 7 months

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I've been amazed with how much this blog makes me feel better. When I'm done with errands and the baby is fast asleep, I have been taking the time to cry and reflect. All day long I think about Jeremiah. But it gives me a chance to cry.. I don't like to cry in front of baby Isaiah, but sometimes its inevitable during the day. He probably wonders why I'm sad all the time.

The one thing that I keep coming back to is the 'chain of events'. How one thing led to another, and all the things put together led to Jeremiah's death. Every other person I've heard from coping with suicide loss has been repeating the same question I do. Like a cave, all I can hear is my voice asking "Why?" reverberating around all the long corridors of my head and heart.

There are folks I wish I had the courage to reach out to, just to gather more information about my late husband. I was told he sent a couple texts trying to 'expose me' for the wicked person that he perceived I was right before he took his own life. Yet at the same time I was receiving texts about how much he loved me. He had a couple phonecalls with men a couple nights before, and one of the men said he was really just stressed out with work, being a father, our relationship, all that. Another guy he spoke with (ian) blames me for Jeremiah's death, and when his wife told him my side of the story I guess he didn't believe her. But I am still curious to hear his perspective since many people have told me that men have a hard time opening up to their wives.

It's for this reason that I think it would be helpful for me to lay out the chain of events that I was able to see-to fill in the blanks for others. I don't know who might read this, but it could help them see a little more of the picture, and hopefully provide just a little more closure. Because I'm finding that closure is the elusive thing I'm really after these days. But others dealing with suicide loss have described it as something you learn to live with-not something that goes away-like the soul's scar-tissue.

I'd also like to stop retelling this story in my everyday life. For different reasons it comes up, and I hear myself repeating myself. Getting really sad out of nowhere and crying, reliving all the trauma regardless of where we are. I would like to just be able to say, "it's on my blog", so we could skip over this random 'picking at scabs' sob scene next time it comes up.

Jeremiah was a very sweet person. When I met him he was either smiling or furrowing his brow over this or that spiritual topic. I loved how genuine he was with me, and serious he was about the Bible, what ' thus saith the Lord'. I saw him as a friend before we got married. It was after a soul winning marathon that I told him, "Jeremiah, I was praying for just one person to go soul winning with and I'm so grateful for you." He replied with, "I never told you this, but I was praying for a wife!" So I pretended I didn't hear him, and later phoned my mom, and we talked about me potentially seeing this guy as more than just my soul winning partner... A week later he asked me to marry him, and I said yes.

After we got married not much of our relationship changed-we were still happy and normal range. We had some highs and lows but we were still a team at the end of the day. We did get pregnant super fast-with only one month of honeymooning followed by a positive pregnancy test. But Jeremiah and I were excited for our baby, and would watch week by week videos online tracking the baby's progress.

The very first time I saw him get really mad was at his family's house for New Years Eve when we were ringing in 2022, just 3 months after we got married. It was a new level of anger that I had not seen from him, ever. His brother was rattling his cage and Jeremiah just fell into this incessant unwavering rage mode I had never seen before.

But after that, we were back to normal and I didn't see his rage again for 8 months.

***Also I want to note that he had some horrific blood pressure! ***

Jeremiah already had little trust in my parents, as my dad had asked my relatives to disregard their wedding invitations, so none of them showed up for our wedding. I thought maybe our having a baby would open the door for a good reconciliation.

So when Isaiah was born they were at our house 4 hours later. Our midwife said to have primarily skin on skin contact between me and baby, and to limit others holding him for the first 3 days. My parents came over and told us what they were going to do-they didn't ask. They kept trying to grab the baby, and take the baby into the other room so they could spend however much time they liked with Isaiah. This made us very nervous since both my parents had their COVID-19 shots, my dad had a booster too, and shedding is a thing. It was very clear very fast they didn't respect us, and they didn't respect boundaries. My mom had told me that my dad would be cooking/supplying meals while they were over but that didn't turn out to be true-Jeremiah had to buy pizza for everyone and we had to tap into our pre-made meal reserves. They had Jeremiah running around the house focusing on their requests so that I didn't have the help I needed for my early postpartum, which was upsetting since he had used up his PTO to help me recover. My dad made this his chance to tell Jeremiah that he didn't want to be called "Dad", but by his first name "Bill".

My dad also told my mom to 'not forget the laptop'. My mom came into my room, the day I just had a baby, and told me she was taking back the laptop she gave me 2 years before, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to say. My parents are the type of people that spend thousands on vacations multiple times a year, and every time we go out to eat with them they spend over $300 for the meal. My dad spends some $700 a month for an aquarium consultant to come by his house to check out his one aquarium and to swap out fish/plants and talk fish with him. All this to say, they had the money to afford a new laptop. It was clear this was a divisive suggestion. Furthermore, my midwife was coming over for a checkup with the baby, so we asked my parents to come the next day a little later, more around 10am. My dad pretended like that was a big ask, and said "we'll come over whenever we please", and he turned around and walked out of the house, and my mom followed in suit, just turned around and walked out of the house.

So it wasn't going well and I realized inviting them over was a mistake. The rule was to invite folks who are coming by to support you during your healing process, and to keep stressful people away.

Jeremiah didn't know what to do. He had allowed them over our house to make space for the elusive reconciliation that I fantasized about having with my parents. But at every turn it seemed as though they were trouble. Jeremiah said, "I don't get it, if they don't like you and they don't like me, then what business do they have being around our baby?" Jeremiah mulled over what to do about my parents for hours. Later on, in the wee hours of the morning, baby Isaiah started to cry, and I asked Jeremiah for his help. He flipped out, started to yell at the top of his lungs about how much he hated my family. At this point I didn't know what to do since I had a 3 day old baby screaming and crying and my husband screaming and telling me "I don't know what I'm going to do Carrie! I'm going crazy! Your family makes me crazy!!!" and he was yelling this right next to the baby. So I was scared and tried to stand up and push Jeremiah out of the room, while I had a screaming baby in my arms. Jeremiah was in my face yelling, saying how much he hated my family and how they made him go crazy. He was also getting confrontational since I was trying to slowly/weakly direct him to the door.

I didn't know what to do, as he resorted to violence, and throwing things around the house with as much force as he could, while still yelling. I called his dad, to see if maybe talking with him would calm him down. It actually did help, and I spoke on the other line with his sisters which helped calm me down. Jeremiah then spent an hour taking apart my dad's gift-a $500 crib, and put the crib out on our driveway. After a couple hours he came into the room and reiterated his disgust for my family, and told me I had to choose: either to be his wife or to be their daughter. He wanted me to cut them out of my life completely. Since I had never seen this scarier side of him before, I was quick to agree that I would cut out my family, since I figured it would prevent my husband from 'going crazy' ever again. Jeremiah then sent a text message saying that he would appreciate if my parents wouldn't come back to our house this trip, and how it was a good idea to separate our families for the time being. My mom sent a text back saying she deleted his text off my Dad's phone so he wouldnt see it when he woke up, and she said something about how I must be irrational since I was postpartum (she was thinking I was the one deciding things). He had to resend the message and double down with her. My dad texted back that the crib wasn't Jeremiahs to return-it was Isaiah's, and they didn't return to our house. I had to cancel the plans they had made with my Aunt Sue on our behalf, since it was such an awkward time, and Jeremiah had had enough of my family that week. Well, period.

One would think that would be the end of that.

But what was my best moment in the marriage-Isaiah's birth and Jeremiah helping me through that, … that mountain-top in-love feeling was undone for me as my protector had shown me he was dangerous, since he had violent moments where he had zero self-control. I would now have to walk on eggshells to avoid seeing this side of him again.

What made things worse was now Jeremiah had changed towards me too. He was highly suspicious of me from that day forward, and didn't trust me anymore. He for the first time started saying really mean things to me, as if he had a heart change. He told me I was probably just like my parents, and would speak as though I was 'out to get him'. In the coming year for the most part Jeremiah kept that to himself, only for his suspicious narrative to bubble up whenever there was a disagreement-no matter how minor. The pastor at Cedar Hills offered couples counseling right before we left his church, so November of 2022.

We went to another church (Faith Baptist in Eureka, IL) and they spoke with us about counseling as well. Jeremiah particularly loved that church, and was seriously depressed when he decided we needed to leave due to doctrinal differences. He poured himself into work and would be gone all day and work all night. He was generally irritable. Leaving that church was definitely the beginning of his depression that lasted from April 2023 until he passed in early September 2023.

Although he was depressed, we still had mostly normal days. Him playing with Isaiah. Us enjoying dinner together. Going soul winning when he had the time to spare. Him playing accordion or piano. Random picnic dates. We were going to a new church called El Vista Baptist Church in Peoria, IL. Jeremiah just wanted to blend in and not be so involved with the church since his heart got broken from the last church. So we went to services and he enjoyed chatting with all the different people about all different topics. He was very sensitive during this time, and I remember speaking with him frequently about being so quick to anger.

We went on a family trip in June. It really seemed like Jeremiah had every intention to stay away from me. Most of the activities at the lake we did separately. He didn't even want to share the same bed.

There was this one moment at Mill Hollow (a park by the river) where half the group thought we were staying for longer than the other half of the group by the river. He claimed I was trying to cause division between his sisters and his parents since we were prepared to stay longer. In reality we thought everyone was on the same page with what time we were leaving. Literally it was a miscommunication and we left when Jeremiah told us to. His sisters couldn't understand why he was accusing me of being manipulative-anything other than wanting to stay at the river longer. I barely tried to explain that ever since his blowup after Isaiah was born he had changed. I thought it was best to keep my marriage issues to myself, and focus on having a better vacation. But even after that, when it was time to ride a go-kart, Jeremiah couldn't be bothered to join. The baby needed something from the store and Jeremiah dragged his feet to drive 5 minutes away. On the way home, Isaiah would fuss in traffic and Jeremiah would yell at me to get a handle on it. It wasn't our best vacation.

In July Jeremiah had his second major blowup. I had spent my free time for a week making FOR SALE BABY BUNNIES signs, and he drove to different places posting them. As soon as he came home I let him know that I was feeling sick. I was having really bad cramps that felt unusual-not like the ones you get with your period. (Later on, I found out I was pregnant during that time so who knows what was going on with baby at that point). He then blew up, and started ranting about how I must be sick of him, and that's why I was too sick to be intimate. He grabbed the butterfly house that our giant moth was living in and shook it in my face saying, "You love this thing more than you love me!". It was at this point I 'ran away' to the baby's room where Isaiah was sleeping, since violent erratic behavior was my worst-case-scenario signal, and I knew it was about to get worse. I locked the door and played the baby sound machine on loud since all I could hear was banging around in the living room and kitchen.

When I heard his car pull out of the driveway I checked outside for the cat and didn't see her (he had threatened earlier to get rid of her). I checked the garage and 3 bunnies were gone. I texted him that he would owe me money $200 if he intended to get rid of a bunny I bought and my birthday bunny. He didn't answer any of my calls. I went back in to the room and tried and failed to sleep. He came home and time passed. I really needed to use the restroom so I tiptoed through our dark house. On my way back I peered into the pitch black living room and imagined I saw Jeremiah sitting in the far corner in the armchair. Bad ideas of him being dead by suicide flooded my mind. His whole vibe earlier reminded me of when my brother was his age and would desperately call me when he was freaking out and thinking violent or suicidal thoughts. So instead of going with the urge to go hide in my room, I walked up to the armchair. It was spooky to see that indeed he was there, and Jeremiahs eyes were glaring at me as I shone my phone light in his face.

I sat down on the floor in front of him. I let him know that I didn't understand what he was going through, but it was clear that he was in a lot of pain, and I didn't want him to feel that way. I didn't want him to feel alone in our relationship to that point. I hugged his knees. I cried and offered to wash his feet. I was serious. He could tell. Somehow we went to his bed and cuddled... and when he was calm I asked about the bunnies and what he had done. He got sort of mad again, saying I was just worried about them and not really focused on us getting right or whatever. I just temporarily let it go. The next day Jeremiah didn't want to go to church since he thought we 'weren't good enough to go' (which is ridiculous/church is a refreshing place to be/helps you to think of others and think of what God wants for us).

Naturally I was still upset since my husband was unrepentant of his out-of-control behavior, so when he drove off to do deliveries, I went on a walk and called my confidant, Sarah Turner. After hearing my recap, she was horrified and assured me that what had happened was not normal range stuff, and her husband would never dream of saying that sort of stuff to her or doing that sort of stuff to her. She said I most assuredly needed marriage counseling. She also said I needed to get space, and find a place to go for a couple hours or a couple days. I called and texted around my Peoria friends, and no one I reached out to was able to help me in that capacity. I eventually walked home with blisters on my feet for walking around all day, and let Jeremiah know we needed counseling this time. I reached out to the McMurtry's and asked for counseling as Sarah and Nicole had suggested and they relayed they didn't have time for counseling since they were focused on their son's wedding. Since that was the case, I told Jeremiah we could table our problems until counseling was available, and he agreed.

In a couple days he apologized and admitted that he had dropped off the rabbits at different pet store locations in unmarked cardboard boxes. He said I could call around and see if they could be returned. One place had already adopted out 2 of them and the lady already had them fixed. The third place had my favorite bunny, and they mentioned how abandoning a pet like that was illegal and I could press charges on whomever had done that. I let Jeremiah know that he had technically committed a crime unawares, and he got very angry at that/went on a tangent about liberals and how they love animals more than people.

I kept having weird symptoms, so I asked Jeremiah to buy a pregnancy test. I thought I already knew what the results would be, but I was excited to see if we really were pregnant again. When I showed the positive pregnancy test, Jeremiah he did not want to believe the results. He was very reluctant to accept that we were having another baby. He was not excited with me, which made me sad. But I brushed this off telling myself that he was just pre-occupied with work or something else on his mind and not to worry.

In a week Jeremiahs family came over for Isaiahs first birthday (One month before he died). Jeremiah was not happy with spending the extra money on the party, and he showed up an hour and a half late to the two and a half hour long event.

-to be continued-

I gave Jeremiah a new accordion.

Jeremiahs car broke down.

We got a new car and were super happy taking pictures together.

jeremiah got violent

went with my parents

came back friday

saturday blow up

sunday reconciliation then blow up

i called the ambulance

police came with first responders/took me to center for prevention of abuse

jeremiahs family reached out

the terrible news

-to be continued-

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littlegreenolives · 7 months

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the big 9 - 1. frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment

was going to just make one large post of all these criteria but I have the blessing...curse...blursing? of being a chronic over writer and as such will be making 9 probably overly detailed and dramatic posts lol

thought I'd do a chronicle(?) of the 9 diagnostic criteria and how I perceive them now in my recovery vs. a few years ago when I was still seriously struggling. Many of these things have improved in recent years through a combination of routines, long term job and relationship, getting a cat and maintaining a healthier lifestyle.

My fear of abandonment always reminded me of that David Foster Wallace quote,

"Everything I've ever let go of has claw marks on it."

Ever since I can remember, I’ve been terrified of losing people. When I was a child, I couldn’t articulate it in any sensible or rational way, I still barely can. I’m sure it was the loss of my mother that caused it, although the more I’ve gotten to know my father, the more I believe that his traits and tendencies align closely with the BPD experience. It leads me to believe that I developed these traits more so through watching and learning from him and clinging to his responses after losing my other parent so young, but that early exposure to loss definitely didn't help.

My grade school relationships were punctuated by jealousy and intense feelings of inadequacy. I desperately longed to be able to articulate the intense feelings of fear and instability I felt in my relationships, the gut feelings that had no real basis which told me that every minute I was away from my loved ones was an opportunity for them to realize how much they despised me, to cheat on me, then to get in a fatal car accident (that was the only logical explanation for not getting a text back in under 30 minutes), which would end up making me feel wracked with shame and guilt for demonizing them in my mind or sending anxiety fueled texts in need of reassurance and validation when those could’ve been the last thing the person read from me. Constant nightmares about friends turning on me, loved ones dying, screaming at people to stay only for them to laugh in my face and leave with someone better. There was always someone better than me. When I got broken up with for the last time with a particularly difficult partner, he told me to kill myself and so I went home, took 30 zoloft, drank a bottle of wine, recorded video messages for everyone in my family and tried to jump off the roof. He said jump, me desperately wanting to keep playing the sadistic game if it meant not losing him simply asked "how high?"

College was an opportunity for these issues to run rampant and my insecurities to be briefly mitigated by addictions. Weed, booze, pills all numbed those intense fearful feelings and smoothed over the painful minutes that ticked by while I sat by the phone waiting for a text from my current FP. So many vicious cycles, associations and maladaptive coping methods that I didn't realize I was creating which would take years of rigorous therapy and mental work to unlearn. I would call on people for help only to turn around and push them away, make grandiose and frightening statements then go back on my words as I became deeply embarrassed and ashamed of what I'd said and done if I could even remember it - the BPD tunnel vision during a panicked perceived abandonment was insane. I was in a constant state of bending to people's whims and desires while desperately seeking a genuine connection, believing that I was so unlovable and devoid of self that anyone who got close enough would see through the façade and run.

Those who did get close enough to start to know me were like unmanaged fires in my mind, if I got too close I would begin to get burned. Eventually the flames would become so painful that I would have to lash out and drive them away from me. The confused apologies and soft reconciliations were like a balm for the burns, but now there were those tender areas which would inevitably get burnt again and would hurt even more. Soon, the balm would stop working and I would have to permanently get away in order to eliminate the pain. I was starting these fires that burned down so many bridges with helpless bystanders in the wake of them all.

Certain people stuck in my brain, those who knew how to abuse the cycle and train my brain to crave them like a drug. I don't think they were fully aware of what they were doing, those with BPD know more than most how easy is it to slip into subtle manipulation because you can read people and situations so easily, the moral ambiguity of it all exists in the pervasive emptiness this disorder creates. I don't think "the mask slipping" is the correct term, but I do think that these people who I let see the real me - the frightened child huddled away in the recesses of my heart who was reaching for reassurance and normalcy - they took that vulnerability and used it to keep me in their lives. Constantly breaking up with and getting back together with me with threats of self harm, it felt like reopening a wound that never had time to heal. BPD isn't the only thing which is associated with abandonment issues obviously, I think these people happened to have their own fears of being left and clung just as hard as I did to avoid losing a meaningful relationship.

My way of trying to eliminate this constant distress was to push everyone away, become an unavailable hermit in transient superficial relationships in which I had no real past. I stopped letting people in, stopped getting attached and worked to repair the fractured relationship with myself. This was one of the many aspects of my BPD recovery which I felt could not be depicted well in a handbook. It wasn't the ideal method of healing as it involved me alienating myself from my supports, but it helped me to become more self sufficient and improve my abysmal self talk. I had taken a year of celibacy years before this which had also proven insanely helpful for my recovery process, this was just the next step I guess.

I eventually let someone in and have been unlearning even more of the issues I didn't even know I had in relationships. Those things will always come up. I've come to understand how silly it is to assume that I will ever be "cured" or even in "remission" of this illness, instead I try to look at it as my brain developing differently due to acute stress and learned dysfunctional coping methods. There are positives which come with these differences in brain functioning as well and much of it is really just subjective anyways.

I've lost people since as well, one of whom I'm having an incredibly difficult time navigating coping with. It never stops, like I said, the process of recovering and learning how to live a life with these fears and the near total lack of emotional permanence. Best and also unfortunately hardest thing with BPD is to let time pass and let your feelings flow with it. It's a beautiful thing at times to be so elastic given repeat exposures to situations, not everyone has a brain capable of change like this. While it makes things incredibly difficult and confusing at times, it also allows for a profound understanding of beauty in the minutia of life.

Many of these feelings have persisted over the years but they've become fleeting subconscious thoughts, things that used to knock me out and take so much time to process and deal with that lessened in intensity simply due to the passage of time. I believe that time is truly such a healer for BPD (as long as you're using it wise mindedly lol). Old assumptions and scripts for the steps of predetermined doomed relationships can be rewritten and scrapped with every new experience in healthy and safe relationships instead of novel but dangerous ones.

#stay tuned for more lol #yet again i've written too much but oh well #this is basically going to be like a diary anyways #bpd thoughts #fear of abandonment #tw s3lf harm #tw sui ideation #borderline personality disorder

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themomsandthecity · 9 months

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Post Malone Says He's Cutting Back on Alcohol For the Sake of His Daughter

Post Malone is new to life as a father, but he has embraced it wholeheartedly. The 28-year-old rapper has been open about his excitement for fatherhood since he first announced that his partner was pregnant in May 2022. "I'm excited for this next chapter in my life. I'm the happiest I've ever been," he told TMZ at the time. Since his daughter was born, the "Sunflower" singer has kept life with her pretty private. But he recently opened up about how much being a dad has changed so many of his views, particularly those around drinking and his overall health. In an interview on Alex Cooper's podcast, "Call Her Daddy," Malone shared his biggest fear as a father and how it's caused him to rethink some of his habits. "I guess not being able to be there for my baby, which is a new fear," Malone told Cooper. "That's why I tried to slow down on drinking, to take better care of my body." He's also cut out sodas from his diet. Malone shared that he's currently trying to undo some of the damage his body has withstood over the years. "I went to the doctor, and they said, 'Hey man, your liver sucks,'" Malone told Cooper. So he's working on "fixing it" by cutting down on things like alcohol and incorporating healthier habits into his routine. Now, Malone says he mostly saves the drinking for shows and performances and doesn't drink when it's tied to negative emotions. "I used to drink because I was sad," he told Cooper. "Now, I drink for shows and because I'm happy. It's hard getting out there and I get so shy and timid and sh*t, so I just drink a little bit to, I guess, cope with that and be able to get my liquid courage, literally." He also addressed his rumored drug usage during the episode. "Everybody thinks I'm on drugs. I'm not on drugs," he clarified to Cooper, specifically addressing rumors about meth. But he did admit to having done shrooms several times. "Respectfully, I don't owe anybody an explanation for anything . . . [but] there is people who genuinely care and I kind of wanted to put their mind at ease," he then went on to say. Right now, Malone says he's focused on his music and being a great dad, admitting that he couldn't have picked a better partner in his fiancée (her identity has been kept private). "I've always wanted kids and, like, a big family," Malone told Cooper. "And I could tell she was going to be a really good mama. And she's like, No. 1 mom in the f*cking universe." His best dad skill? "Having money," Malone joked, adding that his credit card number would be baby's first word. But on a more serious note, Malone said that he's also trying to teach his valuable life lessons, like "you can't make everyone happy" - something he admittedly still struggles with. Malone also gave listeners a tiny glimpse into bonding time with his little one, which includes guitar sessions and rocking out to Godsmack together. "It was really cute," Malone said. Here's to the happy family! Related: Gabrielle Union Says Her Family Left Florida Because Daughter Zaya "Isn't Safe There" https://www.popsugar.com/family/post-malone-on-being-a-new-dad-49241802?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

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cuntwrap--supreme · 1 year

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Well, I may have gotten too fucked up last night. I don't drink, ever, but I'm hurting so much I thought, "Hey, I haven't had anything to drink in like 5 months, and then it was just a shot with the boys, I'll go get a 6 pack of some shit cider because I'm a pussy and can't handle liquor." And I did. And I only got through 4 of 6 before I was too fucked up to stand. Because, again, I'm a pussy and I don't ever drink. And I slept for like 6 hours and still feel drunk.

And I know. I know. Drinking to deal with issues is not good. It isn't healthy. BUT. It kept me from going to where he works at 2am and crying to him, asking why he would just ghost me like this. Guy's been my best friend for years, and now he won't even respond to me. I'm going to use whatever coping mechanism I damn well please to get through this.

I believe this is Day 4 of not hearing back from him. The dudes I work with think I should give him a few days of space then try again, if I feel like potentially tearing open the wound again. They seem to think that he's ghosting out of nervousness. Which, like, is not something a 34 year old grown ass man should do, but go off? But they've been men their whole lives, so I'll take their advice. I'm only Man Adjacent ™️ and sometimes don't fully grasp the ways in which mens think.

But guy had said he's had a thing for me for two years-ish. He'd said that even thinking about me while he's at work is dangerous. Like, I sent him a photo of me flexing my arm in the gym mirror because he asked why I was going to the gym so much, and his response was something about trying to hide a boner. He kept saying how excited he was to take me out on a date, but didn't know if I was serious about it or not. But then he would also ask that I not come by to see him after work, and constantly say he couldn't hang out, even just to talk for a few minutes, so I don't know. I genuinely do not know. And it's weird, because this man is essentially me, if I was a cishet bald guy. I've never not been able to tell what was going on in his head. And the only conclusion my brain can come up with is this was all a joke to him? Because everything he does is done in joke format so there's plausible deniability in whether he was serious or not. Know how I know that? Because I do the same fucking thing. Same exact. So I'm thinking maybe this was a way for him to feel out the situation before he pulled back and could just say it's all a joke.

Whatever the case, I'm fucking hurting. I've spent the past few days working long ass shifts and glad for it because it brings me a good distraction from my thoughts, even though the second I had any downtime I was back to forcing myself not to cry.

Like, I've been on this little sideblog talking about this man for years. I've never felt about anyone how I do about him, not even when I was a kid and had that "first love" feeling. I'd genuinely do anything for him, and I thought he'd do anything for me, too. But I never expected the ghosting. Like, I've written enough songs about him to fill an entire album, if I was ever not-sad enough to finish them. He's inspired art I've made, stories I've written, places I've gone and things I've done. For the years he's been in my life he's always been someone I could look to for help, and who I used as an inspiration for me to do better. I took a bullshit management position to try to impress him. I applied to college after college trying to get his attention. I bought so many stupid items just because it was part of an inside joke. And now he's apparently just.... gone.

And I'm left here, trying to pick up a bunch of pieces and put them together like a puzzle bought at Goodwill. I don't have all the pieces, and the ones I do are kinda warped and unusable. I'm more suicidal right now than I have been since I was literally being abused daily in my late childhood/early teens. And what's worse, is I'm manic, so I'm making all kinds of shit decisions. Like getting shitty drunk last night. Or driving to work going 110mph on the interstate in heavy traffic. Or not eating for the past two days. Hell, I might go blow all my money on something stupid that I can't afford, like a sword or a new tattoo. Just so I feel like I have some semblance of control.

And this is entirely too long now. I don't even think I'll read this over again if I ever look back on the stupid shit I've written. I just need to vent, because no one in my life understands this. The closest person I know who does get it can only imagine the pain. He's been with his wife since they were like 13, and they're 21 now, and he's like, "Yeah, if she left I think I'd be pretty fucking suicidal," because they are each other's everything, but she's never just left him so he only has the imaginary pain.

Anyway, this is why I shouldn't hold feelings in for over two years. This is why I should have just said something forever ago. I would have quit to be with him, because he was my boss and it's against company policy for him to have dated me. But I would have quit for him. I would have lived in my car if it meant meaning anything to him.

And now that's all fucked, all because I asked if he was serious about taking me out.

#bitching #i need therapy #but I'm broke so tumblring it is!#leon bitches #ghosted #suicidal #manic #rambling

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nevermindirah · 3 years

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Do you have any thoughts on the use of AAVE for Nile (or lack thereof) in TOG fanfiction? I've been reading some Book of Nile fic and some writers seem to write her as a Millennial™ (using words like "fave" and "woke") but never acknowledge her Blackness in her patterns of speech. I know we don't see her use as much AAVE in the films, but I would argue she's in situations where code-switching would be valued (first in a "professional" environment in the army, then around a group of non-Black strangers).

Hi anon! I have many thoughts on this and I'm honored you asked me! But I should start by saying I'm white and any thoughts Black fans and especially Black American fans have on this that they want to share would be beyond lovely. (I'm not gonna tag anybody bc that feels rude but please add onto this post if any of y'all see this and want to!)

The main reason I personally avoid AAVE for Nile in my own fics is because I'm not Black. But Nile-centric fics by Black writers tend to avoid using much of it too, at least from what I've noticed/understood, and my guess is it's largely for the reason you mention, that she's in situations that encourage code-switching.

In movie canon Nile is highly competent at tailoring her language to each situation she finds herself in. This fantastic linguistics analysis meta shows how skillfully Nile chooses her vocabulary and grammar to meet her goals with different conversation partners in different contexts. In comics canon Nile had a bunch of different civilian jobs before joining the Marines, so she would've had experience code-switching in the ways that made sense for all those different contexts as well as the Marines and her family and high school and wherever else she spent her time before we met her. And now she's spending her time with a handful of immortals none of whom are native English speakers and a fellow Black American but one with a Queen's English UK accent whose professional experience is in the CIA where high-status code-switching is often an absolute must for success or even survival.

Fics featuring Nile are charged with extrapolating from that to how it might show up in her use of language that she's coping with a traumatic separation from her family and her career and pretty much everything she's ever known and now she needs to be able to make herself understood to people who seem to care about her and each other but are super duper in crisis, three (soon to be four) of whom predate Modern English entirely and the only one who's anywhere near her contemporary she's not supposed to talk to for a century. All of these people are telling her that pretty much any contact with any mortals poses an existential threat to her and the rest of the group. How the FUCK is she supposed to cope with that, like, generally? And would it be a more effective way for her to cope if she talked to Andy Joe and Nicky using the speech patterns that she used to use with her mom and brother, to at least retain that part of her identity even if it means having to do a lot of explaining, or would it meet her needs better to prioritize Andy Joe and Nicky understanding what she means with her words over using the particular words and grammar forms she used with her family?

I've seen several fics, both Nile-centric / BoN and otherwise, explore this a little bit in how/whether Nile uses Millennial™ speak. It's often a theme in Nile texting Booker despite the exile because of the popular headcanon that he as The Tech Guy is the only other immortal who understands memes. But Nile's much-younger-than-Booker mom probably uses Boomer and/or Gen X memes and Andy has been adapting to new communication styles for forever as evidenced by her canon high level of fluency with standard-American-accented English.

Which brings us back to people avoiding AAVE because they're not Black and they don't want to make mistakes (or they're not Black and they don't want to get yelled at for making mistakes, though I think many people overestimate how much they'll get yelled at while underestimating how much these mistakes can hurt). I can imagine some Black fans hold back from using much AAVE in fic because they don't want to share in-group stuff with white people who are likely to then adopt and ruin it, as white people so often do with Black cultural stuff. Some links about this including a great Khadija Mbowe video. I'm saying this gently, anon, because you might not know: woke, an example you cited as Millennial™ speak, is AAVE, and that's gotten erased by so many white people appropriating it and using it incorrectly online.

And also there's the part where fandom is a hobby and you never know when you're reading a fic that's the very first thing someone's ever written outside of a school assignment. This cultural considerations of language shit takes a level of effort and skill that not everybody puts into every fic, or even could if they wanted to because they haven't had time to build their skills yet. It's definitely easier for non-Black fans to project our millennial feels onto Nile than to do the layers of research and self-reflection it requires to depict what Blackness might mean to Nile, and it's not surprising that often people sharing their hobby creations on the internet have gone the easier route. There's not even necessarily shame in doing what's easier. It's just frustrating and often hurtful when structural white supremacy means that 3-dimensional Black characters are rare in media and thoughtful explorations of them in fandom are seen by the majority of fans as not-easy to make and therefore Nile Freeman, the main character in The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince-Bythewood, has the least fic and meta and art made about her of our 5 main immortals.

I've been active in different fandoms off and on for twenty years and I barely managed to write 5,000 words about Sam Wilson across multiple different fics in the 7 years since I fell in love with him. There's an alchemy to which characters we connect with, and on top of that which characters we connect with in a way that causes us to create stuff about them. Something about Nile Freeman finally tipped me over the edge from a voracious reader to a voracious writer. It's not for me to judge which characters speak to other individuals to the level of creating content about them, but I do think it's important for us to notice, and then work to fight, the pattern where across this fandom as a whole Nile gets way less content, and way less depth in so much of the content that's in theory about her, than any of these other characters.

Anyway, back to language. My two long fics feature Nile with several Black friends — Copley and OCs and cameos from other media — but all of those characters except Alec Hardison from Leverage aren't American. It's very possible I'm guilty of stereotyping Black British speech patterns in I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore. I watched hours and hours of Black haircare YouTube videos in the research for that fic and I modeled my OCs' speech patterns on what I heard from some of those YouTubers as well as what I've heard people like John Boyega and Idris Elba saying in interviews, but the thing about doing your best is you still might fuck up.

I'm slowly making progress on my WIP where Nile and Sam Wilson are cousins, and what ways of talking with a family member might be authentic for Nile is a major question I need to figure out. For that, I'm largely modeling my writing choices on how I hear my Black friends and colleagues talking to each other. I haven't overheard colleagues talking in an office in a long-ass time, but back when that was a thing, I remember seeing a ton of nuance in the different ways many of my Black colleagues would talk to each other. Different people have different personalities! And backgrounds! And priorities! A few jobs ago my department was about 1/3 Black and we worked closely with Obama administration staff many of whom were Black and there was SO MUCH VARIETY in how Black people talked to each other, about work and workplace-appropriate personal stuff, where I and other white coworkers could hear. There are a few work friends in particular who I have in my head when I'm trying to imagine how Sam and Nile might talk to each other. From the outside looking in, God DAMN is shit complicated, intellectually and interpersonally and spiritually, for Black people who are devoting their professional lives to public service in the United States.

One more aspect of this that I have big thoughts on but I need to take extra care in talking about is the idea of acknowledging Nile's Blackness in her patterns of speech. There's no one right way to be Black, and Nile's a fictional character created by a white dude but there are plenty of real-life Black Americans who don't use much or even any AAVE, for reasons that are complicated because of white supremacy. (Highly highly recommend this video by Shanspeare on the harms of the Oreo stereotype.)

Something that's not the same but has enough similarity that I think it's worth talking about is my personal experience with authenticity and American Jewish speech patterns. My Jewish family members don't talk like they're in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, and I've known lots of people who do talk that way (or the millennial version of it), some of whom have questioned my Jewishness because I don't talk that way. That hurts me. Sometimes when another Jew tells me some shit like "I've never heard a Jew say y'all'd've," I can respond with "well now you have asshole, bless your Yankee-ass heart," because the myth of Dixie is a racist lie but I will totally call white Northerners Yankees when they're being shitty to me for being Southern, and this particular Jew fucking revels in using "bless your heart" with maximum polite aggression, especially with said Yankees. But sometimes I don't have it in me to say anything and it just quietly hurts having an important part of me disbelieved by someone who shares that important part of me. The sting isn't quite the same when non-Jews disbelieve or discount my Jewishness, but that hurts too.

Who counts as authentically Jewish is a messy in-group conversation and it doesn't really make sense to explain it all here. Who counts as authentically Jewish is a matter of legal status for immigration, citizenship, and civil rights in Israel, and it's my number 2 reason after horrific treatment of Palestinians that I'm antizionist. But outside that extremely high-stakes legal situation, it can just feel really shitty to not be recognized as One Of Us, especially by your own people.

It can also feel really shitty to be The Only One of Your Kind in a group, even if that group is an immortal chosen family who all loves each other dearly. Sometimes especially in a situation like that where you know those people love you but there are certain things they don't get about you and will never quite be able to. I'm definitely projecting at least a little bit of my "lonely Jew who will be alone again for yet another Jewish holiday" stuff onto Nile when at the end of I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore she's thinking about being the only Black immortal and moving away from the community she'd built with a mostly-Black group of mortals in that fic. Maybe that tracks, or maybe that's fucked up of me.

Basically, this got very long but it's complicated, writing about experiences that aren't your own takes skill which in turn takes time and practice to build, writing about experiences not your own that our society maligns can cause a lot of harm if done badly, it can also cause a lot of harm when a large enough portion of a fandom just decides to nope out of something that's difficult and risky because then there's just not much content about a character who deserves just a shit ton of loving and nuanced content, people are individuals and two people who come from the exact same cultural context might show that influence in all kinds of different ways, identity is complicated, language is complicated, writing is hard, and empathy and humility and doing our best aren't a guarantee of avoiding harm but they do go a long way in helping people create thoughtful content about a character as awesome and powerful and kind and messy and scared and curious and WORTHY as Nile Freeman.

#nile freeman #linguistics #TOG POC Love Fest #nileweek2021 #tog meta #tog #long post #mine #antiblackness #jewish things #hi i'm an antizionist jew no i don't really want to talk about it

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skiyoosmi · 3 years

Text

to the stars above | z.

featuring. zhongli (genshin impact)

genre. fluff, angst, smut, ancient-liyue!au

word count. 5.4k

marga's notes. aAAAa look look, it's my first commission!! school has kept me really occupied for like the past month but after pulling a few all-nighters, i've finally finished my responsibilities along with this little baby! once again, from the bottom of my heart, thank you to my bubs @ramannnn for trusting me with this one <33

Nobody knows when the world began, how it came to be and why it continues to be. Even I, whose mind is filled with nothing but wonder for it, have no idea. One thing I am quite sure of... is how mine did.

It all started with him— a man of many titles, different identities yet at the end of the day, all these monikers are the same; it's all him. He adored Liyue more than anything else, knew it like the back of his hand. He went where the winds lead him, stayed where the moon shines upon him, stood where the golden sun kissed his skin. He found serenity in the walks he travels as he goes about his day, the sceneries his eyes take in and the calm sounds the nature resonates for him. And as if it was fate decided upon by the Celestia, it led him to me. Suddenly, my little world that used to be nothing became everything... quickly and all at once.

An exasperated sigh escapes from my lips, frustration and disappointment filling my whole being as I stare at the blank parchment paper I held in my hands. Another day was again wasted with no progress, I thought, mentally beating myself up for not being productive enough. Before I could further drown myself into such pessimistic ideas, I snap out of it and let my eyes cherish the view that lies ahead of me. Though I feel a little guilty for taking Vermeer's place, I can only whisper an apology with little to no sincerity. Because truly, nothing can beat the picturesque landscape of Luhua Pool— the crystal clear waters that would most probably reflect my face like a mirror if I were to ever look at it, the ruins that ignited the spark of curiosity within me, wondering about the pasts it holds and the stillness and feeling of peace it gives me as I sit in this cliff. Feeling somewhat a bit better, I place my things on top of the old bag I bring no matter where I go. There's always a better day for writing, I tell myself as a form of consolation, bringing my slim arms up to begin stretching. I've been sitting on this log for quite a long time now, after all.

"It seems like you are in a bit of a dilemma," a deep voice comments from behind me. Out of surprise, I lightly jump and turn my head towards the stranger. Right at that moment, it felt as if all the air circulating inside my body had been depleted. Captivating was an understatement as to how he appeared before me. With the sunlight striking his face and accenting his unique features further, he stood with his hands behind him, head tilted as he looked at me with interest, all while keeping his dignified posture.

"Oh, hello. I am afraid so, yes," I respond, or rather, mutter under my breath since I was not really used to having sudden encounters with other people, nor am I fond of it. I tend to keep to myself, finding it much more peaceful than having to tend to others' overbearing expectations and demands which is partly the reason why I chose to live in the outskirts, far from the center of Liyue that contrasts my comfortable abode, "I apologize. I failed to realize that somebody other than Vermeer liked to stay here," I told him, arching my eyebrows a little when he let out a breathy chuckle.

"Oh, you have no need for such formal apologies. I do not always go here, at least probably not as often as the man you call Vermeer. I was simply taking a walk and I think I got carried away by Liyue's view and eventually, my feet led me here," he explains, a hint of sheepishness present in his tone, "and I guess I'll have to thank my feet for that."

Because it led me to you, interesting one. For many years, it will remain unspoken, kept by the strange man to himself and unveiled once his heart gives up from the resistance he upholds.

For the following hours of lounging around Luhua Pool, I learned a lot about the stranger— he calls himself "Morax," and like the god of Liyue, he enjoyed history and is extremely knowledgeable about it, aspiring to know and understand everything of the world, he often brews tea, even going as far as inviting me once I am free from any form of work. Just as he shared facts about himself, I did too.

"So, Cheng, you said you have a bit of a dilemma?" he inquires, slightly angling his head towards the direction of the side I'm sitting on. I nod my head up and down, mouth forming into a small pout of disappointment as I remember that today has not been that progressive.

"Yes. I am trying to write a novel, you see. Something that will leave an impact on this world so that even if I may pass, I will still live on the memories of people," I tell him, an ambitious expression present on my face. He hums, eyes going over the terraces that make up the current view we have and the two huge statues standing by the ruins, "Why so?"

I pause for a moment to think of a reply, "I guess I just do not want to let someone alone in this cold world. Wouldn't that be too cruel and sad, to just leave them with nothing?"

If I'm able to write words that will provide comfort to my readers, then maybe... just maybe the world will be less lonely... even for just a little bit. At least, that's what I thought as silence consumed us, the sun setting as if to remind us that finally, another day is nearing its end. Now, what will tomorrow bring?

"Well then, I do hope I will be able to read at least some of your works at least once," he speaks as he stands up, lightly dusting away his clothes, "It certainly has been a pleasure to be your company, Cheng."

As he walks down the slope of the hill, his somewhat broad back facing me, I call out, "Will you be back?"

He stops and turns, a soft smile is plastered on his face as he responds, "Only time will tell."

But time was no friend of mine. At least that's what I have come to realize as many days passed without him returning to this place. Though maybe it's only because it almost felt as if time slowed down and I was only eager to see him again, something I have scolded myself to— what a fragile heart do I have to already seek a stranger's presence? That is what others call love at first sight, a devilish portion of my mind whispered cheekily within me and I gasped in disbelief, "Absolutely not," I lightly slap both of my cheeks, "I'm just too coped up in my own world. I probably need to go see more people."

That thought remains a simple yearning though because once again, I find myself lounging around the same spot in Luhua, a quiet hope ignited within me, fulfilled when I hear the familiar voice he adorns as he speaks, "You're here."

I release a sound that is between a giggle and a breathy chuckle, "And I see your feet had led you here once more?"

"They were curious, or should I say... I was," he explains as he takes a seat beside me, his posture remaining solid despite the uncomfortable position.

"Of what?" I ask.

"Of you," he simply replies, unaware of the sudden yet unsurprising effect it had on my heart that was already beating rapidly with just his mere presence. I try not to be so showy of it though, too embarrassed to even think of how fast I became fond of him.

But it was no wonder. After all, he himself was an interesting one; from the way he carries himself, the way he speaks, and the way he's just him... all and every action hold so much dignity that it just leaves me almost breathless and in awe every single time my eyes finds their way to his figure— and to think that this was just our second meeting? My mother would most probably let out the most shameless giggle as I tell her these thoughts, pushing me and teasing me like a normal person in their teens would. I shake my head to get out of these thoughts, listening to Morax as he tells another wonderful tale, almost making me think that he lived it himself with how he knew it, going over even with the smallest details.

"You know, Morax, you have such a good memory to remember all of those things despite simply hearing about it," I suddenly speak up in the midst of the silence that engulfed us while he tries to think of the next story to tell, "I hope I can stay in them too... in your memories, I mean. I know I am far from being the most interesting person but for some reason, I wish for that."

He pauses, eyes trailing slowly towards me, beyond my knowledge, before he lets out a somber smile. You already are, is another one of him that becomes an afterthought.

I heaved out a sigh before shaking my head again, "Ah! Why do I keep having such lonely thoughts? Forget about that. Please do not mind me, alright? I think I really need to stop being stuck in the mountains."

I pick up my small bag and shuffle inside it, letting out a quiet sound of 'aha!' as a sort of celebration when I successfully got a small book out, "Here."

He blinked his eyes in confusion, wondering what it was I handed to him so I spoke in delight, "You told me you wanted to read at least one of my works so, here. I am warning you though, it is not like the ones that sell best in the bookstores. It might bore you, or weird you out like what others say."

"What others say?"

"They say it's too unrealistic, too impossible... but I believe otherwise. We live in a world where gods and adepti watch over us. What makes my story impossible then?" I ponder, him still being confused.

"What is it about anyway?" He asks, having no idea of what the context my book had.

"It's about an archon who began living as a simple man in Liyue."

Our meetings became more frequent after that and eventually, we got comfortable with even just the presence of each other, having no need for long talks and such, but just peace. Today, like any other day, Morax was just reading the book I gave him, while I was thinking of what my next story would be about. Occasionally, he looks at me with an odd expression that is almost equivalent to astonishment, as if I have done something so great that it made him look at me that way.

"What made you think of this plot?" he asks all of a sudden, not forgetting to put a piece of paper that served as a bookmark on the page where he stopped just in case he accidentally closed it.

I hum, thinking about my answer to his question, "Hmm. Truth to be told, it was just a mere wonder for me. Archons and the adepti, although not entirely immortal, live so much longer than an average human does, watching over us as we go about our daily lives, waiting for sudden wars to break out and then fight the enemies that attack us. Growing up, those were the things that all the people around me told me. So I began to wonder, do they ever get tired? Is it not too taxing to keep on doing that? What if... they just lived with us, among the crowds? Because I think it is too lonely wherever they are. Would it not be better if they were with us, rather than above us, so they could at least have memories to live by?"

Morax does not give a response, or rather, he finds it difficult to find one. Still, it does not stop the affection that spreads within him. He does not say it out loud, but for someone who prefers to be alone, Cheng was full of empathy. And somehow, that did wonders to Morax's heart.

"Now that I think about it, I kind of actually want to address my books to them now," I hum once more, "It would be like a message for them: Do not be too lonely even if we pass. Because of your help, through these stories, we can show you that we lived a good life."

I huff as soon as I finish my sentence, "Although one of those who read it said that was impossible, because according to them, why would archons give up their power to live a life where there is only simplicity?"

Morax let out a sound that made it look as if he got offended himself, "Archons can do that, can they not?"

"I know! That was what I was saying to them. Anyway, I am not forcing them to like what I wrote. It's just a story, after all. It can do no harm," I shrug, beginning to fix my belongings as the sun began to set, "I should go now, Morax. It is still quite a long walk to my home."

"I want to live a good life too," he suddenly tells me, making me halt and turn to him in confusion, "With you. The good life and memories you shall tell in your stories, can I be part of them too?"

The universe does not stop for anyone, nor does time— science will consistently proclaim this fact matter what timeline we shall live in. No matter how much someone begs to the Celestia to grant their wish of controlling, or stopping time, no one will be able to do such things. But somehow, it seems like when it comes to him, everything is possible as I feel my world stop at his words, just like the way it also began when I met him. And as if planets were colliding with each other, I suddenly felt my heart crash upon him and as if out of instinct, I let go of the truth.

"Of course. It would be the greatest thing to have you."

Life was strange in its own way. That is what I have come to realize in this simple life of mine.

Despite the fact that the "me" of the previous year has never even thought about putting my whole being on my sleeve, it is pleasingly odd how right now, I find myself in this kind of situation with the man who swept me right under my feet and claimed my heart as his.

“You're cold," I whisper amidst the silence of the night in my abode, my index tracing the ears of the man who had me sitting right on his lap, the shorter strands of his silky hair tucked behind them. So, so alluring.

He takes hold of my wrist, planting a soft kiss on its side, all while maintaining eye contact as he quietly drawls, "Then I suppose you can keep me warm tonight. Will you?"

As if in a trance, I nod my head, letting him take the lead as he laid me down, back against the soft mattress, him following on top with his arms supporting his build. With arising confidence, I circle my arms around him and pull him down, bringing our lips together, a sigh of relief escaping both of our mouths as if to say, "Finally."

I wonder if he thinks the same way as I do— that this was Celestia in its own way. I felt like I could do anything as long as it was with him. The kiss felt like the power we once suppressed from each other became a supernova that changed our world's course all of a sudden. But despite the tension and heat we both emitted at the moment, there is a warmth that engulfs me the same time he fully wraps his arms around me.

I am here. I will always be here.

No noise disturbs the peace we have created, only the quiet sound of crickets reach our ears but even that fails to distract him from what he's doing. He gently tugs on the sash that keeps my coat tied. Nimble fingers explore the remains of my clothing, loosening all until I am set free from them.

His eyes raked over my body, an expression of awe plastered on his face for so long that it made me somewhat conscious. Because as he unravels his to me, I am enlightened by the fact that my figure is nothing worth comparing to his — not even close. A hint of sweat glints from his skin due to the moonlight, making him look even more ethereal. But who was I to complain?

So instead, I look down, fiddling a little with my fingers as I feel my cheeks heat up. How is it that I only realize now what kind of situation we are currently in? Before I further drown in such shameless thoughts, he lifts my head up by the chin, an amused look on his usually-gentle face, "Are you feeling shy, beloved?"

I meekly nodded, to which he lets out a soft laugh and whispers, "Don't be. You are the epitome of beauty itself. If you don't believe me, allow me to show you nothing but truth tonight, I swear under the moon and all these stars."

He dips down and captures my lips in a kiss once again with more passion, if it was still even possible.

"You are made for me, as I'm made for you," he proclaims as he thrusts inside me after minutes of preparation, soft pants and groans following his statements. I can only whimper in response, pain evident in my tone at first with my hands lightly clawing at his back. I pray to the heavens above that they don't leave awful marks after this.

He halts and utters an apology, thumb caressing the bone of my cheeks while he waits for me to adjust. He scans my face after a few seconds, relief flashing in his eyes when I nod for him to continue.

"I... b..." I try to speak out but the pleasure overwrites any sensical thought that goes through my mind. He slows down a little, looking over my face and smiles, urging me to talk.

"Stay with me, beloved. We still have all night," he tells me, encouraging me to voice what has been on my mind.

"I... I belong to you, always have and always will..." I manage to croak out, voice quite hoarse due to the sounds that I let out previously. Perhaps pleased with what I have proclaimed, he begins going even deeper and at the same moment, I begin falling deeper.

"Yes, yes, you do," he repeats like a mantra, his voice sounding more and more desperate to reach his high. I cry out with him, creating a harmony that even the best bards shall be ashamed.

It was a long night— the longest yet most beautiful night I have ever had in this simple life of mine. And in that moment, as we reach the stars together, I knew right there and then that this man is someone who will be etched in my heart for as long as I live, deep into its roots— for him, it shall beat and it shall love.

You, who are reading this, most probably have had enough of these teeth-rotting praises I kept on writing. But what can I do except to apologize? These words are the only ones that can flow out of my mind and mouth to show how magnificent it was to be loved by him.

Well, nothing significant really changed. He was still the same gentleman I met, if anything, more gentle. Just like in the beginning, he made my heart flutter every chance he gets, no matter how many years have already passed.

We built a dynasty together.

But maybe I should have known that ours were also bound to crumble like the ones that have long existed even way before us.

Days, months and years went on, I realized that he was actually the opposite of me— unlike me who was clearly not parallel with time, he held it right on the palms of his hand. I was not blind, nor was I a fool, I can clearly see how he looks like he has not aged a day, all while I was here, maturing more and more each second that passed by, the amount of signs of me aging increasing significantly.

Morax. Knowledgeable of history as if he lived it himself. Time. All these thoughts eventually congest my mind as realization dawns upon me. He was not merely a man named after the god himself— Morax was him, he was Morax.

"How appalling," I mutter with a hint of sadness and dismay in my tone. I stood in front of the mirror, fingers hovering over my face, wrinkles appearing as I scrunch it. A pair of firm arms snake its way around my lean waist, chin resting on one of my shoulders as he hums his words, "What has got your beautiful mind occupied, my beloved?"

Taking hold of his arms, I turn my body around to face him, a somewhat melancholic smile etched on my face as I look up at his much taller frame, "You are a sight to behold, even to this day." He arches one eyebrow out of amusement and curiosity, wondering why I suddenly started pouring him compliments. After all, my shyness prevents me from consistently doing so. Nonetheless, I continue speaking, "I wish... I could be with you even when everything changes into a whole new world."

I lifted a hand up to cup his cheeks and began rubbing it lovingly, a lone tear finally dropping from my eye as soon as I closed it, "but I cannot, I do not have the ability to do so... I am but a mere mortal, after all."

His eyes widen as he finally discerns my actions and concerns, immediately opening his mouth in hopes of consoling me but I beat him into speaking, "It's alright, Morax. I have been putting the pieces together for a while now. I am in no way angry. I just..." I pause, gulping hard before my lips start to quiver, "... I cannot imagine how lonely it must have been. And now... I think about it and I... I do not want to leave you alone again."

My cries eventually start becoming louder, something that is very new to the both of us, seeing as I have always been composed. Love can change a person into a whole new being. I remember a book I have read once and at the moment, I can only agree. Maybe it was the way my heart clenches at the mere thought of him walking alone, or the way I can imagine us taking our last breaths together yet I know that will never happen— but either way, it was painful.

He whispers sweet nothings to my ears, placing light kisses on my temple as he leads us to the bedroom to rest once my tears have finally ceased and I have calmed down. His hold on me gets tighter every time I let out a small hiccup due to crying, almost as if he was telling me that he was feeling the same pain as I was.

Hours pass by as we lay in silence. My tears have long dried up but we remain coped up in each other's arms.

"Would it not be interesting if you bear the name Zhongli?" I ask him in a somewhat croaky voice.

He peers down and tilts his head, "Now where did that thought come from?"

I shrug, or at least try to, and look up at the ceiling as we shift our positions to lay on our back, hands finding one another and intertwining, "Hmm... nowhere. Just a name I wanted to give you in case that you are needing a new one."

"Oh? How come it would be interesting then?"

I look at him with a comforting yet sad smile.

"Because it means it's time to leave, to go somewhere far away... and unfortunately, I will have to leave soon."

He furrowed his eyebrows together, "Do not say that. Who knows? Maybe you will be able to live a hundred years by my side. Besides, I think it sounds lonely. I do not think I would want to get reminded of the fact that you are not here with me."

I hum, "But if you bear the name I gave you, wouldn't it feel like I never went away? That no matter where your feet take you, no matter how far you go, I am and will always be with you, just as I have vowed."

The wooden door leading to my writing room slowly slides open and Morax's head peers in, an adorable smile plastered on his face, "You have been quite busy these days, beloved. I do not wish to disturb you but I am starting to long for your presence."

I let out a shameless giggle, "Alright, alright. Just let me write down a few more words while I still have ideas to input."

He peeks on the parchment paper out of curiosity, taken aback when he finds his name on it, "You are writing about us?"

I nod proudly, "My last piece."

"... But why?"

I smile and approach him, taking his hand and placing my forehead against his after he lowers his head down to my level, "I told you, did I not? I do not wish to leave the person I love with nothing. So that you will not be lonely, my words will be with you. I will be with you, always..."

"... and to tell the gods... to tell you, that I loved every second of my life with you— that it was, indeed, a good life."

"Who are you, young man? Are you my son?" I speak with a very hoarse voice, squinting my eyes at the figure in front of me, as if my poor vision will allow me to do that.

I hear a melancholic yet gentle sigh come from him before he takes my rough hands and looks afar, "Don't mind me. I'm just someone who vowed to be with you for as long as time lets us."

"Oh.... really? That’s quite endearing," I hum, "Well, may I know your name?"

"This… I think I may just have an idea to whom this book is for," Paimon trails off, looking over at the traveler who was in the same trance as her, "Paimon thinks we should let the strange person we saw a while ago give this directly to Zhongli!"

Lumine nods, turning around and starting to run towards the direction they were at previously, recalling the person named Cheng who gave them the novel they just finished reading. They were unique, dressed in layers of robes and it was almost as if they lived in the old times of Liyue. Even the way they talked and moved screamed ancient.

Just as they turned the corner, a woman near the Liuli Pavilion called them over, "Traveler! Here!" As they approach, Lumine cranes her neck to look around the area but to no avail, the strange person was long gone.

"Are you two alright?" the woman asks, much to their confusion, "I saw you talking to literal air awhile ago and I was worried you have eaten something strange."

The pair looks at each other in surprise before Paimon replies, "You didn't see anyone? Like a person dressed in the strangest attire? They dressed really anciently!"

The door of the Liuli Pavilion opens and there goes Zhongli, a calm expression morphing to an awkward one when he realizes he barged into an ongoing conversation. He apologizes for the disturbance and despite the curiosity he had upon overhearing bits of Paimon's statements, he starts his walk back to Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. At least not until he hears Paimon call his name, "Zhongli! Wait! A person named Cheng. Do you know them?"

He abruptly stops and turns to the two, eyes wide for a second before it returns to his usual demeanor, "How... how do you know of them?"

"We met them," Paimon says, as if it was the simplest thing to do, "Well, honestly, we don't know because we were apparently speaking to nothing but air! It's so odd!"

He stays still, honestly having no idea of what response he should give them because he himself found it hard to believe.

"Well anyway, they asked us to give you this nov— wait, where is it? It was just in your hands a while ago, Traveler!"

In the midst of the loud chaos made by the two in the middle of Liyue, he thinks he knows what to do and where to go now.

It was the day of the Rite of Parting, an event where he's supposed to be taking part of, even just a part of the audience. But he finds himself hanging around the Wanwen Bookhouse, eyes scanning the shelves until it stops at a familiar name engraved on the cover of a book.

"Oh! Greetings, Mr. Zhongli! I see you took a liking to a very great and romantic novel," Jifang comments as she sees the book in his hands.

He looks at her, "Is it really great?"

She gasps in delight, "Yes, indeed! Almost all of the Liyue folks have enjoyed this story! You can say it is a classic, especially for readers! Cheng definitely outdid themselves with this one! Such a mysterious person yet equally amazing. Imagine? Being able to make such a beautiful love story with Morax? They don’t mention the present name they gave Morax though, such a shame. Maybe it was due to old age, they wrote it until the last moments of their life after all. Anyway, I have to get back to work but enjoy reading that masterpiece!"

He feels his heart swell in pride upon knowing his lover had his wish come true. His nimble fingers carefully open the pages of the book and hours later, as he sat inside the Funeral Parlor after taking the novel home, he finds himself absorbing each and every word Cheng have written, the loneliness sitting idly inside him subsiding little by little.

I found solace in the countless cups of tea you brew whenever I encounter distress with my works, the endless stories you tell with a smile so beautiful that not even the most heavenly scenery can vanquish, but most of them all, the feeling of your hand intertwining with mine, providing me with serenity no one else has ever done before. Under the moonlit night of Liyue, I remember your wistful amber eyes, staring deep into my soul as you proclaim your love and desire for me. How foolish was it of me to think that I could live this life without even experiencing such warmth and intimacy?

It is a banality, really — how I wish to become a well-known writer with unique tales and yet the story I am telling is something so common to folks that they have most probably heard similar ones before. But I guess this is what it means to love and to be loved. Everything is like a cycle that just keeps on being repeated, yet we never get tired of it, of the feelings it brings. So, thank you, Morax. Words will never be sufficient to show how grateful I am to you for showing me a whole new world but I suppose this is still a way for me to give back to you.

With this little book of mine, I hope my heart reaches yours regardless of how many eras may have passed before and after us. So, my beloved, do not be too lonely without me. Even if you find yourself longing for my presence, just open this and my heart shall be with you.

This belongs to you, it always will.

And I do, as well.

#genshin impact #zhongli #genshin x oc #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #zhongli x oc #zhongli x reader #genshin headcanons #zhongli headcanons #genshin scenarios #genshin fic #genshin fluff #genshin smut #zhongli smut #zhongli imagines

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apixrl · 3 years

Text

DRIVER'S LICENSE.

katsuki bakugou x fem! reader

WARNING(S): angst. cheating. swearing because it's bakugou.

word count: 4.5k

song: drivers license // olivia rodrigo (i wonder why...)

note(s): so i captioned this *at the time of writing* 'hello and welcome to i've had the worst two weeks ever so i wrote a katsuki oneshot to cope' and it's probably one of my most personal pieces of writing tbh

"-come Tuesday and we'll potentially see an end to this heavy downpour of rain. Temperatures will be on the rise to around-"

The talk on the radio cut short at the jab of your finger, heaving a great sigh which faded into the muffled pitter-patter of rain from outside. The streets had been showered with heavy downpours for the last week or so, no sign of sun or a still and restful day. Notwithstanding the miserable outdoors, the windscreen wipers on your car never ceased in their duty to grant you a clear view of the road ahead. And whilst you were grateful for their devotion, it didn't feel clear in the slightest. In fact, the road had never felt so blurry.

Shivering against the cold night chill and tucking your knees cosily to your chest, you eyed the raindrops on the windows. They raced against one another before they dripped down to your car's body, their glossy presence obvious thanks to the many hues of street lamps that surrounded them. You could have watched them for hours, being honest. Something about the droplets of water battling it out quite enticing. Anything to take you away from the cruel reality you were living in.

Your heart ached and yearned. But to no avail, the one you ached and yearned for didn't love you back.

Not anymore, at least.

Just the mere thought provoked a pulsating pang to resonate throughout your entire body. A pang filled with grief and sadness. Anger and hurt. You missed his sun-kissed face on the sunny mornings. You missed his eyes and how they gazed at you from across the room. You missed the smiles and laughter he would only show for you and you alone. The sense of glee and euphoria that came with that honour. Yet all of it was gone and there was no way you could get it back.

The memories of what had been triggered more waterworks. Hot, salty tears dug at the corners of your eyes and trickled down your face. Your motionless car concealed your cries and sobs. Every thrash against the wheel as you questioned to nobody in particular what went wrong and why. How you didn't see the signs sooner. What you could have done better. When he stopped loving you. If he ever planned to stop loving you. Whether it would have hurt more if you found out sooner.

All these questions with nothing to answer them.

Katsuki Bakugou had always fascinated you. From the very moment you met. You accompanied your friend on a double date, and he was the guy who she matched for you. Whilst he originally acted as though a blind date was the last place he wanted to be, underneath the aggression you could tell there was something much more genuine and true.

And your assumptions were correct. Truth be told, Katsuki Bakugou was one of the most genuine and truest people you had met (at the time). Once it was just the two of you, he allowed his true colours to unveil. Through the smallest of kind gestures that still haunted your mind to this day. Then upon confrontation, as you bid each other goodbye at your back door, his denial resulted in a flirtatious contest which then proceeded to an intimate night that changed your life forever. From there your mind was set.

He was the one.

Emphasis on was.

So blinded with a fairy tale love you grew so accustomed to, you never saw it coming. Never in your two-year relationship - that had so much strength and commitment built on top of it, never did you think that Katsuki Bakugou would throw it all out of the window like it was nothing. Disregard your loyalty and adoration for a drunken one night stand that slowly became an occasional hookup. Which soon became a mandatory pastime once a fortnight. Then twice. Maybe more than that. You wouldn't put it past him with what you knew now.

He kept it from you for nearly six months. Six months. The only reason you discovered his lies and deception was because you were let off early one night from work. You worked a night shift, see. Your last job had fallen to shambles, and it was temporary whilst you searched for a new one. And whilst that did take a toll on your relationship with Katsuki Bakugou, mostly finding time for intimacy since his working hours were during the day, none of that gave him any right to go and do what he did.

That wasn't one of the only reasons, you knew that for sure. There were other motives for his lack of loyalty. But you were never told. After you froze at the sight of another woman under his hold and stormed straight back to your car to flee. After he chased you down the flights of stairs in nothing but baggy pants into the streets of a twilight Musutafu. After you screamed into the darkness and belted your fists against his chest. Fists that were driven with rage and hurt and every emotion that burned like the hottest of fires and froze like the coldest of ice. He never even told you. He never made an effort to address it. Nor had he attempted to call or even try to visit your Mom's house - where you stayed as you searched for a permanent place to live. Just because you retreated for your car and cried that it was over, he never tried. But that didn't mean you weren't allowed an explanation. An apology. Something to give you a form of closure and a reason to move on. But you never did.

That wasn't even what hurt the most, either.

As silly as it was, the thing that hurt you the most was the very car you sat in.

EIGHT MONTHS AGO . . .

The red glow of traffic lights hit Katsuki's vermilion irises as he stared dead ahead at the long line of vehicles, the ash-blond heaving a sigh into the air. His finger tapped impatiently against the steering wheel he gripped with one hand, the spare rested casually against your upper thigh affectionately.

"I can't believe we have to sit through this torture just to go to some damn party," Katsuki grumbled, taking a glance over at you. His brows furrowed when he met you peacefully slouched down, nose dug into your phone as you presumably played some sort of game to pass the time. Like you had no care in the world for your predicament.

"It's your best friend's birthday, love," You mused back, Katsuki surprised you even listened based on your focused expression directed towards your phone. "It's not like we can just miss it,"

"Yeah, but we could have missed all this pain by taking the train instead of driving across town during rush hour,"

"Trains are icky, the seats would have ruined your suit and my dress," You pointed out, looking at the blond over your screen, sending him a sweet smile. He cocked a brow, a smirk creeping its way onto his lips as a scoff of a laugh broke out between them.

"Right, and laying down like a sloth is gonna help keep your dress uncreased?" He returned, amused at your realisation. At his comment, you sat up faintly and pouted your lip.

"Driving means more time to play Gravity Pops, and so does traffic,"

"Seriously? That's the game you're playing? You're such a dumbass,"

"Yes! I'm in the top 11% globally! I need to get to number one!" Was your protest, your arms flailing ahead of you briefly for dramatic emphasis. Katsuki clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, though the small smile plastered over his lips betrayed his initial reaction. Unable to deny your determination, he spoke with confidence and almost a sense of pride.

"Number one, hm? Clearly rubbing off on you aren't I?"

"In a way, yes,"

"That's my girl," Katsuki remarked, earning a giggle from you that was uplifting to hear. It was there your attention went back to your phone, but Katsuki wasn't done. "So, speaking of cars, Y/N," Hearing his chosen tone - which sounded suggestive, you eyed him closely. Hesitant to reply as you had a sense of what he planned to say.

"...Yes?"

"Have you thought any more about getting your driver's license yet?"

Called it.

"...No,"

"What?" Katsuki began, tilting his head. He was surprised that he felt surprised. You had said those words in regards to this topic countless times. Still, he persisted. "Is that a no meaning you haven't or no meaning that you don't want to?"

"Both?" You half-guessed, sheepishly grinning at the look you were sent. "Look, cars scare me okay? And so do roads. And people. My nerves wouldn't be able to handle it! I can barely communicate with people face to face, so me being on the road is a recipe for disaster!"

"I know but -," Katsuki exhaled sharply, understanding your reasoning. You had voiced these concerns when confiding to Katsuki about your fears of the road. Something built and corrupted from social media as well as phobias and fears in general, it was a battle you had yet to overcome. You wanted to drive but was terrified of messing up or causing chaos on the road. Potentially inflicting harm to someone and yourself. You still weren't sure what triggered it all, but over the years it had manifested into something quite irrational, to say the least. Katsuki had been supportive of it and whilst he truly would love to always act as your personal taxi - you couldn't hide from it forever. It wasn't his job to keep you in your comfort zone. That, and he couldn't always be there for you that way. What if he was miles away and you had somewhere urgent to go like the hospital? "It's not as scary as you think. I know it's hard to believe that but seriously. The freedom you get from driving is amazing,"

"I'll think about it a little longer, okay?" You said with hesitancy, looking at Katsuki for a sign of confirmation. He nodded in defeat, knowing you probably needed more time and felt put on the spot. So he averted his eyes back to the road to check if the traffic had moved at all. It had not.

"Okay," Katsuki said. "But I can't be your taxi service forever,"

"But I like you being my taxi service," You jokingly said, a little sadness in your tone. "Your road rage is funny and I like watching you get out of the car and walk to my door after pulling up in my driveway,"

"What do you mean?" Katsuki asked, catching the twitch of a smile on your face upon saying those words. It struck his interest in what you could mean.

"You know, like when you say you're coming to pick me up?" You explained. "You pull up at my driveway and I don't know... simple things like that just remind me of how much I love you. It's dumb really, but it's important to me,"

"Really?" Katsuki questioned in disbelief. How something so small and meaningless could mean so much was puzzling. He couldn't understand why it was so special to you. But that didn't invalidate it in any shape or form. So he pushed that aside, replacing his wonder with gratitude. He returned to your bashful and flustered features, feeling a smile grow on his face.

"Yeah," You said, shrugging to downplay your words. "I love you. Stuff like that means a lot to me,"

"I love you too, even though you're a dumbass," Katsuki said, humbled by what you had said. The two of you shared a gentle exchange, your hand grabbing hold of Katsuki's as you gave it a squeeze. He squeezed back, and silence ensued. Had he realised such a thing sooner, then Katsuki would have pulled up in your driveway much more than he had been doing. But at that a thought struck his mind, victoriously smirking as he had an idea on how to potentially sway your worries. Or begin swaying it. Something was better than nothing, after all. "But what if I wanted you to pull up in my driveway one day?" His words caused you to look over at him in curiosity, hearing the seriousness in the question. It caught you off guard momentarily, having to contemplate as you gradually concluded that he had a point.

"Well one day, maybe I will," You vaguely replied and sat up a little bit. The hand holding yours pulled back and lifted to land on your shoulder, gripping reassuringly tight.

"I hope you do, I'd like to get in on this driveway action," He joked and smirked, faith riddled in his expression. You giggled ever so slightly, tempted to lean forward and peck Katsuki on the lips in thanks, but never a thing was to happen as the alerting red light from outside switched to warm amber.

"Ah!" Katsuki yelled in triumph, his attention leaving you swiftly as he got back into the driver's seat. Giving you no opportunity to respond to him and overall ruining the moment. "Took fucking long enough!"

The light turned green, and he set the car in motion, leaving you with your thoughts and the words he had uttered that day as the traffic stood still.

All your efforts, all your time devoted to getting over your fear of driving and the road as a whole... all of it was pointless. You did it for him. You promised him you would overcome your fears and better yourself. He built that motivation up brick by brick until you could grab hold and seize control. He wasted all that time to get you to reach such a stepping stone only to abandon it once it was through.

Just so you could pull up in his driveway, just like he requested. And what did you get in return when you finally did? A stab in the back and the loss of your other half.

You wiped your eyes via the sleeve of your hoodie, dampening the cuffs. Sniffling and exhaling a shaky breath, your gaze landed on nothing in particular. Yet somewhere within your clouded mind, you found interest. As that was where your gaze remained for a certain amount of time. You weren't sure how long exactly. It could have felt like an hour and only been five minutes. Or it could have felt like five minutes and was actually an entire hour. Either way, the clock ticked on and didn't wait for you to stop.

It was a good thing you had pushed your fears down and rose above them. It just pained you that you didn't even do it for yourself. Without Katsuki Bakugou, you never had any intentions of doing so. As a matter of fact, you had set out to take the train or bus for the rest of your life. Hell, you were going to use a bike and scooter if you got desperate. Had he even acknowledged how much work you put in just to get where you were? Was all that effort part of the reason why he decided to cheat? There was absolutely no telling. Absolutely no telling at all.

You wondered what he was doing now. Was he laid in bed resting peacefully? Out with his friends for a boy's night only? Maybe cooking his favourite curry? Possibly on a late-night jog despite the harsh weather? It never stopped him other times.

Did he ever think about you? Regret what he did and the actions he took? Had he ever considered apologising? Would he ever apologise? What if he was celebrating the fact you were no longer in his life? Had there ever been any love there for you in the start? Did he ever actually want you to get your driver's license because he believed in you? Or was it so he could get rid of you with much more ease? Make his departure less severe and less selfish? A way to justify his choices because it's not like you were hopelessly left to suffer everyday life now that you had a means of transport. Was he really that cruel?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sharp jingle of your phone, the device lighting up as it sat in the passenger seat to your left. It took two or three rings for you to glance over at it, E/C eyes sore and drained from crying out. You squinted them to read the caller, seeing the name 'Work' fade in and out on the brightly lit screen. For a second or two you argued back and forth on whether to even bother picking up. Something about reaching across for your phone requiring a magnitude of energy you no longer possessed. Having spent it all on your cries of agony and the deprivation of your old life as a whole.

However, you had ignored your work in the last couple of weeks too many times now. So many times that pulling the same stunt again would probably risk you losing your job. It's not like your work was interested in why you felt such overwhelming pain... all they cared about was you turning up to do what you were hired to.

So using a forceful hand, you leaned over to pick it up. You fumbled to grip your phone and accepted the call with a dainty tap of your thumb. Then you blinked away your tears and subtly sniffed, pressing your phone to your ear to address the caller.

"Hello?" You practically croaked, quick to clear your throat and push any signs of upset down. It was presumably dry from how much you'd cried in the last two hours.

"L/N! Hey! Glad you finally picked up!" Unlike the droll and unvarying tones of your boss, the person on the other end was much more lively and greeting. So much so you could only assume it was none other than your work colleague, Etsuko. Probably the only person you genuinely liked where you worked, and the only person who made the time pass by faster. "I was worried you were gonna leave me on answer phone again,"

"Hm, what? Oh right. Yeah. Sorry about that. Haven't been feeling too great," You lied, even though it wasn't a complete fib. You hadn't been feeling great at all. You had never felt so rock bottom. It all just originated from your mind over anything else. But when did work care about that?

"Sounds like it, I hope you've been okay!" Still cheery as ever, Etsuko followed up with a laugh to fill the silence you created by not saying anything. "Is everything well? It's nothing serious, is it?"

"No. It's not. Just some dumb cold I caught," You excused. "I'm better now, though," Slouching down in your seat, you decided to ask the question that had been roaming your mind the last minute or so. "So why are you calling?"

"Oh, right!" Etsuko said. "Mr Kobashigawa was just wondering when you planned on coming back - for schedule reasons and to get people to fill in for your shifts,"

"I er...," Not entirely sure how to answer, you stuttered as your words cowered away in your attempt to speak. "I don't -,"

"It's okay, he doesn't need an answer yet," Etsuko reassured. "Maybe in the next day or two, though? He wasn't really specific, being honest,"

You sighed at the guilt brewing in your stomach. You weren't even sick for crying out loud! Why were you lying just so you could wallow in your own sadness?! Like that was going to change anything! Sitting around and crying wasn't going to give you what you wanted. You weren't getting him back. Katsuki Bakugou wasn't yours anymore. He made that clear by cheating. By making minimal effort to give you an explanation. By causing you so much pain with little care or concern. Why couldn't you get it through your thick skull that your feelings didn't matter anymore?! That they were being wasted on a lost cause. A lost relationship!

"Well I mean -," You started, running a hand through your hair as you tread carefully on your words. "I could come in tonight? Has Mr Kobashigawa got someone to fill for me yet?"

"Um... no? I don't think so?" Etsuko answered, uncertainty in her voice. "Let me go check. Be right back!" And with that, the line fell dead. The call didn't end, just Etsuko placing the phone down to get an answer for you. Leaving you all by your lonesome once more.

Reflecting, you could see the logic in your thoughts. The best course of action would be to hold your head up high and live life the way it was before. When you were happy. Just... excluding the factors that actually made you happy. Which was him. Wouldn't that be healthier than crying all the time?

Yes, it would. But was it what you wanted? Not really.

"L/N!" The voice in your ear startled you to the point you nearly dropped your phone, panicking through a gasp as you fiddled to grab hold of it again.

"Wa-! Careful you nearly scared me half to death!"

"Oops, sorry!" Etsuko giggled softy, sounding as perky as ever. "I'm just excited to tell you that nobody's filling in your shift! You can still come in for ten-thirty!"

"I-I can?" You asked. After an upbeat 'yeah!' filtered through your ears, you considered your options. Remaining in the serene, quiet confines of your car with only the downfall of rain to accompany you sounded like utter bliss, given how you felt. But you felt an internal kick up the backside which told you - no... demanded you to just get over this moping attitude of yours and look on the bright side. To get over the lack of closure and simply... move on.

Yeah... if he found out you were an utter train wreck thanks to the damage he inflicted; Katsuki Bakugou would probably revel in it. He had a history of gaining pleasure from other's misfortunes... or it was rumoured he did (during his younger years, anyway). You had never wanted to believe it but you couldn't find a reason to refute it anymore. After all you had been through, it seemed to fit his character and personality more than ever. So with that fact apparent, you held a firm forefront and searched for a determined tone, and made your answer to your friend.

"You betcha I'm coming in! I'll see you in half an hour!"

Too enthusiastic? Probably. Still, it was better than acting pessimistic and hopeless. No matter, however, because that was exactly the attitude Etsuko had been hoping for.

"Alrighty!" She exclaimed, smile audible in her voice from the other end. "I can't wait to get our dynamic duo going again! I've missed you!"

"Yeah, me too, 'Suko," You hummed in agreement.

"Great! Catch ya later my partner in crime,"

"Heh. You too, dumbass," You found a reason to smile from her childish behaviour, though your choice of wording seemed to hit a nerve. It did more than that, it practically reverted all that confidence and progress you had made in the last ten minutes of being on the phone. All from one innocent word that escaped your lips.

Dumbass.

That's what he used to call you.

The phone call had ended without you even noticing, your phone still pressed to your ear as a small buzz sounded into it. You stared dead ahead, flashes of all the times he had said that word to you running through your memory. It was his form of a pet name. Some might see it as a little degrading on the surface, but you never minded. Once you learned the deeper meaning of the name, it became something equivalent to the likes of 'Sunshine' or 'Angel'. If anything, you ended up preferring it to those sorts of nicknames. Hence why Katsuki Bakugou had called you it on so many occasions.

No. Stop it. You can't let something like that bother you. Not after the efforts you just went to. Stop. Shaking yourself out of it, you returned to reality and permitted your phone to drop onto your lap. Your hand once holding it gripped onto your steering wheel, the other following shortly behind to do the same.

"I love you too, even if you're a dumbass,"

That rung in your head one final time, tormenting and mocking your present. The things you'd be willing to do to hear him say that to you one last time...

"No," You firmly shook your head, banging it lightly against the headrest to return yourself to reality. An attempt to knock those words to the back of your mind where you could lock them in a securely tight safe for the rest of eternity. "Just... just don't think about it. Easy. Just focus on what you're doing now," You reached for your keys which sat in the ignition, taking hold and turning them ever so slightly. Your car stirred to life, engine rumbling and the dials lighting up in a form of warm greeting. "You're going to work. No more feeling sorry for yourself,"

No more feeling sorry for yourself.

Your eyes set themselves on the road ahead. The vacant, dark and solitary road that didn't wait for you to make your decision. Life moved on after all, so if you were going to do anything - it was to catch up and take the winning lead.

So despite your circumstances; your inner desires and wishes and begs for what you wanted back but to no avail would ever get, you pulled out of your parking space (which had long exceeded the time limit, thankfully nobody was around to see) that drowned in pitiful rains of the night, and began to make your way down the street. In search of a place better than the one you were trapped in.

An endless road that wasn't all that clear, you were going to tackle it. Not for anyone else, unlike the last time you met difficulty and hardships. No, no, no. This time it was for your sake. All the mental energy to recover and become a better version of yourself, in the endgame it was all for you. You could push past all the deceit and lies you had been told and you could push past your normality which was him. Katsuki Bakugou. The man that hurt you as nobody had ever done before. You could create new normality without him.

A thought of forever he created and destroyed, resorted to driving alone past his street, never to be thought of again.

#katsuki bakugō #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #anime x reader #anime #x reader #angst #katsuki bakugou x female reader #katsuki bakugou x you #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugou

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nikadoesanart · 3 years

Text

Will Jouno assist Fukuchi?

In ch 92, Fukuchi shows Bram to Jouno (though I'd say introduce would be a better way to describe it cause Jouno's blind but minor inconsequential details) and reveals that he is the mastermind behind the Agency being framed and asks Jouno to help him. Personally, I think that Jouno is just a bit more likely to form some kind of alliance with Fukuchi but not necessarily a full-on partnership, much less to the point where it'd be considered working more with Fukuchi as Kamui of the DOA than helping Fukuchi as Fukuchi himself or as the commander of the HD.

Also, I am using @buraihatranslations translation of ch 92, so that's where my exact phrasing for quotations and page counts are coming from. You can read the full translation here.

The main context of our focus

“I’m the mastermind. Jouno, wouldn’t you like to assist me?” (p 19)

For starters, I don’t think Fukuchi is being a reckless idiot for saying this. Considering that he's literally Kamui, he obviously must’ve considered this as a calculated but worthwhile risk to take. As I’ve previously mentioned in my ch 89.5 cover art analysis, Jouno is the most on the fence of the HD in terms of supporting Fukuchi vs believing in the Agency’s innocence. In fact, as we learned in 92, he simply doesn’t care and can therefore be considered a (nearly) neutral party. Jouno is also basically a living breathing lie detector, so he can tell apart the likes of jokes and lies from the truth very easily. Jouno also cares primarily about being able to hear his victim’s suffering, regardless of who’s right or wrong or innocent or guilty (as he’s told Aya). It logically just makes the most sense for Fukuchi to try to get Jouno on his side out of all the HD because :

Teruko is a simp for Fukuchi but she still cares about civilians and being able to take pride in her job as an officer (Sky Casino)

Tachihara has already clearly established his doubts in the ADA being guilty in front of all of the HD (ch 89) and told Fukuchi that he sees himself as more Mafia than HD now (ch 89.5)

Tecchou has a very strong sense of justice and cares about fairness, so asking him to quite literally join the side of the terrorists would never work out and would essentially be a waste of both time and possibly personnel too

What does Jouno personally want?

As I've already briefly touched on (and presumably you already read ch 92 before this), Jouno has already stated his goals, which gives us a good sense of where he stands morally.

“I just want to hear the voice of someone’s suffering.” (p 9)

“To hurt people under the name of the law[,] corner them and hear their “sound” as they break.” (p 10)

Now that we’ve more than established that Jouno is in fact, a sadist, I do want to emphasize Jouno’s mention of the law. Not only does he enjoy making people suffer (specifically psychologically, as he’s mentioned before), but he specifically mentions that he wants to do it “under/in the name of the law”, meaning that he likely either only wants to do it in a “justifiable”/“excusable” way or that he doesn’t want or plan to be held accountable for his actions (or worse, both). Until we get a backstory reveal, there could be any number of reasons for him being this way. I think it’s fairly likely that he’s from a similar situation to Fukuchi (took part in the Great War, and the mental scarring of everything he experienced then caused him to find some sort of extreme and inhumane goal or enjoyment to cope with it all). So for example, he could have been drafted for the War because he’s an ability user (or maybe he already happened to be in some sort of training where he received recognition for his skills, ie. the military academy or part of a renowned dojo) and eventually that led him to become a sadist because coping mechanism or discovering that he’s a sadist because of some extreme circumstances (ie. having to interrogate a prisoner for the first time and realizing how much he enjoyed giving and hearing the psychological torture).

Example of Jouno's excuses and justification

“I was just asking suspects for cooperation!”

“Then do it after they sign the consent form for judicial transaction. Otherwise, it’s not justice.” (p 12)

On one hand, we have Jouno who is very quick to make excuses for his actions by using his position as an officer to justify his behavior. Despite knowingly and intentionally using extreme measures, beyond what's necessary for the situation, he's using the law and his job to try to justify it. (If you're seeing some real-world parallels here, good job!)

On the other hand, we have Tecchou who very clearly values actual justice that is fair to all parties (as we’ve seen previously with him promising the cafe owner that the ADA will get a fair trial at the very least in ch 72). In fact, I think it’d be safe to say that Tecchou is the one that values impartial justice and fairness the most out of the HD, but that's not the focus here.

Parallelisms and which other organizations would suit him and his goals

(p 15-16)

For starters, Jouno appears to be on the side that believes that the ADA is a part of/affiliated with the DOA (if I’m not reading this wrong)

Also, I’d like to highlight him saying:

“ ‘Our tastes match’, if I should say. The abusive nature. To be honest, I’m almost empathetic. If we happen to lose this battle, I wouldn’t mind reemploying to their side. Not to say that we wouldn’t possibly lose.”

Jouno has no doubt in the strength of the HD but also just wants to be on the abusively cruel side dishing out the suffering. If he’s able to use his position to excuse his actions (ie. what he said about Aya just a few pages ago), then that’s even better for him. The ADA has an ability permit and currently ⅓ of the police force is siding with them and believes in their innocence. Joining the ADA next, should the HD lose, would be the most advantageous for him, if the allegations of them being abusively cruel terrorists were true.

In my opinion, his actual next best organization to join, based on his interests and goals so far as well as his own methods, would be the PM. They have an ability permit too and he’d have just as many chances to be either on the front lines and/or work with the interrogation team. With what his goals has revealed about his moral code, he’s just more cut out for the nature and surface level goals of the PM than the ADA. In fact, Dazai has already admitted to the two of them being alike (which we as the readers can deduce is for their methods in manipulation and interrogation) and Dazai has previously mentioned that he’d sometimes have to come in and help Kouyou’s interrogation team with the job (ch 19). Jouno joining the PM could be a very easy transition, should he stop caring about doing things “under the name of the law” (p 10). However, there is a loophole with the PM being a part of the tripartite tactic, of which the whole goal is to protect Yokohama. Both we as the readers and the members of the ADA know that despite their methods, the PM does in fact care about upholding the overall peace and safety of Yokohama. The reason why he jokes about joining the ADA and makes no mention of the PM (at least in my opinion), is because before all of this, to the public eye, the ADA was one of the “good guys” that were upholding the law whereas the PM is quite literally the mafia. (I touch on this part too in my ch 89.5 cover art analysis.)

Back to answering Fukuchi's question now

I feel like Jouno is ever so slightly more likely to form some kind of alliance with Fukuchi as Kamui but not straight up joining the DOA/allying with the DOA as a whole because again, Jouno is very much sadistic but he also specifically tells Aya (a possible hostage and a confirmed supporter of the ADA) that he specifically wants to “to hurt people under the name of the law” (p 10). Fully siding with the DOA and Kamui would mean that he’d no longer be working under the protection of the law, by any extent, unless Fukuchi were to create some kind of excuse as the commander of the HD (ie. Jouno was under the control of the vampirism). He might work with Fukuchi but I don’t think he’d work with or for Kamui. Either way, I think that overall it’s a very close tie.

In short:

If he says yes then he’d risk not having the law to protect him any longer, which is a part of what he clearly wants to have. The only way around this is some sort of agreement where Fukuchi will create a believable excuse for Jouno helping or he does it in a very indirect way that won't be noticed by others or can easily be played off as some sort of coincidence.

If he says no, he’d likely have to go up against Fukuchi and Bram and risk getting turned as well. I doubt he’d be killed since that would raise too many questions with Tecchou and Teruko, and thanks to Tachihara’s fight, I’d say it’s all been explicitly stated that still being alive is a part of the requirements to be turned into a vampire. When Tachihara tried to off himself as a last resort, specifically to stop Fukuchi and Bram from turning him into a vampire, Fukuchi personally prevented that from happening (ch 90).

Jouno has established that he just wants to hear the sound of people suffering (which Fukuchi would probably have learned of or figured out by now, considering that he’s the commanding officer here), which can be achieved from quite literally any side. However, his condition to this is doing it "under the name of the law", so being on a side that has the law’s protection and works on the front lines is where he’d be closest to achieving this with minimal risk (so realistically the HD or ADA). I doubt Jouno would have any interest in joining the Special Division because I doubt he’d get to do much interrogating or front-line work there, in addition to him having less of an excuse for his cruel methods, and I've already gone over why he'd rather join the ADA than the PM.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd analysis #bsd spoilers #bsd theories #bsd jouno #bsd 92 #bsd chapter 92

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benlaksana · 3 years

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2021

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It's been roughly a year and a half since the start of the Covid-19 pandemic here in Indonesia, and I've recently been trying to understand where I'm at. Not physically, as in physical space, but mentally and probably existentially. What is the state of my mind? I am aware that I've become somewhat bitter, my late nights are sometimes riddled with anxiety for what the next day may bring and reoccurring personal-collective grief has at times, and recently more often than I would like to admit, numbed me.

This may probably be my mind's automatic coping mechanism seeing all this death mainly as a result of how my government has failed us, its citizens, especially during a time of crises. And I really need to stress this point: how my government has failed us Indonesians during the times we need it the most and I very much believe that it is because of this why many of us Indonesians are in constant misery and haunted by that feeling of despair. If chronic physical pain causes constant daily anguish, I am not surprised if chronic physical and mental pain caused by structural violence causes persistent misery as well.

I'm somewhat fortunate in this regard, I'm grateful that I've learned ways to keep my sanity in check. My contemplative practice is key for me. Honestly, I wouldn't have gotten far in life without it. I have many people to thank, but Art Buehler especially, my former professor in esoteric contemplative/meditative practices who reminded me and pointed a certain possible direction of where I should head when I sense a lost in my life's direction, is one those I should thank the most. I know this seems like an individualized response to structural oppression, and I don't intend to paint such a picture, but I do believe we need some kind of mental stability to keep on going. To survive if not thrive.

Art sadly passed away in 2019. I received an email about his passing. And come to think of it I never really did allow myself to properly grieve for his passing. I don't know why. To be told through a short concise email that someone you cared for died, without having the opportunity to properly say goodbye feels like that person never really passed away. It is horrible way to end relationships. A sudden cut, nothing finalized, and since goodbyes are relational, now nothing can really ever be concluded. I have to make amends with myself and only with myself. If I said goodbye yesterday, or if I say goodbye today or perhaps tomorrow, will it ever be enough for me?

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Life is individual yet also relational. It's good to have friends, family, people that care for you or the odd mix of all three to get you through life. So although I have these array of tools to possibly help get me through life but if the people whom you look for some kind direction is no longer present, I'm just not sure for how long I can maintain it if I'm doing all this by myself. Will a breaking point come to me?

The mind is a fickle thing, and the mind is as strong as its habits. Bad habits, bad mind. Good habits, good healthy mind (no habits, no mind?). They also say that things that might happen, will indeed happen. It is just a matter of time. If so, how will I break? To what extent? For how long? What will change? What will I lose? Will there be something renewed? Will I come out the same person? Will I come out changed but for the worst?

This is one of the things that worries me. That certainty of uncertainty. The certainty of breaking, the uncertainty of when and of its form. Will I explode in sudden exasperation, engulfed in madness? Will it be a quick balloon pop yet a slow descend into meaninglessness? An unabashed diatribe rant towards someone I care? Something that's just a twitter post away from me on actually doing it. Will this be an opening, an opportunity for 'satori', a sudden lift of the 'veil', bringing about comprehension and understanding of the true nature of things? Questions, questions, questions, not much when it comes to answers, is all I have for now. To be hopeful is hard these days and with the wavering hope, very much coming and going like waves, it has become incredibly hard to even retain any semblance of kindness. That is something I do not want to actively become a habit of. Without hope, comes the cold embrace of fatalism that many on the 'left' are guilty of. Clutched by fatalism, empathy becomes harder to come by. I've seen it, and I have felt it.

I know that my eroding sense of hope is connected to my personal dreams. Specifically how it has become very hard to actualize it. Rara and I never really planned on staying in Indonesia for long. I was confident enough, a bit too confident come to think of it, that we will be out of Indonesia by 2021 the latest. A mere 2 1/2 years after our last stay in New Zealand. The plan was for me to continue my studies, getting into a Ph.D. program and of course a scholarship. That was our ticket out. Hoping that we'll be back to our old routine in Wellington, in and out the university's library, my head in books, loving our 'flatwhites' while regretting having too much of it, the usual stint doing some university tutoring, community organizing stuff, lazy gardening, out and about on the weekends tramping around Wellington and if Covid did not happen or/and maybe if my government handled things much, much better I think that would've been the case. Or at least I constantly would like to imagine that would be the case.

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Yet here we are still in Indonesia, me struggling to do my Ph.D. through this wretched distant learning, initially in the comfort of my home yet steadily devolving into cabin fever. And Rara with her own struggles trying her best to get back on her feet as an aspiring musician. None of it is going as well as we had hoped for. All this while juggling trying our best to keep ourselves safe and our families and friends safe. Both of us have become direct witnesses how challenging this has been, physically and mentally. Both of us slowly grappling with the continual kick in the gut, the never ending structural absurdity, violently absurd.

That slow grueling realization of how fragile our lives are. Not just existentially. It is existentially precarious yet at the same time understanding that precariousness in many of its aspects is structurally and politically maintained. It is this political construction of precarity, which Isabell Lorey elaborates in her book State of Insecurity: Government of the Precarious, that angers and saddens us the most.

Lorey provides a nuanced approach in unpacking and differentiating this thing called being 'precarious'. The three dimensions of being precarious: precariousness, precarity and then precarization. On precariousness, Lorey draw's on Judith Butler's conceptualization of precariousness which she sees as existential, relational and inevitable. I'll insert my existential philosophy and Buddhist values here, to help me see and more importantly accept the transient nature of life and that impermanence or change is the only constant. Our lives, our bodies are destined to die and wither away. We humans are fragile mortal beings. The loss of life, the loss of one's identity, the loss of everything that makes us, us is unavoidable. It's also a 'relational' thing, as in it is also a shared experience. Everyone will experience it. It is the great equalizer some say.

Then we have precarity. Yes everyone dies, but the process of dying or even the process of grieving someone's death is dependent on what Lorey see as the “effects of different political, social and legal compensations of a general precariousness”. Some die at young age due to starvation, riddled with poverty and disease and have nothing or no one to ease their pain, others die surrounded by family and friends in a well-cared for hospital. Some have days or weeks to grieve, others have to go back to work the next day as she or he have no luxury to stop working even just for a moment and simply grieve. To stop working even for a day draws some closer to the possibility of death for the person or those dependent on the person working. This is the inequality of dying and grieving due to our social hierarchies. How fragile we are, is dependent on those social hierarchies.

And last we have Lorey's third dimension, governmental precarization which is the instrumentalization of insecurity by the government. In other words, the government using the idea and the reality of insecurity as a tool or device to control its citizens. The calculated, deliberate attempt by the government in destabilizing our lives in order for us to be easily governed. Insecurity, be it real or due to perceived constructed fear of insecurity is an effective governing tool. The fear of being labeled "useless and lacking in contribution to the nation-state". The genuine insecurity of not being able to get a job due to the false understanding that it is simply a result of an individual's laziness rather than due to systematic government policies. The deliberate attempt in making our lives constantly insecure, constantly on the edge, without us initially knowing it and when we do come to understand, the blame is on us. It is normalized and it is internalized.

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This is not simply a social issue, it is a deeply existential one as well. We Indonesians have very little to make us feel safe at the moment. Covid and the government's response to it has severely limited our movements and it's not simply physical immobility, but also an existential one, the inability to even have the imagination that our lives are actually "going somewhere", towards a forward direction. Perhaps some sort of minute incremental progress, but progress nonetheless. This imagined mobility is what Ghassan Hage calls as "existential mobility" and this immobility suffered by many of us is what he also calls as "stuckedness".

Turning an often momentary or the ephemeral nature of a crisis into something prolonged and perhaps even permanent is another part of the strategy of governmental precarization. Our lives or jobs are always on the line and again coupled with the sick prevailing idea that we only have ourselves to find the solution. The crisis is permanent, we don't know why but we've been told that way, if we fail to overcome it is because of our personal inabilities thus proliferating and intensifying this sense of stuckedness.

Forcing us to accept whatever solution the government-messiah presents us with in order to relieve us from this suffering. From labour laws that normalizes precariousness even more, to oppressive new laws that limits our desire and ability to dissent, to including who or how our enemies are defined, easily accepting who is to blame for all this insecurity we are all suffering.

Be it the long dead Indonesian communists, the Chinese Indonesians and the racist perception of them being "selfish and greedy", the Indonesian Islamists - the kadruns and their conservatism, the "foreign forces" whomever they may be constantly trying to take over Indonesia, anyone or anything is to blame. Anyone but the Indonesian government and its affluent patrons. Insecurity and the fear that rises from it renders many of us easily governable and compliant.

This governmental precarization and this 'stuckedness', which Hage sees no longer as a possibility that may or may not happen but an "inevitable pathological state which has to be endured" is how Rara and I feel at the moment.

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Rara and I feel our lives are going nowhere. We feel that our lives are stuck, constantly rotating in a hamster wheel trying our best to overcome our precariousness. No progress, no forward movement, no growth, just trying our best to survive from this sustained uncertainty. It's an awful feeling, paving way to existential dread. We are very much looking forward to moving back to New Zealand as soon as possible but with the conditions right now, that is something I can't even dare to imagine.

And although I am grateful that the weave of our privilege with at many times just pure sheer luck has kept us alive and physically well for the time being, we both now realize that we have hit a proverbial concrete wall here. Adding to the already precarious nature of life here in Indonesia, our line of work as a fledgling social science academic and aspiring artist and what Rara and I aspire to do socially, what we aspire to become, easily ends in stagnation if we intend to continue to live our lives in Indonesia. (I want to direct you to Social Science and Power edited by Vedi Hadiz and Daniel Dhakkidae to get the gist of what I'm trying to get at here.)

This is a hard pill to swallow, harder to write and even more so to act upon. I am existentially tied to Indonesia, my family and friends are here, my father is buried here and so will my mother. Memories of the distant past, the colloquial language when shitposting on social media, my mind and body have been shaped by Indonesia in ways I possibly do not even fully realize. This is why I oscillate between guilt towards others and guilt towards the self. I feel guilty for simply having an exit strategy when many others don't, I have the luxury of choice. Yet I also I feel guilty for feeling guilty about this, as it means I am also neglecting the well-being of myself, now and in the future. I need to work on this and find my bearings, being stuck in a guilty limbo won't get me anywhere.

And the future is far from stable, I wonder what is on the other end of surviving this pandemic? There is so much collective grief, collective anger and of course personal anger. All this will amount to something, I'm sure of that. Although I don't know what exactly, I'm not entirely confident this something will be good. John Keane's new book 'The New Despotism' comes into mind.

What do I personally do with all this anger? I’ve noticed how anger, especially when it is on the verge of hatred, morphs itself and easily descends into madness, into aggression and often showing itself, unawaringly to us, when the act of expressing anger happens. Your mind becomes instantly clouded, ending in mindless action. This inability to have control over oneself terrifies me. I already have so very little semblance of control over life in general at the moment, if I truly have no control over myself whatsoever, what then do I have?

And I wonder if it is a waste of time asking these pseudo-intellectual questions? I don't know, yet I do know I live in a society where it hones aggression and hostility, whether it be in physical and digital spaces, and I would like to draw myself away from all this at the moment before I transform myself into something I do not wish to be. Anger I can fully understand, and it is needed and useful. Yet to actively transform it into deep blinding hatred and sustain it daily, is something I feel psychologically destructive for me and I'm trying my best not to go on that path.

I rarely update this blog I know, but this blog has always been used as a personal chronicle of how much I have progressed, digressed or both. And I needed to write all this, because I've never been this least sure of what my life should be like and where it should go. I know I am not alone at this. This pandemic has destroyed the lives of many, our futures, our dreams, our sources of love and I hope that anyone of you reading this finds a way to get through it, doing anything you can do day in, day out.

I'm not sure it if amounts to anything. Maybe it won't, maybe it will, or maybe it has but maybe we just can't see it. All I can personally do for now, is to hold on to these 'maybes', and maybe, just maybe I'll get through this too.

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“Where must we go...

We who wonder this Wasteland

in search of our better selves?”

- The First History Man, George Miller

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