#fucking hell. i just love to give myself unnecessary work. maybe ill do it

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

I don’t get you, CJ. Why are you so quick to throw around the term “bad writing” when you don’t agree with something? Why not simply chalk it up to having different likes or dislikes than other people and move on?

Instead of deconstructing characters you don’t like, why not use your platform to empower other voices and highlight others with different tastes or opinions than you? Different people notice different things about the games. That’s one of the nice things about fandom.

You clearly love writing and analysis, but when you post answers to asks that hold different opinions than you’re own, you often go “you’re valid, but…” and launch into paragraphs upon paragraphs of your opposite opinion rather than truly exploring theirs.

I guess what I’m trying to say is I think your blog and analyses would be stronger if rather than dismissing plot points or characters as “bad writing” you step outside yourself and ask others what they see in that writing since it’s not connecting with you.

To be fair, anon, I don't get me either.

But I hear you, so if you'll allow me to do the thing where I launch into paragraphs upon paragraphs, let's talk about this.

I assume this might've come about because of the recent Violet talk here? Or maybe it's from older posts, I dunno, you didn't specify so I can only speculate and use the Violet posts as the main example here.

So here's the thing... deconstructing characters and storylines is something I enjoy doing. Hell, it's one of my favorite things to do. It doesn't matter if I like or dislike the character, or if I agree with plot directions, or if I think it's "good" or "bad" writing. That's how I work things out for myself, how I try to understand why I'm feeling the way I am about certain characters and story elements. I break apart the different aspects of these things and analyze them so that I can improve the content I create and try to avoid the same mistakes I've come across that I wanted to be better.

When it comes to me tossing around "bad writing", or just implying it, I'm not trying to say that "bad writing = trash, garbage, unenjoyable, anyone who likes this is a dingus, how could you?" it's more "I see flaws here and I want it to be better, I know it can be better and it frustrates me that I can't fix it," y'know?

And I'm fully aware that other people might not see it that way. With that basketball Violet post, I know that a lot of the Violet crowd are gonna read that and be like "no, I love the bell tower scene! It fits well with her character! What are you talking about?" and that's fine, I expect that. That post was me writing something that's been on my mind that I wanted to share, it wasn't me trying to scold anyone for liking it or trying to dismiss their feelings about it.

When it comes to differing opinions, especially on Violet, I've come to the conclusion that we just gotta agree to disagree. I've tried for years at this point to understand the appeal of Violet and gone looking for answers about her in hopes of being enlightened, and I have asked around.

In the past, I have made posts inquiring about what people see in Violet [Minerva, too] and why they prefer Violentine, and I got little to nothing in response. So I totally get where you're coming from when you say I should ask others what they see in the writing that I don't, but there's only so much I can do when no one is willing to answer me. So, I have to look around myself.

I've searched through several threads on reddit and none of them have been insightful, unsurprisingly.

That's what sparked my mini-rant about Louis before. On reddit, a lot of the answers on why people like Violet are either "she sided with Clementine, she's just really sweet deep down, she has more trauma, and lesbian," or "I like Violet more because Louis is a traitor," and what the hell am I supposed to get out of that, y'know? They're not really telling me anything, they're just looking to argue among themselves and I've had to throw in the towel on that one.

I've had better luck here, having read some truly insightful posts about Violet, her arc, and her relationship with Clementine. The conclusion I've reached it that the things people find appealing about her are things that I don't.

If you need an example, we'll use the aftermath of Marlon's murder when Violet turns on the group to defend AJ. Every post from the Violet crowd I've read that talks about that scene praises her for turning against her friends/family to defend AJ when they were gonna attack him, it shows what she's willing to do for them, that's something that drew them to her. Then there's me, who sees that as adding unnecessary aggression to the situation when none of them were going to attack AJ, they weren't looking at AJ, and none of this is helping. Neither of these interpretations are wrong.

Guess what I'm trying to get at is I'm one person, and having discussions takes more than one willing person.

Moving on, "when you post answers to asks that hold different opinions than you’re own, you often go “you’re valid, but…” and launch into paragraphs upon paragraphs of your opposite opinion rather than truly exploring theirs."

I've thought about this for a while, and maybe I do actually do this but don't realize it. I like to think that I'm engaging with the ideas that people send me, but I dunno, maybe I can be dismissive of things because I have a hard time being objective. That's something I've always struggled with, and I'm sorry if I ever came across as dismissive or didn't fully explore ideas, that's something I can definitely get better at.

As for "why not use your platform to empower other voices and highlight others with different tastes or opinions than you? Different people notice different things about the games. That’s one of the nice things about fandom."

I've done character nights, ship nights, season nights, etc. for about two years, give or take. That's what those nights were about. Usually, I'd put up a poll and we'd all vote on what we wanted to discuss, and then the floor was open for anyone to give their input, and we'd discuss.

I stopped doing them a little while ago because I was burnt out on themed nights. Remembering to make new polls, setting aside part of my weekends to spend hours answering asks the best I could, usually dealing with other projects on top of it all.... it may not seem like it, but god, those nights took a lot out of me. I loved doing it! Having those discussions were some of the best parts of running this blog, but now my new job has me working 40+ hours a week, four days with ten hour shifts and occasionally some overtime on the weekends, I just don't have it in me anymore to do it every single weekend. Not with how tired I am and with all the other projects I'm working on.

That's why I've started testing the waters with these shorter posts of me throwing out ideas or going on mini-rants. They're something simple I can do with no pressure, just me with an empty document getting whatever's on my mind out... and it helps that it feels like my last fuck has just flown away to the heavens to weave itself into the boat god's beard like as he sails among the clouds and stars..... so now I'm gonna talk about whatever I want and the fact that it's my opinion is implied.

I'm sorry if I'm coming off as a little defensive with this part, I tend to get that way whenever people tell me what I should or shouldn't do with my blog, even if they're just trying to be helpful and I don't believe you have any ill intent with your message. I've had this blog for three years now, and I've always had people telling me I shouldn't do character analyses, I should stay in my lane, just write fanfics and do character nights. I should answer more asks otherwise people will think I don't care. I shouldn't write headcanon posts, that's what other blogs do and I'll be taking content away from them. I shouldn't write that one au I've always wanted to because I should be working on [with you]. I shouldn't write anything but [with you.] I shouldn't talk about Violet because I'm a Louis blog.

And that's dumb. All of that is dumb! No one owns the concept of headcanon posts or character analyses! Just like how I don't own the concept of character nights!

Again, my last fuck is lost in Kenny's beard, I don't have it anymore. I'm going to write and analyze whatever I want, when I want, and the best I can do is promise to be better. My inbox is open, I'll try to answer and engage with you guys when I can, I'll keep doing these posts where I ramble about whatever topic is on my mind, and I shouldn't have to put a disclaimer of "This is all my opinion and it's okay if you disagree, I'm not trying to invalidate you" because that's implied.

Before I close out this long response, I do wanna add a thank you for the ask, I do appreciate the constructive criticism. Usually anons that have any problem with me after I talk about Violet will just call me a piece of shit and tell me to delete my blog. Maybe this helped you, maybe it didn't, either way thanks :)

[quidfree]

prompts,.,, fem tdbk and a date gone very wrong ? ❤️

ohhhh my god anon. pump this shit directly into my veins i love this whole premise let’s go. also all inspired by whatever the fuck horikoshi was doing in this 

just so everyone is on the same page here, it is not a fucking date.

it’s lunch. a singular lunch. people do that shit all the time. even katsuki does lunch, sometimes. she went to that semi-shitty diner place with kirishima that one time when the food hall was shut because some dumbass first year exploded into goo or whatever. and todoroki does lunch, too- her and deku were on some shitty lunch date like a week ago, as evidenced by deku’s even shittier selfie of them having a grand old time doing whatever the fuck they do alone.

fuck, not a shitty lunch date. a shitty lunch. whatever.

the point is lunch is a normal non-date thing people do, and the fact katsuki and todoroki are maybe not the usual suspects for it is just circumstantial. it’s not like they planned it ahead of time, or made some big thing about it. they literally arranged for it in public, so obviously todoroki didn’t think there was anything weird about it. and there isn’t! they’re both going to be in tokyo on the same day, and todoroki’s always happy for any excuse to spend less time with her old man, and katsuki sure as fuck wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to avoid her hag of a birth-giver for a few blissful hours, so when todoroki had very nonchalantly gone ‘oh, bakugou, we could do lunch then”, it wasn’t like she had any real reason to tell her to go fuck herself. like, yeah, maybe a year ago, on principle, she would have, but even katsuki can only take so much trauma-bonding before she resigns herself to the reality that she’s stuck with half ‘n half for life, one way or another, and she may as well suck it up and approach civility because said moron is determined to ignore her open malice until she plays along anyways. they’re... you know, whatever. friends. or something. jesus.

the point being that it’s not a date, and the fact that she’s getting increasingly annoyed at her limited wardrobe is just because she would have packed more shit if the crone hadn’t insisted that they ‘pack light’ so they could get cheaper train tickets for less luggage. it’s just annoying that she can’t wear anything that’s not screaming holiday.

it occurs to her as she sits and scowls at her suitcase that her mother has been watching her from the doorframe for some undetermined amount of time, which is criminal mainly because she’s a goddamn hero-to-be and getting snuck up on by anyone is a blight upon her good name. she tries to disguise the ego damage dealt by glowering murderously in her progenitor’s direction.

“what the fuck do you want?”

“you know,” the she-devil says, cocking a hip, “if you want to borrow something nicer...”

“i wouldn’t be caught dead in your shitty clothes!” katsuki snarls, which prompts the witch to immediately scowl back.

“watch your damn mouth!”

“watch your waistline! no way in hell are we the same size!”

“why you little-”

the interruption at least reminds her that she is obsessing over her clothes ahead of meeting todoroki for lunch, which is so humiliating it kickstarts her brain again long enough to grab some normal shit and get the hell out of there.

on the walk she checks her phone again. the previous day she’d had to bite the bullet and make the first move, todoroki’s infamously terrible communication skills making themselves known once more, and their ensuing conversation had been so mortifying she’d nearly cancelled all-together.

to: Half ‘n half

Yo asshole are we still meeting tomorrow or what

I’m busy as shit

from: Half ‘n half

Yes. TS

to: Half ‘n half

What the fuck is TS

from: Half ‘n half

I was signing off.

to: Half ‘n half

SIGNING OFF ON YOUR OWN TEXT

YOU THINK I DONT KNOW YOUR DAMN NAME

from: Half ‘n half

[Pin attached]

Does here at 12.30 work for you?

to: Half ‘n half

Yeah whatever

Don’t be late

And don’t think I’m forgetting the fucking signing off thing

from: Half ‘n half

Glad you can make time for mockery in your busy as shit schedule.

the venue looks like some rich person shit, which she semi-expected, but it means a lot of people give her weird looks as she makes her way inside, probably on account of the shorts and t-shirt she’s wearing if not her general vibe. some old woman actually drags her purse to her, which makes katsuki sorely tempted to bare her teeth and maybe hiss for effect, though she settles for scowling and shoving her hands in her pockets. it’s 12.27, because she wasn’t going to be late but being any earlier would have given off some dubious impression that she’s eager to see todoroki, except now she kind of wishes she’d just come for 12.30 because if there’s some reservation bullshit she gets the feeling she’s going to start fighting with the waiting staff, and then-

“bakugou,” todoroki calls, from inside, raising a hand with unnecessary formality. “you made it.”

“course i made it,” katsuki grunts, absolutely not relieved as she by-passes the suspicious looking waiter to join her outside. “think i can’t ride the damn underground by myself?”

todoroki is wearing jeans cuffed at the ankles and a white t-shirt on top of which she’s thrown on an open button-up with the sleeves rolled up, and she looks casual and normal and incidentally kind of like they dressed to match, but the important part is that she doesn’t look dressed up at all, so katsuki was totally right about the non-date situation, and also isn’t the only one totally underdressed for the shitty venue.

“you look nice,” todoroki says then, completely shattering katsuki’s brief moment of reprieve. “i’ve never seen so much color on you.”

katsuki almost chokes on her own tongue, but the worst part is that the asshole seems completely nonchalant about the weird as shit observation, focused on her stool as she takes a seat on the balcony. which- what the actual fuck? since when does todoroki issue compliments unprompted- of the non-professional variety, at that? and what the fuck does she expect katsuki to say now- return the compliment? say thanks? is this whole thing some kind of exercise in psychological torture?

well, fuck it. she can’t look like a little bitch just because todoroki said something inanely positive. two can play that game.

“yeah. you look half decent yourself. did you hire someone to dress you for the occasion?”

todoroki blinks up at her in surprise, which is totally a win and would make her more smug if she could stop feeling so weird and prickly all over. for a dangerous moment todoroki seems on the verge of blushing, but miraculously the world rights itself and the usual deadpan persists, one brow quirking up in completely feigned ineptitude.

“there was a compliment somewhere in there, so thank you, i think. i thought we were past this vendetta.”

“we’ll be past this vendetta the day you burn your piece of shit hero suit,” katsuki retorts, back on familiar ground, and relaxes long enough to squint down at the menu.

this turns out to be a mistake.

“the fuck? is this whole thing in french?”

“oh,” todoroki says, after a beat. “that makes sense. i thought my english had deteriorated.”

“are you- you didn’t know? you recommended the place!”

“it was the nearest place to our hotel,” todoroki defends, now having the decency of looking slightly put out. “coq can’t mean what i think it means, can it?”

“that’s chicken, asshole,” katsuki hisses, flinging the menu down. “great, now we’re going to have to flag down one of the shithead waiters and ask for a japanese menu. excuse me! hey! yeah, i’m talking to- what the hell, did he just blow me off? hey, jackass! you with the shitty mustache!”

“sorry about that,” todoroki interjects, when mustache asshole turns an offended stare their way. “do you have the japanese menu?”

“we only serve the food in its authentic form,” mustachioed asshole says, with frigid self-satisfaction. “might i suggest google translate?”

“might i suggest my foot up your ass, you shitty-”

“that’s fine,” todoroki says, in a flat tone that implies otherwise. “we’ll make do.”

the waiter sniffs pretentiously as katsuki thinks about all the ways she could beat his ass into next tuesday, running an aggravated hand through her hair when the wind rustles it into her face. she’d half expect todoroki to suggest they fuck off elsewhere, but when she looks back her way she finds an ill-boding gleam of determination in her eyes despite the impassive set to her face, and it’s a testament to how fucked in the head ua has made katsuki that she feels a sort of sick thrill of recognition at the sight. todoroki’s in stubborn bitch mode.

“i’ll have this,” todoroki says, sure enough, pointing to the most expensive item on the menu. “and also this. and one of those.”

the waiter’s eyes nearly pop out of his skull, and todoroki looks unfazed in katsuki’s direction, tapping pointedly at a sleek black and red credit card in her wallet. “bakugou?”

well, if endeavour’s paying....

“sure,” katsuki says, slowly, and then turns her meanest smile the waiter’s way. “i want the frog legs.”

mustache clears his throat, attempts condescension. “we don’t serve that here.”

“you’re a gastronomique restaurant,” katsuki says very loudly, as other clients turn to stare, “and you don’t have fucking frog legs? is this a joke? does this napkin say authentic french cuisine or am i hallucinating?”

“i can ask the chef,” the waiter demurs, casting a nervous glance at the muttering snobs nearby, and attempts an ingratiating smile. “anything else for you, mademoiselle?”

“what did you just call me?”

once the ordering debacle is over, todoroki slants katsuki what may well be an apologetic glance, vaguely contrite frown sitting pretty atop her usual dead-eyed stare.

“i probably should have read up on the place ahead of time.”

katsuki is well within her rights to chew her head off, she thinks, but food’s on the way and she got to yell at the asshole who gave her the once-over when she came in, so she’s feeling forgiving, even in the face of todoroki’s annoyingly doll-faced apology. the bitch really has to do the bare minimum and she looks like a fucking kpop idol.

“yeah, whatever. i always knew you were a shitty ops planner.”

todoroki, who is an asshole, looks relieved at her generous forgiveness for all of a second before she quirks a brow. “between the two of us, i only count one person who has actually spoken the words ‘shoot first, ask questions later’.”

“that was in a training simulation,” katsuki protests, outraged. “and you know damn well the actors were annoying as shit!”

“i did find them slightly too committed to the role,” todoroki concedes neutrally, which totally means she agrees with katsuki 100% and is being precious about it. katsuki scoffs.

“least the view’s decent.”

“the-“ todoroki starts, in weirdly confused tones, until she follows katsuki’s gaze outward and nods in understanding. “oh, the skyline. yes.”

what else katsuki could have meant she doesn’t fucking know: they’re sitting pretty in the middle of tokyo. the only thing the hellhole of a restaurant has going for it at this point is the cityscape.

todoroki stares out into the distance for a good long moment, and with the breeze her negligently loose hair whips this way and that, red and white blur where the two halves mingle. instinctively katsuki itches to braid it flat so it doesn’t tangle. if todoroki asked her she’d tell her to just cut her damn hair into a bob or something- it’s not like icyhot has any attachment to her princess hair, and she’s got the obnoxious bone structure to pull off any length. not that she’d mention this last part. or that she’s given it much thought. it’s just fucking obvious.

if todoroki could keep her mouth shut throughout the rest of the meal, it could be sort of nice. tokyo skyline, and companionable silence, and presumably edible food. worse ways to kill some time, and way less incriminating than anything that may be said otherwise.

“i think this is the part where we make small talk,” todoroki says instead, sadist that she definitely is, as katsuki grimaces feelingly her way.

“no, we don’t.”

“well, we don’t. but this is the part where we should.”

“i don’t even believe you can last a minute of small talk, icyhot.”

todoroki looks pensive, mismatched eyes thoughtful. “...how has your day been?”

“uneventful,” katsuki says, combative, and eyes her watch. todoroki does not give.

“this place seems nice.”

“you don’t even think that.”

“how have you been finding tokyo?”

“noisy.”

“the weather seems-”

“no.”

“you look nice.”

“you said that already, dumbass,” katsuki grunts, palms crackling with sweat, and does not at all read into the way todoroki makes a stupid little movement with her mouth that could ungenerously be interpreted as a pout.

“well, i meant it, so i’m saying it twice.”

“give it up, half ‘n half, just ask me about training.”

“...how is your training?”

“i did this thing yesterday,” katsuki starts, leaning back in her chair, and from then launches into a very technical and barely exaggerated retelling of the batshit insane stunt she pulled off with her quirk the day prior. todoroki’s focused attention is gratifying, in a totally platonic non-weird way- it’s just that her parents couldn’t very well follow why exactly said stunt was as insane as it is, but todoroki obviously can, and also there’s that thing with todoroki where pulling a reaction out of her ice queen act is admittedly more satisfying than most people. it has jack shit to do with the fact katsuki’s got a very minor complex about todoroki paying her her dues, and even if it did then that’s entirely fucking reasonable considering she still hasn’t forgiven her for the sports fest incident. 

it is a little weird having todoroki’s sole focus on her outside of hero shit, though. it’s not like they really hang out one on one outside of school or work. it’s kind of- unnerving. yeah. unnerving, to be making prolonged eye contact, todoroki’s expression intent but not intense the way she gets in fight scenarios, frowning lightly because she has resting bitch face but apparently genuinely interested. it’s kind of a relief that todoroki asks questions- moves them safely into a conversation, so katsuki’s not just sitting there talking and sort of dry-throated. fucking waiter, leaving them water-less.

it’s fine. they talk about training, and quirks, and then todoroki pushes her hair behind her ears and leans forward to demonstrate on a small scale this thing she’s trying to do where she melts her ice and refreezes it in rapid succession so it causes what is essentially ice rain, but there’s logistics and shit that need to be worked out for it to work the way she’s thinking it might, and katsuki knows her thermal shit so they start scrawling maths over the napkins, and then bicker over the finer points of first year chemistry, so when the food actually arrives to interrupt them todoroki’s startled blink is weirdly relatable, like she also forgot where they were.

the waiter’s there and gone before they’re really recovered from the brief misplacement, which katsuki registers only when she looks down at her empty glass.

“goddamnit- how hard is it to bring us water?”

“they only offer sparkling,” todoroki says, gravely, then outpaces katsuki’s disgust by placing her hand over her glass, ice rising before she switches hands and melts it down. “tell me if the temperature’s off.”

intensely mollified and trying not to look it, katsuki sips it. “’s fine.”

“okay,” todoroki says, faintly pleased, and tilts her head to look down at her food. “i have no idea what any of this is.”

“moron,” katsuki snorts, except it comes out way fonder than it has any rights to, and from beneath the convenient curtain of hair todoroki’s smiling a little, so she hastily stabs a frog leg and gets to eating before anyone gets any ideas.

the actual meal goes okay-ish. most of the stuff todoroki ordered is extremely pretentious french cuisine, and todoroki secretly has the culinary adventurousness of a five year old, so it befalls katsuki to impatiently attempt every dish and pronounce it edible before todoroki will deign to brave it. she’s still trying to bully an unyielding todoroki into attempting the weird bird soup thing when there’s commotion nearby. it takes the both of them approximately three seconds to spring into work-mode; katsuki’s on her feet poised for a fight before she’s even consciously thought about it, scanning her peripherals, and she doesn’t even need to look to feel todoroki unconsciously covering her back, cool sting of air signalling her quirk at the ready. 

the commotion turns out just to be some old dumbass choking, relaxing them both out of their stances as she falls back to let todoroki ahead. they’re both uber-qualified for first aid shit, but she’s self-aware enough to know even todoroki’s bland reassurances are usually preferred to her bedside manner. unfortunately, the whole entourage seems to be braindead, because they’re all crowding the old guy in a panic while he chokes, his wife in shrieking hysterics.

“oh, my god, he’s choking! he’s choking! sugar-plum, stay with me!”

“fuck me,” katsuki mutters, unethically thinking that she would personally prefer choking to being married to someone who calls her sugar-plum, but todoroki’s pushing ahead with implacable calm, so she trudges after her anyways.

“excuse me. excuse me. i need access to your husband.”

“who are you? don’t touch him! help! get this woman off my husband!” wailing hysteric yells, bosom heaving dramatically. katsuki is starting to suspect she poisoned him on purpose or some shit, because no way does anyone talk like that in real life.

“she’s a fucking qualified first aid provider, lady, shut up and let her through!”

thankfully, the woman seems on the verge of an outrage aneurysm, which drags her focus away from suffocating her choking husband to dramatically pointing at katsuki long enough for todoroki to duck past her and reach the guy as he turns purple.

“how dare you speak to me that way? who do you think you are?”

“ma,” chinless moron number one says, clearing his throat. “i think that’s one of those future pros from TV.”

“what?”

“you know, ma,” chinless moron number two adds, glancing nervously between them. “the one that explodes things. you know. from UA.”

katsuki takes great pleasure in watching recognition dawn in the old cow’s beady eyes, but in any event there’s a hacking noise and then the old man’s coughing out a bone into his plate as todoroki steps noiselessly back from the table.

“he’s fine now. enjoy your dinner.”

“god, that was gross,” katsuki says, as they ignore the woman’s sputtering and return to their seats. todoroki tilts her head. 

“not really. if he’d thrown up it would have been.”

“not the choking guy,” katsuki scoffs, casting a glance back his way. “his wife. talk about theatrics.”

“she seemed more afraid of us than her husband dying.”

“for good reason,” katsuki mutters darkly, spreading out in her chair. “i hate civilians.”

“i don’t think she recognised us,” todoroki counters, pensive, and absent-mindedly takes a bite of the weird soup before she screws her face up like a betrayed kid. “oh. you didn’t say it was sweet.”

the look on her face thoroughly distracts katsuki from asking what other reason the pearl-clutcher could possibly have to be so terrified at the mere sight of them; instead, she chokes back a laugh, stifling a grin. “what are you, five?”

“i don’t think i like this,” todoroki says, mournful, which makes katsuki grin harder. she can’t help it- todoroki looking stupid is her kryptonite. 

“then don’t pick a restaurant where you can’t read the menu, next time.”

todoroki’s midway to looking up, but for some reason her expression transforms instantaneously, which makes katsuki reflexively try to quash her amusement. todoroki always gets weird when she’s smiling. 

“next time?”

motherfuck. obviously she didn’t mean next time like next time, she meant next time like- hypothetically, in the future, when todoroki’s on a lunch date with someone else. a lunch non-date. she’s just about stopped sputtering furiously long enough to try and express this sentiment when it occurs to her that todoroki seems- pleased, one eye soft sky-blue when katsuki accidentally meets it, and that draws her up short long enough that she ends up just muttering lamely to herself. fucking todoroki. 

on the heels of this utter embarrassment, she downs the rest of her water, scowls in a neat 180 at everything in sight, and wonders for the first time in her life how the fuck extras get through dates. not that this is one.

it’s fine. they’re done eating, and no one’s died, and katsuki is no longer fifteen and thus mostly trusts her ego to lick its wounds and recover from the ordeal. even if they stick around for desert that’s only another half hour of this to endure. as long as todoroki doesn’t make any sudden moves they’ll be fine.

...the problem is, of course, that sudden moves are todoroki’s modus operandi. katsuki has not forgotten the bitch calling them friends on national television in the same breath that she was vociferously denying them being anything of the sort. in todoroki’s fucked up brain, they’re always ten steps ahead of whatever they actually are- considering katsuki’s come around to privately acknowledging she’d take a couple more stakes through the gut for the asshole, in todoroki’s world they're practically hitched.

platonically. platonically practically hitched. this is not a thing, goddamnit. no matter the weird looks aizawa’s been giving them, or utsushimi’s nefarious schemes, or the alarming cardiopulmonary condition katsuki’s been developing of late. she’s not some shitty yuri protagonist pining over the nearest female bishōnen in her vicinity.

admittedly if she was to pine over anyone it sure as fuck wouldn’t be some guy, but that’s besides the point, since pretty damn near every person on earth is just some guy by her standards, regardless of gender. the fact that todoroki is not one of said people is entirely irrelevant.

her internal irritation is so distracting that she misses the tremors nearby until entirely too late, by which point todoroki’s stupidly perfect brows raise an incremental fraction and she goes: ‘oh’.

when todoroki goes ‘oh’, some shit is about to go down. 

katsuki turns slowly with an impending sense of doom, and sure enough, the sight that greets her is so nightmarish she seriously reconsiders whether the entire day has been just that. 

“don’t freak out,” a giant building-sized deku booms, apologetically, as his hideous giant face stares at them. “it’s just a quirk thing.”

it’s probably a good thing katsuki has gone speechless with outrage, since it permits todoroki’s constantly composed ass to ask useful questions katsuki probably would have coated in a fair amount more threats and cursing.

“midoriya. i didn’t know you were in tokyo.”

“well, i wasn’t meant to be,” deku says/booms like a foghorn, as the restaurant clientele shrieks and stampedes behind them. his sheepish expression is even more punchable when magnified. “it’s a long story. it’s almost sorted out now, though. i just saw you guys from over at the NPA office and thought i’d come ask if you maybe wouldn’t mind lending a hand? i wouldn’t ask but there’s going to be a lot of cleanup and your quirks would be really helpful to-”

“we’ll do it as long as you shut the fuck up,” katsuki yells, to cut him off, massaging her temples. “the monologuing’s bad enough when you’re not about to burst my fucking eardrums, jackass.”

“oh, sorry! i’m trying to be very quiet but this body’s just hard to get used to- thank you so much for helping, i didn’t mean to come bother you on break...”

“it’s fine,” todoroki says, and then seems to realise that her monotone doesn’t reach midoriya’s giant-ass ears and clears her throat, raising her voice to a shout. “it’s fine. let me go deal with the bill and then we’ll go.”

“sorry?” midoriya whisper-shouts, craning his monstrous head closer to them, the sight of which will haunt katsuki for the rest of her life. “i can’t hear what you’re saying!”

“she said she’s going to go pay for our nice fucking lunch,” katsuki hollers, with no small sense of satisfaction, as deku winces and todoroki slinks off. “since you want to come crashing it like a dipshit.”

“sorry, kacchan!” deku begs off, flapping hand gestures creating enough wind to knock over a nearby umbrella stand. “i just thought it would be a lot of help if you came to oversee the fall-out- especially with the building damage-”

“we’re good,” todoroki announces, to katsuki, apparently having given up on matching her in decibels. she’s got that classic hero look on her face, already in work mode, but just when katsuki’s about to do the same and jump into action, the look wavers a little and she frowns vaguely awkwardly. “thanks for doing lunch.”

“huh?” katsuki stutters, thrown, and then scowls at nothing in particular, stalling. todoroki’s the one who paid, albeit indirectly- it’s typically weird of her to be all formal about it all of a sudden, leaving katsuki to attempt to wriggle them out of the awkwardness of the moment. “i didn’t do shit except show up and eat, weirdo.”

“it’s been abnormally hard to show up and eat in the circumstances,” todoroki replies, a little wryly, and more concerningly a little resigned sounding. which is just unnatural, because todoroki may have expanded her range of emotions considerably since first year but resignation is not on her usual roster, and there’s nothing to be resigned about unless she had some kind of vested interest in this whole fiasco playing out any better than it did.

which she didn’t, obviously. katsuki’s been through this. she chose the nearest possible venue and rocked up in jeans and a t-shirt, and- and why is the fact that todoroki never dresses so normally out of class only now occurring to her, again?

she’d said ‘i think this is the part where we do small talk’. the part of what?

“yeah, whatever,” katsuki says, automatically, as her brain plays catch-up, which is the excuse she will forever stick to for what leaves her mouth next. “should have known you’d be a lousy date.”

todoroki goes ‘what?’ at the same moment deku does, ten times louder and more bug-eyed, which reminds katsuki that 1) deku is still there, 2) deku is still as big as his martyr complex, and 3) deku is the fucking worst, and allowing him to trap her into friendship is somehow responsible for this, she’s sure of it. 

“can we go handle this fucking mess or what?” katsuki snaps, instead of screaming or breaking deku’s very large nose or maybe self-immolating in abject humiliation, hands erupting into explosions as she jumps onto the balcony railing. maybe if she throws herself headfirst into the debris she’ll concuss herself and turn amnesiac. 

“um,” deku is saying, when she turns a withering glare his way. “um, yes! yes! yeah! let’s go do that!”

so she jumps skywards, explosions blasting her high into the air, and very scrupulously does not look towards the sounds of slick ice forming just behind her until todoroki skates into her peripheral vision, hair waving flag-like behind her. ahead there’s a building with a crater clean through it where deku must have erupted from, though when she turns to comment she finds him a fair deal behind them, lumbering pace slowed further as he avoids stepping on anyone or anything along the streets. instead her eyes lock on todoroki’s where the latter is staring at her, face unreadable, and she bristles hard enough to disrupt trajectory, correcting course rapidly before she plummets into an office.

“what?”

“i’m a lousy date,” todoroki repeats, neutrally, over the wind. katsuki grits her teeth.

“and what about it?”

she’s bracing for a lot, but not the horrible, sickening eye-crinkle thing todoroki does, dark eye twinkling even as her expression stays carefully impassive. “you think you can do better, then?”

“hah?”

“next time,” todoroki intones, very precisely, and then dips ahead like a complete coward as katsuki goes a color never previously visible to the human eye, sifting through about fifteen emotions before she decides to stick to outrage.

“what the hell? you suck at asking people out, icyhot!”

“you don’t have to say yes.”

“what, you think i can’t do better than this mess? you’re on, asshole.”

“i look forward to it,” todoroki says, gravely, and then there’s a collapsed building to handle and shit to do and if anyone wants to ask why katsuki is so especially gleeful in blowing shit up they wisely keep their mouths shut. she just likes the job, all right.

(for the record, it’s still not a date until katsuki says it is.)

[smol-and-grumpy]

Light My Fire - CH02

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She always thought her boss was an ill-tempered man, but when he presents her with a proposition she can’t quite deny, she gets to know him better. It’s not bad, right? Because all she has to do is being fake married to him for six months, sounds do-able, right? Right.

Warnings: Slow build, a pinch of angst, doubts, a little fluff too, maybe?

WC: 2975

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons​ <3

SERIES MATSTERLIST

There’s a knock at the door in the afternoon and she opens up to Gabriel, Dean’s personal driver and handyman. She has known him for a while now, having started at the company almost at the exact same time. Gabe’s secretive — probably why Dean hired him in the first place — and he’s really easy to talk to. 

“Boss said I should move your things to his apartment.” Gabe says and steps in. 

“What else has he told you?” She closes the door and follows Gabe over to where her suitcases are. 

“Nothing much. You’re married or something. But I signed a NDA, so, no worries,” He shrugs like it’s no fucking deal, which makes her wonder what else he knows. She wonders what else Gabe witnessed while driving around for Dean.

“Is that all?” He asks and points his finger at her two packed suitcases.

“Yeah, I travel light.” She smiles, feels a little embarrassed actually. But that’s how it is. Everything she owns fits into two lousy suitcases. It’s actually quite sad when she thinks about it. 

“Damn, you could have taken the subway with them suitcases. There’s no need for me,” Gabe says it with an amused tone to his voice. 

 *

 Gabe drives into the parking garage of the building Dean lives in. He tells her to call the elevator and take the one far left because that one will go to the top floor without making unnecessary stops. He then takes out her luggage and follows her. 

As they are standing in the elevator, the stupid music starts to play and she hates that. Hates lame elevator music, because it makes everything so much more awkward. Dean even has his own elevator. It’s a little ridiculous when you think about it. 

They arrive and Gabe shows her the way, which is probably not really hard because there’s only one door that looks like an apartment door. All the other doors had  signs on them that say Keep out! or Private!

Gabe rings the bell and she waits behind him. She can’t lie, she’s a little scared. Like, he’s her boss and he’s so damn grumpy all the time and she’s afraid that he’s going to fire her even in his own home. 

Dean opens the door, his hair’s ruffled, his jacket and tie are off, the top two buttons of his shirt are loose, and his sleeves are rolled up. The shirt has those crinkles on them as if he just took a nap. Maybe he did? He was complaining about a headache earlier. 

“Hey,” He says and opens the door wider, for Gabe and her to step through, “Thanks Gabe, that’ll be all.”

“Right,” Gabe nods, “I’ll be in the car ready to leave when you are.”

Dean gives Gabe a courtesy nod before he closes the door behind him. He then turns to her. It's really awkward. She wonders if she’s made a mistake in agreeing to be his fake wife. 

He has both his hands in his pockets when he looks at her and asks, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” She manages to give him a weak smile. She can’t tell him that she’s in fact, not really okay of course, that she’s in fact, nervous as hell. 

“Come on, follow me,” Dean starts to walk through the penthouse and she needs to speed up to be able to keep up with him. His legs are incredibly long and hers are not, “I’ll show you around.” 

They walk into a big open space. There’s a black sofa in one corner. It faces a ridiculously big screen tv. There are also two big comforter chairs which she frowns a little at. It’s not that they don’t look nice, they just don’t really fit into the setting. 

Dean senses her confusion, “I bought them for when Sam’s over. Watch,” He grins and walks over, sits in one and reclined himself. When he settles, he pushes a button and there's a buzzing sound, “It massages your back,” He says, a smile on his face that’s brighter than the sun. She couldn’t not laugh at that. 

“Right,” Dean says then, “Gotta get out before I let myself be sucked into it. It’s hard to get out once you relax too much.” 

She can imagine and actually, she can’t wait to get in there herself.

He continues to walk ahead and they get into a kitchen area. The fridge is more than twice as big as the one she has at home and it’s stocked up, too. Either he went to the store before or he has someone to do it for him. She thinks it must be the latter. She just can’t imagine him walking through the aisle wheeling a cart in front of him.

After the kitchen, he walks along a hallway and points to the rooms. 

“That’s my study, I don’t use it that much but there’s a computer and printer. If you need something, you can use it.”

The door next to the office is the guest bathroom. It’s bigger than the living room of her apartment. 

They walk further along the hallway and come to stop at two doors on either side of the narrow hallway.

Dean opens up the door to her right, “That’s your bedroom,” They walk in and it’s spacious as hell. She thinks it’s even bigger than her whole apartment. Everything is kept in a warm mix of white and beige, “And that’s your bathroom.” He walks through to the en-suite and she can see that the tub is huge. 

He looks at her, sees her mouth standing agape and has to grin.

“What?” She asks, feeling a little flushed knowing that he’s been watching her. 

Pressing his lips into a tight line, he grins a little. There are teeny tiny dimples showing, “There’s a gym on the first floor of the building, you’re free to use it if you want.”

“Okay,” She follows him out again and wonders what is behind the door that he hasn’t mentioned, “And what’s there?”

“That’s my bedroom.” He says simply, and he’s already rushing back into the living area, and fuck why are his legs so damn long. She is glad that they’re bowed, he would probably be even faster if they were straight.

“Dean, slow down, I’m not that fast,” She has to call out because he’s already at the door to the balcony. 

He laughs, “Sorry, I’m just so used to walking around with Sam and he never has a problem keeping up with me. I’ll try to go slower, okay?” He waits until she reaches him.

“That'd be great, thanks.”

“Come on, you need to see this,” There’s a boyish smile decorating his face. It’s nothing like the grumpy Dean she knows as her boss. He’s genuinely content, and it shows. 

He opens up the door to the balcony and holy shit, it’s not a balcony. It’s a freaking terrace. There’s a hot tub on the far left side, overlooking the city.

“Nice, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah,” She agrees, “It really is. How often do you get to enjoy it, though?” It’s a legit question because she knows how much he works. 

“Maybe I’ll get to enjoy it more now that you’re here.” His voice is a little soft when he says it. Before she can even ask what he means by that, he clears his throat, “Right, I really need to go back to the office now. Will you be okay? I’ll try not to stay too late, alright?” 

“Sure,”

“Make yourself at home. It’s yours now, too.” He’s about to turn around but then he stops, “Really missed you in the office this morning. Ruby doesn’t know how I drink my coffee.”

“It’s not hard? You drink it black.”

“Yeah, but hers is different.”

She doesn’t really know if he’s shitting her. Dean’s so hard to read sometimes. 

“Dean, the coffee is the same!”

“Fine,” He rolls his eyes, “But anyway, just so you know. You’re missed in the office. Not just because of the coffee.”

“Now you’re just kissing my ass.”

Dean snorts out a laugh before he turns around and picks up his tie and jacket. He walks to the door, turns around again, “Call me when you need anything!”

She can’t even say okay because she can already see  that the door closed. 

*

Two suitcases are easy to unpack. Half of her new closet is still empty. She didn’t even need more than an hour. 

Walking out into the living room, she sees the comforter and decides to spoil her body with a massage. 

She sits in, reclines herself and pushes the same button Dean did before, and immediately a buzzing sound fills her ears as her back starts to vibrate. She lets out a squeal at first but soon starts to relax and it does feel really good. She closes her eyes and almost drifts off when she feels another kind of vibration in the back pocket of her pants. 

Taking out her phone she looks at her screen.

Dean.

 D: What are you up to? Find everything alright?

 Y/N frowns. Because she sees the time and knows for a fact that he’s in a meeting right now because she organized that meeting.

 Y/N: Aren’t you in a meeting?

D: Yeah, but I’m bored.

 She doesn’t even know that he’s a texter. Every time she saw him with his phone in his hand, he talked to someone. He never just has his phone in his hand and fucking texts.

 Y/N: If you’re really interested, I’m sitting in the comforter and I’m enjoying a massage.

D: Jealous.

Y/N: Was thinking about taking a bath in the hot tub. I’m allowed to use it, right?

D: You are. But I would wait til the evening. The view is nicer then.

Y/N: Okay.

 But he’ll be here in the evening and he’ll see her in the tub. Ugh. 

 D: Right, just wanted to see if you’re okay. Since you are, I’m gonna go back to listening to whatever Donatello has to tell me. See you later, Y/N.

Y/N: TTYL

D: TTYL?

Y/N: Talk to you later

D: Oh, TTYL

 She snorts out a laugh, thinks that texting-Dean is kind of adorable.

 *

 After a relaxing massage, she decides to take a shower. Mainly because she still hasn’t showered after she poured coffee all over herself this morning. 

The shower’s huge too, the water pressure is excellent. The nozzles (and boy are there many of them), hit her sore spots just right.

She dresses herself back in some jeans and shirt. Normally if she’s at her home, she’d walk around in only a shirt but she’s practically a guest around here — even if Dean insists that it’s her home, she doesn’t trust it yet — and she doesn’t really know how her boss would react seeing her walking around in his apartment in only her underwear and a shirt. 

Taking her book that she didn’t get to finish this morning out into the living room, she grabs a cup of coffee before she makes herself comfortable and cozies herself up on the couch to finish her book. 

Just when she reaches the second to last page, Dean walks in, his tie already loose around his neck, “Honey, I’m home!” He smiles when he sees her staring at him, “I always wanted to say that once in my life.”

“You’re early,” She says, pushes at the button of her phone to realize that it’s almost 6pm. Normally he’s still at the office. 

Dean switches on the light for her and she doesn't even realize that it starts to get dark out. 

“Yeah, I still have a headache. It’s been like that since I woke up after the night I married Amara. Didn’t feel like working longer and leave you alone either.” He comes to sit next to her and she catches the smell of his cologne mixed with his musk. He smells delicious even after a long day and that’s not really fair. 

“Should I go get some painkillers? You just have to tell me where they are kept.”

“Nah,” He sighs, “I’ll just take them before I go to sleep. What are you up to?” He asks her, and she sees that he’s eyeing up her book that she’s still clutching in her hands. 

Her face starts to flare up. 

“Just reading a book.” She says it in an easy way, tries to sound nonchalant about it but she knows that she fails.

Dean catches the cover before she could hide it and he starts to grin, “You sap.” He stands up again when he sees that she starts to feel uncomfortable if they didn’t  change the subject soon.

“What do you want to eat? Does Pizza sound alright? I’m not in the mood to cook tonight.”

That’s when it dawns on her that she’s playing his fake wife and maybe she should have cooked him something for dinner? Because that’s what wives do right? She doesn’t fucking know because she hasn’t even been in a relationship long enough to cook anything for anyone. Except that she sometimes used to cook for Jack. Oh my god, Jack! She still has to tell him what happened! 

She gets up from the couch, abandons her book and walks to Dean who’s already in the kitchen leafing through take-out leaflets, “I’m sorry, I should have cooked you something,”

He stops in his tracks to look at her, one eyebrow raised, “What?”

“Yeah, I’m supposed to be your fake wife and I’m supposed to cook you something.”

Dean sighs, “Y/N, really. That’s not why I fake married you. You don’t have to do anything in fact. It’s okay alright? I’m a big guy and  if I want something cooked, I can do it myself.”

“Okay,” She says, still feels a little guilty about it, though. And Dean seems to sense it because he drops the leaflets and walks over to her, places his hand on the back of her neck and she catches the whiff of his cologne. It makes all the hair on her body stand up and she gets light headed. 

He lowers himself a little, looks her in the eye, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, you understand? Hey, look at me.”

She does, looks straight into his green eyes. Dean Winchester has freckles. She never noticed them before, was always distracted by the green of his eyes. 

There’s a moment of silence, and she doesn’t know if he feels it too. Feels a magnetic force that pulls her towards him.

“Are we good?” He leans in closer and she can feel his hot breath.

“Yeah,” She nods.

“Good,” He says, but doesn’t quite move away yet, if anything he moves even closer. He’s closer to her than he’s ever been, “Because I want you to feel comfortable around me, okay? I’m really not your boss when we’re together. I want you to be yourself, can you do that?”

“Sure,” 

Dean smiles, showing his white fangs. Her heart races a little more. She would love to feel the teeth on her skin.

Y/N, what’s wrong with you?

He lingers a little longer, his hand still firm on the back of her neck and she feels like he’s staring into her soul. He licks his lips before he speaks, “Are you hungry?”

“Not really,” 

She’s really not, at least not yet. She’s too confused to eat. Confused about the fact that she feels that she’s attracted to her own fucking boss. Someone who she’s faked married to!

“Right, how about you take that bath in the hot tube that you talked about? I’ll go take a shower and we’ll order later, huh?”

She looks out of the window and grins, because the sun’s going down and the view’s really is fabulous, “Sounds good to me.”

 *

 She slips into her room to change into a bathing suit. She doesn’t really have anything fancy, only a simple black bikini but she’s not really here to impress him, is she? She’s not really here to do more than being his fake wife, right? Right.

When she walks out to the terrace, Dean must already be in his room because she can’t see him but she did find the tub heating up and bubbling away. There’s a bottle of wine and glasses on the table next to the tub. She smiles when she thinks that he prepared it for her. She wouldn’t have guessed that he would do things like this. At least not boss Dean that she knows.

She steps into the tub and lets herself sink lower. Closing her eyes, she embraces the feel of floating outdoors.

“You didn’t pour yourself wine?” Dean’s voice suddenly jerks her back to reality. 

Y/N opens her eyes to see Dean standing there, wearing a simple shirt and sweatpants. His hair’s still damp from the shower. She’s astounded, he looks completely different. Still good, but different. More casual, more relaxed. 

“I was too excited to get in,” She smiles at him.

Dean mirrors her smile before he pours the wine for her, “You must have wine in there in order to get the full experience.” He walks over to hand it to her. 

“Thanks,” She says, and thinks whether she should ask if he wants to join her? What’s the proper hot tub etiquette? “You want to come in?”

He chuckles, “Nah, maybe some other time, I’m enjoying the view from here.” He pours himself some wine and sits down, stretching himself before his face settles into a smirk. 

She thinks it’s weird that he said he wants to enjoy the view but he’s sitting facing her. 

CH03

[bobasheebaby]

The Other Side- Be Careful What You Wish For chapter 4

Pairing: Drake x MC; (past) Liam x MC

Word count: 1,637

Warnings: delusions, paranoia, deceit, manipulation, alcohol dependency 

Summary: Drake and Rebecca get some surprising news and Drake spirals. 

Song Inspiration: The Other Side by Ruelle

A/N: A huge thank you to @sirbeepsalot for all of her help and advice and being an ever patient sounding board. (MoE thanks DoE as well.) 

Series warnings: Evil Liam, dark!fic, deceit, manipulation, dub con, possible NSFW content, possible character death. This is taking the Liam from TRH to the extreme, he is not the Liam we know and love. By clicking read more you acknowledge you are at least 18 years of age.

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters, I’m simply borrowing from PB for a bit.

Drake nervously bounced his leg as they waited for the doctor to come into the room. There’s something wrong. It shouldn’t be this hard. His mind raced, eyes frantically darting around the room. It’s barely been three months, but something just felt off. He couldn’t explain it even to himself but he knew in his bones something was missed.

Rebecca leaned over, her hands taking his. “Drake it will be okay.”

Drake jumped as he turned towards her, his hair wildly unkempt, dark circles under his eyes. “You don’t know that! You should be pregnant by now!”

“Drake, it takes time, you know that.”

He wrenched his hand from hers. “I know that Allen, and I know I said the same exact thing to you, but I shouldn’t have. I should have listened to you.” He ran his hands through his hair, making it stick out more. “I think something is wrong, I think the doctor did something to me.”

“Drake, why would the doctor do that?” She internally sighed, he’d suddenly become more paranoid over the last few weeks and she didn’t know how to help him. Olivia said his mother had a mental illness, maybe it’s that? She knew she should tell him to speak to someone but she didn’t want to make him spiral further by going too far when he already felt the weight of the works on his shoulders.

“I don’t know. I just know everyone is looking at me and laughing because I can’t do one thing.”

“Drake…”

“Duke and Duchess Walker.” Doctor Ramirez greeted with a small smile. “I have some answers for you.”

“Okay.” Rebecca said, her heart felt like it froze in her chest.

“As you know we sent your samples in under a pseudonym to prevent the press from being able to try to buy any information.”

Rebecca nodded, Drake wrung his hands in his lap. Just spit it out! You mangled me!

“Well it turns out that there was a patient with a similar name was tested by a different office at the same lab and they mixed the results up.”

“Okay. What’s the problem?”

Just spit it out woman and stop putting the blame on someone else you know exactly what fucking happened!

“I’m afraid Duke Drake, is and has been sterile from the beginning. I’m so sorry to put you through such an unnecessary procedure, there is no way it would ever have helped.”

Rebecca gasped, reaching for Drake’s hand, only for him to pull it away. “So that's why I can’t get pregnant?”

How could I be sterile? Liam said this is the best doctor in Cordonia! How could she mess up something so simple?!

“Correct. You are still perfectly healthy Duchess Rebecca, you just would need a donor to become pregnant, I am so very sorry for the mix up.”

Rebecca turned to Drake. “Drake are you okay?”

Drake glared at the doctor. Why won’t you just admit it? “I’m fine.” He growled as he stood so abruptly the chair fell back.

“Drake.” Rebecca called after him as he stormed out of the office. She turned back to the doctor. “We don’t blame you. I guess we will be in touch when he’s come to terms with things.”

“Of course.”

*

Drake walked into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him, nearly hitting Rebecca who was trailing behind him. She flinched as the door came at her, barely catching it with her hands. He doesn’t mean it, he’s upset. “Drake will you please talk to me.”

“Why? So you can just keep telling it’s all in my head?” He sat on the side of the bed holding his head in his hands. “No thanks, I’m good.”

“I didn’t say it was all in your head, I said there was no reason to think Dr Ramirez would purposely sterilize you.”

“So I must be crazy? Right?! Poor crazy sterile Drake who can’t even do the one thing asked of him to make fucking amends!”

“Ohmygod Drake will you please stop acting like you owe Liam!”

“Fine!” He stood shaking his head. “I need a damn drink!”

“Drake.”

“What Allen? What could you possibly have to say to make me feel better?” He opened the bedside drawer, pulling out a bottle of whiskey, he brought the bottle up to his lips taking a long sip of the amber liquid.

Why the hell is he so angry and paranoid? She blinked back tears. “Drake what’s really bothering you? That you let Liam down or you let me down?”

“I let myself down! I’m never going to be a fucking father!” He took another sip, begging the liquid to burn away the truth.

“What are you talking about Drake? You will still be a father, they will still grow up knowing a caring loving father who wants to make things as normal as possible like taking them camping and fishing.”

“But they won’t be mine!” His hand ran through his hair, surprise etching upon his face as a clump came back with his hand. What the fuck? I’m not drunk enough for this shit!

She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “What does it matter what dna they have?”

He gave a flat laugh. “You don’t get it, do you? You think this is all about what I owe Liam but I also have to prove myself. I’m just the commoner, the king's friend. I have no business being a duke and everyone knows it. There was one thing I could do that no one could take away from me, I could give Cordonia it’s next king or queen, but I can’t even do that! Don’t you see this will just prove to everyone that I don’t belong!” They already knew. I could hear the whispers and see them pointing. He turned, shrugging off her arm, his eyes flashing dark with anger as he brought the bottle back to his lips for another sip. “And to top it all off my wife can’t even be fucking faithful and goes off fucking the man she turned down!”

Rebecca was stunned, the words hitting her as though he’d slapped her across the face. “What the hell are you talking about?” How could he even think that?

Drake narrowed his eyes glowering at her. “You know exactly what I’m talking about! I smell his cologne all over you, all over the duchy.”

Tears streamed down Rebecca’s cheeks. How can he think so little of me? Her body shook as she tried to stop the sobs from spilling from her throat. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you Drake but I haven’t been with Liam since Vegas. He hasn’t even been in the country for most of the past month, a fact you know.”

Drake rolled his eyes, grumbling when he tilted the bottle up and found it was empty. He dropped the bottle to the ground. Where the fuck is another bottle? He crossed the room rifling through the bar cart until he located another bottle. “Yeah, I’m sure he’s out of the country. We both know he wouldn’t go anywhere without his whore.”

Rebecca’s lower lip trembled as sadness morphed to rage. She walked up to him, slapping him hard against the face.

“What the fuck Allen?” Drake exclaimed cupping his stinging cheek.

“Don’t you ever call me a whore again!”

“Why the hell not?! That’s what you are isn’t it? The king's whore! I’m not sure why you turned him down when you’re still fucking him all the time!” He spat.

She pulled back her hand preparing for a second slap. She shook her head, allowing her arm to drop to her side. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. When you can actually listen instead of raving like a crazy person let me know.”

Drake scoffed. “Yup that’s me, poor crazy, sterile commoner trash Drake.” He shook his head. “I need to get the hell out of here, feel free to call your boyfriend!”

*

Drake sat in his truck staring out the windshield. He wasn’t sure what was going on anymore, it felt like everything was unraveling around him and he couldn’t make sense of what was happening anymore. Was she right am I losing it? He hit his hand against the steering wheel. What the fuck am I even doing here?

He’d slowly been becoming more paranoid, though it all seemed to come to ahead today. How could I be sterile? Confusion overtook him. He brought the bottle up to his lips. This will numb me, make all the pain go away. He knew he wasn’t cut out for this life, that’s why he always turned Liam down when he offered to make him a Duke. He could hear everyone laughing at him, pointing at the dumb commoner who couldn’t hack it as a Duke. He turned the keys in the ignition. I need to get away. He sat the bottle on the seat next to his phone, wildly flashing as call after call came in. Fuck her, fuck him, fuck them all.

*

Liam looked down at his ringing phone, smiling when he saw her name appear on the screen, the picture she took at the Eiffel Tower smiling back at him. “Hello?”

“Liam?! Have you heard from Drake?!” Her panicked voice coming through the speaker.

Liam sat forward. “Rebecca? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. We found out some bad news today and he completely lost it. He’s been talking crazy lately but this is the worst I’ve seen.” She sobbed. “He was drinking, and—and he just left.” She paused, the silence thundering in his ears. “Liam, I need your help. I’m scared, I don’t know where he is, I’m worried something happened to him.”

She knows she can always count on me...

A/N: just incase it isn’t clear Drake did drive drunk, I just couldn’t write it having lost someone to a drunk driver, even hinting at it was rough, but for once my muse was kind to me and let me off easy.

Please please please don’t ever get behind the wheel intoxicated it’s NEVER worth it! 

Feedback fuels me, please like, comment reblog or send an ask. Feel free to scream, I promise I can take it.

Masterlist can be found in my bio.

Taglist will be reblogged.

[bodyswapmischief]

The Promotion

- Hey are you there ... did you get the file.

- Yeah, I just looked over it this morning.

- And...

- Well, these doctor records show that you have become fat enough ... overachiever lol, but send a picture so I can see if you look fat enough.

- WTF dude. You just told me to get fat. Never said anything about looking fat "ENOUGH." If you don't hold up your end...

*Picture Sent*

-Damn what happened to you ;) lol. You don't have anything to worry about, your size is just right. Well, I guess you could always get bigger. More money in it for you.

And I wouldn't be making threats to anyone, with that massive gut. Might get a heart attack. You aren't getting any younger lol. Plus, I can ran circles around your fat ass lmao. See you at work tomorrow, and wear something sexy.

- Fuck you, I'm not your new sexy toy and I'm not even gay.

- Don't worry give it some time. I like playing the long game. And I'm serious, be careful about your stress; I don't want you dying on me ;)

After the phone call, I threw myself on the bed. It creaked with the massive weight that just suddenly hit it. Oh shit I forgot; I need to be more gentle, I thought to myself. Looking down all I could see was my massive gut. I felt blood move quickly through my veins and my heart beating fast. Still worked up from those text from my boss. What the hell did I do to myself? Was it all worth it?

It's been a little before a year since this journey has began. If you could believe it, I was at peak fitness. My arms were massive, with muscle. I didn't have this gut, jiggling with every step I took. No, I had abs that anyone would kill for. My legs were powerful. Now they used what ever power is left to carry my fat ass.

I worked for a big company, for about ten years. I started when I was in my mid 20's. Yeah I would get pay raises, but I wanted more. I wanted to move up in the company. I've seen coworkers move up. Mostly women. A few men. And those men all ended up fat. I always told myself, I wouldn't let that happen to me. But, I know better now. I know the deal they made.

To put it simply someone had a heart attack and a position opened up. I saw my opportunity and went into my boss's office demanding that promotion. He was a man in his late 50's but was incredibly fit. If you didn't know better, you might mistake him for being in his mid 40's. However impressive his body was, mine was greater. His aging body required more work and focus. Something running a busy life doesn't leave you. Maybe if he was younger, he would have a body the rivaled mine.

He looked up at me and smiled. "Close the door, so we can continue this conversation," he said. I explained all the reasons I was qualified for the promotion. But. I could tell he wasn't paying attention to my words. He eyes were focusing on my body. He had lust and rage in his eye.

"Okay, I heard enough" he finally interrupted. "Let me tell you the truth...I'm jealous of you. Why do you think you haven't been promoted in the 10 years you have been working here. You are probably one of the best employees, and it is because of all that charisma and fucking hot body. I hate you ... but, I love you. That's why I just give you enough to want to stay. Every year I wait, for you to slip up and let your self go. But, no you keep getting more fucking ripped and hot. How is that even possible? Where do you find the time?"

I just sat there dumb founded. My boss's voice ringing through my ears. A mixture of trying to convince me of something and yelling. I never heard him talk like this. I finally cut in "What the fuck is all this about."

He stops and pulls himself together. "Well right now, I realized you are the perfect man for the promotion. My new right hand man. But, I need to tell you. I have a fetish. I love watching men that are fit, healthy, and younger than me let themselves go. I like to see them get fat. This is the one condition for your promotion."

"Your fucking sick. What the hell is wrong with you. I can go to HR right know!" I responded.

"Yes you can. And, I will probably lose everything or for every pound you gain you get this added to your yearly earnings..." He stops and starts writing something on a slip of paper. He hands it to me.10,000 dollars. He continues, "And the minimum weight I want you you to gain is 50 pounds. So, you would be making half a million dollars every year."

I stood there in shock. My mind weighing all the options. I could quit and be stuck with no job. Get my boss fired and lose out on this deal. Or be rich, save up money for a few years and then quit. And, lose the weight I would gain. "Okay, I'll do it."

My boss smile and brought out a scale. I went on and it would read 187 pounds for the last time. I signed the paper work and he explained that to start off I would go on a 6 month cruise. To help me fatten up. And so I went along with it. I showed up with my bags packed. I even bought myself some bigger clothes, for my expected weight gain. I noticed my ticket was different. Printed on blue paper, and when I got to the front it was clear I was a "special guest." The staff brought me straight to the medical room.

I waited for a while. Then finally a doctor and nurse entered the room. The nurse was pushing a tray with a syringe filled with blue liquid. "Mr. Fuller?" The doctor asked. "Yes I respond." The doctor nods and ask me to take off my shirt. He sees my muscled up body and shakes his head, in pity. "And are you sure you want to do this?" I nod. He sighs, "I guess if I was offered that deal too, I would have a hard time turning it down." He grabs the syringe and brings it closer to my arm.

"Wait was is that for." I motioned to the syringe. "Weren't you told what was going to happen." The doctor asked quickly pulling the syringe away. "Yeah? My boss wants me to get fat." I responded. "Damn, he always pulls this shit. Nurse get Mr. Sterling on the phone." He says before turning his attention on to me. "And how do you think that is going to happen?" He asked. “By coming on this cruise and eating?"

The doctor shakes his head ... "That is only part of it. Based on those abs ..." he begins to rub and examine parts of my body " this body is going to need help to gain weight. See, we are not going to be baby sitting you making sure you get fat. This is all on you and how much work you put in.Your stomach is not use to eating beyond its limits. Also based on your body, you are not one to just sit and relax. So any work you do in trying to gain weight will just be worked off. Also, there is the requirement of having to maintain a 50 pound weight gain. Just .01 pounds off at any moment and the contract can be void. So this shot will help with all of that. It will make you hungry. When you are full it will be less painful. It will help your stomach stretch, it will make you slightly lazier. But, with the cost that any weight you gain will be permanent. All these symptoms will be removed after the trip, when we give you the antidote, but like I said any weight gain prior to the antidote will be permanent."

"Doctor Mr. Sterling is on the phone." The nurse chimed in. "You think about everything I said." The doctors said as he left the room. I could hear him yelling at the phone. "You fucker! You brought me another ill informed client ..."

His voice zoned out ... as I weighed this new information given to me. I signed the paper ... all that money is just one shot away. But, is fifty permanent pounds worth it. I would be 230 pounds. With all that money I would be making ... would I even care about being 50 pounds heavier. I mean I am getting older ... I wasn't going to be fit my whole life. The doctor came back in.

"I'm ready." I said. He looked at me and halfheartedly gave me the shot. "If it ever seems to much for you we can stop at any time. I will give you the antidote early. If you want you can come in for monthly weigh-ins. And I will give you the antidote when you hit the 50 pounds you need to meet the requirements, so you don't gain any unnecessary permanent weight."

The first month went on. I Stuffed my face eating everything I never let myself eat, before. I was always eating, always had a snack bag. I did try to stay active. Swimming, running, and using the gym. But each day, my body would be able to do less.

(I would spend hours every day at gym. Now I could barely do 3 hrs a week. I know I am never going to lose this weight, but I just like the way I feel after working out. It reminds me of who I use to be. I did have to leave my old gym. First because a lot of people knew me. I would always have to answer a million questions about my weight gain. They would also give me the pity: well just keep working out you'll have your body back in no time. But, I could never tell them the truth. Secondly, the the gym was more for hardcore people. So, I would always get disgusted looks. The last straw was when I was using a treadmill mill and some asshole came up and said "are you done yet fatty you,re wasting my time. Stop hogging the treadmill, that gut isn’t going anywhere anytime soon." Luckily I did find a fat friendly gym)

By the end of the first month I gained 10 pounds and had a panic attack. Did I really want to do this? I felt depressed. I realized these weigh ins were not good for my mental health. I told this to the the doctor and he was understanding, but still wanted me to come in. However, I didn't go back until the trip ended.

I spent months eating, sleeping, laying around, and watching TV. I also tried exercising, to no effect, when I had the energy. By the end the biggest clothes I bought were tight and barely able to cover my body. I couldn't fit into my underwear. I kept my pants unbuttoned. My shirt hugged every new fat curve of my body. Every thing was skin tight. I went back to the doctor and he weighed me. I told him I didn't want to know. The damage was done no matter what. He gave me the antidote. And I went home, on a Sunday. I climbed on my scale and it read 270. I felt my heart sink. I gained 83 pound. 33 more than I needed. And to be honest, I cried the rest of the day. Mourning my old life and getting use to my new one.

The next day, I called up the office. My boss told me to use the next 3 months to become adjusted to my new life. He saw my paper work from the doctor and gave me the full years check. 630,000 dollars. At the end of the 3 months I would need to send an update from a doctor he recommended, a new doctor that would understand my case.

So, I did what he suggested. I went out in public. I bought myself new clothes. Joined a new gym, knowing I will never lose this weight. I was able to gain some new confidence in this body. The trip to the doctor was a new experience. He explained to me that this weight I have gained had real side effects on my body. It turns out 1% of users gain health problems. I was one of them. My cholesterol levels raised, but with constant exercising and eating right I can reduce them. But, I learned I now have permanent high blood pressure.

The doctor continued to squeeze my fat and I got new sensations I never felt before. I did numerous test. A Stress test where I ran on a treadmill. Unluckily, it was in front of a mirror and I saw how ridiculous I looked running.

I will have to watch what I eat. Which is okay, after the antidote shot my appetite returned to normal. But it sucks having having a fat body with out the benefits of being able to eat whatever I want. I will live the rest of my life as a healthy person living in a fat person's body.

Now, I am just laying here, waiting to see what happens tomorrow. And, thinking of all the money I will be making. Was it worth? I guess time will tell.

[saigeboredeaux-blog]

( cisfemale ) haven’t seen NAEVA BARABESI around in a while. the NAOMI SCOTT lookalike has been known to be (+) STEADFAST & (+) JUDICIOUS, but SHE can also be (-) CHARY & (-) DETACHED. The 21 year old is a JUNIOR majoring in ANTHROPOLOGY. I believe they’re living in POTENTAS but I popped by earlier and no one answered the door. ( james! 20. EST. she/they. )

hello hello ! i’m james and this is my baby naeva !! she’s an oldie but also ... a new..ie ?? let’s just say it’s been a hot minute since i’ve awoken her ! i’ll probably pick up another muse at some point b/c that’s Who I Am and it was already a struggle figuring out who to bring in first so jskjdflg (except ik who i’d bring in for my second muse :~) ) anyways !! let’s get right into it !

TW: implications of illness.

a e s t h e t i c s

black a-line dresses and black oxford shoes and their light tapping against polished floors, parental expectations and eyerolls beginning lectures, sunglasses under fluorescent lights and the same old tired excuses. driving drunk friends so there’s a reason to say no, laughing off backhanded remarks and clinking of glasses, that old vintage watch that no longer functions but the presence brings a comfort like no other. tossing and turning and waking up and falling asleep--vicious cycles in a battle between dreams and reality. knowledge, and the ever-ending thirst to learn more--love for the surrounding world and an undying will to live. noses in books and the peaking gazes from underneath so, curiosity peaking and a longing to feel alright in one’s skin.

general info !!

full name: naeva ornella barabesi

nickname(s): to be determined t b h

b.o.d. - september 1st, 21 yrs old, virgo

label(s): the facade, the pastiche, the prevaricator, the salubrious

height: 5′6″

hometown: lecce, italy

sexuality: brave of u to assume naeva even know

her stats can be found HERE

and her pinterest can be found HERE !!

biography !!

to those her parents boast to, naeva is a miracle child by all means. guests told that she was born perfect--silent out the womb, easy as day to care for after years of trying for child with no avail; an angel taking vessel in their baby daughter. she is born to liars.

born to old money invested in hedge funds and the vice president of an international bank, surrounded by old buildings of exquisite architectural design--the barabesi family lived lavishly. this is not a lie. their mansions and sports cars and boastful superiority is all, undoubtedly real.

a child born with ailments to last her lifetime is a precious miracle who needs to stay quiet when mommy and daddy are bragging to their guests.

being oh so fragile only meant a lack of socialization except for when it’s convenient--the endless faces of specialists, or tutors, or her parents’ friends.

they love their daughter, yes, but after years and years of building perfect empires and fitting the mold they’ve so desperately tried to label themselves--god be damned if little naeva wasn’t their golden star right from the moment she was born.

born and, for a short time, living in lecce, italy--the barabesi family soon moved to the states in pursue of the best of the best doctors. specifically, cold spring, new york.

small enough to go undisturbed, the young girl spent her time learning and learning; whether it were numbers or vague history or what to take on what days and how to turn a cough into a smile.

and being treated as far too fragile--too delicate, as if she could shatter if you so dared look at her for too long.

eventually, the vicious cycle shifted to a life manageable. though still feeling as if she walked on eggshells, naeva could attend elementary school.

sure, it was stressful--but god, it was her life; she was not a burden, no matter the circumstance and no matter what ailed her.

years passed as naeva juggled the golden child act--attending school, her parents’ little parties, her after school lessons, endless doctor appointments--a blur, in all honesty. a near comfortable routine.

it wasn’t until naeva was in high school that she got a little, well, restless

routine is good, yes--but she was a girl who wanted to live a life where she didn’t have to worry about her health.

it were small things at first, skipping class to read in the library (how very rebellious, wow) and staying out of her house as much as possible without raising suspicions--whether it was stopping at the convenience store after violin or purposely hitting as many red lights as possible.

though naeva seemed to spiral her senior year, really, that’s when it became an issue.

unraveling quickly for reasons she really couldn’t fathom, she felt as if she wasn’t living enough.

going to parties instead of the library, committing vandalism with newly acquired friends, ignoring all the don’ts that came with being her and getting just. absolutely plastered.

it was at one of these parties, a college party nonetheless--where naeva met tatiana samuels.

the girl fascinated an impressionable naeva in a way she didn’t understand--it grew into a friendship, and for the rest of the year; if tatiana was at a party, so was naeva.

but of course--reality got to the best of naeva and when her health crumbled, she withdrew. canceled her bad girl subscription; practically swore it off.

it hadn’t helped that the entire situation had thoroughly freaked out her parents, and suddenly, naeva was six again. back to the basics. this time, however, naeva thought that just maybe, it was for the best.

her parents practically forced her to attend lockwood (not that she really minded) in order to keep her close to home--even so, naeva is living as independently as she can.

personality

it’s sort of easy to mistake naeva for a very serious kinda woman; y’know, no laughs or jokes or inappropriate behavior.

it’s the air around her, really; cool, calm, and collected; aloof yet confident, eyes so dark y’can’t tell if they’re judging or commending you. always seen with a yeti in hand, undoubtedly filled with decaf coffee--booties and tights and tasteful blazers. she’s your fourth grade substitute teacher that wouldn’t let you talk during free time.

but well, it’s a mistake.

she’s responsible and rational and work-oriented but god, does she value humor and amusement and all the good little things in life.

maybe she’s not the funniest person around, but she’ll attempt banter with you--and if you’re passionate about something she’ll hear you out; hell, she’ll support your excitement, maybe even share some of her own passions. naeva is constantly amused, even if her mouth’s set in a hard line.

she studies anthropology because of her love for human life and culture; her minor’s in sociology for god’s sake. naeva loves life, loves liveliness, loves people who feel intensely--naeva’s got a lot of love in her.

it’s a shame she’s so afraid to let people in.

don’t get it wrong--she’ll cozy right up to you but...is she really? or is she just letting you see what she wants you to see? it pains her, as somebody who feels so much, to act so...distant? she by no means gives off a cold air, but she’s the kind of gal you know without really knowing.

god, naeva is so scared. it hurts, sometimes, how scared shitless she is--the events happening in lockwood, secrets being revealed--the possibility that hers will be one day out in the opened without her consent. she just wants to live her life. she really, really, just wants to live.

‘course, she keeps it very very contained. her friends must not know how goddamn stressed she is, at all times of the day--the woman hates pity. she’s been pitied since birth. she wants no more of it.

it’s precisely why she keeps her medical history so hidden. she isn’t ashamed of her life, no, she’s alive and that’s what matters--but the pity. imagined or not--the thought of it is unbearable. maybe it’s silly, maybe a little too irrational for a girl considered so...rational, but, she can’t help it.

it’s not anybody’s business anyway--she tells herself, at least--

it’s led to her lying a lot--unnecessary, but she panics often--when she disappears from school for an extended amount of time, it’s because of family drama or events or public appearances or whatnot.

which, sometimes really gets to her--she’s supposed to be dependable, reliable, trustworthy--goddammit, and she can’t even do that. she’s just a girl with a lot of excuses up her sleeve and one day she’s going to run out.

don’t get her wrong though ! she’s not a passive person, y’know, just because she can be quiet and distant. if she sees an injustice she will speak out about it--she’s got a lot of opinions, and is pretty much ready to attack you with words.

tl;dr - kind and a Pal whilst keeping a distance--always stressed but [laugh track] you’ll never know. she’s also a big nerd when it comes to cultures and just. learning in general. loves history and sociology and anthropology and all that. like...a mom friend? very responsible, will be the designated driver Always and take care of you, it’s just...you only really know what she wants you to know, and she’s a lil bit of a liar. Big Smart, is always amused. not as serious as you’d think.

OH! and she’s very noncommittal in the relationship-sense. like...she’s probably dated around a little bit but the longer it lasts the more tense she gets and more often than not she breaks things off.

disclaimer!

illnesses can be a very sensitive topic and i promise i’m not being vague about it without reason: i’ll be going into it for a task. i’m always cautious on how i portray it, so please let me know when and where i can better myself if something feels off ! the last thing i want to do is come off as inaccurate.

i also was going to do a fun fact/headcanon section but my brain? big dumb and i literally forgot everything i wanted to write so lmao. one of these days, expect a lil headcanons thing. but for now ...

OH! here’s a fun fact! she’s rich as FUCK. that is all, good day.

wanted connections

god give me everything

like i’m really up for anything.

give her a best friend! somebody who really truly knows her

or somebody who Thinks they really know her tehehehfgjfghj

let her mom friend others! be the parental figure in this relationship!

fake friends b/c she’s got money.

study buddies!

people she tutors!

somebody who lets her be a lil’ wild, loosen up.

on the other end: let her keep somebody rooted! a good influence.

ex partners! on good or bad terms??

hook ups! one night stands! fwbs!

ex-hookups ! one night stands that lead to awkward encounters

a thorn in her side, an absolute Annoyance.

on the other hand, let me use naeva to badger your characters. let Her be the annoyance.

enemies? for whatever reason ??

on-and-off-agains!

will they won’t they?

ex-friends! ex-friends trying to fix their friendship!

tense relationships!

oh, your mail keeps getting mixed with mine ?? wth ?? we don’t even have similar names ??

conspiracy theory buds!

STOP running INTO ME on ur morning JOGS u PRICK i’m trying to WALK HERE

purposely stealing the last like...breakfast sandwich in the food court just to be that asshole

bickering. just lots of bickering.

somebody who is just suspicious of naeva’s lil lies n is like HMM and she’s like OH NO U DON’T

somebody she rly wants to be close with but just :) refuses :)

anything unrequited. anything one-sided. love or hate or platonic idc i want it all.

pls n thank.

like this n i’ll msg you of course !!

[donnerpartyofone]

21 Questions

Tagged by @getoutofmyhouse who had oddly similar answers to mine

Nickname: only the one I use here, that I gave myself--Claire Donner, which has to do with my famous love of cannibalism. Claire is my real first name, though.

Zodiac: I am so very cuspy. I was born at about a quarter to midnight on April 20, so I tend to relate to, and feel insulted by, the suppositions about Aries and Taurus equally. I’m one of those jerks who will tell you astrology is a bunch of hoo ha...and then drone on with my Many Esoteric Ideas about it, so I’ll just stop myself right here.

Height: 5’ nuthin is what I prefer to say...because saying I’m 5 and 3/4′ sounds a little like saying I’m 10 and a half years old.

Amount of sleep: It’s all fucked up. Until I got into my 30s I could, and would prefer to, sleep endlessly. Now I go to bed around 10 (depression), get up around 5 or 6 (being old), and for extra fun, I’ve developed this insomnia that often keeps me up from about 2am-5am. I try make the most of it by getting up, getting high, watching a movie or two, writing...basically just having a secret private day by myself. I’d really rather go back to just sleeping constantly though.

Last movie I saw: I saw GRETA in theaters tonight, which was ok. I guess I thought any Neil Jordan film would be headier than this, but watching Isabel Huppert just running around acting like an absolute maniac is a rare treat! My last video experience was RAW, which I put on to bother my husband right when we got home from the theater. (I think he liked it more than I originally did, to my surprise)

Last thing I googled: The correct spelling of Sylvia Likens’ last name. I’m obsessed with this type of crime where a group of people (usually a family and/or some of their friends and neighbors) fall into some kind of shared hysteria where they protractedly torture to death an acquaintance for no particular reason. Some times there’s an element of mystery as to why the victim didn’t leave while they were still able to, which suggests to me that the murdered person was just as much a victim of the groupthink as the perpetrators. Other example victims include Suzanne Capper, Vera Jo Reigle, and I think to some degree Sophie Lionnet, James Bulger, and Junko Furuta. (Also a crime they briefly discuss in the book Lords of Chaos, where several people murder a friend in their trailer, but I can’t remember it specifically enough to look up the names--the other last thing i tried to google) I keep thinking there should be a psychiatric and/or legal term for this kind of crime, but I’ve never heard one, so let me know if you got one!

Favorite musician: I have trouble with questions that involve ranking anything, so I’ll just say that right now I’m listening to a lot of old White Zombie. I didn’t know anything about their origins as an East Village noise band, and I’m fascinated by the stories about how apocalyptically miserable it was to be in that group. I’m increasingly obsessed with people who work their asses off doing something they barely even enjoy, for what must be borderline spiritual reasons.

Song stuck in my head: Nothing right this second, for which I am very grateful. There’s something awful in my brain that causes me to wake up with some maddening, babyish tune stuck in my head more often than not. It is most frequently the Ten Little Indians nursery rhyme. This is literally killing me.

Other blogs: @anhed-nia, which started as a dumping ground for long posts about mental illness, and turned into almost only movie writing. at some point there was just so much movie shit that i started to feel awkward about posting anything personal there again. i also got @getoffyrass which is a group blog, and a repository for images that make great drawing references. everyone is encouraged to post their drawings, too, although it is seldom used. i still like having it around, for when i have time to draw. my “real” drawing blog is @neveratendermoment but i don’t draw often enough anymore...

Do I get asks: i used to get tons! i really enjoy them, even the trolls to some degree. i must have seemed like more of a regular tumblr geek girl back in the day. also tumblr has just changed a lot since then. my blog was definitely a casualty of Best Stuff First, i think my follower count stopped dead forever right when that happened, and now that practically every single fucking thing on this entire site is either fandom shit or *discourse*, i really have nothing to offer tumblr anymore, anyway.

Blogs following: 1,057. 

Lucky numbers: 2! Also 5.

What I’m wearing: black wool long john pants from Chrome, and a white v neck teeshirt with the words BLACK MAYONNAISE on it in black Rocky Horror font. i live near the notoriously toxic Gowanus Canal, and “black mayonnaise” is the actual term used to describe what’s on the bottom of it, by the scientists who are trying to figure out what to do with it.

Dream trip: i am really excited by travel, it’s hard to pick. i’m hopefully making a dream trip soon though: my father’s mysterious finno-swedish family is from the åland islands, and my husband and i will be planning part of our honeymoon there, whenever that happens.

Dream Job: i think about this a lot, because the older i get, the more i object to the entire concept of having to work to live. i’m into the whole universal basic income thing. i’m at this point where i can barely stand to think about capitalism in any way--like i think about how the need for money is so mortally serious that there’s a lot of physical stuff in the world that only exists because someone was scared of starving, tons of useless products and packaging and factory byproducts and all kinds of fucking straight up garbage that was only invented due to the lethality of poorness. i would rather be left totally alone forever if possible. however, if i HAD to do something and i COULD do anything, it would probably be film criticism. this fantasy takes place in a world where people care so much about what i have to say that i can make a career, not only out of movie writing, but out of only writing about the specific movies i want to write about, referring to nothing other than my personal reactions.

Favorite food: i wish the answer weren’t just “cheese”, but it probably is. also mushrooms. anything cinnamon. i’m a pretty adventurous eater though. the most important thing for me is a variety of flavors and textures.

Languages: english. i took several years of italian in junior high-high school, and did nothing with it. i taught myself to read french pretty fluently, but i would fold right up if someone tried to speak to me. i learned a bunch of swedish on duolingo, shoulda kept it up. i’ll get back to it! i really regret never learning spanish though, so i’m easily torn on what to do with my time.

Play any instruments: clarinet in junior high/high school, also alto sax which i did not enjoy at all, a little guitar. i bought a used electric bass last year that i have really been enjoying, but i feel a lot of guilt around not playing enough. so much of it is just strength training. that’s probably what i like about it, though. also i got a lot of electronic music software and midi controllers and stuff...and then i realized that it could take me months to sort through the thousands of samples i have to program this stuff, and i only got so far into it before i started to get discouraged. i need to get back to it, it’s ridiculous to let that stuff lie around. this is a rare example of me wishing i knew someone local to play with, who could speed me along on how everything works.

Favorite songs: another one of these impossible questions! anybody who is even reading this can probably guess the answers from the handful of music posts i reblog over and over and over. the other night i got all hyperactive and forced my husband to drop everything and listen to “buffalo stance” by nene cherry, which i never ever get sick of. real top contenders for favorite song might be “Stand By the Jamms” by the klf, and this recording, which has gotten me through many difficult hours:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8k1HsF3EvY

https://www.forcedexposure.com/Catalog/sunray-sonic-boom-music-for-the-dreamachine-cd/STRAWB.003CD.html

Random fact: i’m sure i’m missing out on something really funny and cool, but for now it’s just the well-known fact that i read palms.

Describe yourself as aesthetic thing: man, how do i answer this without being totally pretentious? maybe nobody can! i’m coming up with something really hard to describe but it will be worth it. the other day i watched this insane, completely unnecessary movie about lorca and salvador dali (played by robert pattinson) as gay lovers. there’s a scene in it where lorca does that “pick a hand” thing to dali, and dali picks an empty hand. of course, they’re both poor students who couldn’t be buying any gifts, so they do this obnoxious pantomime where dali pretends lorca actually gave him something--but then it turns out that lorca really DOES have something. he opens his other hand and gives dali...SOMETHING. i don’t know what! they make such a big deal out of it, but what the hell? you see it for a second in this closeup, but it’s shot from like, behind and slightly underneath, and it is just unrecognizable. it’s sort of an orange blob? it’s probably meant to be a sculpture. but, i love the idea of doing the “pick a hand” thing to somebody, and the other person is just like...hey wait a minute, what the fuck even IS this?? 

it reminded me of one of the most amazing things anyone ever did at my school, bard college. this genius art student who I WISH I COULD NAME TO CREDIT HER did her senior project as this like...made up product. i saw them at the senior show, hanging off a spinner rack, like you’d see next to the register in the drug store. they were called Toilet Buddies. they were these plastic, brightly colored objects that looked like toys, but they didn’t have a familiar earthly shape, and because of the title, it was IMPOSSIBLE to imagine what to do with them. so, she gets the lipstick cam from the film department, and shoots this video of herself sneaking some Toilet Buddies into Walmart. then she takes them to the register and BUYS THEM--the baffled cashier looks for them for a while, and eventually just rings them up as a general grocery or something. then in part 2, the artist TAKES THEM BACK TO THE STORE WITH THE RECEIPT AND GETS A REFUND.

so anyway, i see myself as like a fake product--something that looks just familiar enough to exit, and that appears to have a designated purpose, but it’s just kind of cheap and foreign and it becomes nightmarish to try to imagine what to do with it. 

I don’t know if anyone i know will want to do this, but i tag @negativepleasure @moviesludge @former-contender @dimestoreman @thefuzzydave @darkarfs @theoddsideofme @blueruins ...um, i don’t really know who would enjoy this. the ultimate would be @garbagenacht

[cryinggameff]

Sixty-nine

Randi

Cayden and his friends were drinking and doing god knows what else while watching the game. I had agreed to let him host the party here, which i was kind of regretting because they were loud as hell and it made it hard to take my mid day naps. I had left for a bit to go and pick up some groceries so i could make some food for them to eat plus some snacks and such and now i was back home. I walked past going to put the stuff in the kitchen.

“Baby, you back?” Cayden said, getting up and coming to the kitchen.

“Yeah, just went to target,” I said, taking stuff out of the bag.

“How’s my baby?” He put his arms around me to grab my belly.

“Active. He’s been jumping around all day,” I sighed. He moved his hand around.

“That’s because he’s a little baller. Or maybe a gymnast if it’s a girl.”

“Mmhm,” i said, putting my hand over his. Somebody scored and the guys got all excited. We both looked over. I started taking stuff out the bags. Cayden removed his hands and started going back to the living area. I glanced at him and saw his jaw was locked and arms flexed. I was confused. He walked up to Rambo and smacked him on the back of the head.

“Damn man!” Rambo jumped. He turned around and Cayden grabbed the blunt that he must have just lit out of his mouth.

“I told your slow ass not to be smoking in my house when my wife is pregnant. Are you dumb?  That’s my kid you fucking with bruh,”

“My bad Cayden, I forgot,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry man,” he said. Everyone else looked to see what Cayden was gonna do. I already knew what he was planning to do and considering he was China’s man and what not i couldn’t have them falling out or that would make things awkward for all of us. I put the milk I was holding down. I reluctantly intervened.

“It’s ok baby,” i said to him from the kitchen. He looked up at me and I gave him a look to calm down and of course he listened and backed down. He just put the blunt out and came to throw it out in the kitchen. He came up behind me and wrapped an arm around me again.

“Sorry,” He said by my ear just so I could hear.

“It’s ok,” I said, leaning up to kiss him. I wasn’t mad, after all he was right, it was bad for the baby. Cayden had stopped smoking, around the house anyways, all together. It was cute how concerned he was about the baby. He kissed my shoulder and I giggled.

“She’s already pregnant dog, give it a break,” ty said as he came strolling in to the kitchen to open the fridge. I blushed but laughed.

“Hey! I just got those,” I complained. But nobody was listening. He was long gone and they had broken into a play fight, crashing on to the floor and rolling around like children. “You’re 26 years old,” I grumbled, picking my rolls off the floor.

I made some stuff for the guys and then took my food upstairs to eat and watch some shows.

I ended up falling asleep after eating, but woke up a few hours later with terrible heart burn. That was happening a lot now. I would take it over being nauseous 24/7 like in the beginning, but it was still very uncomfortable. I went downstairs to go find some tums and realised Cayden and his friends were gone. I looked at my phone real quick and Cayden had texted me saying he was gonna go in to work. I got some tums and some milk and went back to the bedroom. I decided to give Cole a call because i hadn't talked to him in a while.

"Hi Colebear,"

"Hey lil mama. How you doing?" he asked.

"Im ok, just tired and sick all the time," i complained.

"That sounds horrible," he said. "How much longer you got anyways? Tryna make sure im there when the baby gets here."

"Still have like 4 months. Im ready for it to be over, and i just wanna hold my baby already." I groaned in frustration.

"When we gon find out if its a boy or girl? How am i supposed to buy them some swag if i dont know?"

"I was supposed to find out a while ago but i kept missing my appointments. Im going in a few days, should find out then."

"Word? aight keep me posted."

"I will," i said, "so whats up with you and Ty. He came to my house a week ago and from what he said yall had some drama when he visited." I was being nosy as usual.

"Aint no drama," he mumbled.

"What did you do?" i asked in an accusing tone. He sighed.

"I may have iced him out a little."

"Why?" i asked, confused.

"Things were getting...intense."

"Thats how a relationship works Cole," i pointed out.

"I know," he said simply. I smiled a little bit.

"I get it. I was the same way when Cayden and i started getting serious. It terrified me. It's scary to love someone."

"So what did you do?" He asked.

"Well Cayden didn't really give me an option to run. He followed me every time, " i laughed. "Eventually i just got tired of trying to run away and i just dove in. Now i'm married to the fool and carrying his baby."

"Diving in sounds terrifying."

"It is," i bit my lip, thinking back to when Cayden and i were still dating. "But its worth it."

"Ugh. I cant with this sappy shit right now. Im bout to go to practice and i dont need to be in my feelings while tackling a bunch of dudes."

"Okay fine, ill drop it for now. But you need to just accept you love him and move on. Don't overthink it," i said seriously.

"okay mom."

"Oh God, can you imagine someone is gonna be calling me that soon," i said, more to myself.

"I can see you as a mom. You always taking care of people or helping them fix their lives, even when they didnt ask," he laughed.

"What can i say, i dont know how to mind my business," i shrugged.

"Lowkey im the same," he said. "But i gotta go."

"Okay babe, have a good practice. Ill talk to you later." He said bye and then i hung up.

Cayden

"Yo, How's the shipment going?" I asked him, referring to a deal i had going with Sean. He was organising the order while i handled the logistics and such.

"Man i don't think we have enough here. We gotta bring some from the other warehouse. I was gonna call Pat but i wanted to run it by you," he got up and i followed him out to the balcony looking down to the rest of the warehouse. It was busy with niggas at work like usual, organised by product.

"What he want?" i asked.

"Coke mostly, but he talking about he got some guy wants a bunch of crystal. We got 10, 20 pound max here," he said, nodding at the back of the room where the guys were breaking and weighing a fresh batch.

"Who the fuck wants to buy that much crystal?" My brows came together.

"Man who knows, thats your boy, ask him. Im just saying, thats pretty much all our supply from both warehouses, and we have one cook" he said. I nodded because he was right, but that wasn't my biggest concern. It was just weird to me that Sean was suddenly moving crystal when he had never before. I couldn't help think back to the time Randi asked if Sean could be trusted and wondered if she was on to something.

"Dont call Pat. Not yet anyways. Imma have a little meeting with Sean first," i decided.

"Got it," he nodded.

"By the way, thanks for checking on Randi while i was gone," i said. He shrugged.

"Uncle duties and what not," he smirked, "how she doing anyways? You weren't playing when you said she was emotional."

"She tired all the time, i feel bad. She go off on you?" I laughed.

"Nah, just crying and shit. I don't know how you do it."

"Ill take crying over when she gets angry."

"True," Ty nodded. I checked my watch.

"I gotta go find Keisha, i need her to get Sean here. I aint going to Cali, i just got back," i looked around a bit.

"She was here with Kassie earlier, training and what not. How you get her to come back anyways?" he raised a brow.

"I begged," i chuckled. " Why? you still got a crush on her? Thought you were all about the D now."

"Fuck you Cayden," he said, turning to go back to his office. I laughed and went off to find Keisha.

I ended up just calling Keisha from my office and she came up.

"Hey, sorry, Kassie was showing me around. She just left," she said.

"It's all good. I need you to do something for me though. 2 things actually."

"Sure, what is it?" she pulled out a pen and notepad.

"I need you to get Sean here. ASAP."

"Got it," she nodded.

"Also i need you to book me a trip, for 2. Jamaica, not business. Anytime in the next month or so," i looked up from my phone calendar.

"I'll get right on it..." she paused. "It's sweet. I mean, im assuming it's for your wife."

"Yeah it is. Gotta keep her happy," i shrugged. She smiled. Then she seemed to remember something and pulled out her phone

"Oh before i forget, the accountant is coming tomorrow. Just a reminder. Also, your calendar says its Ty's birthday soon, do you want me to arrange anything?"

"Remind me an hour before tomorrow. Get a gift for me, Randi is doing the rest. She throws unnecessary parties, its kind of her thing," i rolled my eyes.

"Okay then. Ill go start on this," she said, turning for the door.

"How was the training by the way?" i asked. Kassie had been here the whole time i was gone, showing her the ropes

"Good. She was really nice. She had a lot of great things to say about you. But i'm not surprised, you're a nice guy Cayden. I cant tell you how much this job means to me, my son too," she brushed her golden curls aside. "I mean i made decent money at the club, but...this is a lot better," she bit her lip. I nodded.

"You should have called me, I always cared about you Keisha," i smiled at her gently seeing her get emotional. She was all tough exterior, it was rare to see this side of her.

"I was embarrassed," she shrugged.

"You aint gotta be. How people make money is none of by business. Bur don't worry, i pay my assistants a lot. You gotta put up with my ass, just wait, you'll be sick of me soon." She laughed.

"Thanks Cayden," she smiled.

"You're welcome," i said simply. She left and closed the door behind her.

Once she was gone i called Randi to check on her.

Randi

Cayden called me just after id gotten off with Cole. He asked how i was and then he was telling me about what he was doing and when he would be home. Then i heard someone talking in the background, it wasn't a guy though, it was a female voice.

“Who is that” I said.

“Who’s who?” He asked. I sat up straighter in the bed chair.

“The chick talking in the back ground,” i said. I couldn't think of any reason for there to be a girl in his office at the warehouse. I knew there were a few girls who were involved in selling and what not but Cayden didn't spend time talking to pedlars or people lower in the chain, he handled all the big time stuff. I started to wonder if he wasn't really at the warehouse but i didn't see why he would lie.

“Keisha,” he said, as if that meant anything. “My assistant.”

“When did you get an assistant? You don’t like anyone, how’d you even pick someone.”

“I told you months ago that I needed an assistant baby,” he reminded me. This was true but still.

“Hm,” I said simply.

“So we good then? I’ll see you in a few hours,” he said.

“Okay,” i said, hanging up. I had been too annoyed to say bye or I love you.

Why would he get an assistant without telling me? If that even was his assistant. I knew there was always random girls walking around that definitely weren’t assistants, the business kind anyways. I wondered what this Keisha girl was assisting Cayden with and my blood started to boil. I tried to not be this person but pregnancy also had me a bit mentally unstable and I wasn’t particularly confident right now. Was Cayden fooling around with another girl because i was becoming the size of a whale? I panicked and started to get up off the bed and pulled on a sweater.

I wasn’t really sure what I was doing until i was driving for 20 minutes and leaving the city to go towards the warehouse. I never came here on my own and I started to second guess myself as I pulled up and security immediately posted up. I got out of the car and locked it. One of the guys looked familiar though and I was pretty sure I’d seen him before.

“Are you lost shawty?” Another guy said, licking his lips in a disgusting way and looking down at me. I was about to release all my fury on him when the familiar guy spoke up.

“That’s Cayden’s wife you idiot” he said. The previous guy shrunk back.

“My bad,” he said quickly, head down.

“Should i get Cayden for you?” The familiar guy asked. I shook my head.

“I know my way,” I said, motioning to the door. They paused but moved out of the way. I adjusted my cardigan and went in. People stared at me because i rarely came period let alone on my own. Also I was pretty pregnant now which drew attention. I went upstairs to the offices and stopped in front of Cay’s. I debated whether or not to knock then decided against it. I opened the door and walked in.

Cayden looked up and his face went very confused when he saw me. He was in the chair and a girl stood beside him, bent over and pointing to the computer screen.

“Randi? What the fuck are you doing here?” He said. My face must not have looked happy because he quickly got up. “I mean is everything ok? Is it the baby?” He came over and put a hand to my lower back. I immediately checked his hand for the wedding band which was there.

“The baby’s fine,” I said, looking him over for lipstick, makeup, anything.

“What’s going on then?” He asked. I looked up at the girl standing and starring at us. Cayden looked up. “Keisha can you give me a minute with my wife,” she stood for a minute looking which was strange but then she shuffled out. I was looking around his office looking for any signs of anything messy when Cayden put a hand to my cheek. “Baby, What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I mumbled, feeling like the biggest fool.

“You drove all the way up here for nothing. Nah,” he shook his head. I choked up, I couldn’t say I came because I thought you were cheating.

“I don’t feel good,” I lied. I did feel sick to my stomach all of a sudden but more out of guilt. Guilty that I’d thought he’d do something like that and also because the way he looked worried now that he thought I was sick.

“Maybe I should take you to the hospital,” he said, feeling my forehead.

“No I’ll be okay,” I said quickly. “I think I just need to go home,”

“I’ll take you,” He said “someone will come pick me up after.” I agreed. He held me all the way out of his office and down the stairs. Once we got in the car I was still thinking about the fact that he got an assistant and didn’t tell me. That was still sketchy, cheating or not.

“How do you know her?” I asked.

“Keisha?” He asked. I waited for him to lie because honestly I already knew the truth. I was simply testing him.  “Being 100, we used to fuck but it was a long time ago, and we were actually friends.”

“So is that why you didn’t tell me?” I asked.

“This about to be a problem isn’t it?” He asked. “Wait? Is that why you drove all the way down here?” Well shit.

“Well I heard a girl in your office,” I said, defending myself. He turned to face me then.

“And you automatically assumed I was what? Cheating?” He looked upset. I was supposed to be the one angry. “You don’t even trust me huh? Still,” he shook his head. When he put it like that he made it sound bad.

“It’s not like that-“

“What’s it like? You came running, so that’s what you thought.”

“Well...” I started. “Normally I wouldn’t be scared but look at me,” i gestured at myself. “I don’t look tight and right at the moment. And don't eve play me like you didn't just hire a girl you used to sleep with and not tell your wife about it.”

“You’re insane Randi. You’ve lost your mind. I ain’t even gon fight you cause you carrying my kid.” I got frustrated and was fighting the urge to break into tears so i just glared out the window for the ride home.

[lisbonsteresa]

in defense of wyatt's ill-timed confession: the man was also grieving and did not seem in control of his emotions. don't get me wrong i think it was incredibly poor writing and seemed like a hail mary for lyatt fans (which i still am deep down) but it was so poorly executed and really shouldn't have happened at all in that moment, however he is grieving rufus and had several traumatic events on top of immense guilt. anyway i dont feel like any confession on his part should have happened in s2

Thing of it is nonnie, I would have probably let that ‘confession’ stand and not had any feelings on it one way or another had he not brought up Rufus. This season has brought lyatt to such an ‘eh’ place for me that despite what was said in that scene, or how Lucy reacted, I wouldn’t have given it much credence and let it play out however it did and kept my thoughts to myself. But since he did bring Rufus into it, the whole speech makes me angry instead.

For the one thing, I don’t think Rufus gave even the slightest shit about what was going on with Wyatt-Lucy-Jessica after 2.06. Because he had more important things to worry about. (in all honesty i don’t think he cared too much about it before that because he had Jiya’s visions and other missions to think about, but he did comment on it so I’ll allow it). Rufus learns that he’s going to die, and that very understandably takes vast precedence over whatever mess of a love triangle Wyatt’s got going on. (I would even argue that from 2.06 onward we get almost a clear-cut split between the W-L-J plot and the Rufus and Jiya plot - there are still moments when they all interact, but they don’t involve discussing their relationships until Rufus - very rightly - tells Wyatt off in the finale.)

Even if we allow the idea that Rufus was concerned about what was going on with Wyatt’s situation throughout the whole season, he sure as hell wasn’t after one third of that triangle took the love of his life captive and stole the Lifeboat. “You got so caught up in this Lucy and Jessica soap opera that you forgot there are other people in this bunker, people who love each other” is a pretty clear indicator that Rufus was waaaaaay far off of the ‘ss lyatt’ (or the ss jyatt or the ss anything involving those idiots). He was most certainly not standing in the background, wishing and hoping and cheering for a lyatt reunion, and even if he was, you could not pay me all the money in the world to think he would react with ‘it’s about damn time’.

Maybe if Wyatt had reacted differently to his callout in 2.01 he may have said that. Maybe in the aftermath of Hollywoodland he said/thought that. But after 2.04? (sub-point that adds to this; I believe @trash-by-european-villains made a post of a similar nature where they said that Rufus is loyal. he is a loyal friend to Wyatt, yes, but he’s also a loyal friend to Lucy. and he might have been pushing Wyatt to say something during WWII and waving metaphorical pom-poms after 2.03, but just because he was the captain of the lyatt cheering squad for the first few episodes (a separate issue altogether, but i digress) does not mean that he would continue supporting them being together after the mess that happened with Jess. He spent the rest of the season supportive of Wyatt making a go of it with Jess but also there to comfort Lucy in her reactions to it (when he was included in that plot at all) and honestly if you think he was still waiting in the wings for a lyatt reunion after seeing how hurt Lucy was by the entire situation, then I’m inclined to think you don’t think too much about Rufus as his own character or about Rufus and Lucy’s friendship.

And especially after 2.06? Nope, nuh-uh, he had his own shit to deal with. And that shit came into direct conflict with Wyatt’s shit and he was not happy about it, so honestly get outta here with that ‘it’s what Rufus would have wanted’ bs because I do not think he could have cared less about lyatt with everything else going on. (also, small, petty point becauseimstillmadwelosthimatall - Rufus is……how should I say this…dead. you know what he wanted? to not die. Rufus doesn’t give a single fuck about who you love ‘wherever he is’ Wyatt, and I’m so mad that they gave him the gall to include that line at all).

Moving on - and more to your point nonnie - I get that Wyatt was grieving and not fully in control of his emotions/actions, I will most definitely allow him that. He has gone through a lot of confusing feelings this season, and then in the finale he was ‘betrayed’ (quotes because I’m still not over that whole storyline and wow. much shock.) by the person he saw as his family, loses his wife all over again - this time by her choice and taking his child with her - and then loses his best friend. So of course he’s a mess, I get that. However…..know who’s also a mess? Know who also lost any family they had left, and their best friend, and even themselves? Lucy.

Lucy Preston has systematically been broken down through this entire season; she has lost everything and she has gone to a VERY dark place (I’m talking dark and scary and violent- let’s not forget that if that gun has been loaded, Lucy would have sprayed Emma’s brain all over that alley). And I don’t know if that ‘confession’ was supposed to be Wyatt comforting her or a nice moment for them to bond over their shared pain, but it sure as hell was neither for me. Lucy has spent the majority of this season having to grin and bear her way through this whole Jessica situation; had to deal with the pain of losing Wyatt and then seeing him (and hearing him) with his wife every damn day; had to deal with Wyatt wanting to have his cake and eat it to, with him not understanding that she needed space and instead expecting their relationship to be as close and comfortable as it had been, and damn that is a lot. And then on top of that she has losing her mom, losing Amy, losing Rufus piling onto her shoulders. If anyone should be making wild statements and confessions, it should be Lucy.

Putting all that aside, the timeline of the episode and how it led to Wyatt’s ‘confession’ irks me. Whatever your feelings on Jessica, it is made very clear that Wyatt loved and likely still does love her. It might not be the same way he did before the reveal; he might not want to, but this woman was his family and he spent years trying to get her back and she is carrying his child and he still has a connection to and feelings for her. Even if you want to argue that the feelings are only about the baby, they’re still there. We go from Wyatt pleading Jess to stay with him, telling her through teary eyes that he’s her family, he and the baby are her family and her future, and stopping Flynn from shooting at her because she’s carrying his child, to Wyatt sitting next to Lucy and essentially telling her he’s been in love with her the whole time. And it just doesn’t match up with what we’ve seen and it doesn’t make sense.

Because that means that either Wyatt HAS been in love with Lucy this whole time, but he still tried to make things work with Jess (not supported by the plot, but ya know) which isn’t fair for either woman but is honestly cruel to Lucy, because in that case there was no reason for her to go through so much pain on Wyatt’s behalf when he could have just told Jess from the start he had fallen for someone else; or (supported by the plot) he did have feelings for Lucy but he got his wife, who he never properly let go of/moved on from, back, and he stopped whatever he had started with Lucy to try again with Jess, in which case I still maintain it could have been handled SO much better but his actions are more understandable. But if it is the latter, than the show just stomps all over everything it had previously told us by having Wyatt say he’s been in love with Lucy and ‘should have said it a long time ago, but I didn’t so I’m saying it now’.

The whole thing feels very contradictory and - to ME - really just makes Lucy look like a second choice. By which I mean Wyatt went through all this drama, all this mess with Jess, and then after her secret was revealed - again, much shock. - and he STILL ran after her and tried to convince her to stay with him, maybe 3-4 hours later he’s telling Lucy he’s loved her through all of it, which, no, doesn’t hold water for me. Lucy does not deserve that being thrust on her with everything else she’s dealing with, regardless of Wyatt’s state of distress/unstable emotion.

And, to bring the two points - kind of - together, she REALLY did not need Wyatt’s feelings thrust upon her with the added note - and pressure - that this is what Rufus would have wanted. Which just…..mhmhm that was so unnecessary. Because - again, to ME - that makes it feel like Lucy is almost being guilted. ‘It’s what Rufus wanted’ - well first of all, no, second of all it makes it seem like she’d be disrespecting Rufus’s memory or his wishes if she DOESN’T respond to this positively. And I know that’s not the intention, but wow it sure is what I got out of it.

So…..TLDR nonnie; while I can understand and sympathize to a certain extent with the pain and turmoil and guilt Wyatt is feeling, the timing and phrasing of his ‘confession’ really rubbed me the wrong way and I don’t feel like it benefited anyone other than Wyatt himself.

[hollygopossumlovesj2]

Come Back Down, Part 21

Title: Come Back Down, Part 21

Warning/Rating: NC-17; For graphic smut, hand job (male receiving), cussing, description of mental illness.

Word Count: 4,879

Summary: Recovery is not easy for Jensen. It involves sitting still and ‘resting’ which pretty much adds up to anxiety and feelings of failure. Depression weighs heavily on him as he contemplates the past month.

A/N: Thank you, @tas898, for reading through this and reassuring me that it wasn’t complete crap! Also for pushing me to post the damn thing. I super appreciate your support, Twinsie!

Hollygopossum’s Master List ~ If you’d like to read more of my work, click this link 

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Cbd21

I’d been home for about 2 weeks now and had barely even left this room. Despite being drugged up to the gills for most of it, I was starting to lose patience with everyone. Mom had, of course, been insufferable and over attentive which was both annoying and guilt inducing. I knew there were preparations for her favorite holiday to be done but she was too busy checking on me every thirty minutes. Which, was an improvement because up until a couple of days ago, it had been every five.

It was a crazy concept to me, when I thought about it, but Christmas was only less than a week away. The two weeks I’d spent in hospital had seemed to drag on and on, but it turned out that hospital time goes a lot slower than real time.

The time I spent hospitalized was anxiety inducing, especially with my parents and their superpower of smothering the fuck out of me. My family had come to an agreement of a different schedule when I finally lost it enough to need more iv Ativan.

They were only allowed to come in one person at a time. My parents traded of the morning and afternoon shift. Josh, Mackenzie and Jared had each come to visit and take a ‘shift’ that I found unnecessary since I had a very attentive nurse. She came quickly when I had to break down and push the button but she hadn’t tried to make small talk. She was there to get down to business.

Then there was Y/N. She mainly took the night shift, after my parents and I had put our foot down that she needed a shower and at least 5 hours of sleep that she wouldn’t get if she stayed glued to my side 24/7. Selfishly I wanted her to stay with me and scare off my parents with her haunted eyes. But, she truthfully hadn’t recovered from me scaring the ever loving fuck out of her and she needed sleep and food.

So now, even though I was feeling pouty and ready to hunchback my healing ass out of this room and to the nearest bar, I stifled it. Earlier in the week, I’d half heartedly tried to convince her to go home to Wyoming. I told her she didn’t have to stay to take care of me when she had so many things to do at home. The argument was pointless, like arguing with an especially grumpy mule. I tried to let the guilt bog me down. I tried to convince myself that I was not just uselessly just putting her life on hold, and many of the cast and crew were ‘home on break’ until we had a full cast to work with.

So much guilt. Forever with the guilt.  

Unfortunately for me, she was also extremely perceptive. She always had been, and she knew with just one look that I wasn’t handling the bed surfing part of my recovery well. If I were honest with myself, I would admit that the appendectomy had scared the fuck out of me too. But, it seemed wrong to voice that when everyone else had been terrified too. I was damn relieved that she hadn’t listened when I told her that she should go home.

She knew from experience how much of a pain in the ass I could be when I wasn’t feeling well. And, like I’d said before, we’d been there for each other through a large variety of situations. Like, the time I’d gotten mono from making out with Anna McDowell the summer before senior year.

Y/N had been the only person home because she was visiting over her break. Dad was off filming a part in some sitcom that filmed in Vancouver. After I had assured Mom that Y/N and I could behave and would be fine alone, she had reluctantly gone with him.

My throat had been brutally sore and I’d felt weighed down like I could sleep for days at a time. I’ll just say that mono had made the bad cold I’d had back in Cheyenne look like the sniffles. She made sure I drank plenty of fluids and took my medication. She would even bring me popsicles if I didn’t bitch too much. I know I definitely tested Y/N’s patience that first week of summer. It was one of the many times that solidified the position she held in my life as my favorite person.

Now, things were a little different. We weren’t just two teenagers trying to get by anymore. She never gave me any inclination that she ever planned to run like hell. I’d tried to get used to the very real possibility that dealing with all of this was just too much for me to ask. How could such a friend stay in my life for so long? Especially when they were picking up pictures of her and putting them in the gossip magazines?

My life was already spilling over into hers and I hadn’t made anything official. I’d gotten comfortable with what we had, but now I had to consider the possibility that she wouldn’t want the kind of life that was constantly being observed underneath a microscope. Not that I could completely begrudge Danneel for going off the deep end, but I knew I was going to get some backlash for that. That meant that Y/N might get backlash, too. Some of my fans had tagged her as the ‘other woman’ years ago before I’d wizened up.

My sad effort to keep these worries and some others under wraps and my problem alone had failed. She’d tried to cheer me up by offering me my favorite foods or letting me watch whatever I wanted, but the truth was that I was going fucking stir crazy. I didn’t want to sit still so that my abdominal internal sutures could heal properly like the outside sutures were headed to a lot quicker than I had thought. To be honest, it was getting a little itchy which just added to my discontent.

To be fair, I recognized that it was my own damn fault that I’d landed in this situation. If I hadn’t been such a hard headed dipshit, I’d be back on set by now.

On top of that, I couldn’t help but think about Danneel and the fake pregnancy. I still hadn’t been able to give her what she wanted. It still stung more than I was prepared for, even though we weren’t together anymore. Our divorce had caused her to suffer a psychological break, or so her brother had informed me in a very angry, violent conversation over the phone right after I’d been released to go home.

I’d spoken to Danneel’s mother yesterday and she’d informed me that Danneel was receiving treatment closer to her home town in Louisiana in a much nicer, if a little bit professional tone. The doctors there thought the break was due to the imbalance of hormones in her system caused by the fertility treatments she had been having. Oh, and stress. For some reason, Danneel’s mother took pity on me. She mentioned that even though stress didn’t help the situation, it had played a very small part in comparison to the fertility treatments and her unsuccessful attempts at conceiving a baby.

I still couldn’t quite let myself off of the hook, even having been pardoned by her mother. As soon as I was healed enough to drive, I planned on making time to visit with Mrs. Graul and maybe even Danneel if she was ready to have visitors. I knew all too well that the divorce was solid this time, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling of being responsible for pushing Danneel closer to the deep end. She might have meant to harm me, but I would’ve never wished her any real pain.

Y/N was still furious with Danneel who had confessed to running her off the road and into the ravine. A dark, unpopulated ravine that she’d been at the bottom of for nearly a week. Add on top of that the vandalism of her barn, and Y/N had every reason to press every charge possible, but she’d dropped them when she found out that Danneel wasn’t mentally well. She’d told me right before bed the night before that she didn’t want to make a bad situation worse. Plus, it was kind of hard to point fingers at someone who’d had such a hard time adjusting that they had a meltdown.

Once the media got a hold of the story, some negative Tweets and articles had already been released. Some of the Supernatural fandom were not very happy with me. They blamed me for Danneel’s mental break, and I couldn’t say I blamed them. The suits at the CW said not to worry, that the negative press would settle soon. They’d even tacked on that my drama had actually benefited the show being renewed. Bad attention, is still attention. Ugh! I felt used, but at least the crew would still have a job the longer they stayed on tv.

I sighed, feeling the tension building back up in my chest. It had only been momentarily alleviated by Y/N’s earlier animated conversation about how beautiful our hometown was. As she’d leaned into my shoulder, and nowhere else because I was a fucking china doll, she’d reminisced in a way that didn’t completely depress her. It was new, this lighter side of her talking about childhood hang outs and memories of us as high schoolers.

No matter how many times she returned to Dallas, and even though my parents had moved to a new house a few years before, the first couple of days always hit her like a sledgehammer. Especially if she tries to talk about her family. Now though, she seemed relaxed and happy to be here. She’d come back upstairs a couple of times ready to discuss a conversation that she’d had with my parents. There were little tidbits of information that she’d never known about her mom until my Mom had shared with her.

Maybe I’d be able to summon the inner strength to ask her what had changed.

She had disappeared about an hour ago and the book I was trying to read wasn’t holding my attention for longer than 5 minute increments.

Ever since I’d arrived home I’d been battling the nervous, possibly manic energy that was buzzing beneath my skin the longer I was forced to sit still. There were so many things that needed to be done for the show and I’d had to fight with both my Mom and Y/N so that I could leave to do voice work next week. They’d eventually given in when I told them that it was going to be done locally and for short amounts at a time. Even being able to do voice work in the very near future didn’t really quell it.

The crew had made changes as soon as they knew my recovery would be extended. They had left me out of several scenes and used my stunt guy to fill in where they couldn’t. I hated the strain this put on my friends.

Singer had tried to comfort me with the fact that it was only a couple of episodes and then they would break for Christmas. I wasn’t comforted. I hated anything that would possibly take away from the shows full potential and the family that was there.

You’d think the nervous energy would be completely cancelled out by the depressive episode of gargantuan proportions. It was obvious with my unwillingness to get out of bed or eat or to bathe myself with anything more complicated than a baby wipe down. I could actually feel myself sinking deeper and deeper, even with taking my antidepressant regularly. I could recognize it but I couldn’t do anything about it without feeling overwhelmed and defeated.

I had been at the end of my rope a few nights ago and finally caved. I told Y/N a shortened version of what was going on with me, omitting my worries about her because I didn’t want to give her more things to worry about. She had listened patiently but she hadn’t tried to soothe me with putting her hands on my face or giving me a look of pity.

She chose a scientific explanation that put me at ease faster than a generic, ‘I’m sorry, baby.’ She’d simply explained that sometimes anesthesia and the sedatives would mix up the normal balance of brain chemicals. That I should just try to take it easy until they balanced themselves out, but I didn’t know just how much more I could take.

Bored by the book I was trying to read and filled to the brim with hopelessness, I fell asleep. Sleeping was my only escape. It was the only way I could stop the voices in my head telling me how much I’d fucked up. That I was letting everyone that I’d ever cared about down.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been asleep the next time I woke up, but it was a pleasant wake up. Y/N face was leaning down so that she was eye level, a private smile on her face and a little blush on her cheeks. It looked like maybe she had been able to be outside for a little while and gotten some sun on her face.

“Hey.” She whispered like speaking too loud would disturb the room. As I slowly became more conscious, I noted that she’d opened the blinds to let some sun it. It glowed brightly against the beige carpet in the room, reflecting an ethereal glow on her face.

“Hey.” I croaked, lifting a hand to push the hair hanging in her face behind her ear. She leaned down a little further to kiss my nose and then my lips, bringing a small smile out.

“I’ve run a bath for you.”

And… the moment was gone. “A bath?” A bath required energy. A bath meant I’d need help getting in and out. A bath sounded terrible.

“Yeah.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, probably seeing my face fall. “I’ll do all the work. All you have to do is stay awake.”

“I don’t want you to do all the work.” I grumped, groaning quite dramatically as I sat up. “I don’t want you to have to do anything.”

“Would you rather your Mom helped?” Dirty. She played dirty. She deduced the answer by the appalled twist to my expression. “Maybe we could have a little fun.”

I lifted an eye brow in question, wondering if Y/N had lost her mind while I’d been sleeping. It was a tiny bit enticing but absolutely not while my parents were still in the house. That would just be weird. Plus, I wasn’t exactly in shape to be doing acrobatics in the garden tub.

“Your parents are gone shopping for some last minute Christmas things. They’ll probably be gone…” She checked the phone she’d been carrying in her right hand. “For the next two hours.”

And, there went most of my excuses.

I didn’t cave one bit, my face a study in extreme grumpiness, as she walked close beside me while I hobbled into the upstairs bathroom. Even as I saw the bath tub full of bubbles and surrounded by a couple of candles that had to be left over from Mackenzie, I remained against this whole thing. It was one thing for me to help her shower all last summer. It was completely another for her to do the same.

I loved her and I wanted to be her safety and her security. I couldn’t very well do that while she was washing my ass for me.

To Y/N’s credit, she never lost the smile on her face or the genuine care she put into getting me into the tub. Which, if I were in the mood to be honest, it wasn’t as complicated as I’d thought it would be. It didn’t even hurt as much as I thought it would, but I still would’ve preferred some damn baby wipes or a sink bath to this. I could already be napping again by now. I was already a little breathless from the ten feet I’d just crossed to get to the bathroom.

A thought occurred to me as I got lost watching her take her clothes off, neatly folding them up on the counter next to what I assumed were my clean clothes. (Because I hadn’t even thought about grabbing any) But, maybe she was pushing this bath because she was tired of sleeping next to someone that (maybe, possibly) didn’t smell too fresh. The reasons didn’t even really matter that much. I was in the tub now. Might as well be fucking clean.

“Sit up a little.” She helped by pushing my shoulders forward and then slipped in behind me, her legs spread wide to frame mine. “Okay, now lean back.” I carefully leaned back and despite my issue with being the little spoon, I had to admit that it felt good. I closed my eyes and breathed deep, the water gently lapping around us and her arms encircled around my chest so I wouldn’t slide down.

This was nice and quiet, the firm hold around my chest chased a bit of the crazy anxious feeling away. Y/N knew exactly what I was doing and the possibility of her not knowing hadn’t crossed my mind besides being a grumpy asshole.

I didn’t even have to move when she began soaping my hair with shampoo, using a cup to wet my hair and then rinse it. I begrudgingly had to admit, if only to myself, that having my hair washed felt fucking fantastic. I relaxed further, humming as I let my full weight lean against her, as she massaged my scalp with firm fingers.

Her chuckle vibrated against my back, making a relaxed smile slowly spread on my lips. “You and your hair.”

I cocked an eyebrow even though she couldn’t see it, “What do you mean, ‘you and your hair?’” My voice grumbled an octave or two deeper because I was on the cusp of falling asleep.

“All anyone has to do to wipe that grumpy look on your face is put their fingers in your hair. I’m not sure you can have your hair cut in public with the noises that you make. You might get arrested for being indecent.”

“What?” I tensed up a little, only because what she was describing wasn’t very manly at all. I couldn’t help the character traits that I held to so rigidly. “I do fine in public thank you very much.” I had evolved since I’d grown up in Texas and made sure to never extend anything but support, especially to those that chose to challenge the world’s expectations and dared to be exactly who they were. I admired their strength, but I was still stuck living by my Dad’s southern expectations and it was a lot easier to be understanding of someone else than it was to be understanding of myself.

“Shhh…” Her fingers slid down to dig deeply into my intensely tight neck muscles after she’d rinsed my hair thoroughly. I instantly forgot what I was ruffled about. “I didn’t mean to get your hackles up, Ackles. You’re still a big tough guy if that’s what you want to be.”

She got a grunt in response, mostly because I didn’t want to get into another discussion about how I hold myself to too many rigid self-expectations. Oh yes, she had made her point several times, but I just couldn’t stop. The anxiety that I’d been trying to fight since childhood always managed to make me fixate on my flaws. All through Days of Our Lives and Dark Angel, I would spend hours rehearsing and trying to have my line delivery perfect. When I would lay down at night, all the times I’d failed would keep me from sleeping well, including the time I’d failed to get a big part in the kindergarten play. I took a big breath and let it go, relaxing back into her warm, soft body.

I let myself drift in and out of consciousness, letting her hands wash away all the eck that had built up while I was laid up. Y/N had clipped her nails short so that she could massage my skin as she washed everywhere thoroughly, pushing the painful toxins and leaving me basically a pile of jelly. Damn it felt good. She cleared her throat, a tell that she had something important to say, and I braced myself for what would come next.

“You can’t do this to me again, okay?” She began to whisper, her warm breath and lips tickling the back of my neck and setting off goosebumps as she swiped the wash cloth over my healing incision. I hummed in answer, trying to maintain this relaxed state for as long as possible, but let her know I was listening. “You get a free pass for this one, but anything after this, there will be consequences.” I grunted, unable to conjure up enough energy to form words. “I won’t be able to handle it again, Jay. I never wanted to be close to anyone after my parents. But then, there you were. I will never be able to survive a day without you alive on this Earth somewhere, and that terrifies me.”

The sound of her sniffling brought me back to Earth, her words processing clearly. I laid my head back, held up by her shoulder as I searched blindly for her lips. My eyes were still closed as I instinctively found them. I was afraid if I opened my eyes that she would see the fear in mine as well. Not because of her threat of retribution and consequences, but the horrifying thought that if something happened to me she wouldn’t survive.

They were salty from tears when she pressed her lips against mine. I turned the kiss into something needy, something that expressed the vulnerable thing inside me with her name on it, without words. I wanted to pull her into my lap and hold her close but the internal sutures kept me from moving very much at all.

“M’not goin’ anywhere.” I pressed the words into her willing lips, my tongue easing in to glide over her teeth and then battle for dominance with her tongue.

“Okay,” she whispered on an inhale, her fingers teasing my happy trail below the surface. I was already responding to her kisses, my dick already filling with blood and half hard. I couldn’t help the grunt that was muffled by our lips when her fingers lightly grazed me. My eyes squeezed closed even tighter against the emotion that was stirring turmoil in my chest. The bath and the tease of something more made sense now. She wanted to put her hands on me to feel me alive and well. How could I ever have thought I’d be strong enough to begrudge her that.

From then on her touches were done with more intent, her fingers teasing my shaft only to go lower and gently roll my balls and hold them in her palm. I was gonna be a quick trigger and I couldn’t even bring myself to feel self-conscious about it. I hadn’t even put my own hand on me since a few days before my surgery. I hadn’t even thought of this since I’d been home, too distracted by the pain.

But, fuck if it didn’t feel good now. I was already panting hard, my head feeling dizzy from my short breaths and limited oxygen intake. I tried to turn around so that I could touch and taste more of her, but she stopped me with her hands pressing firmly against my pecks to keep me still. “Stay like this. This is just for you.”

I didn’t like being the only one on the receiving end. I got a lot of my pleasure from watching her feel good. I loved how responsive she was. I loved the noises that she made and how she would finally just let go and feel it. However, I had to admit that what she was doing, the being in control? Fuck, that was hot, too.

I finally had to stop trying to kiss her, leaning my head back and tucking my nose into the crook in her neck just so that I could breathe her scent into my lungs. I felt her other hand leave my side a moment and the sound of a thick liquid being squeezed from a bottle. It didn’t really register until her hand was slicking up my cock with a lubricant. It was oil based so that it didn’t wash off right away, removing the friction that water made uncomfortable. The warm, wet sensation was overwhelming and I couldn’t help the groan as I pushed my face further into her skin.

This time she didn’t tease, sensing my urgency in the twitch of my hips, her hand firm as she began pumping with purpose. I was already desperate, my breath started to get caught in my throat and hitch in my chest.

“Relax, let me do all the work.” She whispered like a dirty, dirty porn star and put pressure on my hip to try to keep me still. The action resulting in a moan from deep in my throat, a thrill of pleasure crawling up my spine. Fuck it was hot that she was bossing me around a little.

She would bring me right to the edge, my toes curling in the water, before she’d ease off. I could hardly stay still or hold in the vulnerable moans that echoed in the acoustics of the bathroom. I couldn’t help but to thrust into her hand as much as she would allow, planting my feet and trying to get the most out of every single one. To keep from sliding down, my hands were leaving finger print bruises as I gripped her thighs for dear life. Fuck!

“Oh, fuck. Oh, god-. …gonna… Sweetheart, I’m gonna-. Oh, fuck!” When she finally let me come it felt like months’ worth of come was dragged out of me in long, hard pulses. My balls clamped down so hard that they were actually sore when I could bring myself to give a fuck. To be honest, I didn’t know what I said, my mind blown and focused on just one thing, babbling the words that just rolled out of my mouth without a filter. There may have been curse words or multiple praises for unknown deities and moans that might’ve sounded like I was dying. All I really knew was that my throat was a little dry when I could finally focus on the room.

The orgasm had turned my entire body into jelly, my legs and arms were like limp noodles. I hissed through my teeth, my dick still very sensitive, when she washed the lubricant off with a warm, soapy wash cloth. God, as much as I’d complained and tried to convince Y/N that this wasn’t a good idea, I had to admit to myself that I had been wrong.

Even though I had been a grumpy ass, she had still been able to take care of me so completely that mixed in with the orgasmic haze was a hell of a lot of gratitude.

Getting me out of the bath tub and dried off would probably be a funny story later, but I was too relaxed to care. I could feel the dopey smile on my face as Y/N laughed at me while I leaned almost my entire weight into her side. “Whoo…” We listed to the left and to the right a little because my brain was mostly out of the building.

“Alright, chuckles, hang on for me for just a minute longer.” She kind of sounded like I was probably killing her back, but my center of gravity depended on her.

When we finally made it safely to the bedroom and into bed, she took great care as she tucked me in. She pulled the comforter up to beneath my chin and dipped to kiss my lips one more time.

It was pure luck that I was able to work my hand and to grab onto her shirt before she could get up to leave. She returned the big, dumb smile I could feel on my face. “Stay.”

The amused smile on her kiss swollen lips turned soft as she answered me with a kiss to my forehead. “Okay.” I watched blearily as she ditched her blue jeans and bra, climbing and snuggling up close next to me in just a t shirt and her blue lace panties. She laid up against me, but put her arm over my chest to avoid my incision, tucking her face beside mine, sharing my pillow. “Love you.”

I pressed my lips into her forehead, staying there as I fell into a few deep, quality hours of sleep. “Love you, too.”

Tagging (Forever’s): @perpetualabsurdity, @maileann, @daydreamingintheimpala, @gecko9596, @gemini75eeyore, @jotink78, @dancingalone21, @winchesterprincessbride, @sandlee44, @exploratiionist, @arryn-nyx, @littledarlinhavefaithinme, @tiffanycaruso, @boredoutofmymindstuff, @feelmyroarrrr, @raeganr99, @ruprecht0420, @anokhi07, @letsgetyourdeanon, @sis-tafics, @callmesatansprincess, @atc74, @ryansgirl5509, @notnaturalanahi, @keepcalmandcarryondean, @sea040561, @just-another-busy-fangirl, @uniquewerewolfsuit, @ria132love, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @pretty-fortune, @butiaintgonnaloveem, @justanotherdeangrl, @weasleywinchester,@easelweasel, @akshi8278, @tas898, @mandymoiselle1970, @pansexualmeteorite,

Tagging (CBD Only): @melissaj616, @katrena7, @deansdirtyduchess, @anticipate1003, @jalove-wecallhimdean, @shamelesslydean, @xristina-gkika

[fuck-customers]

I have a nice workplace in terms of management and most of my coworkers so my experience here may be a bit skewed but I'd like to speak about my experience with something that affects a lot of people on this page MENTAL HEALTH IN THE WORKPLACE.

This is gonna get long and I've actually cut out a lot to save explaining because it's a bit ...shitty... but here's the main story. 

I just wanna say on the out -  don't be afraid of sharing. I found that sharing actually did help me a lot at work, and if I told them earlier it would have saved me a lot of hassle.

I've worked for the same company for almost 4 years now. I started as a high school student, transferred and then continued as a university student. Before that I worked in a really terrible small store as a summer temp, and I've worked for my school during the summer for three weeks (and ongoing corresponding throughout the year that I'm paid for) as part of a summer school exchange. But. My focus for this will be my main job and the store I'm currently at.

I suffer from an anxiety disorder - with it brining symptoms of depression but I would never really say I had depression or even depression and anxiety. I don't take meds and I'm not currently in therapy (I had a short stint at the beginning of this year but had to bail as it interfered with class). Although I believe understanding your symptoms is important I'm not 100% of self-diagnosis but I was pretty sure prior to diagnosis that I had problems with anxiety. I was diagnosed in 2014. 

I'd never properly brought it up at work. I sometimes mentioned feeling increasingly more anxious at times when I was at store 1 during my high school days and this was brushed off. I think my supervisor said something along the lines of, "everyone gets like that! just relax!" he was a pretty nice guy, but, a bit dim. Another time I told him I was stressed and he told me I was too young to be stressed. 

The first time it came up was when I first got introduced to my current manager. I was working in the store for about 2 or so months when my manager there quit. I was heartbroken because I really hated my then "new" store at the time and constantly felt homesick - him and maybe one or two others made it bearable. What's worse, my new(current) manager was known to a lot of the staff already as he worked between our store and another store as a supervisor a few years back, and then became a temporary ASM before the current one came. I was opening with him on maybe his third shift back, it was me, another staff member and someone completely new. He didn't say one word to me - really - as he wanted to help the new person and he knew the other person. I felt super uncomfortable as for that whole shift I felt forgotten about - he spoke to everyone else as they were either a new seasonal staff or he worked with them beforehand. I was just not on his radar. At this time. I hated this place even more. At this time, my anxiety was hella bad. I had a lot on my plate, like, a fuckload of shit that I'd rather not get into online and it would probably get us off the point of this place. 

Essentially, I needed to clarify something with work that my old manager had told me was okay but it didn't seem to be noted anywhere. As I didn't know him at all, I asked supervisor number 1 about my issue. Supervisor 1 shrugged me off and told me I'd have to speak to our boss about this. He wasn't in on my next shift, so, I decided to ask supervisor 2 - supervisor 2 was less helpful than supervisor 1 as she told me the exact opposite of what I was hoping. I cried the whole way home. I felt trapped and hopeless.

I even contacted my old manager asking if I could transfer back down. It was almost Xmas anyway, so, I could just go home (although this was not ideal, abusive household). I only lived about 100 miles away so I could always travel to there on a Friday night, work the weekend and come up mid-Monday as I had no class either until the summer (when I would just come home and work...again not ideal but at the time I was getting a lot of money for my age as I was still only 17) or I could just work there until I found a new job here.

The next shift I was in was with my manager, it was a Tuesday starting early, I don't know why I was scheduled in for this shift as I had class. But. I went anyway. I thought fuck it, I'll ask him. As I didn't know him that well I just explained my situ and also what Supervisor 2 said to me. I also told him (truthfully) that I'd been having panic attacks since Supervisor 2 spoke to me.

His response was kinda ...weird. He thought it was "fucked up" (exact words) that he had no handover on the issue and immediately sorted it. He told me later on that shift that "nothing work related should make you that anxious EVER". And we left it like that.

I still felt left out at work. My manager still didn't really speak to me. My anxiety was getting worse due to class/bad family back "home" and work. I recall getting told off by my manager for something really trivial and for asking for a holiday a few times for him to snap at me before storming off to enter it. I assumed he didn't like me. I was a pain in his ass. 

Shortly after this, I got hit by a massive anxiety truck. I felt so low, I couldn't leave my bed. I missed so much class and so much work (although I lied and said I had food poisioning from work as I didn't know how to bring it up). And then... I felt better. I was scheduled for work at 9:30am on a Sat, which was pretty standard and the night before a few of my high school friends were in town for a gig, so I met them after it for a drink. Honestly, I don't drink A LOT - I have a very low tolerance made worse by anxiety. Since I was in class all day and was meant to work the next day this would be the only time I'd see them for a while. I lasted one drink and felt overwhelmed. I had to go home. I cried all night and couldn't calm myself down. Before I knew it, it hit 7:30am and I was still shaking so badly. I honestly couldn't make it out of my place to get the bus. Serving customers was off the menu. I'd only been back on shift as well, and hadn't done my back to work. I called in and it was Supervisor 2 - who I really hated and was leaving soon. But. I just told her. I couldn't lie anymore.

"You've been off a lot."

I had been off a lot - at my old location I was off ONCE and that was because I had a sickness bug and was sent home the day previously. (I had to throw up and couldn't make it to the bathroom so threw up outside the store...lovely). I'd been off here a lot - mainly due to catching illnesses but more recently due to anxiety. 

"....I'll go see a doctor?" I shrugged.

"Yes, do that. I'll say to manager." 

I had a long weekend (inc Monday) of wallowing in self pity before making my way to the doctors on the Tuesday. My doctor could see I was intensely stressed and asked me if my student loan could cover my living costs (no) as my job seemed unnecessary due to my university commitments. By this time I had lost around 20 lbs as well - I was never skinny to begin with but this weight came off in about 2-3 months essentially because I was living off ramen as the thought of cooking/going to the shop seemed too scary (hahahah you're such a student with your ramen nope I'm fucking mentally ill). He offered me medication but I denied, as I was worried about adjusting to them so close to my deadlines. I planned to start them that summer but I'm still not on anything. He wrote me off for a further two weeks for both work and uni, but, I was behind on uni so went in anyway. 

I didn't want to go back to work. The thought of work made me feel so ill and so anxious. I started looking at new jobs and filled in an application for a stockroom job for a museum gift shop. I was just waiting for the right time to contact my old manager from the first store for a reference because there was No Way In Hell my boss was gonna give me a reference. 

When I returned, after trying not to cry as I reached the door, my boss grinned at me as I walked in, "HEY WELCOME BACK! :)" 

"...hi..."

"I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

As I entered the staffroom, a new face was there, "HI I'm Supervisor 2.1!" Supervisor 2 had left already, phew. Supervisor 2.1 kept talking and talking and talking. He was nice. I already decided I liked him because he seemed to have little filter and seemed genuine. 

"I used to work at [other location] but I live in [same place as me] so this is closer! And I'm getting more money as I'm not a SUPERVISOR!!! Just getting used to the busses!"

I smiled and told him I got the busses too and would help him tonight. 

As I was about to start, my manager called me into his office to do my paperwork and also dragged Supervisor 2.1 in to show him how to do it, and to keep him "in the loop".

"We need to do your back to work form. But this is quite serious."

I thought...fuck... he thinks I'm faking. I'm gonna get fired for a lot of absences. 

Nope.

We filled in the form as usual and looked over my doctors note. He said he recalled the time I told him I was taking panic attacks and just thought I was exaggerating and he apologised a lot for thinking that.

He then told me he valued me so much as a team member as I always got shit done and was a hardworker, he apologised if he'd ever been "off" with me as he said he just didn't really think I liked him or needed constantly guidance on tasks.

We had this long-ass chat about mental health. In which he told me he'd been on and off anti-anxiety medication for the past 5 years. He went into detail about how he didn't go into his old work at all and eventually got fired and said he was super proud I sought help before things went too far for me in regards to either work or school. Supervisor 2.1 chipped in and said he's a very nervous person, perhaps not anxiety level but nevertheless very nervous.

It went on for an hour and since then, we've had a great relationship. And I mean REALLY GREAT. Essentially, we worked out we were basically the same person - I would have probably never found out this shit if we never had this long-ass convo. I also become really close friends with Supervisor 2.1 who constantly gets me into trouble for talking to him and coming back late from lunch as he always insists on dining out. 

I think I was making myself quite distant at work because I was in a bad place mentally - and because of that - I was getting increasingly anxious at work.....the cycle went on.

Since then, I've obviously had "difficulties" but it's been super easy to talk to managers about it. I once mentioned, in passing, to our ASM how the messy tshirts unsettled me and she switched my zone in the store so I could go tidy them (I was doing nothing anyway). I've had reviews and have been praised for hard work and customer service - with downsides being confidence, usually. 

Recently, I had quite a bad anxiety "relapse" - I asked my manager if I could talk to him - as it was fucked anyway and an issue at work with one coworker and another being assholes to myself and another coworker made it worse. Mixed in with deadlines, I needed either reduced hours or a couple of back of house shifts to help me calm. We talked out the issues and I took a panic attack that he managed to talk me out of before it got too bad which, sadly, kinda set him off a bit as I noticed he was stimming quite badly. He checked up on me that night and thanked me for sharing.

Due to the fact I get easily stressed and my work knows this, they are happy to fit my schedule around my class and deadlines. Something that before they were a bit like "meh" about. 

I just wanna say PLEASE DO NOT DO A ME AND HOLD IT IN UNTIL IT GETS REALLY BAD. I still get very stressed and nervous when I think about that time in my life - if I had been more open earlier I would have saved myself a lot of stress which in turn made my mental health worse. 

[christyinchina-blog1]

China Keeps Testing Me

I know I made a decision to blog and that I’ve been very neglectful of that of late, but diving into a place like China… it leaves you a little preoccupied with what’s in front of you. I think maybe that’s been the biggest gift about this place, as well as perhaps it’s burden. I came to Beijing with a lot of weight on my shoulders. There were so many things about my life that were plaguing me, things I knew I couldn’t fix, but I knew I needed distance from. I think if I went anywhere else, I would still be preoccupied and trapped inside my own head, but not in Beijing.    

This city wakes you up. This city takes you into its dark heart, ruthlessly tests you, and then keeps you in its grip. When you stare true poverty in the face, walk among the ill-kept streets, and become accustomed to the rough nature of the city, you face so many challenges on the daily that the bullshit you brought with you in an emotional back pack end up falling straight off your back, and you just open your eyes and push forward because if you don’t, this city will wreck you without a shred of guilt.

I’ve loved my experience in Beijing, but the truth is, it’s been hard as hell. I’ve been tested more in these last three months than I ever have in my entire life. I want to tell people that this is a great experience and that they should do it, but I can’t. This is not for everyone. I you can’t go without, if you can’t take every day with a go-with-the-flow or whatever attitude, this place is not for you. China is a rough place for a spoiled foreigner. Everything is difficult. Everything is a challenge. The adventure isn’t in the sight-seeing, it’s in the getting by. It’s in the perilous navigation of everyday life.

I’m about three months into my time here. I spent the entire first month in training and finally got into my own classes in August. It was a tough month because I had to cover a lot of other people’s classes and my load was really intense for being new to the job, but I got by. I put my head down that month and really didn’t think about much, other than pushing forward.

I’ve been very fortunate to have met many good friends who helped me through the entry phase. If you ever come to Beijing, make friends. That’s the only way you survive. If you can’t ask for help, stay home. I’ve struggled with this because I like to be independent, but here you need help sometimes. Not speaking Chinese is a bitch. I’m trying to crash course learn, but it isn’t easy because, while Beijing is a Chinese city, there’s just enough English that you naturally use it as a crutch. I’m trying so hard to rid myself of that habit.

My experience here has been interrupted by an unexpected medical leave. I went to the doctor and was told I had a golf-ball sized cyst and that it had to come out immediately. Being my stubborn self, I tried to put it off, but I started having severe pain at work, so I knew it was time to bite the bullet and just go.

The problem with being sick in China is that scheduling procedures is a little tricky. I went around in circles with the insurance, hospital, and my own doctor until I just broke down and conscripted someone to make the appointment for me.

The Chines hospital, my friends, is not for the faint of heart. I went to the international department, the implication being that there would be English spoken, and yes there was, but not to the quality you’d like if you’re about to have an operation. There was so much me not knowing what the hell was going on. They made me do tons of tests, but they didn’t really tell me why. They didn’t tell me when I was having my operation. I just went where they led me, did what I was told, and wondered what the hell would happen next.

I wanted to get frustrated with the situation, but I just kept two things in mind. One: if I was back in America, there is no fucking way I could afford this operation. Two: I’m in China and I don’t speak their language. It’s my own fault that I’m having communication barriers. I can’t get mad because, unless I want to live in an aggressive state of denial. I knew what the hell I was getting myself into.

After a whole day of tests, they admitted me to the hospital, and I had no idea that I was being admitted. Somehow, I just ended up in a room with a band on my wrist (that said my name was Christ and not Christy. Hahaha!) and I was like… oh shit, what the hell is happening next?

The doctor comes in and insists that I am in a delicate condition and I can’t leave. Well, I hadn’t planned to stay, so I literally had nothing with me. They insisted I could not leave, so I had to argue with them that, fine I would stay if they insisted (not that it was at all necessary) but I needed to go home first. They decided to operate on me the next day, so I went home, got provisions, and came back.

I’ll spare everyone the details of the operation prep, because it was not pretty. If you want to know, just google laparoscopic cyst removal surgery, cause I am not about to write anything about that nasty bullshit. It was a pretty intense night, being alone in the hospital. I’m sure people would have come with me if I asked, but I hate making a fuss about things, and I just needed to be alone and figure it out.

The next day, I had the operation. I was so calm about it; I don’t even know how I did it. Everyone I tell about this freaks out when I say I was put under in China. I had a friend come with me because they won’t operate without someone else there. I told my friend to not let them pull the plug on me. She was impressed at how completely unaffected I seemed that I was about to get operated on. I haven’t lost my cool since I first got to China, and I promised myself that I was going to be strong after my first week. I kept my promise.

It was so weird because, rather than letting me walk to the operation room, they made me get on a bed, wrapped me up in blankets like a taco, and wheeled me across the hospital like I was a corpse. It was stupid in my opinion and everyone looked at me funny because I was a foreigner.

When I got to the operation room, it was kind of freaky because literally no one spoke a word of English. The anesthesiologist put the oxygen mask on me, but they didn’t have the oxygen on! So I was breathing nothing and tore it off. She, annoyed with me, shoved it back on me. Then, I guess she realized it wasn’t on, so she turned it on and I gasped for air, and I took this huge breath of straight inhalation anesthesia. I remember the sensation of my lungs burning as I was gone in a second.

When I woke up, I was coherent. I always come out of anesthesia so strong. I wasn’t groggy at all. I was complaining to the staff because they kept stabbing my artery for an oxygen sample. They missed 7 times, I am not kidding, before I screamed at them to leave me alone, because for the love of god, I can breathe. They gave me a shot of morphine to shut me up.

They had no idea what to do with me. All the other people in the recovery room were out and I was running my sassy mouth in broken Chinese. Eventually, they wheeled me back into the room. They had me hooked up to so many machines, it was so unnecessary. EKG, blood pressure, pulse checker, oxygen, some stuff I don’t understand, and an IV. I was stuck like that for 25 hours and I made it known that I was unhappy.

The hospital was so weird. The nurses always came to check on me in groups. Like, twelve nurses at a time! I have no idea why. They’d come take my temperature, then leave me with the thermometer for over an hour before they would take it. I literally have no idea why.

           I asked for some kind of pain medicine, because I had four incisions and could hardly move, but they were so insensitive. They wouldn’t even give me ibuprofen! Lucky I had some in my bag, but you’d think a hospital would be more sympathetic.

           I pressed the matter because I was seriously miserable and they got so fed up with me that a nurse came in and, without even asking me, just stabbed me in the leg with a shot of some painkiller. I helped for about 20 min before I finally got them to IV me some ibuprofen. Seriously! The Chinese hospital acts like no one has ever wanted pain medication before!

           I hated staying there. The staff was so profoundly unhelpful. I had to be proactive about insisting on getting food, else they’d have just let me starve to death. I stayed there two days and when it was done, I was so ready to leave.

           It’s not like it is back home. The doctor came in the day I was going to leave, literally tore my bandages off my incisions with so much force that I almost screamed, and then was like “go home and take a bath.” No after care instructions. No information on when to follow up. No notice of when I can go back to work. Nothing. So I just left. In an American hospital, they would have wheeled me out to a wheelchair and made sure someone took me home, I literally just got up and waddled out of the hospital, then hunted a cab down to take me home.

           My overall opinion of the hospital is that, if you need it, it isn’t awful, but do not expect any compassion and just suck it up, because it’s going to suck.

           I recovered well. I’ve been taking it easy the last week or so. Surgery in China is a bit of a mind fuck, but I think it’s given me some serious perspective on so many things. I just feel lucky, that’s all. Beijing might want me dead, but it’s been good to me. I would have probably had this cyst rupture if I was back home, because at least in China, you get tests back immediately, rather than having to go through our bullshit system where you have to wait weeks to interpret an ultrasound that can literally be read on the spot. If I’d had to wait that long, there is a serious chance that I would have had to deal with major internal bleeding. I really can’t complain about any of this, even though the whole thing was a complete cluster fuck.

           The really sad thing about this is that I had to come to China to get my health concerns addressed. Even with insurance, getting the appointments I needed were almost always damn near impossible back home. I can go see the doctor in such a timely manner here. It’s inexpensive. It’s usually decent care. Yeah, the hospital as a little shady, but my primary care is fantastic. What the hell is wrong with America that I feel more comfortable in a city that can’t figure out basic plumbing and electrical wiring getting my health addressed than I do back in the good old USA? These are the real questions.

           China has made me feel very fortunate. Whatever disdain I have for my current situation, it’s not nearly as bad as what the Chinese people deal with. I get exceptional coverage through my company, but the average Chinese person… I caught one glimpse of the Chinese side of the hospital when taking all my tests, and let’s just say it isn’t a place I will ever return to voluntarily.

           I’m one of the rich in this country, and I live like crap by American standards. This is the kind of perspective China has given me that I’m never going to lose. I just look at everything now and think: it’s really not that deep.

[tiredbiplantlady]

I can’t diagnose myself and I’m not asking anyone else to either...

I just need to write. I haven’t much at all lately despite my motivation and planning to. 

I love my therapist. He’s amazing. He’s helped me see so much and learn so much about myself and helped me learn to VERY effectively manage my constant hypervigilance, my constant anxiety, and a big portion of my shame on a day-to-day basis. I am LIGHTYEARS beyond where I was at last year and before. I attribute so much of my ability to heal myself to his guiding me. We connect on some real af levels and I am extremely grateful to him, though I know I did the work, he was just there to help facilitate it all. 

But. He told me to stop thinking of myself as mentally ill because it isn’t productive. And no, maybe it isn’t. But something feels wrong. I know he’s all about “perception is reality” and honestly, so am I. But can I not manage my perception and create an productive and healthy realty AND consider myself mentally ill? He’s been working with me for over a year on my black-and-white thinking. I don’t think he’s like this with all of his clients, but I think with me, he sees potential in me and doesn’t want me to box myself in to “mentally ill” to use as an excuse for my everything. Like, I get it. But it still bothers me. 

A year ago, I talked about borderline personality disorder. I made a case for myself and brought up the symptoms I identified with most and described several instances of each that served as evidence to me. He just listened for over an hour as I told him everything I needed to say, and he nodded. He said he agreed with my analysis, but labels aren’t everything. I was fine with this covert agreement that wouldn’t go on my insurance. That might one day prevent me from achieving anything as a psychologist. After all, he said so, my counseling graduate program told me so, and now my psychology graduate program says so: the diagnosis isn’t as important as just treating the symptoms that cause distress. “So what if you’re somewhat borderline?” He asked me. I nodded in agreement. “It doesn’t change who you are or what you’re capable of.” 

I read about DBT. I found online workbooks. I recorded my moodswings for a few months. I was desperately trying to get better...because I’d just started to come out of the worst, THE WORST emotional period of my entire fucking life.

It was December 2015. Things had been on a downhill slope for months. It started back in June really. I began suffering anxiety again to a level beyond my average (but still very strong) anxiety. My environment served as a painful trigger for my symptoms with two manipulative, crazy-making, and alcoholic/abusive roommates. My PTSD (diagnosed) was on full-blast again. I was cautious, but not totally paranoid. Not yet. As I look back, I entered into a depressive phase for perhaps a week or two, where for a couple days it was bad enough that I couldn’t get out of my bed and stayed there isolated and unable to stop silently crying despite my other roommates trying to be comforting. I felt like self-harming. I felt hopeless. After those few days, I functioned better, but I still generally was quite depressed and unmotivated, hopeless feeling and empty. I was waking up in the middle of the night at times with nightmares and gasping, feeling as though I were being watched or someone was there. 

I would come out of it, this depression, but the anxiety remained. As the months went on, the roommate situation got worse and worse and I began to become extremely paranoid. I was almost in a frenzy at times, just absolutely certain one of the awful roommates would come back to burn down the house and us alive in it. I triple checked locked doors, I slept with lights on at times. I wanted my roommate (now boyfriend) to sleep with me just in case anything happened. I hated sleeping alone. I’d rather stay sweating horribly together in my very hot small bedroom with the door locked and the windows tightly latched than chance anything. Sometimes we slept with the door cracked. One night I woke from a nightmare while he slept soundly, and I was frozen, just paralyzed in fear because I KNEW someone was in our house (no one was aside from the usual roommates). I forced myself to slide out of bed, pull the cat in, and lock my door. The cat cried, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to die. I tried to fall back asleep and it felt impossible. I listened to every noise, believing any small disturbance was someone nearing my room to blast through the door. Maybe with a gun. Maybe someone was lurking around outside. My heart raced constantly. Sleeping started to become impossible, echoing a similar months-long episode I’d had about the same time the year before. I just wanted to die sometimes. 

The final horrible roommate started drinking - black out drunk drinking - and calling his exes on the phone screaming gendered slurs and slamming things around in his room directly above mine. It sent me into a panic, hearing that. I’d had my trauma with plenty of alcoholics and misogynists. I was terrified of him. If I heard him come home I would always lock my door and be as quiet as possible, as though he were an abusive parent waiting to come home to beat me (even though he never hurt me). He’d started threatening my boyfriend and passing out fucked up on the couch. It made me extremely uncomfortable and my anxiety grew and grew. I became hypervigilant again, having flashbacks, using old coping mechanisms that weren’t good. One night he walked past me and slid his hand down my back, which was completely unnecessary and drawn out. I shuddered and told Kyle about it. It was hell. I’d just started grad school and everything that was happening was ruining everything. I was extremely depressed again. I burst out sobbing to my dad one day when I went home to my parent’s house because it was too hard to live in that house anymore. I was effectively retraumatized. I’d stumbled upon the term “transient paranoid ideation” and how having been traumatized once, you can start to become hypervigilant and almost have “flashback” like pop ups to events that never happened to you. Like maybe you were raped by someone, but start to have similar feelings and fears and obsessive thoughts about someone setting your house on fire. It transfers over to “what if”. That lead me to BPD, but I didn’t think a lot about it. 

In October, It was too much. This guy started threatening to beat the shit out of him, hurt him, talked about being a drug lord and connections to people and he touched me. We got a restraining order and kicked him out. I still couldn’t sleep. The week after we did it, Kyle and I drove every single day an hour up to school and an hour back to stay at my mom’s because I felt I was in danger and I couldn’t stand being away from Kyle not knowing if something horrible might happen to him. We bonded over this traumatic incident. While all this was happening I told him I didn’t want to do relationships anymore. I just wanted to be with him, that’s it, no more of this rewording things and pretending like we hadn’t actually been together for months. The reality was that we’d essentially gotten back together in 2014 and denied it, mostly me, for over a year. I was terrified and realized I was terrified of losing him. 

I told him I couldn’t stand to live there anymore. We went back and forth for a while about what to do and eventually decided to just pay off the landlord and move into a new apartment, just us. I thought it would solve everything. But even after we moved, I was still devastated from everything that’d happened. I coped alright for a month maybe, but in November, I stopped caring about my life and my future. I felt nothing and I wasted every day. I couldn’t get out of bed. I stayed there from sun up til sun down when I went to night class 2 days a week. I was miserable and it was a struggle to force myself to get out of bed even 2 days a week for school. I had nothing to say. I had no personality. I was empty and hollow and I had nothing to give. 

I started to feel absolutely insane. I was DESPERATE for affection and attention. I wanted to kill myself not getting it. I wanted to cut and binge eat and sleep until it would all just go away. I couldn’t get out of bed and I would spend hours doing nothing with intervals of random crying I didn’t understand. Other times I’d cry with a cause. I just hurt and I felt hopeless. It wasn’t so much that I hurt actually. I was empty and didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t look into the future and see anything for myself. It was just dark and empty. I felt useless, stupid, boring, unlovable, ashamed, disgusting. I was passive aggressive and had horrible problems communicating. I wanted my mind read. I wanted people to WANT what I wanted. I didn’t want to have to ask, I just wanted someone who wanted the same thing as me. I became horribly frustrated and withdrawn and my relationship suffered terribly. 

I started having furious mood swings that were mostly deep depression, followed by numbness, followed by anger, followed by somewhat normal, but still depressed around and around. Mostly I was depressed for weeks upon weeks. I fought constantly, I was frustrated and without words. I needed and had no idea how to articulate it. I felt like I was speaking a language no one around me understood and it was fucking pointless, hopeless. I still had nightmares and could barely sleep. Every little noise my neighbors made caused me to go on compulsive listening sprees where I sat with my ear to the wall trying to figure out what was going on because I wouldn’t settle or be okay until I did. My anxiety wouldn’t let me not do this. I was scrambling for anything to make it better. My relationship felt like it was falling apart and I felt insane every single day. He didn’t know what was wrong or how to help me and all I did was make things hard for him. I felt unlovable and made myself that way. I was terrified of abandonment and one big fight in the middle of winter gave me the impulse to drive away and sit in the WalMart parking lot fantasizing about going inside to buy all the things I needed to cut myself again. It would be so easy. I thought about killing myself, but didn’t really mean it. Part of me thought I’d be better off dead. That everyone around me would be better off if I was dead. The things said to me that night are still there and I feel shame and anger and terrible sadness. I still feel apologetic, while another part of me is enraged. Most of me knows it doesn’t matter anymore. I felt no good to anyone. I felt like a burden and vampire who couldn’t stop sucking the life out of anyone I loved .And I didn’t love anyone anymore but him. I had no friends. I isolated myself. He was my Favorite Person and other people didn’t matter. I hate myself for the manipulative things I’ve done, and the part of me that blames things on other people has enough to say of her own. Maybe the truth is somewhere in the middle. I don’t know. Even thinking back I still feel crazy. 

I had to do something. This wasn’t right. There was something very, very wrong here. This shouldn’t be happening. I promised I would try to make myself better. I couldn’t be abandoned. I couldn’t cause more damage. I hated myself. I had no idea how I ended up here. When I started to come out of that frenzied hopelessness, I looked back at myself and wondered who the fuck did all this, what was I thinking? I genuinely believed my apartment manager was constantly watching me and trying to get me in trouble to kick me out. I hated her with a burning fucking fury and other times I just didn’t care. I was not rational and how I felt about other people was never stable or solid. People were out to get me at worst and didn’t care about me at best. Little things sent me into a rage I directed inward instead of throwing things around or fist fights. I seethed with just burning hatred until I burned it all up and was back to being fine. If I had been the type of person to get in fights or do bad things in the real would, I would have been doing them. I fantasized about things like that, but instead felt deep shame for even doing so and then hated myself along with them. 

I started having periods of euphoria that lasted a few days where I felt like I could do anything. I felt social and outgoing and made a million plans for projects in my head. And then I’d be somewhat average again. And inevitably fall back into anxiety and depression. And of course, for years I’d had dissociative experiences like derealization/depersonalization and generally just feeling out of myself and having identity issues (though until 2015 I had no idea that’s what they were called). I started seeing connection in BPD and brought it to my therapist (who I’d kept a lot of this from anyway). I sat with the idea of potentially having it for a while and tried to explain to my boyfriend what it meant about my behavior. How now that I knew maybe things could get better. 

In a couple of weeks I made the decision to drop out of grad school and go back for a second undergrad. It was all very fast and somehow I thought it made the most sense and was a great idea because I wanted to be a writer and it would help with my writing. I went into the grad counseling department and excitedly spewed my latest idea, words slurred together and hardly taking breaths, to my program director who said I sounded sure of what I wanted and sent me on my way. I pushed hard and fast for the second bachelor’s admission director to admit me and get it all set up before school was out for the semester. I still got furious with people and would be polite, at worst short with them, but never rude and then take it all out on myself. 

It was done and I was set and this was turning over a new leaf, this was a new beginning. I was going to be great and I’d find my way and everything would be perfect!! Spring was coming! I had so much hope and certainty in my ability to do this. I started feeling like I was improving. Then February happened and one night around 11 pm, Kyle and I went to a gas station for snacks when suddenly I got very hot. I complained that my arm was sore. I started sweating and feeling nauseous. My heart raced. I got hotter. And hotter. My heart raced more. I could feel myself about to puke. My vision started fading, gray and fuzzy through a tunnel. My head felt light and I was so sure I was about to pass out. “I’m going outside” I said quickly, then turned and went out into the cold night air. I’M HAVING A HEART ATTACK, I thought to myself. I’m DYING, I’M ABOUT TO DIE OH MY GOD I NEED TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL. I was hyperventilating in my car. As soon as I got out in the cold and sat down, my vision came back, my head stopped tingling. I was covered in sweat that was freezing in the cold outside. I felt my heart still racing and I was in a panic wondered what happened. I could feel adrenaline just coursing through my veins and I wanted to puke again, not the same as before. This felt like I’d just gotten off a roller coaster and the rush was too much for my body to handle, so I needed to puke. Kyle came out to see if I was okay. I was trying to breathe and a part of me was freaking out going “that wasn’t normal. NEVER forget how abnormal this was, NEVER forget that this was BEYOND normal, no matter what any family member or doctor tells you. THIS. WAS. NOT. NORMAL.” He asked me if I wanted to go to the hospital and part of me was numb, emotionally, and said no. I tried to explain what happened and he asked if I thought I had a stroke. I went home and called my mom. I webMD’d it. I had a stroke, I told myself. I had a TIA. At any moment I’ll have another one and I’m dead. This is the end as I know it. I’m going to die!!!! 

That sensation at least wasn’t uncommon to me. I’d had what you might classify as a paranoid delusion when I was about 15. I was CERTAIN I was dying of cancer (no real evidence of this). For weeks I genuinely and truly believed I was going to die and my body was deteriorating. I was depressed, hopeless and suicidal feeling. But I got past it. Only to have another health related genuine delusion a year later that also lasted for weeks, nothing could satisfy it or cause me to think differently. NOTHING. 

So, here we are, February 2016 after this “stroke” - I went to the doctor. Which used to scare me, but I’d become comforted by it at this point. Every doctor happily pointed out my anxiety as the cause of any health issue I brought up and every doctor happily tried to prescribe me antidepressants. They started looking at me as a hypochondriac. I hated it. And yet I did it to myself. She played along and did a bunch of bloodwork, finding only that my A1C was ever so slightly elevated, probably from PCOS and my diet, she said, so I asked for Metformin, but that’s a whole different story. I didn’t have a stroke, she said. There was no evidence. Everyone told me I had a panic attack and it made me break down crying. I lived in constant fear for some time that out of nowhere this could just happen all over again with no warning, just like before. I realized in that past I’d had “limited symptom panic attacks” or “anxiety attacks” before. I still couldn’t accept that’s what it was - I remember how I told myself how abnormal it was and to never forget it. I was on the brink of death! I had to worry because if I didn’t worry then it would happen. It was an obsessive compulsive thought and behavior. I could not help myself from acting it out. I truly believed worrying would prevent bad things from happening. If I was carefree, something was wrong. I read about how 30-somethings described TIAs because strokes aren’t just for older people. I was certain I was going to die. And I read people describing going to the ER to find out it was a panic attack and was eased momentarily before both telling myself I had to worry it was a TIA/stroke anyway, and also that if I was having panic attacks, who’s to say that isn’t the first of many to come? 

After that day I worked out, ate FANTASTICALLY healthy, saw a nutritionist, took medication, went to therapy, lost 50 more pounds (after having lost and maintained about 30 for a year or so) in a few months, tried to go vegan, settled for vegetarian, went to therapy once a week, started meditating, and was desperate enough to start actually taking my ativan and tried buspar. That was a huge step. My anxiety was destroying my life. After that panic attack, I had heart palpatations out of nowhere at random times nearly every day. I had that sick, sinking, tingling feeling in the pit of my stomach and I held my breath only to breathe too much until I was dizzy. I wanted to cry and several times fell into an anxiety attack that felt like a downward spiral of hopelessness and irrational thinking. I felt helpless and crazier than ever.

Because on top of all that, the moodswings were still there. I went to the psychiatrist, got my buspar, some zoloft (I refused to take it) and intentionally left out the part about the moodswings for fear of a diagnosis that might ruin me, but mostly someone trying to put me on a mood stabilizer. I didn’t want anymore drugs. I’d struggled with 3 different anti-depressants in the past that did nothing, made things worse, or generally just failed in some way. I never felt well, just numb, no change, or terrible. I was desperate enough to try buspar, but that lasted for short weeks before I stopped entirely. When I did, my anxiety had lifted a bit and I did feel a little better. But it had given me painful headaches I couldn’t tolerate anymore and I just can’t deal with being on drugs. I hate it. One night in spring I went into another helpless, fearful tizzy and wanted to scream, cry, cut myself, fuck until everything stopped hurting. Oh, god, why did I hurt so much? Why did I hurt so fucking much. It hurt so bad, aching into my soul. I didn’t know what to do. I sat in warm bath water with the bathroom window open until the sun set and the wind blowing in was cold, along with the water that’d gone cold long before. I cried silent tears, lip shaking, cheeks chapped, coming from the core of me, some deep dark place. I didn’t wail, I felt so lost and empty, as though I’d realized some awful thing and felt totally out of control. I was just so fucking helpless. So fucking empty. 

Months went on into summer and I was doing a lot better. I still had my ups and downs, but I was going to be okay. It hit me I could no longer sustain myself without a job (I was in NOOO position at the point to be working AND school) on the pitiful financial aid they offered. I decided right before the fall 2016 semester started I’d go back to grad school the semester after. I was ready and this whole thing, I’d needed the experience and the time, but it was over now. I’ve been lying to myself that I’m incapable. I can do this. I’m ready to be an adult. So I went into that semester (fall 2016) not taking shit seriously at all because I was just D O N E with it. At the end, I was leaving my second bachelor’s degree needing only 4 more classes to earn it, but I couldn’t live off another semester of that and it just felt useless. We moved again due to money stuff and it was going well. I had my rocky patches with the stress, trying to manage, but ultimately it was fine. I was doing so much better and therapy and meditation were making my life fucking great in comparison. I felt stable. Sometimes I little stressed or depressed, but no major episodes. Things were looking up! 

It was around October 2016. I’d gone into this extremely positive, hopeful, centered, accepting place I’d never been. I was writing and A LOT. I was extremely productive, sleeping a bit less than usual. Making HUGE strides in therapy and my psychologist was thrilled by it, in awe of me. I was in a mild high and riding it happily. I felt powerful and strong and sure and more than anything I just trusted life. I trusted the process. I trusted the universe. I felt spiritually enlightened and wise and just so CENTERED. Like EVERYTHING just felt like it had a purpose and I was EXACTLY where I needed to be. I’d never felt anything to that level before. I started writing about an event from my past that was verrrry sexually arousing and satisfying. That day changed everything. I got higher than I had been already. Some time went by. I was feeling social and curious and really hungry to connect with other people. I missed having friends and learning new things, getting close to people, new experiences. I was growing so, so, so much personally. I wanted someone to understand and appreciate me. I felt misunderstood and detached. I didn’t know how to communicate through my fear of judgement, abandonment, and worst - invalidation or mocking. 

I fiddled around talking to old acquaintances. I made up with some people, caught up with others. It felt really nice. And I was starting to accept all these parts of me that I’d shut off for a long time, fearing their contradicting nature. I am lots of things. I am everything. It doesn’t all have to make sense. I was tired of compartmentalizing around every person though. It was hard and sad and I was kind of lonely. And then it happened, and I met (or re-met) someone. The high I’d been riding flew to new heights. Every fucking atom of my body, every cell, every piece of me was vibrating so fast you couldn’t even tell. I was floating and walking in a cloud of love that touched every person I went near. I felt like an angel, a god. I was god. I was a healer, I was mercy, I was understanding, I was pure, I was the truest truth that ever was, I was love. I WAS LOVE. I wasn’t Kat, I was a being without a name whose purpose was to give love and receive love and live in only love. I deserved this ecstasy, being in love with myself. I didn’t think, I just KNEW. I just KNEW things and followed my intuition and I KNEW that’s what it was. I had never experienced this self-perception before, not like this. Things felt RIGHT and I did them. It went on for months, my self-perception, my world perception...

“you’re manic,” my therapist said with a slight smile.  “no I’m not!!” I exclaimed defensively, ready and already going onto a sentence to continue denying”. This was just who I was now, what the fuck was he talking about??? he showed me the way to be, this body could channel love like this, the center of life, the purpose for living. Why would he say it was just being manic?? “don’t get defensive,” he said interrupting me, “I’m not criticizing you for it,” he said among other positive things I can’t remember in the haze. All I remember was his awe from a few weeks before this session, pure awe telling me “you’re not growing in a linear way, it’s exponential...it’s amazing to see someone grow like this.” Praising me for my progress and my rarity. I beamed, I hugged myself in it.  “ the crash is going to hurt,” he said. I literally laughed in his face, unable to contain it. I genuinely believed this was me now and I was never going to crash. I’d never experienced that. When I was happy before most of the time, but not always, it was short lived and just before it ended, thoughts crept in that something awful must be about to happen, which ruined everything. Not this time. I was so fucking sure. No one could have convinced me it would end. No one could have convinced me I wasn’t channeling the core aspect of the universe and that was the height of my purpose in this life, my reason for living. That I wasn’t on the same wavelength as the universe itself because I WAS. I didn’t feel delusional, and I still don’t think I was even now...  “I’m not going to crash,” I scoffed. He laughed and tested me with it again. And again I brushed him off, laughing. 

At that point, I’d stopped sleeping almost entirely. I subsisted on endorphins. I managed 4 hours a night. I wrote and wrote and wrote and I made plans and I felt like I used to feel when they prescribed me adderall only better. I stopped giving ANY fucks about school and took my first F nonchalantly for the most part. I stopped going to the class, didn’t take the final, didn’t write the final paper. This was not like me, the life time good student, and to do so with hardly a care? What was school in the face of the future, in the face of my true purpose? None of this shit is real anyway - life isn’t real, I thought. What is reality? I laughed. I am going to die and be forgotten, why am I so concerned with all this bullshit? I can do anything and I can be happy in any situation no matter what happens because I have love, I AM love. I threw in the towel at school.  

and then eventually I crashed some time after this, and it was unexpected still too. It never crossed my mind, even when my therapist put it there. Everything was all in the open now. I didn’t always do the right thing. It felt like I knew that I had wings, and no one could see them, but I flew anyway. And then something happened and my brain just decided to accept the social reality that I didn’t, so my wings only I could see shrunk into nothing and I fell thousands of feet to the ground. I realized in a speechless, horrified panic that was not the perfect, helpful, merciful, loving being I thought I’d been. I thought that I was god, but now I looked back and saw only the devil at the damage she’d caused without a second thought. What have I done? Who was I? How could I do this? I just wanted to die. What was wrong with me? Everything I’d ever done wrong in my life came back to haunt me. I didn’t know how to apologize enough. I felt miserable and like a disgusting excuse for a person. I felt like I deserved to die for my half-truths and redirected empathy. I was a werewolf. I was a normal human who turned into a selfish, hungry monster willing to do anything to fill the hole inside her that could never really be filled. I hated myself. I was no angel, no goddess. Who am I? 

It took time, lots of talking, lots of conflict, lots of effort, lots of facing fears, lots of honesty, lots of risk, but I felt like things were getting better. Part of me was angry. Why were my mistakes the gravest sins while similar sins from others were things I’d forgotten not long after they happened? Why were things always worse and more evil when I did them in comparison to others? Did I just forgive too easily? I don’t know. I had to pick up the pieces. I was knocked so far down. I’d climbed a ladder and almost reached the top, but my mistakes caused me to slip and fall to the fucking ground, damaged and terrified and uncertain of how to even go about climbing back up again. 

I started wondering if something more was going on? I’d given up on diagnosis a long time ago. It’s just the symptoms, not the label that mattered. But it felt like my symptoms weren’t even being addressed anymore. Isn’t being manic a symptom? Should I not look into this? 

“I wish you wouldn’t think of yourself as mentally ill,” he said, “it’s not productive.” 

I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t fit the full criteria for borderline personality disorder, but I am 100% certain there was a long stretch of time in my past that I did. Several symptoms still apply frequently, some less so. I was diagnosed with PTSD and don’t fit the full criteria, but I cope with symptoms off and on, some daily, some not. It changes you and it doesn’t matter if you don’t fit the criteria on a daily basis, at one point you did and it still can wreck havoc on your life. I look at bipolar disorder and there are several other episodes of my past I have failed to mention here to lead me to believe that’s something to consider in terms of symptom management and treatment. But I have a psychologist who believes that mental illness is changeable, maybe not in everyone, but in me for sure. I believe him and I believe that too. I believe that regardless of what someone might label me (because diagnosis is highly subjective and 5 psychs could give me 5 different opinions), I can learn to cope with the symptoms and function, somehow someway. I am not damaged beyond repair, but I struggle and that’s what matters. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and even my saying that would cause my therapist to be frustrated with me even thinking of myself that way. There’s a fucking problem when I’m hurting other people and not thinking about it. There’s a fucking problem when I feel indestructible and look back going “What the hell was I thinking”. There’s a problem when in the past I’ve struggled with mood regulation and had several “manic” type episodes where even if I wasn’t “happy” like I was this time, like most people stereotypically believe is all that manic means, I was agitated and motivated and hyped up in the same way directed into negative emotions, which can be part of hypomania/mania/mixed episodes. I’ve had delusional episodes related to my health. It hasn’t happened for a while, but its presence in my past matters. 

I just want to be well. I beat myself up, thinking that even when I’m happy it’s not because I’m really happy, it’s because I’m mentally ill and he, my therapist, was disappointed in me saying that. Part of me still feels that way, while another part of me knows I truly was happy. I don’t know what to think. Maybe both can be true. I don’t know how to be. I just am, and I’m just trying to pick up my pieces and function and love and live and be a good person, the best I know how. Sometimes I fuck up, but I’m always sorry and I want to do better. I don’t have a label and I don’t know if I really want one. I just know the things I do aren’t always like normal people - my feelings, my interpretations, my assumptions, my thought patterns. I was traumatized and that changed me. But even before that I was never normal, and I knew it. I was anxious, depressed, and fucked up as a child while my other 8 year old friends didn’t have these problems. I am mentally ill but that doesn’t define me or make me hopeless. It doesn’t mean I can’t achieve and accomplish and manage it and grow. I am a capable, smart, strong, loving person, and sometimes I mess up, sometimes I feel worthless, sometimes I feel spiteful and hurt and sad and afraid, and I’m not perfect. I just do my best in the moment and that’s all I can do, even when sometimes I realize immediately I can do better in the next minute. I push myself and I try to grow. Deep down that’s the thing that motivates and drives me the most. It’s my greatest desire and biggest hope.

I am everything. I’m an angel and a goddess and a werewolf and the devil. I am courageous and cowardly. I am loving and also selfish. I am impulsive and hesitant and I think sometimes that I’m not good enough, while other times I’m too good. I am petty and apologetic and loyal and untrustworthy. I am self-conscious and helpful and kind and would do anything to help a friend. A stranger. I am also confused and knowing and lost and settled and I am every fucking contradiction. That doesn’t make me fake or wrong or cruel, it fucking makes me human. I’m aware of my contradictions, I don’t deny them. It means I have choices to make about the reality of who I am and who I want to be. I am not in denial about either side of me and every combination of my traits. It doesn’t absolve me of responsibility for the bad things I do. It doesn’t mean I am above criticism or that I’m saying I am perfect and always justified. I’m not. I love myself and criticize myself and sometimes I hate myself too. 

I’m not perfect. But I do my best, and that’s all I or anyone can ever do. 

[shadowtearling]

January is over! I’m both glad and surprised it came and went so quickly. I feel proud of myself for reading as much as I did this month!!!! I think the new year is always a good motivator to read read read. I love it. I’m doing a better job so far this year of reading whenever I can and taking advantage of my spare time in between and before classes. PLUS the long commute helps. Last year, I constantly found reason to NOT read, and this year, it’s like I can’t get enough! I also apparently can’t get enough of the exclamation point. Is it too much? Also! Do you all like this new banner? Any font suggestions? I’m clearly terrible at picking fonts; too indecisive. :( Anyway! On to the books!!!

Rating system: 2017 is the year of reading critically if I want to add diversity to my list of priorities for the kind books to be reading. This means also being a little more stingy with my ratings. (I don’t feel bad about this actually. I found I feel guiltier giving out five stars willy nilly, so this is an improvement!). This rating system is still arbitrary, so three star ratings don’t always have the same weight to them. As always, I rate based on my own thoughts and feelings, and as always, these are my opinions (unless I’m speaking about my marginalization(s). Don’t argue lmao). 

Rating Scale: 🌟 - 1 whole star ⭐️ - ½ star

Nichijou: My ordinary life (Vol. 1 & 2) by Keiichi Arawi - 🌟  🌟  🌟  = 3/5  (for both) This is a manga series about high school everyday life, but with a twist! (she said with sarcasm) There are a bunch of girls in high school and one of them happens to be a robot who just wants to fit in and be human (and her child scientist companion). One of the girls also happens to love making puns, one of them is the typical deadpan-type of characters, and the others are the normal ones. Some jokes were funny, most of them were not. I love puns, but this just had really terrible ones. The characters were supremely uninteresting, and I really don’t care about any of them. That said, while I was reading this, I guess I was entertained for the time being. This helps pass time quickly, but not the greatest manga I’ve ever encountered. 

Sweetness and Lightning (Vol. 1) by Gido Amagakure - 🌟  🌟  🌟   = 3/5  What’s better than food-related manga? Nothing! Except, I can find better food-related manga out there than this lmao. This was fun to read, but I found all of the characters were bland. I couldn’t find myself too invested in their stories. I also feel like this is going in the direction of student-teacher relationship (younger me would have loved that, but me now is absolutely creeped out by the idea of it). The child is adorable, though. I also do really love the positive relationship between the child and the dad, so that’s one redeeming quality. I don’t think I’ll continue with this series, though, unless I find copies of this for cheaps. 

Orange (Omnibus Vol. 1 & 2) by Ichigo Takano - 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 = 5/5 (for both) Out of all 12 books I’ve read this month, these are the only two five-star reads! I’m stingy lmao. Anyway, this was soooooooo good! Basically, this series is about this girl, Naho, who on the first day of her junior year (I THINK... don’t hold me to this), she receives a letter from future her telling her what will happen on those days and what she needs to do versus what she should avoid doing. She dismisses that letter until the contents come true! So this series then entails what happens with those letters and Naho & her friends. I cried so many tears and felt so many feelings. I related so hard to Kakeru even though our struggles were not the same. I also really loved the ending (even though I know a lot of people didn’t like how open-ended it was). I appreciated that aspect of the story because it feels true to the kind of tale it’s telling. It perfectly depicts how friends first react versus how they should react to other friends’ struggles. I really love the dynamics between every person, and I can only wish this series was longer to explore the different friendships we were introduced to. I HIGHLY recommend this series. Please go read it! (And then tell me so we can binge-watch the anime together!)

Something in Between by Melissa de la Cruz - 🌟  🌟  🌟  ⭐️   = 3.5/5  A story with a Filipina lead?! Sign me up! This tells the story of Jasmine who is the perfect student and is set to kick ass in college until she learns that her and her entire family have been illegal immigrants the entire time, and this super awesome scholarship she was supposed to get can no longer help her. I really loved getting to see my own culture reflected in this story (this is an #ownvoices ;) so go check it out). I didn’t appreciate the little jabs at other cultures though I do understand where it comes from. I also think there was so much happening? I feel like Jasmine and her fam were trying to tackle so much all at once (it’s realistic bc what POC doesn’t go thru so much in so little time), but also it made for a messy story. OH! I hated the writing lmao. It was tacky and not my style. I also think I’m just hella tired of YA contemporaries, but as of right now, they’re the biggest source for diversity in any YA category. Fantasy is still far too white lol. I still would recommend this because it is an important story that helps humanize immigrants, but beware lmao.

Simon vs the Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli- 🌟  🌟  🌟  = 3/5  I really enjoyed this story, but I was expecting so much more than what I was given. I hear everyone always raving about how fantastic this book was, but I think this was way too overhyped for me, which is why I didn’t like it as much as everyone else. I feel like the tension between friends was either unnecessary or done poorly (I’m talking about Leah here). HOWEVER, I still do like it. Simon was a fun character, and Blue was also really interesting. I also really love the discussion around consent and identity, and I think it was done well. 

Welcome to the Shadowhunter Academy (#1) by Cassandra Clare - 🌟  🌟  🌟  = 3/5  Simon felt reaaaaaally out of character in this novella. Maybe that’s bc of what happened at the end of TMI and that’s a valid excuse, but it makes me uncomfortable. Simon was one of the better characters in that series, and I really feel like he got butchered here. With that said, however, I do think that this novella shows improvement in CC’s writing because I still surprisingly enjoyed it. I just don’t think I’ll continue on with CC’s works? I think this is me breaking up with the Shadowhunter chronicles. She’s also highly problematic, so there’s that. 

The Star Touched Queen by Roshani Chokshi - 🌟  🌟  🌟  🌟  🌟  = 4/5 LOVE This! An #Ownvoices fantasy about Mayavati whose horoscope entails a marriage with death and destruction. I buddy read this one with one of my really close friends (she doesn’t read too often), and we both really enjoyed it. Maya is this really dynamic character that, as the story progresses, really matures in a realistic way. The writing was phenomenal but I do think it was a bit out of place? Idk I always have problems whenever the writing is sophisticated but then it’s first person POV. Like.... I’m pretty positive that my brain cannot conceive even half of those words to describe what’s happening around me. I’d see a tree and I’d describe it as “green and really tall...” So there’s that. I also think that the writing kind of made it difficult to fall in love with the couple. I didn’t totally buy the romance, despite me loving both characters individually. I love the incorporation of different aspects of Indian culture as part of the fantasy elements of the world. I would love more from this story, but as it stands, this is where Maya’s story ends (the next book is actually a companion........). I highly recommend it! (Even though it sounds like I didn’t like it lmao I promise I did).

Three Dark Crowns by Kendare Blake - 🌟  🌟  🌟  🌟  🌟  = 4/5 I absolutely loved this. First of all, I appreciate that I can tell each sister apart from one another because they have such distinct personalities (Arisonoe is my fave as it turns out even if she has a dumb ass name). It’s a super slow book that basically builds up to the fight to the death (it doesn’t actually happen in this book). I knew that going in which is why I wasn’t salty when it didn’t happen. Basically, we get introduced to the sisters in this book, find out that there are some hella issues going on with their missing powers, and it gave us time to get used to the world all while introducing us to the characters. My number one biggest giant complaint is that I realllllly fucking hate Joseph. He’s an asshat and I hope he dies in book two. Katharine please kill him. There was an unnecessary love triangle lmao like fuck off with that shit maybe. I also hated Pietyr. So basically, the dudes are assholes and the girls are fantastic. Maybe that was the point? This is a matriarchal society so I guess it worked. Highly recommend if you really like politically-driven books and a large cast of characters.

Every Heart a Doorway by Seannan McGuire - 🌟  🌟  🌟  ⭐️   = 3.5/5 The writing is quite calming. Also confusing. This is another one of those far too hyped for me to love in the same way everyone else does. i appreciate the amazing concept and the wonderful conversations taking place in this book about identity, sexuality, gender, and mental illness. However, it was too short for me to really love any of the characters. I certainly failed to connect with the MC and didn’t feel for her anguish. It also left a bad taste in my mouth that the first person to be killed off in the murder mystery aspect happens to be POC when there were like 20 other white kids lmao........ NOT THAT I CONDONE MURDER but why we gotta kill POC for....... Idk. Proceed with caution I guess. 

Moll Flanders by Daniel Defoe- 🌟  🌟  🌟  = 3/5  This was funny as hell. Basically, it’s about this lady whose name we never really know because she keeps changing it to suit her needs. She was born in a prison, so she’s set up to fail in every aspect of her life bc poor and no family. HOWEVER, this is the story of how she eventually says fuck you to everyone and succeeds anyway bc why not. I read this for class, and I highly enjoyed it. Problems: there were literally zero chapter breaks, random ass capitalization (why must 17/18th century authors do this to me), too many much cataloging of goods (though that was literally the point is to be excessive... I get it... pls stop), and the author basically just said to the plot “GOGOGOGOGOGOGOGO” without taking a break. If you like classics similar to Jane Austen (but without the romance part bc she just basically scams all her husbands lmao), I think this is a really good one to check out. 

Thank you, lovely, for reading through this mess of a post. I love you and I hope you have a wonderful February reading month! 

[theninjasanctuary]

Another year in review.

This will be long and poorly organized, because I have mixed feelings about this one. It was really harsh in some respects, then again I found the resilience to cope, and some things went well.

I’ll start with what stands out the most to me: haven’t done the numbers (will see once I get my income tax data), but I believe this is probably my worst year, income-wise, in at least a decade. I had 1/4 of a day job for 8 months, then no job for 1,5 months (but couldn’t sign up for unemployment benefits because I was teaching), then got 1/2 of a day job for the remaining 2,5 months, which now earns me just slightly above minimum wage. Also lost a long-term, boring, but relatively ok-paying side gig at the start of the year. So I took on as many side jobs as I could, which was gratifying in some ways (opportunities were easy to find, the feedback was good, etc.), but they also have mostly frustrated me with how little and how late they pay (teaching in particular). Got one small grant in October, which really helped me out, otherwise I’d definitely be finishing the year in debt. I am still finishing pretty broke with no savings, but at least I’m being owed several hundreds of € for completed work. And I’ve been able to pay not just the bills but somehow afford a fair amount of my wants and needs as well (no-frills but decent skincare, some travel, some wardrobe updating, a great new phone), which is definitely better than I feared, so I’m not exactly unhappy with this outcome. However, I must not lose sight of this not being enough. I want to be able to afford the most basic adult things like furniture and driving lessons, and currently I can’t. Many plans fell through this year, not least another grant application that was supposed to get me a decently paying, full-time job for 5 years. I can just about exist on this income level, but just about existing is fucked and unacceptable at my age. So I must locate some way of increasing my income considerably, and soon.     

On the work front, there’s a number of unmet goals, primarily pieces of writing I need to finish. However, my self-esteem has tentatively recovered, in part due to the relative ease of freelancing, and the fact that I seem to be doing ok at the new job so far. I can’t think of any particular highlights, but it seems nothing went majorly wrong for once (except for that grant application getting rejected, but that wasn’t on me personally). Not feeling quite so low about my ability and skillset any more must be counted as a big plus. I also met my goal of writing a) more, and b) at least partly for pleasure, and it felt as good as I expected, and the money I made from it helped too, even if it wasn’t much. And I think all of the presentations and public speaking I did went well this year, too.  

Health-wise, things could certainly have been better. The random, life-first proper UTI in April was surely the lowest point. I’ve been vigilant as hell since then, eating probiotics daily, and am slowly growing less paranoid about getting another. Still, looking over my entries, I’ve spent big chunks of the rest of the year being stressed and complaining about either sleep problems, bizarre heart problems, fever, etc. Did have a full endocrinology checkup and dosage adjustment in the summer, so thyroid issues have been in check since then. Had a thorough heart checkup in September and October which found nothing of concern, thankfully. Minor injuries (ankle and wrist sprains, etc.) showed up from nowhere, but healed fine. The 2 consecutive viral colds in December have been annoying and frankly unnecessary, but it’s not as if I could have prevented them. Also, there are a couple of more check-ups I’ve been needing to book, but have kept postponing, so that’s not good either.

Relationships: doing fine in my modest and introverted way, as usual. The extreme heatwave in the summer and then being overwhelmed with work in the autumn were detrimental to socializing, but otherwise things have been pretty good. Grateful to have the friends I’ve got and the time I got to spend with them. Not to jinx it, people at the new office seem ok too.

What I’m happy about: I made time to read and to watch anime. For most of the year, I got a decent amount of exercise, taking breaks when I was ill or when the temperatures posed an actual health risk. No drastic weight changes, am about the same as last year. Despite budget constraints, I think I looked pretty good for the most part, so there’s that (already made a separate post about my skincare highlights of the year). I’m glad I undertook the effort to get my ear piercings to collaborate again, haven’t had any issues with them since. Looking back at what I wrote at the end of last year, I did not get haircuts as often as I’d have liked, for money reasons, and when I did treat myself, the result was actually a slight letdown. Must try again towards this spring.

I also did not spend all that much time outdoors as I would have liked, I guess, for various reasons (including the hottest summer of my life kind of overwhelming me, as faint as that memory seems now), but there were some quality highlights. This too is something I need to try improving next year.

I did see some new domestic sights, while international travel was brief and limited to places I’d been before - Helsinki, Brussels, Paris, London, but hey, I’m glad I got to go anywhere at all, given how broke I was, and I had a lovely time every time. Only one of these was a work trip, and it was with the boyf and a couple of friends, staying at a very nice hotel I wasn’t paying for, so nothing to complain about even there. 

Glad I managed a necessary tech upgrade. I retired my Fairphone 1 at the end of this year, after almost 5 years. Switching to a new phone went surprisingly smoothly, and it is nice to be able to have some confidence about battery mileage. I haven’t changed my usage habits by much yet though. I keep turning data off and the entire phone off for the night unless I need to set an alarm. I rarely take pictures even though the camera is so, so much better. I still look distorted and weird as fuck in selfies compared to the mirror. And I’m still using the same handful of apps, really... too busy to think about options, if anything, I should tone things down even further. Muting not just only dozens of keywords, but almost everyone I followed on Twitter back in June was a great decision. I did it because the constant influx of extremely distressing news I could do absolutely nothing about was clearly doing me harm at that point. I’ve unmuted exactly 1 person since then, and looking at the list, with most of them, idek why I ever bothered tbh.

A clear upside, compared to the year before: no funerals.

What I should do differently in the new year:

Should not prioritize work over sleep. Just because I can work through the night, doesn’t mean anyone will be thanking me for it, and it’s summarily not good for me. I don’t really know how to handle deadlines in a different way though.

I should try going sugar-free again, because this latest cold has ruined my appetite anyway, and sweet stuff, which I’ve eaten in moderation for most of the year (still much less than I used to), is mostly just disappointing. It would be good to lose a few k before summer at the latest. I don’t need a wardrobe overhaul, I just need to look better in what I’ve already got.

I might also try giving up red meat, not that I consume a lot of it in the first place. I don’t enjoy it that much anyway, and it’s bad for the environment. I think I could easily go from “sometimes” to only “when I can’t be bothered explaining my dietary choices to my mother”.

I should buy less bread, because too much of it goes to waste. I like toast, but bloody hell, it would be more practical if I could buy like 4 slices at a time. Yeah, the uneaten stuff gets composted, but I still don’t like wasting food.

Should aim to keep up a good routine of AHA and BHA on my face and KP-prone parts (my arms looked much better this summer), and should locate a vit C product that is gentle, stable and free from awful texture issues (my current options are too harsh or have awful texture issues).

Should focus on putting effort into long-term goals and not get mired down in getting through mundane to-do-lists. Be ambitious. Aim big. Turn down offers I don’t like even if I could use the money.

Should aim to have more sex. This year has not been great. Too much work, too fucking hot to even consider it, health issues, etc., etc.

Should work on improving my stamina. Bike rides, maybe a little running. Definitely badminton.

Should also buy a new swimsuit and go to a spa sometimes.