#i let myself get blindsided by the trauma

[scorpionstar2021]

X-Men ‘97 really healed me by giving me the best adaptation of Nightcrawler…

…then ripped the rug out from under me and broke me with the end of the episode.

(I should have known that Kurt was too good of a gift, that something horrible would happen to balance out his appearance)

[iamadequate1717]

Stede's Strange Day

I want to talk about Stede Bonnet's very strange day. Let's look at the progression of just what Stede sees.

He spends the night with his boyfriend for the first time, and his boyfriend brings him breakfast in bed like Doug did for Mary. They talk about their reunion. Stede is very happy right now!

His boyfriend tells him that he envisioned him as a beautiful merperson and that he thinks he saved his life.

They get dressed, and they go out on a breakfast date on the town. Stede tells Ed about the letters he wrote, and Ed loved that!

Stede then discovers he has a fanclub! Ed laughs and is happy for him! They're going to go down to Jackie's so Stede can enjoy this some more!

Ed throws in some light banter/teasing about this turn of events, and Stede literally squeals before they run off giggling together.

They get to Jackie's, and Ed continues to encourage Stede!

Ed leaves him to it! "Enjoy the night" are his parting words.

So Stede enjoys the night!

He's being accepted! And he still talks about his boyfriend while being fawned over!

Everyone tells him he's awesome! He offs an assassin while saying something cool! No one is making fun of him!

After a bit, he goes to find Ed to share in his fun! He's had a great day.

Only, he's immediately met with this with no context: Ed regrets being with him! Ed is leaving immediately!

Remember: Ed's last words to him were "Enjoy the night!" This is complete emotional whiplash. Stede knows right away what the problem is, but Ed shuts it down.

Ed wants to be a fisherman! A proclamation completely out of the blue! Stede tries to talk him down. That fish wasn't so awesome that it should completely change Ed's life trajectory, casting Stede out of the way.

Ed disagrees and abandons Stede with no real explanation or listening to what Stede was trying to say, which isn't a great move for a healthy relationship.

Basically, Stede spent a few hours (only a few hours!) enjoying himself (in a manner that Ed encouraged him to!). He did nothing awful (because murder is cool in this show), and was a lot tamer than what Ed and company were doing in 1x8 (turtle vs crab is mean!).

I'm going to go more into Stede defense in another post. "Last night was a mistake" is an egregious phrasing to use with the man you love who has self esteem and trauma issues (we know what he means but it can be interpreted much worse), but Stede took it in stride. But for some reason people act like Stede committed war crimes with the fish comment? Ed sharing his day and Ed excising himself from Stede's life are different contexts and the fish is viewed differently in each lens. It was an OK fish, and Stede did nothing wrong. Stede is right that Ed is a coward, and I don't think Stede saying a few slightly harsh things in the heat of the moment when being blindsided like this is a character flaw.

Ed behaved appallingly in shutting down the conversation and refusing to even give context to what was going on. With 1x9&10 and Stede deciding Ed was better off without him, I saw plenty of comments about how Stede couldn't make a major life decision for Ed like that. With this, Ed has made a major life decision for Stede (I'm going to dump him and remove myself before he can choose piracy over me!), but I have yet to see the same comments, and I know exactly why that is.

...

More Stede defense!:

[penvisions]

zest {chapter two}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Professor! Reader (formally known as Bartender! Reader)

Summary: Encounters with people from the past, a breakdown, a physical altercation, and an end of the semester getaway all bring you closer to Joel.

Word Count: 4k:

Warnings: canon typical violence (fleeting), canon typical language, canon typical angst, generational trauma, religious trauma, feelings of isolation and loneliness, reader goes briefly catatonic, reader has a breakdown, reader has a lot of emotions, blood, minor injuries, falling apart on the bathroom floor (i know i've been there), rude people, offensive behavior, body shaming, fat shaming, reader gets shoved one (1) time, feral joel, joel beats the crap out of someone, joel goes into protective mode, threatening words, um i think those are all the major ones pls let me know if i need to add more!

REMINDER: this is a sequel series, the previous series can be found here {garnish}

A/N: uh, so the opening scene of this is very reflective of how i've been feeling lately. generational trauma + close quarters living situation with a mother who i have a complicated relationship with + trying to pick myself back up after what seems like an entire year of intense events and emotions + the recent drama i faced on here + preparing to move across the country in three weeks' time= a very very emotional dev. apologies for that, sincerely. hopefully the rest of the chapter makes y'all excited to read about them again.

ao3 link || series masterlist || joel miller masterlist || ko-fi

The trip gets marked down on the calendar at the restaurant as well as the one in the kitchen of your home. Ellie had been rifling through the pantry when she noticed it and she immediately whipped her phone out and snapped a photo before letting out a suspicious cackling laugh.

“Hey, what are you doing?” She jumps, completely blindsided by you walking in from the backyard, the sliding door hushing shut behind you. You had decided to get some sun while you worked on the last few finals that needed to be graded. The laptop you need to desperately replace closed and held to your side as you cross the space to set it atop the dining table. When you turn to look back at her, Ellie’s phone is mysteriously gone and she’s coolly watching you.

“Just lookin’ for something to eat, I’m staaaaarving!”

“Joel’s getting stuff for dinner, if you want to stay. But I was gonna sneak that last piece of pie if you wanna share it with me?”

“I’ll get it, just sit and take it easy.”

“I swear, all you Millers are the same. I’m fine, Ellie, only two months along.”

“Just lemme be nice, will ya?”

“Being nice to me won’t change your grade.”

“So it needs to be….better, right? When you say changed? As in an A plus plus?”

“All I can disclose is that you passed.”

“The course or the final?”

“Both.”

“Fuck yeah!”

The funky song for Joel’s ringtone goes off and you reach for it from the pocket of your sweatpants. It had been a bare minimum effort day for you, stealing one of the man’s shirts and donning a pair of baggy bottoms despite the heat, a chill having settled in your bones out of nowhere.

“Your daughter is cussing at me.” She’s waving her arms across the kitchen, signaling for you to stop and you wonder if she hadn’t told him if she needed help with groceries this month.

“Well, the fuck are you doin’ to her?” Is his cheeky response, you can hear the grin in his voice, and it makes you smile as you look down at the pile of stuff that needs your attention.

“Being nice.”

“Uh-huh, you two are- oh excuse me, didn’t see ya there. Oh. Uh, darlin’, I’ll call you back.” You faintly hear her name as the line drops and your heart goes with it.

Valerie.

Ellie settles across form you with the pan that holds the pie, whip cream added all around it and some chocolate syrup. But you don’t even smell the assault of sugar as a feeling of dread overwhelms you makes your stomach tighten. You’re unable to hear her concerned calls of your name, of her claims to have just been joking and she didn’t mean to upset you. They don’t register as you leave everything behind at the table and tread up the stairs and close yourself in the master bathroom.

“Sabrosa?” Joel’s voice is low on the other side of the door, but you can’t muster up a response. The rosary your grandmother had made you wear every Sunday and Wednesday to services tight in your grip as you sit on the fluffy rug you had convinced Joel you needed to cover the tiles in the bathroom. You feel it ingrained into your skin, if you were to get up, indentations of the texture would begin to itch from how long you had been settled atop it.

“Darlin’? You in here?” The handle to the door jiggles a little, signalling his attempt at coming in. He calls your name, worry lacing his gravely voice and making your insides clench that you were pulling such a reaction from him. He’s knocking on the door, but you can’t bring yourself to answer, consumed by the thought of being completely and utterly alone. Tommy’s questions about family circling in your head, the realization that Joel had voiced about the guests for the eventual wedding that you weren’t sure was even going to happen because he hadn’t asked you yet.

You had no family, none that would show up even if you did send out invitations. But Joel…Joel had family. A mother, a brother, two daughters, a sister in law, a nephew…the mother of his first born child.

Tears well up again, hot as they race down your cheeks, tender from the way you had been pressing your palms to them, your nose is raw from rubbing tissues against it to wipe away snot and the ugliness of your emotions. Your lips were swollen from the way you worried them with your teeth, unable to help the actions as you broke into pieces on the bathroom floor of the man whose child you carried in your belly.

The knocking turns into thudding, his shoulder colliding with the wood of the door now but still you can’t get your voice to work. The thought of him running into someone he knows on an intimate level, who he still carried some form of love for hurting deep in your chest. It’s all so much, the edges of the cross dig into your palm as you clench around the blessed glass. You hear it crunch faintly, feel the sting of it as it slices your skin open, the blood dripping down your arm as you hang it from your propped up knees.

Splitting wood sounds and it’s so loud it should jostle you from your catatonic state, but it doesn’t. Not even the door thudding into the inside wall of the bathroom as Joel’s form shoves it out of his way rouses you, the lock now broken, and the knob barely connected to the door as it hangs from where he must’ve kicked it in.

You can’t see him through your tightly clenched eyes as he falls to his knees in front of you, his arms coming around you as he sees you huddled into yourself on the floor. He’s murmuring something, but you can’t hear it over the ringing in your ears. Hurtful words and judgments in the voice of your stepmother echoing and bouncing off of each other. He’s burring his nose into your hair, pulling you into him as he settles down in front of you, tugging your limp body into his lap and cradling you close.

He's shouting now, though there’s no anger in his tone, no heat to his words as he begs with you to come back to him, to say something, anything. You can’t see anything when you do open your eyes, his arms so tight around you, your face held into his chest by the back of your head. One large hand tangled into your hair. You hear a small voice from the doorway, asking if someone needs to be called because there’s blood.

Something is dripping onto you, and it confuses you as you begin to descend back into your body. Tears are dripping from Joel’s chin, raining down onto your forehead and the feeling reminds you of being blessed with holy water, but you’ve never felt less deserving of such an act. The christening of his tears doesn’t bring anything but shame as you try to pull your face away from the fabric of his shirt that smells so much like everything you’ve ever wanted. He’s looking down at you as you manage to tilt your head up and meet his glistening eyes. Your mouth feels dry, tongue made of cotton as you try to soothe him, soothe the hurt you’ve caused. But all that manages to sprout from your chest is a whimper, your hand suddenly on fire as you feel the damage done by the rosary.

He's gently prying your hand from where both are curled into your chest, causing your breath to huff out as his thick fingers shakily unfold your own to reveal the glass imbedded into your skin. Blood smearing across his skin as he touches your own.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I think we need to take you to the emergency room for this.” His eyes meet yours and you feel monumentally worse for the fear and concern you see swirling in them. They’re rimmed red from his tears, his face flushed from his efforts to get to you through the door, his breathing a labored staccato as you realize his heart is beating harshly in his heaving chest. He’s trying to be calm, he’s trying to focus on the one thing he can do something about in that moment: to get the blood to stop dripping down your arm.

He’s reaching for the hand towel on the counter but Ellie’s stepping into the room to hand it to him so he doesn’t jostle you too much. She’s quiet, her earlier mood completely gone and it’s all because of you. A hiss passes through your lips as Joel carefully extracts the unbroken part of the cross from your palm, the beaded chain dragging across your forearm as he hands it to Ellie, she has a washcloth ready to wrap it up in, to try and keep the remainder of it safe. She’s frowning, face so serious as she watches her father hold you on the floor.

“I-I’m so-sorry.” You hiccup as you feel more tears well up, but Joel is gently shushing you as he presses his lips to your forehead, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. The towel is being pressed to your hand, light pressure hurting even though you know he’s doing his best to be as careful as possible.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, got a little overwhelmed is all. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“I-I don’t know what happened, I just- you- I…” Words don’t make sense, nothing could explain the wave of intense emotion that had slammed into you. All over the uttering of a name.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to or can’t.” Joel’s gently tying the towel into a knot to keep it secure. “We gotta get you up, get you into the truck. Can you feel your legs or would you rather me carry you, it don’t matter to me. Don’t want to push your body anymore, okay?”

“I…I think I can stand up.” But when he tries to help you do so, the fuzzy feeling in your legs doesn’t allow for you to. He’s already got an arm around your waist, the other holding your non-injured hand, ready to catch you when it happens. He’s warm, so warm when he quietly murmurs to you as he bends his knees and lifts you up into his arms. Securing yourself with one arm over his shoulder, the other rests in the curve of your lap as he descends the stairs and loads you up into the truck.

“Gonna set you down and run back downstairs for somethin’, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.” Joel’s voice is so soft, so close as he brushes the end of his nose over yours as he lays you down on the freshly made bed. He’s careful as he pulls back the covers on your side, exposing the soft micro plush blanket between the comforter and the fitted sheet. He angles the pillows exactly how you prefer before he scoops you back up in his arms and lays you in the spot. The blankets are laid over you, body pliant and willing under his touch as the medicine from the hospital works its way through your system. A mild sedative, fluids, and a shot of pain killers had all been administered in an IV.

He's smoothing your hair from your face with a brush of his hand before he kisses the corner of your mouth and disappears through the doorway. Your eyes follow him and then glide to the door of the bathroom. But the splintered wood and broken knob are gone, a new door in its place. You feel your lower lip tremble and you tuck your face into the pillow as you roll slightly to your side and face his part of the bed.

Your favorite candle is burning, the rich honey and cotton blossom scent filling the room in a soothing caress. Ellie had followed in her car, a bag of clothes you typically lounged in warm from a spin in the dryer. An oversized Miller contracting short, faded black and dulled yellow wording. A pair of sweats that didn’t have blood stains all over it. A pair of your thick hiking socks to keep the chill of the hospital away as you lay there for hours while the nurses poked and prodded at you, ensuring the health of you and your baby was okay.

Neither her nor Joel mentioned the exact details of the state they had found you in, knowing the state’s penchant for tossing mentally ill patients into the building just down the road, the inpatient behavioral health center. It was known for its mandatory seventy-two hour holds on people dumped or transferred there, lack of communication and lack of funding making it a nightmare to emerge before a week is up and your entire life is upended. It had a bad reputation, to say the least, and no one wanted to have to fight for your release should the doctor sign you over.

The smell of fresh coffee wafts up the stairs before Joel appears back in the doorway with two mugs, decaf. He had agreed that it would be better for your niggling headaches and nausea to compromise on this version of your preferred drink versus the jarring switch to tea for ever morning and evening. It was more than a way to get your caffeine, it was comfort in a cup and Joel carefully hands the one he doesn’t set aside to you. His large hands are cupped around yours as he helps you to bring the rim up and take a sip from it.

“Figured the real thing would be better right now. But just the one cup, okay baby?” His voice is raspy from his yelling, you realize, and you flick your eyes over the mug to find them already trained on you.

“Th-thank you.”

“Anythin’ for you, you know that.” He’s pulling the mug from you and places it beside his on your bedside table. He’s caught off guard when you fling your body toward him, settling in his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face into the crook of his neck. His little ‘oof!’ of surprise loud in the silent room.

“It’s okay,” He whispers as he presses his face into your hair. The stitches beneath gauze and bandages sting a little as you pull back to press your palms to his chest.

“I…I got overwhelmed…” You can’t meet his eyes, gaze focused on his bottom lip. Trying to ground yourself in the moment, the pink of it from him worrying the skin as he held your non-injured hand throughout the entire visit, the way it forms part of the face you love, how it tastes against your own, how it feels against your skin. All of it was helping you to stay in the moment, the medications beginning to make you a bit dizzy now that you’re safely in your shared space with him once again.

“Nothin’ wrong with that, I promise.” He’s still whispering, afraid of being too loud, of startling you or spooking you. “We’re here for you, no matter what.”

“My head feels funny…” You sway in his grip, his large hands holding your back through the motion.

“Let’s get you to bed, you’re probably a little stoned, mama.”

You only hum in response as he lays you down against the pillows, his nose brushing over yours as he lays over you, hovering to not put any of his weight on you as he balances on his elbows and knees. A long blink and you’re looking into his eyes, seeing the concern and worry swirling in them. Adoration and love in them as he leans down and presses a chaste kiss to your chapped lips.

“I love you so much, please- please don’t ever forget that, darlin’.”

“Won’t.”

His lips are trailing down your chin, pressing underneath your jaw, down the side of your neck, one of his hands sneaking below the fabric of your loose shirt to rest over your heart. The warmth of his skin and the feeling of him pressed close as he settles down between your legs now feels like home. He’s still moving lover, his lips ghosting over your collarbones over the shirt, the slight swell of your stomach.

“Love you both so much.” He’s looking up as he uses his other hand to expose the bump that is your baby, a silent question. At your small nod and fluttering eyelashes, his lips pepper kisses all over the skin of your stomach, your ribs, before he finally shifts a little to rest his cheek against the bump and breathes in deep. You’re asleep before he even exhales.

The city of Austin on either side of the highway is a blur as Joel guides the truck at a fast pace away from the hustle and bustle of where you share your lives. A week away, to Dallas, as promised that one morning when he had been trying to sooth your worries. A prominent theme that you try not to feel ashamed of, something he said he would do every day t0 assert the love he has for you. Would always have for you.

He’s got a hand on your thigh, the fabric of your sundress rucked up slightly but he’s not teasing or playing games. You’re sipping the last of your clear soda from a fast-food lunch a few hours back when you had just gotten loaded up and on the road.

There’s a small notebook in your lap with a list of things you wanted to check out. Some Joel had spent evenings looking into with a pair of thick rimmed glasses on the edge of his nose as you slept soundly beside him. He marked the free ones and then the ones with exhibits you had fawned over. He always admired the way you talked about things that interested you, even if he didn’t understand the first thing about any of it. The way your eyes light up as you paused movies to talk about certain historical facts or the fun facts you had to share with him in those moments. He wouldn’t trade them for anything, relishing in the way you weren’t nervous or afraid to voice the thoughts that sprung up. He was looking forward to seeing it happen as you guided him through exhibits and to see the excitement and happiness he hoped this trip would bring you both.

His hands are on the steering wheel now, the sight of you slightly slumped back and just watching the world pass by through your sunglasses making him glance down at where yours are lax beside the notebook.

The bandage is still there on your hand, from that terrifying moment he had found you crumpled and shut down on the bathroom floor. His heart had been in his throat, the blood loud in his ears and his mind screaming at him to do something, anything to make the moment pass and for you to come back to him. The time spent in the hospital that night had worried him they would see the incident as a reason to screen your mental state, with how despondent you had been the entire time. The worry of them asking to speak with you alone while he answers a few questions of his own in the hallway.

He knew they had been doing their jobs, covering all of their bases, ensuring you were truly okay and not there of something done to you. The tests detailing your pregnancy alerting them in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Just the thought of deliberately hurting you made his stomach uneasy and his heart ache, he wanted nothing but the best for you. The proof of such in letting you go when you had asked, hopeful you would return to him. And you had. But he was glad they had been thorough, should his own daughters show up in a similar situation he would want them to do the same.

“Feelin’ okay with the driving?”

“Hmm?” You’re rolling your head toward him, reminding him of the way you had done so when you were drunk and munching on French fries the first night you had kissed.

“Asked if you were feelin’ okay?” He’s reaching for your again, tangling his fingers with the ones on your left hand. “No nausea or dizziness?”

“Nah, I’m okay.” Lifting his hand up, his heart thumps in his chest as he’s all too aware of the item he’s got hidden in the depths of his bag behind his seat, he feels your lips on his skin. He wants to for the rest of his days and he only hopes you want that too.

“Darlin’,” He’s breathing into the back of your neck, walking up behind you standing on the balcony of the room to wrap his arms around you, palms resting over your middle. Your heart is beating wildly, the scent of him and the memories you share with him all consuming you in that moment. You’re gasping as you feel a flutter in your stomach and you both freeze.

“Joel, did-“

“Our baby just kicked for the first time, mama.”

Turning to face him, you don’t bother to hide the tears of happiness wetting your eyes. His own are shining in the setting sunlight, every sound from the street below of the bustling city fading as you meet them. Your hands are resting alongside his, feeling the flutter again. A nervous giggle falls from your lips and he’s smiling so wide as he huffs out an incredulous laugh.

“Oh my god, this-this is really happening.”

“It really is,” Confusion furrows your brow as he’s shifting down to his knees. He’s nosing along your middle, one hand slipping away as he groans at the feeling of the ground below him. “You make me the happiest man, make me feel like I’m getting the chance to catch my breath.”

“What-“

“I didn’t know it when you first came to work that you would end up being one of the most important people in my life. But I’m so grateful that you did, because I have so much love for you. For the life we created right here,” Pulling back a little, he’s looking up at you with eyes so earnest and deep you feel your breath catch and the fluttering kicks up again in your stomach. “I want to do right by you and give you everything you feel like you missed out on, that you deserve.”

He’s holding his other hand up, the one still touching you breaking away as he opens up the small brown velvet box he’s cradling. The tears are now trickling down your cheeks, the ring catching the golden light shining down on your both. It’s as beautiful as he is, all polished gold and sparkling diamonds. It’s simple but it makes you feel seen in a way you never had before.

“Darlin’, will you do me the honor of letting me be your husband?” His nerves are obvious as he tracks the way your eyes rove over the ring, the box, your hands still over your middle, his face as he looks up at you. The shaky nod of your head and the warbled ‘yes’ of your answer gifts you the biggest, gummy smile that does nothing to quell the fast beating of your heart.

He’s surging up, kissing the tears from your cheeks as he laughs, stealing the same sound from your mouth as he slots his lips against yours. Again and again until the sun dips below the horizon.

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[renjirukia]

tbh i don't think too hard about the forty year renruki separation beyond the angst of the pining and avoidance but in an effort to un-vague that time period and make some sense as to why renji is so aggressive towards rukia during the arrest/reunion i have some thoughts.

more under the cut because this got long

first let's talk about the break up. they've been drifting apart since arriving at the academy; they're in different classes ; renji gets sorted into the advanced class while rukia is not and this creates a shift in their dynamic; as it's implied rukia was very much the leader of their little gang. renji doesn't seem to mind the shift as he finally gets an edge over rukia and likes to show off though there isn't any kind of malicious intent in his behavior. rukia on the other hand is going through an intense case of cultural shock, her shift in dynamic with renji is distorting her own self-perception and making her feel cut off from her one friend in the world. enter byakuya. rukia is hesitant to accept the offer of adoption but at renji's boisterous (and somewhat forced) encouragement she takes the offer. i think renji's actions here devastated rukia and saw it as a confirmation that she was right in feeling like she was being left behind or cast aside.

now the intervening years. in the soul society arc the root conflict between them is that she is a noble and he isn't and that class disparity is why they can't "be together" though there isn't much evidence of the gotei adhering to such a rigid caste system and that class mingling is acceptable at least during work hours (and like everyone wondered why renji just didn't get a job at the 13th if he wanted to hang out with her so bad). we don't learn too much of what they got up to during their estrangement other than rukia's kaien trauma and her tenure as one of the more unlucky heroines from an 18th century gothic novel. while renji graduated school went to the fifth got transferred to the eleventh and somewhere in their picked up the goal of surpassing byakuya. we get a glimpse when renji tells ichigo "for a long time... a real long time... for decades... rukia and i... ...had drifted so far apart we wouldn't even pass by each other. it was you... who closed that... distance between us."

Like i said i don't think academy renji was fully aware of how hard of a time rukia was having at adjusting to seireitei life. he teases her about not "getting with program yet" but i think renji was confident in rukia's moxie that he figured she would eventually settle in. i don't think it was much later he realized there were irreparable cracks in their relationship. in chapter 98 as rukia walks away he narrates "rukia finally had a real family. let her go... don't get in the way... that's what I told myself." but it bleeds into the present day and it reads like a retrospective rationalization. "but thinking back...maybe i was just... afraid."

ok the point finally. now this part is just speculation and headcanon-ery but that's the lifeforce the animates any fandom so... basically i think rukia ignored renji. hard. after he finally went to work in the gotei 13 and i think it blindsided him. it's never stated exactly when renji decided to surpass byakuya but in the (frankly incredible) chapter 144 flashback kira tells renji "i suggest you stay away from her. for your sake and hers. i'm sure she realizes that she's not like us." and as that scene does not take place during their academy days i read it as renji only at that moment understanding the full breadth of their separation. i'm not sure i take kira's word as law wrt to her intentions because frankly he doesn't know her like that, and instead i see it more as kira encouraging his friend to move on and uses their difference in social status as a reason for her snubbing him ( rukia doesn't care about social status and it's not something she could have picked up from byakuya because 1. he doesn't talk to her 2. byakuya himself doesn't care about social status). next we cut to ikkaku saying "wow. that's quite a goal. to become stronger than kuchiki byakuya." and finally yumichika in all his wisdom sums up their break up era, "it's a difficult thing. discouraging, isn't it? it's always easier to tear down than to build. and much more difficult to tie than untie."

i read these scenes as a cause-and-effect from the order presented to us. rukia ignores renji (because from her pov he dumped her and she still feels some type of way about it) -> kira witnesses said ignoring and tries to impart some advice -> renji doesn't agree with the advice because he can see different social classes interacting all the time but kira's minor nobility does hold some weight with him so he takes what he wants from the advice -> concocts a plan to surpass byakuya (love the vague word choice surpass him in what? social status? ability? height? i don't think renji really knew instead using it as a launch pad to get back into rukia's good graces, because once they start hanging out again he seems more than fine with being byakuya's 2nd) -> yumichika imparts his own advice (which reads more like a thesis statement of the arc the way "a heart is born between two people" was used during the hueco mundo arc) but in the context of the scene he's sympathizing with renji and his relationship woes; "rukia finally had a real family. let her go... don't get in the way... that's what I told myself. but thinking back...maybe i was just... afraid." renji had doubts about pursuing rukia this way, but kept on course because he was uncertain he was in a position to 'tie' the relationship back together, but doesn't want to 'untie' it either.

now the other point; renji's aggression during the arrest. renji has dedicated a huge chunk of his (after)life into reaching a position where they can be equals again, and here rukia is fucking it all up with her "antics" as he later calls them. and if he's been living with the idea that rukia won't talk to him because of the gulf in their social status and here she is living amongst humans (not sure where humans sits on the soul society social hierarchy but i'm gonna guess they're not even considered they're so low) it probably brings up some deep resentments, i don't think renji has the heart to truly stay pissed at her for long and when ishida and ichigo step onto the scene they make for much easier targets. this isn't renji at his best, but i can see where he's coming from, and he drops the act completely when it becomes obvious rukia is willing to go to jail for a long time for ichigo's sake.

ok wow this really got away from me and i've forgotten the point i was trying to make BUT tl;dr i think the renruki break up is more complicated than initially presented and there are some incredible unexplored avenues of angst.

[forgottenluck]

(I would have an image here, but tumblr won't let me post images right now so gee thanks tumblr)

I'm gonna state some things that may or may not be controversial, but i'd like to get them out and on this blog so that no one is blindsided or accuses me of something that I'm not. (because it's currently happening and I want to state my opinion and my going forward)

It will be under a read more so it won't clog up the dash though.

I would have added this into my new rules post, but my rules got too long so this will go here instead.

I want to be very clear on this.

My Mental Health Comes First.

Just like, on your own blog, your mental health comes first. Just like in your life, yours comes first. In your bubble, your health comes first. But in my bubble, mine comes first.

I am allowed to back off from a relationship, be it a friend or not, if I feel it is bad for my mental health. If I'm getting too stressed with someone, it's okay for me to back off from it. It is my right to do so.

There is no reason big enough for me to say "okay, no, I don't matter anymore, your problems matter more."

We as users, are allowed to curate our space to our liking. We are on here to create a safe space for US. If we deem someone is not conductive to our mental health, we have the right to remove ourselves from the situation.

I do not do this often. I like to think I'm a very strong willed individual. I've been through a lot of shit in my life that has made me stronger than the average person....at least mentally. But even I have my limits.

I don't like being fed negativity almost constantly. I don't like being pinged at random moments in the day or night, and then being accused of ghosting when I can't reply right away. I have my own energy levels and sometimes they're not the same as other peoples.

But sometimes I reach my limit. And I will remove myself from a group of friends, or a single friend. I usually try to do so amicably. Sometimes with an ultimatum if one is necessary.

But I will not hesitate to remove myself.

Consider this an explanation and warning for the future, just in case I have to remove myself from anyone else.

I will remove myself if I feel something is a detriment to my mental health. Either something has happened in my own life that causes me to break off things, or you as a person may be just too much for me to handle.

And that is okay. Understand this: It is OK to feel like someone is too much to handle at any given moment. You are under no obligation to anyone to stick around if something is causing you more stress than pleasure.

It is okay to feel like someone is too much to handle. It is okay to not feel like you're trained to deal with something. You have your own limits, and no one should ever force you to bend to their whims.

No amount of mental illness or historical trauma is a reason to try and force someone into a situation that is not good for their own mental health. If someone chooses to leave a situation for their own mental health, respect that decision.

And perhaps....I dunno. Don't stalk them, and bitch about what they're posting and who they're interacting with because you're but-hurt over the fact that not everyone can handle you being massively unmedicated and overbearing.

[cozza-frenzy]

Welp. Guess there's nothing else for it at this point... I'm feeling brave tonight, and I plan on riding this wagon until it crashes into something and explodes, so here we go. Content Warning for childhood trauma and mental health issues. If you want to skip this part, I'll indicate further down where it gets a bit less "dark", but further down is something about me I feel like y'all should know.

I'm Terry, as quite a lot of you know. I'm 35 years old, and for most of my life the inside of my head was... a very, VERY noisy place. It felt like I was constantly accosted by intrusive thoughts, weird compulsions, memories from my past that randomly blindsided me and disappeared just as quickly down the "memory hole". This stemmed from a huge amount of abuse I suffered throughout my childhood; experiencing bullying at school, in shared spaces, and at home. I learned over time and a lot of therapy what was causing at least SOME of this and got names for it. C-PTSD (Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). Dissociative Amnesia. Some of it, I even blamed on my autism. I figured having a constant sensory overload inside your own head was just how things worked for people like me. And then, a little over a week ago now... I hurt someone unintentionally, got very upset at myself, and had an extremely bad migraine. And while I wasn't conscious, somebody else woke up. Someone who, it turns out, I could talk to... and they were very, very happy to see me. There was another one, too, who was very scared but eventually came out when they realized we weren't going to hurt them. And from there, they started to grow... telling me who they were, and why they were here. (This is where the 'darker' stuff ends.)

So, yeah. I haven't had an official diagnosis yet, but it's looking extremely likely that I have OSDD - a type of DID, or Dissociative Identity Disorder, also known as Multiple Personalities. The specific symptoms I'm showing mean that the 'alters' - the various personalities - don't have amnesia, so we're all aware of each other and can co-operate on tasks. There are five of us so far - me (Terry), Chaos, Taffy, Hyi and "Roses" (who for personal/privacy reasons is going by a pseudonym in public spaces for now). Collectively, we call ourselves the Magical Mystery Box, or the Magbox/Mbox for short. If this is a problem for any of my followers; as usual, y'all know where the door is. I literally do not care if you unfollow. I'm not here to participate in any self-DX or discourse bullshit, we're literally just trying to cope with the fact there are now multiple gremlins (affectionate) running around inside our shared head, and we've had to learn How To Human all over again because we somehow managed to suppress this until NOW. I'll let my "alters" introduce themselves in a separate post - rest assured, they are all nice! But yeah, uh… surprise! Turns out we're a system, and I'm actually multiple people wearing a metaphorical trenchcoat. I'm going to bed and hopefully don't regret this...

[texturralize]

Writer of my broken soul. What has happened to the svss fics? Are you okay? Who do I need to fight for you cause I rely on those fics more than an online shopper relies on their credit card.

it’s just..kind of a unfortunate timing kinda thing..something just really discouraged me and hit on some social trauma I have and I’ve been in a funk and need to take a break from my sv fanfic. the other night I sat down to write and someone messaged me on twt to join a sj fan server.

I got super excited bc I still hadn’t ever found a sj focused server and he is (obviously) my fave. when I got in, someone mentioned being fan of my fics. so I searched them just bc I was kinda curious. well..there were a few nitpicks things here and there which is fine. but ig one of my fics, because I forgot a tag, showed up in some people’s feed even when they set their filters, and it bothered them. there were some really hurtful things said..stuff like oh you can’t trust this author, can’t believe they did this, it was disingenuous, they wanted to toss themself down the stairs from sheer disgust, it was creepy, people wanted to block me, they felt mad anytime they saw my name…it was bordering on fic/author bashing and I was shocked the conversation just continued like normal and was allowed…so I got uncomfortable and left the server.

I don’t really blame the server itself or the people who talked about me, multiple people have sent me DMs saying they felt bad and like my work and that was really sweet. one of the people who said stuff also apologized for it so it’s not like I hold a grudge. it’s just, stuff like this is kind of hard to deal with for me. it’s not that I’ve never encountered hate comments or anything on the internet, I think I was just blindsided by the situation..no one expects to encounter stuff like that in what should be a safe space for fun and ideas you were invited to. I let myself get excited and wasn’t expecting it so it really affected me.

it’s just unfortunate that it happened in that way because though I’m sure no one specifically meant to hurt me, like I said, this kind of triggered some social trauma for me. as someone who grew up with undiagnosed autism, I’ve often felt hurt and silly when I entered spaces and didn’t realize people didn’t like me until too late. I spent a long time unable to explain why I felt certain ways when these things happened bc I didn’t even understand the way my own brain worked. I also have a very direct way of communicating and don’t say things unless I mean them, so the idea of venting and being aggressive abt something but not ‘really meaning it’ is hard for me; it’s hard to understand that someone could say such cruel stuff but not take it seriously. so my brain catastrophizes and won’t let me forget what happened and there’s dysphoria when I perceive rejection, dislike, aggression, etc. BECAUSE I take those things so seriously. and I also would never bash someone or their fic bc I know fic is made from love and is 100% free so it’s hard for me to get past it y’know?

just to reiterate..I’m not mad at anyone, I don’t think anyone is a bad person. they said they made a mistake speaking like that about someone and will keep in mind what I said when we talked. I’m sure there are plenty of people in that server who like my stuff and don’t want to see me discouraged…

god, it’s just really hard, you know? it’s been a while since something really managed to hurt my feelings. I guess I just felt stupid, and kind of humiliated. it’s that feeling of walking into a room only to realize you’re the punchline…

so..yeah it just kind of has me in a funk, as someone who’s struggled to make friends and connections in fandom too despite how ‘easy’ it’s supposed to be. I’m still kind of disappointed that something I got excited over exploded so much in my face and didn’t work out. but overall I mostly just tripped into a depression spell and it’s making me feel bad to look at my work so..I decided to take a break from it. to people who like my stuff…I’m really sorry. I don’t mean to take anything away from people who really liked it. I just want to feel better.

the last time I felt this bad was a few years ago, when someone did something really horrible to me and it upset me so much and took the joy out of the fandom I was creating content for, because it was something we did together. I’m not really upset over the specifics of what was said, just the experience and how similar it was to things I’ve went through in the past. I’m upset over the fact I don’t feel like it’s fun to write right now, and I don’t want to lose this special interest like I did my last one…so yeah, just kind of sucks overall.

I hope no one feels bad about what happened for a long time. just..unfortunately, I probably will, and maybe taking a break will help..idk

sorry :(

[lilypheria]

Ask Game~

2- How do you come up with your plot ideas?

7- How do you handle writer's block or moments of creative stagnation?

19- What's the most unusual or unique setting you've used?

35- What do you enjoy most about being a fic writer?

2. How do you come up with your plot ideas?

It really depends. I get ideas when I just think about stuff a lot, just run through different scenarios and what ifs in my head. I'm also really easy to be enabled to write 😂 some things just are born out of my desire to write a specific AU. But my favorite stories are those that blindside me out of the blue and possess my brain for three months lmao

7. How do you handle writer's block or moments of creative stagnation?

Thanks to a lot trauma I have with writer's block and writing in general, I get super anxious every time I can't write. The beginning of this year has been like this. I forced myself to stop trying, to force it, and moved to do other stuff: reading, playing video games. I still write a journal by hand, and I list a lot my ideas and scenarios there; that also helps when I feel stuck. But the most important thing when having a block is (for me): do not force it. You will hate everything you put out if you do. Now I broke through my block with starting a multichapter fic that is solely written as an outlet to vent my anxiety, and it has helped a LOT.

19. What's the most unusual or unique setting you've used?

Hmm... I think my Fae AU (Marked by Fate) and cyberpunk AU (Neonlights) are the more unusual/unique ones. I love fantasy and science fiction, so these days, instead of an original story, I usually tend to write them as sns fics lmao. I also have a desire to write a horror fic with backrooms theme (I adore backrooms horror games) but I'm still only vibing it. I also have more fantasy and scifi things in the brain I wanna try at some point 😂

35. What do you enjoy most about being a fic writer?

Telling the stories. Letting the words pour through me, see the story unfolding and coming to life. Having the power to make familiar, extremely dear characters do what I want, reveal new sides of themselves. I also love and cherish my readers and other writer buddies - the community I've learned to know in these two years I've been in the fandom has been wonderful 🥺💕

[fairy25]

odd question maybe but it's genuinely sent in good faith: i notice you posting negatively about your mother and i relate in that i also blame my mother for a lot of stuff. however, in recent years i've learned her shortcomings mostly stem from a lot of trauma caused by men/misogyny. to what extend do you think we should be forgiving towards our mothers, as at least in my case was a victim too, and to what extend, in your opinion, can we really blame them for how they turned out? obviously i do realise abuse is abuse. but i have been struggling with knowing where to put blame when deep down i know my mom never knew any better.

sending love!

I don't have a neat blanket response to this because I don't think there is one. I think every mother-daughter relationship is going to be different and it's really up to you how much you choose to forgive your mother (if at all). You can argue that our mothers never knew any better, but I don't buy into that. I don't believe that you can abuse a child and have no inkling that what you're doing is wrong. Yes, you can be traumatized and scared and indoctrinated but does that mean being abusive to a child is excusable? No, never. I would never treat a child the way my mother treated me, and that is reflective of her own lack of moral character and fortitude. That is not reflective of her trauma, that is part of who she fundamentally is as a person. And I'm not fucking impressed.

The thing is, my mother didn't stop being abusive just because she can no longer abuse me. She still thinks like an abuser. She still wants to dominate, I'm just bigger and stronger and meaner than her now and she'll lose every time. She still makes comments about my looks (either I'm showing her up and making her look bad by looking good or I'm greasy and disgusting looking if I go a few days without washing my hair). She still minimizes the abuse I suffered unless she can frame herself as the victim (only focusing on how traumatized SHE is by my trauma and how SHE is affected by it, never about how I feel or was affected by it). She has allowed every man she's ever been with to abuse me in some way, I think she feels a bit of a comradery about it. I do think there's quite a bit of jealousy my mother feels towards me and she likes playing into that. But then she's stunned when these same men start putting her down and abusing her, and suddenly she's blindsided and never saw this coming and looks to me for support. I offer none. I also loudly defend myself to her now and she hates that (I've screamed "SHUT THE FUCK UP" into her face on multiple occasions). She's all empty threats after all. I mean what's she going to do, she's disabled in her 60s and I'm in my 20s, able-bodied and out for blood.

There's so many more examples I could list out but I guess what I'm getting at is do you think your mom is an abusive person at her core? Is abuse fundamental to who she is? Because for my mother, abuse is all she knows. She lives and breathes it. To this day, I still refuse to let any of my friends meet her. I was terrified as a kid that if my friends met her, she'd turn them against me, make them hate me as much as she did. I spent holidays with my friends or I'd get drunk/high alone. There was no sense of family or love there, ever. I cried and screamed and hated and destroyed myself for so many years wishing and pleading to god that I could have a mother who would believe me, who would defend me, who would save me, who would like me. But eventually I stopped. I got cold. I got tired. I got quiet. I got scary. I no longer seek compassion from her. I don't open up about anything personal. She now has nothing left to threaten me with.

Do I hate my mother? No. Do I love her? No. Do I see her as a victim? Abso-fucking-lutely not, I think she sees herself as enough of a victim for everyone. Do I think her trauma is relevant to our relationship? No, not really. What do I stand to gain from feeling sympathetic towards her? I only open myself up to being hurt. I'm not even angry with her anymore, or disappointed. I don't really "blame" her even, I just feel nothing.

[mypoeticsoul-ny]

Is rape always physical? Can rape be spiritual? Can rape be emotional? How many times are we raped in so many ways yet never show a bruise for it? How often do we get blindsided by those we love? Those we trust? Those wounds run the deepest because we never expect it, we don’t resist, we don’t push back, we let them cut so very deep because disbelief and shock paralyzes. We allow them to take our essence… I will not argue which is worse, each caries it’s own trauma, it’s own shame.

How do we battle those moments when we are triggered back. When your skin get cold and reptilian like from all the goose bumps? How do you let go of the innocence you once held, when you naively believed in the goodness of another human? When you thought they would protect you but they left you to fend for yourself. How do you move on from thoughts that chase you and when you stop to catch a breath, they consume you. How do you go on knowing nothing you do will make you feel secure, nothing will save you.

Why I surround myself in “Flowers” 🎶

©1.31.2023 - MyPoeticSoulNy(-mps)

[childlikegoblinqueen]

Writing Notes: Chapters Expand

The next one chapter has now expanded into three shorter chapters!

This happens a lot. I am going to map out some more plot points, but likely going to move to an every other day, three days a week posting schedule to pace myself and make sure I am getting in specific scenes which detail the journey.

I had specific arcs in mind for this story leading, but my plot was missing something which just clicked into place and raised the stakes a bit.

Hope readers don't mind the shorter chapters!

I am also eager for the cover to be finished :D Having lost both of my parents (and also grandmother, but she was expected) between May and December of 2022, I am actually blindsided by how much the idea of parent-child and familial relationships are part of this story.

I knew I wanted to write something regarding Hunter and Willow navigating becoming perspective parents and have the background involve Hunter's past haunting him both from a media perspective and reawakening insecurities and long buried fears. Willow has her own issues that she is dealing with, and as their relationship has been building based on mutual respect, I wanted to play with something that knocks that balance off kilter a bit and challenges a couple.

As for Hunter, he's a reluctant target for fame and not for reasons he would like to be known. He wants to move on from Belos' abuse and manipulation, as well as being known as the Golden Guard, but in many ways society won't allow that, as illustrated throughout allusion and flashbacks. He found solace and balance for a while by withdrawing from society almost completely, but it gets complicated.

Trauma can be healed and remedied through time, therapy and support, but big life changes often knock you off balance. It's happened to myself and a lot of people I know who have become parents or had a major life shift (like losing parents or family to death, addiction, friend break ups, etc.) I wanted the story to be as much about accepting what it means to be a parent and to be loved as it is to be about accepting that your found family is needed even beyond your youth.

I think I also mentioned a while back that I was partially inspired to write this story by Veronica Roth's Chosen Ones book which is amazing.

Excited for the next part to kick in! Please let me know if you are enjoying this story! As with the Stranger Things AU (ish?) it is proving to be a lot more personal that I thought it would be. I had a complicated relationship with my parents, especially at the end, but I miss them and love them.

I also write and only post updates here on Tumblr where no one in my IRL life is connected to me. This is due to my need to write in privacy and being self conscious. Friends and family know I am writing fan fiction, but are respecting that they will never see what I write. So if you are enjoying the story or know anyone else who might, please feel free to share on your own platforms!

Love reading all the theories to what is going on and commentary on the Camila/Darius custody battle -- which is getting ugly.

Also each chapter has a link to a song that is quoted in the title and at the beginning.

[musingwithshells-blog]

I have a distinct memory of being 17 & someone I loved getting into a car after dropping me home and never seeing them for months. No contact anything.

My friend making me dinner the other night made me feel similarly. He got in a car and hasn't contacted me since. If I didn't reach out to him, Ik I wouldn't hear from him.

Granted, the dynamic is different, but it really triggered a core memory I had forgotten. I understand that all friendships go through seasons and in this season my role will not be as major and I'm okay with that, I am genuinely happy for them but I just feel cut off. I also think me feeling cut off is exacerbated because I had no other plans for the weekend, so I'm just here with my thoughts.

This is definitely a 'it's not you, it's me situation.' Ik it's me. But I think instead of rationalising my hurt away, I'll allow myself to feel it and when my friend re-emerges, I'll let him know that while I am happy for him, I do feel blindsided by the instant change in our dynamic and it triggered a memory that I have not previously dealt with and it hurt. I'll also tell him that I do not expect him to sit with me through this and I am taking the appropriate steps to deal with my unresolved trauma. I work very hard to try not to project my past hurt onto anyone else in my life and that's not what I'm trying to do here.

I hope he understands.

[wordsofapanda]

Today I had a deep conversation with my work wife. I was about to leave but I could tell that our convo was leading to a vent about her love life. It was a bit refreshing having that talk with her. It’s obvious that we trust each other as colleagues but I never knew how deep our relationship would go. Boy we went a bit deep. I was not expecting it but I hoped our talk was insightful for her. We discussed how trauma can make you blindsided to enjoying the present. I let her know that I was just going through that stage where I’m enjoying the present and related how my experience might show her ex’s intentions. Our office is therapy positive so I knew we could discuss it in a way that could be constructive and it was. But we both know her ex needs help and to be grateful. It made me reflect on how grateful I am in this moment. My therapist thinks that my job has brought the confidence out of me and lifted me up and I agree. This job has made me notice how smart I am, how I am great at creative thinking or solving problems, and how my chipper personality gets shit done. My coworkers like me for who I am - a chipper and sweet office manager. I see myself through others eyes now in a positive light and I love it. I see what others see in me. And I hope my work wife’s ex gets to that stage because it’s a beautiful experience.

[sexwithamanda]

Motoneko Mindfulness

Episode #8

Let’s pretend that’s the episode we are on. I reread my last post about manifestation. I want to be clear, I broke up with my boyfriend while in Greece because regardless of how much I think he cared. He did not, could not love me the way I was asking. That is okay. He is damaged just as much as I am. 

No one is perfect, not one person on this earth, in this universe. 

And here I am admitting to the fact that we all have baggage that we have to deal with, it’s nicer to hear it from the person we care about but I found out things that made me feel so blindsided from the person I thought they were. 

I was making up a version of them that I wanted to be mine, they aren’t mine. They don’t love me, they don’t even love themselves.

I appreciate that I was able to feel that I knew it wasn’t worth my time. When I explain myself, my side of how I feel and what happened, I think about how fucked up it is that I allowed myself to chase someone who clearly was not interested in me. I overly gave my love, and he knew that because I care so much. He broke my heart, did not give me time, attention, love that I deserved. 

That is okay. I love myself, and I am trying harder and harder each day to be better. I want someone willing to talk me down, de-escalate the craziness I might feel and allow me to be myself fully with no expectations and the only person that needs to do that is me. I am so willing to give other people a second chance when I do not give myself the same grace that I deserve.

I am hurt and it hurts people that I love, but what hurts the most is that I addressed how I felt with the one person who needed to be willing to understand but they don’t even understand themselves, they would never be able to fully express how they felt, I over gave myself. never should I let that happen.

Everyday is different, and I am learning slowly that the cycle of wanting better for myself is a lifelong journey that I know will be better. I am a better version of who I was yesterday and regardless of that I felt what I felt. 

I hope that someone sees this and thinks about how wonderful it is to live a life that is one of a kind. The love you have for someone, the love they have for you, the love you have for yourself. Please remind yourself that you deserve all the completely obsessed, kindness, sweetness that this world has to offer. Starting with what you say to yourself, what you put out into the world. 

I know that it’s hard. I feel so completely sad somedays, I work through it but my heart is so invested in my emotions sometimes. But, I need to feel them, I need to allow myself to feel them as well. It’s okay to feel this. 

I love you. I am saying this to you, saying this to me. You deserve to be happy, you deserve good things. Please know that you are amazing. 

To the person I was with, I am sorry for asking so much of you, for needing the reassurance that you could not give me. I am sorry for always being so emotional with my trauma that has nothing to do with you. I know that it wasn’t all my fault, that what you would do triggered me as much as it triggered you.

I wanted to be there for you so badly that I acted like my needs weren’t important, but they were just as important. I loved spending time with you, knowing you in a way not everyone gets to see, the good and the bad. I hope that one day you find the strength to heal, as much as I will find the strength to heal as well. I hope that we become better and if you don’t (because you’ve said you wouldn’t) I hope that you find a way to love yourself as deeply as you love her. 

I send my love, my heart (just a piece that you own.) to you with healing and kindness. 

And until next time.

Mahal Kita

LOVE,

AMANDA

[dzpenumbra]

1/7/23

I had a lot of positive things I was carrying into today. I had momentum. I had motivation. I had confidence. Even despite being woken up like 4 times by my upstairs neighbors. I got up, I stopped myself from "helping" some local person realize that their crusade against the entire Goodwill chain was really because they were upset that the branch manager was rude to them when they denied their donations a week after new years, at the busiest and most stressful time of year. I didn't comment, I walked away. I was better for it.

I did my yoga. Brutal. I felt weak. I was weak. I fell over. I shook. I felt faint. But I made it through it. And I reminded myself that I've done 30 day challenges like this every year since the pandemic started, and every year I complete them. This will be no exception. Day 5, done.

I showered. I listened to an album that I haven't had good associations with since college. That two broken, damaged, unfair relationships ruined for me. And I vowed to reclaim that album. Its beauty should not belong to pain alone. It deserves to be appreciated, not feared. And I made it through the whole thing.

I got my TV. I paid 50 bucks for some woman to drive the thing 8 minutes to my door and have me take it out of her fucking car because she "dislocated her shoulder". The frustration of this didn't really hit until the walk back to the apartment. I was fucking awake anyway. I was up and moving anyway. I was just so fucking frustrated with myself. All because of this stupid trauma and anxiety shit swarming around me because I have a fucking wolf at the door every goddamn day. And I'm baiting the fucker to my door. And I answer the fucking door like almost every goddamn day. Like an idiot. I'll clarify in a second.

I sorted boxes. Finally. I took my momentum from getting my TV and transmuted it into sorting my recycling, breaking down boxes and organizing. The plan being, when the TV was done, I could break down that box too. Then I can load all the boxes into the cart and bring them up to the recycling and get it over with. Keep the ball rolling, always keep the ball rolling. Thats my strat, it's literally the only way I get shit done. What happened, you ask? Oh, I'll get there, don't worry. Don't wanna glaze over this bittersweet gem.

I got two simultaneous texts when I was in the shower. Surprising, because I never get texts. I mean that. I never get texts. So I heard the sound and I legit assumed it was part of the music. One was my mom, asking if I needed any support today. The other was my sister in law. My sister in law was letting me know that she and my brother and nephew (who I haven't even met yet, he's getting pretty close to a year old now) were nearby and wanted to see if it was cool if they dropped by. My place is an absolute warzone. It makes me wonder if they've ever really... even seen what any of my houses look like. I honestly don't think they have. I mean, the entire perimeter of my main room is packed cardboard boxes full of my possessions. I have barely any furniture. I look like I moved in yesterday. It's been over a month. It's humiliating. And it's really not kid-safe. And the worst part, it's 100% a mental health thing. And I really shouldn't have to explain myself. But if I don't it is kinda unfair to other people to blindside them with this when they show up.

I let my sister in law know that my place was a mess and... well... my confidence was high so I said if they wanted to they could feel welcome to drop by. I'd swallow that pill for the chance to finally meet my nephew. Here's the part that I didn't really process, that I'm just processing now. They were in town meeting a potential babysitter. You know, looking for child care. While I'm 20 minutes away, unemployed, have trouble leaving my house and I haven't even met my nephew yet. And I have several months experience babysitting my "former godchild" at the exact same age. And I'm just... not considered. Again, I would wager because of mental health. Or just... not getting to know me. No clue. Fucking odd that I'm not even considered for dogsitting, I just lost my fucking dog 6 months ago and it doesn't even pop into their heads that maybe I might miss it a bit? That maybe 10 years of experience raising the same breed of dog alone might be enough to qualify me? And maybe I could use some cash? Because I'm technically unemployed and I have no income? Like... I'm not kidding... it's really fucking weird that the babysitting thing... I used to get my goddaughter to nap and keep myself entertained, our compromise, was to put on Twilight Zone, the original series. She'd conk right out and I'd have something cool to watch. And now, this shit just feels like I'm straight up in an episode of it. I mean that genuinely, it's a big part of why I can't even smoke weed right now. Because I start to feel like I'm actually in some kind of fantasy series or something, that this is fiction, that some trickster god is fucking with me, or aliens or interdimensional beings or something. Because how could this be fucking real life?!

Glad I missed that (sarcasm), because besides overcoming the yoga obstacle... that was the best thing that happened today. I started setting up the TV and I was concerned about putting it on my glass-top coffee table. I called my mom to get her opinion. It started okay. Then I started setting up the TV. The setup stuff was kinda in broken english, which is always... it kinda feels like a bad sign? Like maybe corners were cut? You know? And a little anxiety about that whole "maybe this is was a bad investment, maybe i picked the wrong TV" came up. But I squelched it pretty quick. Then it came time to get my TV connected to the wireless router. And guess who hasn't entered his wireless password in... oh god... over 2 years? Because my PC and Xbox were hardwired and my phone/laptop just autosaved. Guess. It was me. I forgot my wifi password. But hey, check it out, Xfinity is super convenient, right? I remembered that their app lets you just pull up the app on your phone and hit a button and you can get right into your router, don't even have to do any of that admin browser entry shit. So I pop open the app and log in. 2-factor hits me, of course. Then I'm in and my fucking account says "INACTIVE". Yep. And the address is my old address. Yep.

So I try to get my mom to get into her account, in case... for some mysterious reason... it was set up in her name. She forgot her password. She tried to get me to give her my login and my password, for some reason. After like 10 minutes, I made it pretty fucking clear that I really do not feel comfortable reading out my login and my password out loud with paper-thin walls in my apartment building. It just started off with that goddamn tone where it was like... she was just doing whatever the fuck she wanted and she "knew best". Like what the fuck do you even need my password for? I'm literally logged in right now. You need YOUR password. Can you tell I'm angry? Well stuffing that down and repressing it for 3 fucking hours of pulling teeth will do that. Every time I asked for something, every time I asked a question, just fucking goddamn stonewalled. Like, I shit you not, I asked 4 consecutive questions and she flat-out acted as though the Men in fucking Black came in and neurolyzed her. Like I never even spoke words. I had to check to make sure I wasn't muted. But she was straight up fucking ignoring me and dodging. And I'd bring attention to it. "Hey, I've asked you a like 3 questions now and you haven't answered, can I get that information please?" and just... deflection. Dodging.

So why the fuck did I stick around this? Why was my hand glued to the goddamn lit stove? Because I do not have access to my own internet account. If anything goes wrong with it, I'm fucked. I don't have the password, it's not in my name, if I call support I strongly doubt they'd give me access without confirmation from the account holder. Because she owns that part of my life. And this has been done "for my convenience" for almost 2 decades. I got my rent out from her control. I got a few other things out too. But my internet is apparently in her name. And my insurance. And my car insurance. And my car itself. Which is why my car has been sitting idle in a dealership lot not being repaired, they haven't even ordered the parts. And they haven't even spoken to me. Because her name is on the fucking car. I'm 30 goddamn 6. I didn't choose this. I've literally known no other way. This is how things have always been. I mean that. I had no idea this wasn't normal until really recently. And I really feel like I'm in some kind of Britney Spears conservatorship or something, I don't know. It scares me, because I endured some really fucking abusive shit tonight. Like having the 3 hour dragging feet, power struggle, making shit difficult bullshit being blamed on me because I have memory problems. That I literally can't do anything about. That hurt me more than anyone else. I actually have to leave notes around the house for myself to remember to get basic things done. It's not an easy life when you live fucking alone. Shit falls through the cracks every goddamn day, every hour, it feels like.

I had to hang up again. I was very clear dozens of times that what was happening was not okay, and that it's a repeat of the same fucking problem over and over, and I was just told over and over that I brought it on myself. That it was warranted because she was simply "defending herself". And she wasn't even trying to control herself. Not even attempting. She was just... right. And I was wrong, and "aggressive" (not stressed, not frustrated, not having his problem be taken over by a geriatric woman who was not welcomed and asked several times to stop, "aggressive"), because that justifies her anticipatory "defense".

I get stressed with a problem. The "supporting" person misreads my stress as aggression towards them. The "supporting" person does not verify this assumption, but acts on it by "defending" aka retaliating. I get my ass beat by my "support" for being legitimately stressed out about a real problem I'm having. Totally healthy.

Now I guarantee that at least 2 of my neighbors heard my side of the argument. Oh fuck, I almost forgot the best part! Oh so my dad decides to barge into her room and just start talking to her when she was on the phone, and I asked her to relay a message to him and guess what? He fucking responded. Because I was on goddamn speakerphone the whole time. Yep. So next time, I'm super tempted to put her on speakerphone so that my neighbors can witness the entire reality show. Not just think I'm a complete asshole. Like I just fucking moved in and already it's like... fuck. AAAGHGHHHH.

My depression was at an all time high before this. It's been escalating super rapidly. I've been very open about this. And this is the second brutal beating in 3 days. I had one day of recovery. ONE GODDAMN DAY. And now. I feel like I've been up for a week straight. I've gotten one good night's rest in 2 fucking weeks. I feel like Christian Bale in The Machinist. I mean that. The skin on my face feels... tight and clammy. My cheeks feel sunken. My posture is like bullets are flying over my head at all times. I have bags under my eyes. I am constantly tense and in pain at all times.

So I reached out at 11PM, I called. Stupid, but I wanted to communicate clearly. I left a message. "Congratulations, you broke me. I need a list of all of my accounts that are in your name by 4PM tomorrow." I can't be the monk anymore. I'm too weak. I'm not going to lash out. I'm not going to explode. But I'm not hiding the fucking truth anymore. My will was broken today. Over a fucking wifi password. OVER A FUCKING WIFI PASSWORD. AND THE PASSWORD WAS FUCKING PASSWORD, OKAY?!?! AAGGGHHH. I am fucking human just like all of you, I have feelings too, very very strong ones. And this is the extent of how much I'm willing to express this one. Suffering and anger swirling together because my ability to live my life is being blockaded by a control freak who constantly shames me for not "being independent". I'm broken. And having a moment of weakness. But even in that moment, I have the clarity to know exactly what I need to fucking do. I need to be free. I. Need. To. Be. Free.

No more punishment because I didn't phrase things the way they wanted. No more looming threats. No more dangling friendship, bonding, affection, and social support... and making me pay prices like this and come out with less than I started. No more weaponizing my own mental health struggles against me. The only reason I dealt with this today was because that account is not in my name, I cannot legally access it and I don't even know where to start with getting legal counsel. I even tried to get the account changed to my phone number so I can change the billing info myself and access the router, talked to some dude in fucking India to get it set up and they didn't do it. I've already had my power, heat and cable shut off from missed bill payments and shit at my old place because of this "help" and "support" I'm getting. Just because I've never done this before and I have executive functioning struggles doesn't mean this is a guaranteed failure if I take these responsibilities on. It's scary as fuck to take on so much shit I've never done when I'm like... on the edge and super overwhelmed already, but I have to. Because paying this price?! Paying this price, I'm gonna be dead before I hit 50.

I'm not even leaving the house! The primate graphic novel idea was a great inspiration, but also a really great therapeutic tool, and I had a vision come to me yesterday of primate Me cowering inside the door and a bunch of gigantic beasts gnashing their teeth outside. Guess what? They ain't outside. They're in my phone. They're in my eardrums. They're crawling into my mind. Almost every single day. I can lock my doors, I can barricade the windows. And they still get in. Because I welcome them in. Because I, from the bottom of my soul, with every ounce of optimism I have, try to keep faith that people are redeemable. That they can change. And I give so fucking much of myself, my entire life, to support that effort. And I just get shit on for it.

So, fuck it. I gave it 3 years of trying. GG. Call me when you find God.

I found myself having a very dark thought earlier, and I want to be completely honest about it so I can not just shrug it off. So I can process it and move forward with it in mind. My cat is going to be 17 in about 2 months. She has osteoarthritis, hypothyroidism and kidney disease. She's a scrappy motherfucker, she always has been, but I'm afraid she may not have much time left. My dog is already dead, she died in July. I have no friends. You know what they say, "you can tell who your real friends are when the chips are down"? Yeah. Sad, but true. I have no family. Not really. My father was never a father. My brother flipped out on me because I asked him if he wanted to make music with me, and if he wanted a free art lesson while my landlords came over to inspect my house, to get my mind off shit, to distract me. My other brother hasn't had a real conversation with me since early high school, and communicates with me extremely rarely through his extroverted wife. That's all I got folks. So... my cat is really all I have left. Because I have to really strongly consider that my mom cannot actually stop herself from crippling me.

So what happens when my cat dies? All I will have is my art, my writing and my music. And without financial support from my parents, I'm pretty damn sure that's going down the drain too. No way I'm paying these bills on that kind of salary. So... yeah. That might be curtains. I mean. What kind of life is it really if I can't be myself? If I can't fulfill my purpose? How is that living? In this life, yes, I suffer greatly. Regularly. Likely shaving years off of my life. But at least I get to pursue my passions. When I'm not just perpetually recovering from the last brutal emotional beating. With the world the way it is now, with no connections in any field, not even any contacts... I don't see it happening. I see myself working somewhere, anywhere that I can. Just to get money. Just to keep food in the cupboards that are already bare. Just to keep a roof over my head. I will not be living. I will be surviving. And I honestly don't really know if that's a life I want to live, to be honest. I can't live a fulfilling life, I cannot fulfill my life's purpose, if I am merely surviving. The gifts that I have can not function when I am in survival mode. Ask Rimworld, they added it as an an actual game mechanic. Inspiration comes when good mood is sustained. Mental break comes when bad mood is sustained. Two sides of the same coin. I will be reduced to a miserable laborer, grinding the days away until I find the sweet release of death. And that's not a life, that's not living. So, I'm keeping that in mind.

This is insanely dark. I want to apologize, I feel compelled to. But I'm tired of apologizing for my own pain. I just need to get my pain out a bit, because I currently don't have any other coping mechanisms besides distraction and yoga, and I'm sore. Weed will make this worse, I've thought it over a dozen times and I really believe that right now. Drinking is not available, but I'm starting to strongly consider it. Prescriptions are not a thing for at least a month. Cigarettes have been dangling in my peripheral view for days now, I can hear their siren's song every day. "We can solve all your problems, my dear." For a price.

So, this is where my stress has to go.

I don't know what to do. I don't even know if I can sleep. It's 3:30 again, I'm exhausted, but I'm fucking terrified. And just... wounded.

But hey. At least I broke down some of those pesky cardboard boxes, huh? I'm sure cleaning my house will make shit right as fucking rain.

I've tried so hard to be a beam of pure light for as many others around me as I can be. And that light is a barely flickering ember right now. Even Jedi have their limits.

[gra-sonas]

If you're not caught up on Season 3, don't read this part!!! If you are, you know Alex removes Michael's handana in the final episode. This was a HUGE moment for MALEX, but maybe an even bigger moment for Guerin and myself. You see, the handana represents the past. It represents pain, heartache, regret, shame, and so many other things that have no place in Guerin's heart, my heart, or any of your hearts. As we go through life, we're going to be blindsided by monstrous moments and people, and all we can do is pick ourselves up and move forward. It's much easier said than done, and I know some people won't even get the opportunity to do that, but that doesn't mean I'm not going say it. Honestly, it's something I need to say simply to remind myself. While Guerin is a fictional character, so much of me is in him. Especially, me as a kid. My brain literally has no idea how I feel half the time, but my body always knows. And while I've done a ton of self reflection and work to become who I am today, just like Guerin has had to do, that beautiful, chubby little boy who struggled with who he was, will always be inside of me. I'm extremely privileged and fortunate to be in a line of business where I can release my trauma through work. Some people may think it's scary that I constantly revisit the worst parts of my life in my head, but it's honest. By exposing my truth, I get to be there for you, through a screen, helping you cope with whatever you're going through, and that is the ultimate gift for me. I know not all of you have a way to release whatever you're struggling with, so please know, I'm sending my love from afar. I hope today is full of family, friends, and love for each and every one of you. Let the handana from this drop represent our love and growth ❤️

Michael Vlamis in his latest michaelvlamis.com newsletter. 🥺

THIS MOMENT! 🥺😭🥰