#like i feel like theres so many stories about how ‘i knew the signs’ and all that but its like

[aaronymous999]

Okay imma say it right now because some people do not get it!!

Being queer is not a choice, but you’re not necessarily “born this way”.

I was a gay man up until the age of 12. I loved boys and I was a boy. Now though? I don’t like people. I’m happier than ever. And it wasn’t a choice I made to just stop liking people. My body just decided not to be attracted to anyone anymore. And that’s okay. If in the future I like boys again, that’s okay too. I was born queer, but my queer identity will never be the same my whole life, and that’s okay :)

[guitarstringed-scars]

the ravens eye diner- hajime iwazumi

masterlist

table for four

hajime was 2 days into his master plan of never seeing you again. it was going…rough. his mind had already adjusted to his new routine of running to the little diner and getting a cup of coffee. but he would be fine, he barely knew you. only knowing things like your name, and snippets of your personality he learned from stories you told as you refilled his coffee cup, or jokes you’d tell about the other customers.

but he wanted to know everything about you. your go-to coffee order, how many freckles you have, what your favorite color is, even your last name would be nice. he shakes these thoughts from his head.

he has no right to even wonder, because he was just a customer who happened to sit in your section. you probably haven’t even thought of him since he left. but why can’t he stop thinking about you?

“why have your runs been taking so long lately?”

hajimes head snaps up to see his roommate, toru oikawa. fuck he’s been caught.

“what are you talking about?” he asks, trying to cover.

“well, usually you’re back by 7:15 at the latest, and i use your door slamming as an alarm. but lately you haven’t been getting back until like 7:40.” toru rattles off, leaning against the doorframe.

“just been taking a longer route.” hajime dismisses him. ”doesn’t sound like you iwa…” toru sounds extremely suspicious.

hajime rolls his eyes.

“is that all you wanted from me?” he asks, turning back to his paper.

“no, i was wondering if you wanted to get lunch with mattsun, makki, and i.”

hajime thinks for a moment. he is hungry. but does he really want to sit through his friends nagging? he decides it’ll be worth it.

“fine.” he stands up, stretching his legs. makki and mattsun already sit in the shared living room.

“where should we go?” mattsun asks, scrolling through restaurants on his phone. makki sits next to him doing the same thing.

“theres a diner just a few blocks away, it looks pretty good.” makki muses.

“oh i would kill for a stack of pancakes right now.” toru groans.

hajime freezes. he hopes there is a different diner a few blocks away that he just never noticed.

“sounds good, what’s it called?” mattsun asks.

“um…” makki scrolls to the name. “the ravens eye diner.” well shit.

“oh, i’ve heard of them, their food is apparently really good.” mattsun says.

“okay, let’s go!” toru cheers.

hajime wants to die. at this point he knows there is no way that he can convince them all of a different restaurant, especially with torus heart dead set on pancakes. it’s okay, theres like a 25% chance that you are working, maybe less.

so, the party of 4 treks out into the great outdoors, and take the brief walk to the ravens eye diner. he’s greeted by the oh so familiar sound of the whir from the coffee machine, and the familiar face of the blonde hostess. hajime hides himself behind the other three men. sure he’s acting a bit childish, but he feels a bit embarrassed.

“hello! how many today?” she asks.

“table for four please!” toru says, smiling at the girl. she picks up the familiar menus, and as she looks up, hajime makes accidental eye contact with her. her eyes widen. that can’t be a good sign, he thinks.

she leads the group to the same table hajime sat at 4 days in a row last week. the table in the corner by the window. he takes the seat closest to the window, and everyone files in around him. the quartet goes quiet for a bit as they scan over the drink menu. hajime already knows what he’s getting, and he knows whats coming. the server.

much to his dismay, he is greeted by a smiling face. your smiling face.

“oh hi hajime! been a while!” you greet. he feels the confused stares of his friends on him.

“hi y/n, uh just a-”

“black coffee?”

“yeah, thanks.” he looks down at the table, ignoring their gazes.

“and for the rest of you?”

hajime doesn’t listen as the other three rattle off their drink orders. he’s too focused on the fact his head might explode because of how red he is.

he listens to the click of your shoes as you leave the table, and he knows he’s about to get attacked.

“how come you never mentioned you’ve been here before???” toru jumps in immediately.

“or that you knew the cute waitress!” mattsun adds, tagging on.

hajime just sits with his blushing face in his hands while his friends bombard him with questions. thankfully, they can’t pester him for long before you are back with a tray propped up on your arm, handing off their drinks. you set down hajimes hot coffee carefully in front of him, just like you’ve done the last 3 times.

“i’ll give you a few more minutes with the menu.” you say, waltzing off with your tray.

hajime wishes you would stay at the table forever. so he’d be protected from his friends nagging. what other reason would there be?

“ooo our little hajime has a crush! this must be why your runs take so long! i knew you were suspicious!” toru has won. this may end up being the worst meal of his life. toru has starting poking him in the sides, and hajime defends himself by slapping the back of his head.

“i do not have a crush! i just… come here for coffee some mornings.”

“oh so it’s just random when you come?” makki asks, skeptical tone evident on his voice.

“yes!”

“lie. nothing you do is random. you totally have a crush.” mattsun catches him. he hates how they are 100% correct.

“keep your voice down. please.” hajime pleads.

“he’s not denying it. wow, in our many years of friendship i have never seen you this flustered!” toru jokes.

hajime quickly finds his head in his hands again.

the next few minutes are filled with relentless teasing for hajime, and you freaking out in the back.

“your lover boy is back!” alisa cheers after hearing the news from hitoka.

“he is not my lover boy!” you defend yourself, grabbing your notepad and rushing right back out of the kitchen to take their orders.

funny how on opposite sides of the restaurant the same conversation is happening.

you arrive back at the corner table to see an extremely red faced hajime. maybe you want him to be your lover boy.

“alright, ready to order?” you ask, as the group turns to you.

“i’ll do toast and sunny side up eggs.” from the guy across hajime.

“waffle please!” from the one next to him. you turn to hajime next.

”um…i’ll just stick with the coffee for now.” he sounds unconfident in his answer. ”you sure?” you ask, looking up from your notepad. he nods, face still red as ever.

“hm, and for you?” you ask, turning to the final guy, you recognize him as one of the university volleyball players, but you can’t quite recall his name.

“i’ll do the stack of pancakes please,” he starts. “and also….your phone number for my dear friend hajime here!” he finishes his sentence with the most gleeful voice, it actually makes you laugh a bit.

“alright then.” you say, before turning on your heel and leaving. as you walk away you can hear hajime scolding him.

after you drop off their food and refill hajimes coffee, they request 4 separate checks, so you head to split the check in the back.

but, at the bottom of a certain check, you scribble down a quick note.

𖦹₊⊹fun facts⊹₊𖦹

-you started looking forward to your shifts when iwazumi was showing up but then he stopped so you went right back to being late

-hitoka was very scared by the group of 4 giant men

-alisa is a gossip machine, she knows everything about everyone in this restaurant

-toru loves to wingman

a/n: HE GOT THE NUMBER oikawa best wingman ever even if he wasn't asked to be.

taglist:

@wyrcan @nbcvs @froyaoya @mylahrins @wizardhore

@chloiyoomi @causenessus @bubooo @lvtilzs @nishayuro

@diorzs @19calicos

[arceespinkgun]

Thank you for speaking up about the treatment jazz gets in this fandom! as a black fan it can get tiring seeing all the signs of stereotypical and racist fanon on a black character, and i love jazz so much. having these discussions is really necessary in fandom spaces

i think we should greatly appreciate jazz's nicer traits, since all fanon likes to do is amplify and create negative traits for him so he can seem as a "deeper" or "more edgy character, when that not him at all! like when people say jazz is an assassin, hes not! hes a special operations agent! and theres so little canon content of him actually killing others, even less in the context of him being an agent than as a soldier. instead people should look at his love for human culture and humanity as a whole, and the fact in the comics he explicitly refers to black jazz musicians, and how he has great people skills!

i do also like jazzprowl, but again so many of their content is just racist stereotypes pushed on jazz to prop up against prowl. i think their relationship could be really interesting to explore romantically and platonically. ive read the magnificent six story and all hail megatron, which i think show a little of what their relationship could have if explored them further

another funny but sad thing about most jazzprowl fics is that they seem to treat prowl as more of a minority by his "praxian" race/the fall of praxus (which is completely fanon) than jazz! its bewildering how fics coddle prowl so jazz can be his heroic bf and support him. ppl seem more comfortable discussing a completely made up race for a white character than the very real coding of a black character

You're very welcome and thank you so much for sharing your perspective! Yours is one of the voices that people should be listening to, and so I'm sorry and enraged that the fandom is so racist and unsafe for fans like you. Everything you say about Jazz's character here is so true and that's exactly how I feel about how he could be written, too. This is why I kept trying to center canon—the well-written parts, not the racist media—in this discussion. There's so much good stuff to explore if fans only look! And I hate it when fanon that's offensive and almost feels like misinformation tricks people into thinking things about Jazz are true when they're not. And like, even if Jazz was ever characterized in this offensive way in canon media... transformative works are transformative? Fans can and should focus on the good parts???

I knew it was possible that some fans could ship JazzProwl because they were best friends in some older canon media like in the stories you mention. I do think I've seen people very, very occasionally mention things from canon, but it's so damn rare. Your take makes sense (also, yay, another person who has read "The Magnificent Six!" That made me happy lol), and it's sad that racist fanon is so constant and is everywhere and has completely obscured anything that was ever canon. Like, hey fandom, you could just build on canon if you want this soooo bad. You are not completely helpless. The bar is deep IN the ground at this point.

Also, wow, poor Jazz. Prowl confides in him about Praxus being destroyed in the Dreamwave comics one (1) time and Jazz is doomed to 20+ years of racist fic that sidelines him .__.

[caffstrink]

your points about omori are so real but i also think the story isnt even that good like the "twist"... like not only does it not really make sense logistically (puts on my cinemasins goggles for a minute) how did two small kids drag an older girl into the woods to hang her without getting noticed and also why even come to that conclusion instead of making it look like more of an accident in the original scene (takes off my cinemasins goggles sorry about that) but i felt like it was kind of cheapened when it wasnt her killing herself. like he still couldve blamed himself for that because he wasnt there for her and didnt notice the signs but its like no he accidentally pushed her down the stairs. (and then framed it as a suicide which Was indeed actually a bad thing to do so yeah man you should feel a little guilty) but that could just be me being an enjoyer of explorations of suicide and its aftermath in stories

Honestly the twist was the only praiseworthy thing i found in the game and even so it wasn't enough to redeem the whole journey to get there imo. I think my opinion happens to be the opposite of yours bc mari comitting suicide would've been too simple, too expected, whileas sunny accidentally causing her death is what explains the guilt that makes him repress his emotions/identity and choose to live in his imagination. Theres 2 main big issues i have with it though, and since you've given me the opportunity I'll rant about it.

If i remember right at the time of her death mari was 15 while sunny/basil were 11 or 12, so i don't think it would be far-fetched for the two to carry her body together, although hanging her from the tree would be difficult. As for no one noticing i think that's actually pretty normal as far as these cases go, you'd be surprised at how many murders happen in broad daylight in suburban areas where there's neighbors walking outside yet no one notices bc they're not looking at someone's backyard to see some guy burying a dead body (if you watch those murder documentaries you'd be surprised at how common these cases tend to be). Basil trying to frame it as suicide is honestly a very very stupid idea, but considering their age and the situation it does make sense since they were panicking and people have 0 braincells when they're panicking.

The main reason i liked this twist though, may be because of how i perceived the scene where we see mari's hanging body and how it had an eye open, i thought it implied mari could be still alive when they hung her, and the uncertainty of it is what wouldve plagued sunnys psyche for the following years. Idk that was what i thought at least, but i don't recall seeing anyone else point out mari possibly still being alive when she was hung, so it may be just me.

Now here's the rant part. The game subtly implies that sunny's parents knew it wasn't a suicide. And by subtly i mean in a HIDDEN ROOM YOU HAVE TO ACCESS THROUGH ALTERING VALUES IN THE GAME FILES instead of, i don't know, in the annoying dragged out black space horror segment? Anyway in that room you see a shadow of what looks to be Sunnys father chopping down the tree and he says "you're no son of mine" or something along those lines (its been a while so i forgot the exact quote). PLUS its kind of obvious maris body wouldve been taken to be analyzed and theyd for sure see the head trauma that caused her death, but since it was accidental and both sunny and basil were minors, it's likely they went unpunished and Sunny's parents covered up with the suicide story so the others wouldn't think of them as murderers.

Why the hell does the game never mention his parents except on the real world? Its shown they divorced after mari died, did sunny not really care about that? Why does his ugly pastel escapism fantasy not have any mention to them? Did he not feel guilty about the grief he caused his parents? WHY IS IT NOT MENTIONED IN THE GAME AND ONLY IN A HIDDEN ROOM

And the second thing is the reasons that caused the incident in first place, it felt like it couldve been explored much more than it was. Like ok i get it, sunny didnt actually want to play violin, his friends thought he did and he was too afraid to disappoint them when they bought him one. But the main thing he mentions he hates about it in his diary is that he needs to practice on saturdays and misses 1 hour of cartoon watching with his friends. Like man. Come on. Priorities i guess? There wasn't any pressure of someone moving away, or someone leaving for college, or anything like it that would explain why sunny needed that 1 hour of cartoon watching with everyone so badly that it emotionally distressed him to that level.

My second complaint is how Mari is treated like a pure saint through all of the game, which was kind of a missed opportunity to have shown that she also was flawed and not always the kind big sister he idealized her to be in his mind (it could've also been shown that the Saint Mari in his brain is due to his guilt, but no, apparently she was just was like that irl too), the only flaw mari had was that she was perfectionist about the piano recital and pressured sunny about it? Like come on man there could've been more here. We could've had accepting mari was a flawed human as a part of sunnys recovery so he can move on from itn but instead mari is just a perfect angel through all of the game who unfortunately was accidentally killed by her younger brother bc she got upset he broke his violin on purpose like any 15 year old would. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

[misspelled-magic]

PROPAGANDA FOR STANLEY AND CESARE!!!!

THEY ARE TOGETHER!!!!!

BESTEST BUDDIES!!!

TEAM THEY SAID PLEASE!!!!

Cesare and Stanley both struggle with having their own agency-- Stanley is controlled by the Player/the Narrator/the Parable's story, and Cesare is manipulated and owned by Dr. Calligari. Both of their settings are dreamlike/unreal. Both Stanley and Cesare cannot speak. They bond over these shared qualities, and find friendship with eachother. Stanley also, notbly, has the first chapter in "Some Worth in Life" focused entirely on his friendship with Cesare. This platonic friendship is as important to Stanley as his many-thousand-years long romantic relationship with the Narrator. As for Cesare-- he is repeatedly focused and worried about Stanley's well being, despite how pessimistic and absurdist his worldview is. They are friends, through and through-- and they will be friends for a while longer. :3 @crossovernonshipstournament

quotes and writing from the wbb lore showing their friendship under the cut!!!!

It is a strange thing to live your life in a dream. Y ou can feel the call of the waking world outside. Fragments always floating or fighting their way through. You feel your limbs, unable to move- your eyes, unable to open. Here, a bright flash of orange charges across your vision, there, a pale figure reaching upwards. 

There- a pair of perfectly manicured hands pull back the hood to a cloak revealing a face like- 

N ow theres arms lifting a black figure, you, up from a horror of spikes. you see a young boy, no- many, with an amulet. you see a mass of bodies grow larger and larger and larger and- 

You see your body fall. Theres two boys. A fox. A cat. Two cats? No cats- one cat. An army. No army. I didn't look last time. Theres a bat behind you. No, a shadow. You look again. You're caught in something-no you will be. Your body is contorted. 

How long will I live?  

A strange machine and a cosmonaut in yellow pressed together. Someone waves you over. You've fallen again. Polka dots? Please?   More blood. A girl in a dark room. 

Till the break of dawn

A hand pulls a knife from someones chest, or does it force it in? The chest is not yours. The hand is yours. The chest is yours. The hand is not yours. You've never had a friend. You're dying by his side. He asked you something he's asking you something. He will ask you something. 

You are called to the world again, no- you will be? No you were. You feel the full force of your breath in your lungs. You open your eyes. Your eyes are opened. 

You're in an arena and a man stands before you. Again. He begins to sign in greeting. Deep from within you something begins to pour 

Stanley Parable 44.3% 

Saul Goodman 55.7% 

its a strange thing to live your life in a dream.

~ the entirety of future memories

-...-

Stanley had been alone for a while.

He didn't know how much time had passed in the Parable before now. Time is hard to keep track of, especially when you're in a timeloop.

But he knew it'd been a while. At least a few years. In there, he didn't have much companionship. There was the Narrator, yes, but he didn't always have a physical form. There was the bucket, but Stanley knew it wasn't truly sentient; just a comforting presence.

There wasn't much for companionship, and he'd been alone for a while.

So was it so strange that he wanted to have a friend?

He looks at the man he had been 'teamed up' with-- Cesare, the Somnambulist-- gangly looking, bug-like in his movements, and with an immense amount of makeup underneath of his eyes. He is silent, just like Stanley.

He had also somehow predicted the loss Stanley had felt; at the hands of that lawyer. He had, with stunning precision, just... said it.

[How did you know that?] Stanley signs with curiosity. [That I would lose? How did you know what my result would be?]

Cesare smiles, and it is an odd sort of grin; it feels uncanny, yet Stanley can tell that the intent behind it is fully genuine.

-Time is always for me.- a title card says, flashing across Stanley's vision as Cesare opens his mouth, and vanishing as he closes it.

Stanley blinks in surprise, and then... well, he doesn't quite think about it, or understand it, but he nods. Stranger things have happened in the Parable.

Stanley has been alone for a while, and so he extends a hand.

[So, we're together now.] he signs with a smile, looking over at the other revived teams. [Let's hang out a bit. Say, do you know the results of this poll?]

-We. Not enough. 22.7-

Stanley nods a tired sigh, and then sits down on the ground. He pats the ground next to him, beckoning Cesare over with a grin.

[So, is this sort of thing weird for you?] he asks.

-There are strange things... Many things. Another axis.-

[Yeah, I get what you're saying. The Narrator's weird for me, but... yeah. Different area.]

-Narrator?-

[Yep. Loud, British voice that trys to control me. Also known as Narry, but that's... that's more of a 'me' term for him.]

Cesare hmms, thinking. And then--

-Have you control, still? Are you?-

Stanley looks at him, and then sighs.

[What's yours?] he signs first.

Cesare hmms in a questioning manner.

[You wouldn't ask me something like that if you didn't also have... experience.]

Cesare frowns slightly, and then nods.

-I... have. I have been a what to a him and he has been him through my body. I am not awake. I am not me.-

Stanley nods in soft agreement and sighs.

[It's a bit... well, I'm sure your thing is complicated too, but mine is... also complicated. I... I'm still me. But there are times when... when I am the Player. The Player is me and I am them. And the Narrator guides me. And the Player follows, or resists, and sometimes, I feel like such a... like just a vessel, to them.]

Cesare looks Stanley in the eye and... nods, softly.

Stanley reaches out his hand, and grips Cesare's hand tightly.

The two of them sit in talkative silence as the match drags on. Before they know it, the results are in.

And they are separated.

And alone once more.

~ the entirety of some worth in life ch 1

-...-

Stanley was able to make his way over to Cesare, not bothered too much by the various kins-men milling around. Unfortunately, it seemed as though he was still sleeping-- like Stanley, he had been affected by all of the revivals, and it was going to take some serious time or effort to fix that.

Stanley sighed as he sat down next to Cesare.

They were friends, Stanley thought. No, he didn’t just think it-- he knew it. Cesare and him were friends , and Stanley was going to look out for his friend. He was going to stand by Cesare, until-- well, until he couldn’t anymore. Cesare was asleep right now, and Stanley knew that that made him very vulnerable. He was not going to let anything happen to Cesare, not if he had some say in the matter."

...

"[I’m going to stay here with Cesare for now.] he signs, and as Magnus and Percy walk off, he looks over at the face of his sleeping friend.

Carefully, he tucks his loading screen into Cesare’s pocket. It’s risky for Stanley to be losing that, but… he’s died before. And the loading screen didn’t help with the revival degradation. At least now, if something happens to Cesare, he’ll wake up in the Parable, far away from this awful tournament.

Well. That is, if he ever does wake up again.

~ excerpt from cost of death chapter 3

-...-

"The elimination round had ended, and Stanley was looking for help.

Not for himself, no. His mouth… he had a few ideas in that regard, after speaking to some of the more powerful white boys (and, some of the new arrivals). His will…

He wasn’t going to tell anyone about his will. He could nearly feel it, about as sturdy as a soggy paper bag. He couldn’t tell anyone about his will, because the amount of danger and risk that would put him in was so much worse than the possibility they could fix it.

Stanley was going to get Narry back, and then Narry was going to help fix Stanley back into his default state. That was the best plan, the plan least likely to go wrong.

But in the meantime, Stanley was looking for help.

For Cesare.

Stanley clutched the necklace he had been given. It was very valuable, very useful, and if he played his cards right, it would let Cesare wake up.

Stanley sat by Cesare now, glancing around the common area. He’d asked the Line™ and the Timekeeper to bring back someone to help. And while neither of them were currently visible, Stanley wasn’t concerned. The Timekeeper often liked skulking about, and the Line™ often preferred to snake along the floor two-dimensionally.

Stanley tapped at the ground anxiously, and then he quickly reached out, grasped the Hug button, and gave it a firm push.

He missed his Narrator. He hoped and fucking prayed that Narry was feeling those hugs– that he was alright enough to register that input– because if he wasn’t, Stanley was going to kill.

“Yes, yes, I am coming.” a luscious voice murmured.

Stanley looked up to see a man who looked rather bird-like– his hair was black and tufted in a manner reminiscent of bird down; he wore a long, sweeping cloak that was black and iridescent at the same time, like the feathers of a raven; and his face was quite firmly calm, clearly a practiced expression.

The man strode over to Stanley, being led by the Adventure Line™.

“I understand you need help with something concerning your sleeping friend?” he said easily. “I am Dream of the Endless. I believe I can help.”

[You can wake him up?] Stanley signed hopefully.

“Indeed I can. He is asleep, and all that happens while dreaming is well within my power. But I will need to see your… amulet.”

Stanley picked at the skin near his cuticle. [Yes.] he signed. [I– I am willing to trade it, for Cesare to be able to wake up.]

He held the necklace up and showed it to Dream. Dream leaned in, his dark eyes flitting over the metalwork, and then he nodded.

“Then we have a deal, Stanley Parable. I shall aid you and your companion, and you shall gift me your amulet in return.”

Stanley nods. [So, uh– how do we do this]

“We will enter his dream.” Dream said, as if it was no more a challenge than taking a stroll.

[We will?] Stanley signs with hesitancy. [Uh… okay? What do we need to do to do that?]

“Oh, not a thing.” Dream said, breezily waving his hand in the air. “We can enter his dream and his mind and find him now, if you wish it.”

[Now?] Stanley signed. [Is there something I should do to… I don’t know, prepare? I’ve never been in a person’s dreams before.]

Dream laughed a light chuckle. “You will be accompanied by me, Stanley Parable. You will not have anything to fear from dreams whilst you are with Dream himself.”

Dream smiled in the way a fox might, extended his hand, and Stanley took hold.

He held Dream's hand, and he lost all hold on the waking world.

***

Cesare’s mind was a scrambled, twisting mess. Hallways turned in on themselves in non-euclidean ways; half of the time the horizon looked to be painted; and everything was colored in a strange sort of black-and-white way.

Stanley grimaced; this was far worse than anything he had experienced before in the Parable. He looked over at Dream, who was standing at calm attention.

“When you’re ready.” he muttered softly. “I will guide you, Stanley Parable.”

Stanley nodded, taking a moment to gather his bearings. He breathed in, out. Hey, he has his mouth in the dream! That’s nice.

He closed his eyes and concentrated.

Cesare. He’s here for Cesare.

He opened them again, looked Dream in the eye, and nodded.

[Please.]

Dream immediately began walking off in an elegant sort of stride, much like a dancer. He is fully at ease and in control in the realm of Dreaming. Here, in Cesare’s slumber, Dream was comfortable, collected– truly, he was in his element.

“This one’s mind is damaged.” Dream murmured with sorrow. “I have never seen such wounds to a mind; some as deep as his, yes. And some left from a similar source. But this… Stanley Parable, do you know what did this? Was it the woman running the tournament?”

[No, no. This happened before he came here.]

“I see. And– well, of course, you do not have to share it.”

[I won’t.] Stanley signed adamantly. He couldn’t imagine sharing what Cesare had told him about Dr. Caligari with Dream. It was personal, what Cesare had said.

But, as they continued to walk the landscape of Cesare’s mind… Stanley began to recognize things.

First there was a box. A wooden box, about the size of a coffin, though nowhere near as elegant.

That was Cesare’s box, Stanley knew it. The one that the Doctor had held him in, as if Cesare was nothing more than some furniture, to be taken out when needed and stored away in the smallest place intangible otherwise.

He made no mention of this to Dream– again, it wouldn’t be right to share something like that without Cesare’s consent. Even if they were literally inside of Cesare’s mind and dreams, Stanley didn’t need to do that.

Then, there was a sign.

It was advertising Cesare; it was one of Caligari’s. The Miraculous Cesare– No, no, Stanley didn’t want to look at that. He turned his gaze elsewhere, but it only landed on a tent with a poster of Cesare, and–

Stanley felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Dream, whose mouth was still set in a stoic line, but… his eyes, they were wider, and filled with concern.

“He had been made to act while dreaming,” Dream said with anger. “His mind has been taken advantage of whilst he was asleep.”

[Yes.] Stanley signed, hesitantly. [Is that… a problem?]

“It is quite the problem that such a thing was done at all.” Dream says, his voice low and dangerous. “Dreams are my realm. The sleeping are my domain. It is something… repulsive, to even think of.”

Stanley nodded softly. [It was.. Dr. Caligari. He received Cesare at the Holstenwall Asylum, and… used him. Bent his will, compelled him to do Caligari’s bidding.]

Dream nearly growls at that, and then shakes his head. “No. I will not let such a thing stand. Stanley Parable, I do not think I will be able to heal the fractures in Cesare’s mind, but I shall at least cause him to wake. And I will do this without the need of your amulet as payment– he is a somnambulist; a dreamwalker; he should have the freedom to at least be able to dream in a manner befitting his own will.”

Dream strided further on through Cesare’s mind, and the deeper they get–

Fuck, what is there is horrifying.

Caligari molding Cesare, conditioning him, hypnotizing him. Touching Cesare’s body, feeding him, taking care of him– but there is no love there. No, Caligari treats Cesare as an item, as a tool– and Stanley wants to fucking kill Caligari more than anything for the pain he put Cesare through.

Dream strode on, growing more enraged the deeper into the dream they went, until both of them reached the center.

It’s oddly calm, oddly still, oddly peaceful here. The dream, and the memories attached, had been growing steadily more and more disturbing, painful, traumatic. And then–

Stanley and Dream found themselves in a small room, a large queen bed with a canopy taking up at least half of the space. Cesare’s eyes were shut softly, his posture tender, his face clean and clear of makeup. He looked healthier here than Stanley has ever seen him before.

The floor and bed were covered in a carpet of white flowers, all delicately sprinkled out. The light that came in felt like that of an easy morning in the middle of spring; clean, cool, bright.

But Stanley stepped onto the petals and walked over to his friend.

Dream looked on and nodded, as Stanley reached out to tap Cesare on the shoulder.

Cesare’s eyes gently fluttered awake, his face becoming at once surprised and disappointed and overjoyed, and then–

Then, Cesare had woken up.

Then, the dream ended.

Stanley sat next to Cesare, as Cesare moved, stirring awake. He grinned at Stanley in his odd way– his mouth wide like an anglerfish, rather disturbing, but still full of and coming from a place of genuine mirth and joy.

-Stanley.- Cesare said, as his eyes grew wide and he looked around, fully awake. -You came for me.-

[Of course.] Stanley signed earnestly.

Dream nodded at Stanley softly, and then he strode off.

[Of course.] Stanley signed again, looking Cesare in the eyes. He reached out, lightly touching Cesare’s hands.

[We’re a team. We’re friends. We stick together.]

~ the entirety of some worth ch 3

...

[Why the fuck are you guys out in the woods?]

Magnus said, “I could ask you the same question.”

[Cesare’s a sleepwalker. He’s sleepwalking. I’m making sure he doesn’t fall into a hole and die.]

~ excerpt from team leverage chapter 2

-...-

Stanley waved at Sora as a manner of greeting.

[I guess he has a passcode, then?]

“Do you have a passcode, Sora? Or, you said the kinsmen just like you?” Paphos relayed.

"Yeah, they just let me in last time I went in alone. I'm friends with this one- Kendall."

[Oh! Me too!]

"‘Oh! Him too!’” Paphos said.

"Yeah, he's such a nice guy. I like him." He laughed a bit. "Riku looked a little jealous, but he knows he's my favorite person ever."

[Oh, I understand. Speaking of, I was heading over to the cabin to see my friend Cesare. If there’s not anything else you guys need, I’m gonna go.]

~ excerpt from the new kid chapter 3

[arkadavinia]

hi, you probably aren't even showing up here anymore but just wanted to say that I hope you don't give up on your fic We grow up apart, together and again! because I recently discovered it and it broke my heart to know that you haven't updated it in over 3 years. hope you come over there soon 😢❤

Oh anon, im always here, creepin'. Never fear. And 'given up' is a strong phrase for it, but whenever i sit down, reread or think about 'We grow-' i got 3/4ths of the way through the story, and then, as it does, life happened. Whenever i try to find that muse these days, its really faint, and i worry about writing more, and how much the voice will have changed.

But if you want, I can tell you more.

Cause, when they go to Ohio, Kevin was supposed to bring up telling their friends, like a doof, and Aaron was all like, "we haven't told anyone so far and basically everyone knows." Which may also just be because he did already tell Dan, and theres no knowing how many of their friends she told.

Ohio was to be a meeting and remembering and then an accepting of how being friends, who have become together, doesn't always change how you interact with others. (We Grow with Friendship) Its not a brand or a sign you have to display constantly, large and loud. Its a casual reworking of how a group of people sit in an area, where just because your a couple doesn't mean you have to be attached at the hip. Even if Nicky follows them around all week cooing when they even so much as pass a snack bowl.

After Ohio I was planning a bit of a time skip. (We Grow into New Shapes) Into Aaron's residency, because honestly, the with how busy Kevin is always, and how much busier Aaron would be while doing class and residency, I knew it was a place where I could see them doubting their relationship. And Kevin being Kevin I can imagine he would stew in it. He would want to talk about all the horrible things Aaron may see, and the hardest part of being a healthcare worker in any capacity would be losing a patient, but legally, you really can't talk about those moments. Which is hard, to comfort someone without really understanding why they need comfort.

The last chapter tho, was supposed to be for Kevin. Cause a large part of how or why they got together was around Thea. (We Grow Again) The plan was that Thea would finally hear that Kevin was with Aaron, cause her head was so far up her butt, she assumed he would just come back- which is mean, but the way i built her up in this story was also mean. So when she finds out he's actually moved on, is living with someone, and in a relationship with them and still seemingly thriving in his professional career, would probably make her want a confrontation.

(That was the other thing about this voice- muse- story, i am not a confrontational person and writing confrontational people like this, was hard for me. Finding this voice is hard, and now being so removed from it, i feel it would only let people down to continue it.)

But chapter 12 was to show Kevin standing up for himself, his relationship and trying to make someone he used to care about, a lot, understand that he's happy now. He's okay. They're okay. And that's okay. It doesn't have to be great- probably would never be great, but it was okay.

I started this story at a point when my life was going in a direction that I hadn't predicted, and i felt very powerless to control it, but i was able to find a way to make it okay- again, not great, barely even good, but okay.

A lot of it had to do with COVID, and being in college where things were turned up on their heads. I live in a state that was one of the first to shut down, and we got a lot of flack for it. I think it was the right call, but i was also in hospitals doing clinical work and seeing this new illness tear through the facility was scary. I had those moments later, after the bans and shelter orders were over though, where i stood outside hospital rooms and watches people die from an illness they didn't believe could affect them. I had to sit with my husband while he cried because his parents refused to listen to anything scientific, did not take precautions and ended up in very sever situations because of it. (his mother is an RN, i was livid, still am) (they are okay now, for the most part, three weeks in the hospital changed their tunes a bit tho) But my voice is better now, generally. i graduated from college, passed my registry exam, worked in that same facility for 4 month and then found a better position for me. My relationship is much better and while there have been other twists, I am a better me than i was.... in January of 2020. Man, that was three years ago, whhhhaaaat.

Sorry for the long post, but Ive been meaning to post something about this for a while. So thanks, Anon. But also sorry, if this isn't all you wanted, literally. But i don't think I have these voices in my any longer.

[the80srewinders]

Our Diagnosis Story

We've been posting about our life before we found out about DID especially about before the host knew they had alters. We never posted our full journey, just bits and pieces when needed. Since this is a DID/OSDD blog we should post our full story, and since 80s culture has something to do with our healing, it fits perfectly on the blog. Other people with DID have posted their journeys before so we'll join and add ours.

Trigger warnings for csa, physical abuse, emotional abuse, rape, bullying, RAMCOA, medical trauma, isolation, and ableism apply for this part.

The body was born with brain damage, causing mental and physical disabilities. The body is mildly physically disabled, but can't do skating, lifting or sports. We were born with level 2 autism spectrum disorder. If you're wondering why I'm telling you about the body's mental and physical health, it plays a part in why we developed DID.

We'll never know how old the body was when we were first sexually abused or who did it first. But because of clues, all in our memories, we figure the sexual abuse first happened at 2 at the latest. Our first memories possibly date back to when we were 3, theres a small unlikely possibility it dates back to when we were 2. I, host, believe my memories date back to when the body was 3. My first memories are in third person, and with imaginary friends who were sentient. The really distressing dissociative experiences didn't start until the body was 4 that I know of. I'm not sure what most of the memories of when I was 4 even consist of or how many I have- all I know is the number is definitely under 30 memories in all. But I have plenty of memories where I'm wondering if the world is real (derealization.) I always thought that was a normal thing everyone did but didn't talk about- there's more of those, we'll come back to that later. I remember mentally feeling nothing- no fear, no sadness, no happiness, I just... existed. I didn't feel like anything at the time but looking back I feel like a fly on the wall or a spiritual observer in the room- I didn't feel anything, I was detached from the people around me, I was ignored in all my memories except the ones of me with one of the abusers in particular. I don't remember much about the memories with him at that time outside of he showed signs of grooming me.

When the body was 5 we started public school. Things seemed okay at first, but soon the autistic behavior became a problem. I wasn't diagnosed with it yet, so my guardians at the time and school staff thought I was just defiant. I remember almost nothing from when I was actually in the school, except for a few memories: being threatened with being shoved down a storm drain on the playground at recess by another student (don't remember anything about the student, they're like those black silhouette men on the caution warning signs- a distorted, shadowy ish but more opaque figure), not being allowed to sleep on the floor during naptime because I get sick too easily, and watching these "lesson" documentaries (I only remember what two of them were about.) If any other bullying happened when the body was 5 I don't remember it. But when I was 6 the bullying really got severe- and I remember none of it. I also have only one memory I know for a fact is from when I was six and theres a few memories that are possibly from when the body was six but the exact date is unknown. This is the year I lost to dissociative amnesia caused by DID. According to people who were around me back then, I was not myself- I was distant and upset. My mom even told me that when I was six I was mad at her for "sending me to school to get tortured" when the word "torture" wasn't in my vocabulary back then and I never knew that happened. I don't even know how I knew the bullying was severe- I only remember a little bit of it from 2009. I believe it was when the body was six I started writing in different names because that felt like it was who I was- I never knew my legal identity until I was 5 and that was just my first name, it took me until I was 7 to fully know my legal identity. When I was met with my legal identity, it felt uncomfortable and embarassing. My name was uncomfortable, like a slur, sign of danger or something I should be ashamed of. When I was six and seven, I'd be found randomly staring off in the school restroom, when ever since I could remember I've been scared of most public restrooms. I was running around trying to kiss boys which is weird because before I was 8 I was lesbian. I remember none of these things but they happened. This behavior was out of character and I never knew it happened until other people who witnessed it brought it up. In 2009 the bullying got more severe- two incidents I remember are a girl spitting in my food, making me eat it causing me to get severely sick, and being punched. I was homeschooled after that, and when I was, the time loss became noticeable to me- without consciously feeling like I fell asleep, I'd suddenly have a sense of being "back" from being somewhere else in the room or the house. But I had no memory of consciously falling asleep or waking up- my consciousness never felt like it was cut off, yet I'd be hit and rushed with this feeling that I went unconscious and was "back" in the chair or wherever. I'd mentally ask myself "Weren't you here just seconds ago?" I'd also feel like I was in different parts of the room than I really was, like under the chair. This was another thing I thought everyone experienced but no one talked about.

When the body was 8, we started visiting the body's cousin. She was less than a year younger than me, and our guardians thought it would be a good idea for me to be around her. Because I was (diagnosed with it the year before) physically and mentally disabled, our guardians thought it was a good idea to isolate me from other "normal" or really just outside people and have my cousins as my only friends. This is just the tip of the isolation iceberg I endured as a child. The cousin made a pass at us the first day, and would sexually abuse us sadistically for an unclear number of years.

When the body was nine, we officially entered a mental health crisis. I had no self esteem and wanted to be a "normal" girl. I saw the cousin do everything we couldn't but wanted to- skate, do ballet, have after school activities, have friends, and eat things we couldn't due to the physical disability. We also were recently diagnosed with autism- and the way it was explained to me was, I was being isolated because thats what you do with autistic kids since they have trouble socializing and other stuff I'd rather not repeat since its ableist. I also told off the sexual abuser from when I was around 2-6 when I was nine but have no memory of doing so, and supposedly what I told off had to do with him doing mind control on me and I don't remember if I told off the sexual abuse or not from what the person who told me this said. After that, my mental health got worse. I was consciously creating masks of what I wanted to be- these masks had names, ages, even their own family I wish I had and history. Whatever I thought was easier I'd pretend to be, and even tell strangers I was. I refused to identify with my real name and felt dysphoria with it. When I was 8 a phenomenon started that I still have, but especially had a lot when I was nine- those things you never knew happened, but you should remember them, and feeling like you're doing something wrong by not remembering them so you lie and say you do remember them. It could be anything- a vacation, a family night, a christmas party. It felt like it was "the rules" that I had to remember these things.

When the body was eleven, I had my first real encounter with an alter. I was thrown out of my body completely; I was watching myself from the other side of the room. And I felt like someone elses thoughts were being received by my brain and I was sharing thoughts with someone. I'd heard a voice briefly telling me to do things when I was 8 but when I was 11 this voice made itself prominent and was a part of my daily life, when previously I only had an internal monologue when I needed one- just to associate things together (often when I was deep in thought and detached from the world) and I don't remember clearly what else it was used for but it would come and go, pop up here and there. This inner voice was repetitive- it would be stuck on saying the same phrases over and over then get another set of phrases it would repeat over and over, in a way to block out "bad thoughts." This was a mostly unconscious thing.

When the body was 12 and 13, the abuser from when we were 2-6 would go on vacations and the dissociation really became prominent. Mostly identity disturbance. By this time, I didn't know what I really liked because I felt like my brain was pulling me in all different directions and it was exhausting. I would feel like my looks changed to someone else entirely, I'd always look in the mirror to make sure I still looked like myself. I even kept a strand of hair in front of my eye to "ground" me because I didn't feel like my looks turned into someone elses when I had the hair as a reminder my looks didn't change. My mannerisms would change to said person, I'd almost sense them behind me or inside of me. I would randomly be thrown overboard from my body and looking at it from the side like I was sitting next to myself. This happened a lot. Random objects or people would suddenly feel like they didn't really exist and that scared me. Sometimes the world felt dreamlike or just unreal when that happened.

When I was 15 I still had all those experiences, but a new one was added to the list- I would mostly unconsciously pick up random objects and forget I had them. I don't know what made me do that. I would pick up objects out of a remote liking and forget I was still holding them or had them. I didn't even feel them in my hand. I did this a lot anywhere. I wasn't even fully in control of myself.

When I was 16, I had amnesic switches somewhat often but didn't notice until years later when I found things I wrote and drew and didnt remember doing. There was a girl in my head I didn't consciously create I'd see and identify with. I started hearing coherent responses from another. But when I was 17 things would finally lead to our diagnosis.

When I was 17, my inner voice was telling me to do things repeatedly. When I was done, I would feel this sense of satisfaction that didnt feel like it was fully me feeling it. This led to me seeking mental help and getting misdiagnosed with OCD. I followed treatments for it (not meds- the body can't process them safely) and nothing worked. This would continue into 2020 when after talking about my "high wired" episodes where I'd be "driven" to talk a lot with no control or exact subject and feel like crawling out of my skin and my head spinning (these started at 7 I guess) and feeling "driven" to stay up and be productive almost only in the late night early morning hours with a sense of satisfaction, I was misdiagnosed with bipolar disorder. Those two things are common in CPTSD and were overlooked. By 2021, I was mostly unproductive until those occasional late nights, deep into doing things repeatedly to the point I was tired and getting other people to do things for me so I wouldn't have to touch or move the same object many times, and distressed by "voices." When I admitted one of my triggers into the behavior was seeing the abusive cousin that's when the possibility I had DID or OSDD was put in the picture. Starting in late 2021, I had to go through a lot of testing for dissociative disorders and personality disorders. In the process, around December 2021, the alters started unraveling. They would introduce themselves, and I'd keep a list of them. This was around the same time I started becoming obsessed with the 80s because of the music, and by February of 2022 I didn't feel the need to do things repeatedly because of the "voice" that much. The diagnostic process ended in November 2022 and I was diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder. During the diagnostic process, we found a shared interest in the 80s. It started with music, which after loving the aesthetic in the music videos, we fully became obsessed with 80s culture and used our shared interest in the 80s to increase communication and reach functional multiplicity with the help of therapy. I look back at the time before I discovered I had a system, and I realize how I was a stranger to myself. I didn't know what happened in my own body but thought I knew everything about myself. I was so detached from myself and had to learn about myself. But here we are today- we've made so much progress in self discovery that we'd never go back. We're proud of who we are and wouldn't want to be anything else now.

[tranquil1es]

you knew my entire life story. you knew all the trauma and the pain, the abandonment, my biggest fears. you took advantage of it. you met me when i was vulnerable. became my therapist. i trusted you. it just clicked from the very first moment. which it never does for me, with anyone. we grew really close. learned more and more about esch other throughout time. i should have seen new years as the biggest warning sign of them all. intentionally playing with my feeligs. just for fun. hurting me. just for fun. just seeing how far you could go. not because you actually wanted to, bit just for fun. i forgave. ypu betrayed my trust really badly and my trust in you was higher than in anyone else, but i forgave you. and after meeting on my birthday, the love bombing started. i didnt even realize it. i was oblivious to it. this is how its supposed to be, no? i shouldve payed closer attention to the weeks afterwards. how your entire behavior changed. i shouldve payed more attention to the details over time when we were friends. having had a phase where you play with girls feelings for fun for your own amusement just to drop them afterwards. but that was long in the past right? i mean, you promised that, and your promises hold value, right? i was a delusional little puppy following along anything. wouldve done anything for you, wouldve done anything you asked for. didnt ask for anything back in return. busy? oh yea, i get that, your days are packed. energy‘s low. busy again? no problem, i told you, no need to feel bad about it!!

„theres gonna be more time from now on“

im so happy, so excited

„sorry i dont really feel like doing anything today, im too mentally drained“

„oh okay, no problem!“

„we can play a game of val or 2 before bed“

„oh my god YES ofcourse im omw“

„today ill be pretty busy so i wont be messaging much“

„and thats okay, have a lovely day anyways and just update me whenever!“

„im gonna be off school all day tomorrow“

„omg yay“

„oh but i forgot to tell you, i want that day all to myself. phone on dnd, no family, no friends, no you, just me“

„oh okay, just let me know whenever you feel better“

„i got my shift plan for next month and can manage to come visit again next month!!“

„already?“

„i mean, yea, its gonna have been over a month by then and i have the financial needs, quality time irl and seeing each other regularly is very important no“

„im gonma be very busy around that time and wont have much time to spend with you, id rather we prolong it till april or may when im more free“

„but i just wanna see you, i dont mind only actually seeing you for maybe 2 hours a day while youre home before bed, i dont mind youll be exhausted, i dont need much i wont be a bother, i just wanna ve there, its so much better than waiting months when you live hours away and the means are there“

„i promise i wont be a bother, ill sit there quietly and just eat dinner next to you and leave you be when you feel too exhausted, i just wanna see you“

„you do realize once you go back home youll get allll of my freetime, right? when doing my assignments i want to sit on call with you just so we can enjoy esch others company“

„video calls, ill set everything up for it“ yet the only one who turned on their cam every single time was me

its weird how the moment you broke up you suddenly had all the time in the world to queue as many games as you want and do whatever

[chlorinecake]

idk if u didnt reply to my last one or it didnt show up again 💔💔💔💔💔 ok so i literally forgot what i wrote last time soooo im screwed

i think i wrote

blueberry diaries log one

i mean i love jake land but the thing is idols they rarely come here like.. world tour literally means japan korea america americans are sooooo lucky 💔💔💔 i wish i could see enha but they havent come here even ONCE but its ok ive still had the chance to go to some concerts 😄😄 but the thing is i was literally resisting the urge to fly to singapore to watch enha 😞😞😞

speaking of did u go to the enhypen concert when they went to 29393288283 places in ur country 😄if u did hope it was fun (dying on the inside) if u didnt thennnn.. theres always next time

america is very cool tho i went there a while ago long flight tho but it was fun i went back in time sooo

im very curious what happens when an idol sees an au about themself.. 😭😭 how would they react LMAOAOA

anyways about universe ticket its really not traumatising some of the contestants even have tiktok accounts 😄😄 it feels a little rushed tho.. BUT THE THING IS THE DEBUT GROUP HAS ONE ADULT AND ONE 12 YEAR OLD I FEEL SO OLDDDD

also i never knew that you can change the size and the font of words on tumblr i feel so.. uneducated 😭😭

ok signing off,

- 😹

Omg, the “Blueberry Diaries” 😍 Sign me up, I love this show alreadyyy !!

Flying out to Singapore just to see them perform would’ve been such a fun experience I’m sure, but at the same time, very expensive and maybe even scary if you went alone … Crossing my fingers in hope that one day tho, Enhypen will show some love to Jake Land and it’s residing engenes 🫶

But no, I’ve actually never been to one of their concerts before, and as much as I’d love to go one day, my mom is SO ANTI kpop to the point that if she even knew that I listened to their music, she’d take my phone away again 😭 Like ong, she literally had a panic attack when she saw pictures of Hyunjin & Niki in my gallery, but that’s a story for another day … 🍵

And omg, which state did you visit (if you don’t mind sharing) …. You also just reminded me of my childhood fascination with Australia… I don’t know why, but I’ve always wanted to visit there as a kid, and even more NOW as an adult knowing that so many of my favorites idols are from there :’3

About the ff thing tho, I honestly feel like most of them would be flattered by it while others would just find it flat out weird 😭 Sometimes, I get the feeling that Enhypen knows abt ppl writing stuff for them, mostly bc it just seems like they’re always in on our inside jokes and strange engene ways 🫠

But trainees having active social media accounts is new :0 ?!? And ‘11 liners working alongside adults is crazyy !! Hell, I can’t even believe I just said 11’ liners, HELP-

Good to hear no one’s being traumatized tho 😭 And yeah, you’ll learn that tumblr has a lot of cool features and quirks once you keep using it !!

Anyways, thanks for reaching out again, Blueberry !! It was fun responding to this lengthy ask huhu 🤭 ~

[glitchdollmemoria]

schizospec childhood trauma rant

as my brain is worsening, and im closer to getting a diagnosis, part of me has this impulse to throw it in my parents faces when it finally happens. look at me, i cant think right, i cant talk right, a doctor is finally taking me fucking seriously, i knew all along that something was wrong and i tried to ask you for help and you said i was just being childish and stupid and you were WRONG. look at me, im schizophrenic, schizoaffective, other specified, unspecified, fucking whatever, theres a word for it and you HATE that, you wanted it to just be that i was a problem child, you didnt want a child with such a stigmatized disruptive unsightly disorder, you insisted that couldnt be it and you were fucking wrong and now im suffering worse than i had to because you refused to see the signs when i fucking tried to tell you, you insisted on neglect and all it got you was a child who grew into an adult even more socially hideous than you ever fucking wanted, more than i ever was. and its beautiful! its a revenge story that i lost the reigns of. i deserve to be loud and smug about the fact im suffering and the fact im getting treatment, fucking FINALLY, after all that neglect and hostility. i deserve to be proud of my existence. i deserve to reclaim childishness, and to insist, yes, im a fucking adult, im a grown ass woman man thing. there is so much joy ahead in my recovery because im getting what i always begged for and should have gotten a decade ago at the fucking latest. and i want to rub their noses in it, i want to force them to confront the fact that im mentally ill in an ugly, unsavory way, that im a fucking stain on their obsession with perfection. i rot the roots of this family tree by daring to be sick. they wanted perfection, pushed perfection on me, and now i am beautiful in my illness, rather than the perfect health they insisted i had to have. i want them to ache inside with the grief of knowing they cant deny this imperfection. i want them to face it head-on, that im a blemish they cant get rid of. its beautiful. i love it. i am so fucking proud to still be alive, still kicking. i feel like my entire being is falling apart but even unraveling i take so much joy in the fact im getting help, finally, even if it had to come to this, even if it shouldnt have. its a thirst for life. i want them to know exactly how happy i am, and exactly how sick i am, and that im being taken seriously for fucking once in my life.

but, at the same time, i can never ever let them know about this. never. i dont trust them not to put me under a conservatorship. they want control so badly, i think theyd do it the moment they could. in a heartbeat. and id rather die than let them control me again, especially that much. so they cant know. and i have to stuff down my desire to boast and show them how wrong they were. but, still, i think ill hold that pride close. no matter what happens, no matter how much psychiatric ableism i face, how much people want to treat me like a plaything or an animal, i took the first step i needed to finally get the help i should have gotten years ago. im taking so many steps. no matter how much i fall apart, my parents are being proven wrong, even if they dont know it. and ill be fucking smug about that for as long as id like. it makes me very fucking happy

[unidentifiedfuckingthing]

ultimately what you would call a very First World Problem but it really irks me that npd is the hot scapegoat of the hour to the point you literally cant say shit good or bad without feeling like its gonna get implicated in the global panopticon of people weaving these worldwide basal magic empath vs demonic possession narcissist put on this earth to suck energy etc etc etc stories because i have things i WOULD like to say otherwize. which is probably like, im only thinking about these things bcause the topic is already constantly coming up so maybe i wouldnt actually be thinking about saying these things otherwise anyway. have you guys ever noticed what browsing youtube logged out in an incognito window looks like. if you watch certain types of videos that clearly mostly get a young audience its all the stupid like I GOT MY DOG TO CUT 3000 POUNDS OF SLIME WITH A RED HOT KNIFE (POPPYS PLAYTIME ASMR) type videos but when you watch anything other than that its incredibly sinister. like, especially things that i get the impression mostly very old ladies watch. sewing videos. product blurbs that for some reason the company always uploads to youtube and theyve got 5 subscribers and 260 views. you start scrolling down the recommendation feed and its literally all like PREACHER SLAMS IGNORANT NONBELIEVER-- HE HAS NO RESPONSE TO THE REAL WORD OF GOD! and an unflattering picture of a jewish guy or a muslim guy. FIVE TEXTBOOK SIGNS OF NARC ABUSE- HOW TO SHUT THEM DOWN AND REMOVE THEIR POWER! THESE THREE TESTIMONIES OF PEOPLE WHO DIED AND CAME BACK TO LIFE (REAL!) and BINAURAL JESUS WAVES TO GET CLOSER TO ACHIEVING YOUR GOALS 512 HZ ANGEL NUMBER like you start realizing they dont even need fox news youtube is literally just feeding them this even after watching a single video about sewing. or crochet. or fucking whatever. and im sure its the same with every other social media like how facebook got busted for influencing political views and turning people far right and they never actually changed anything. but like what are you gonna do about that......... its a peculiar hollow feeling. theres already so many people whove made it their lifes work to make people think insane stupid shit but they hardly even need to because The Algorithm finds maximal success in leading people down insane paths so you dont even need to worry about the bad actors with bad intent. the Cosmic Will Of The Monopolized Internet is doing it all for them so cleanly and efficiently. anyway though after 4 years apart ive been realizing more and more how much *** was, like, somehow so characteristically textbook npd. but like, its like ohh yeah. now i understand the link between all of the insanely fucked up stuff i know is true about you and why you acted this way toward people. like, i knew them so well and at the time it still felt like a black box that i could never piece together with the rest of anything and i never knew how to act. which may have been calculated and protective or may have just been how that goes. but its like, i dont even want to say that where people can hear because it feels like the word narcissist just gets replaced with a fuzzy red ringing in peoples ears. like i cant talk candidly about just finding closure and sympathy and understanding like, posthumous to one of the most important relationships in my life because people are just gonna hear it like im delivering a swift kick in the ribs instead. its fucked

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. Lo stans using "age is just a number" excuse while discussing H&P age difference are the worst. Do you even realise how it sounds? And yes age gap is important even to the gods if it was brought up by so many characters. Hades controls her life now, knows about the age&power gap, likes her mainly for her looks (he doesn't know her character well yet) and already thinks of her as his wife. After a MONTH. Even if it's not grooming it stinks of it. I wish people stop excusing it in such a gross way

2. idk why rachel thought it was cute and quirky persephone cant even do basic computer work, basic office tasks, or know how to work a phone. like ive known very sheltered people before and even they still knew how to use all of that. it's legit strange rachel seems this characterization as cute and endearing over concerning. if she cant even work a computer, how can you seriously say she'd be a perfect queen / lawyer? like what??

3. the stans excuse the age gap as "well they acknowledge it" like ok?? you cant point out its bad then just roll with it. there is no reflection on it or showing of hades not going after her/setting up boundaries, he just goes "this is weird" then gets over it to still lust after/make out with a teenager. you cant make a point in comic ppl find it creepy then be mad readers also find it creepy? itd be like making a point you set your house on fire then being mad of being called an arsonist for it.

From OP: This!! That’s actually what bothered me the most. It’s acknowledged as a problem...then dropped?? It just sets the idea that the age gap DOES matter but the characters just decided to ignore it I guess. It feels like RS only wanted the credit for acknowledging the issue.

4. yeah rachel being like "my style is flexible!" is not good for a long form project. if she was an animator that would be good so she could animated different characters in other people's style, but she can't even keep her own leads looking the same from panel to panel. that's a sign of being a weak artist, but she insists it's actually a good thing. also yeah, style does change in long projects, but usually for the better, not the rushed, inconsistent work rachel forces out now.

5. anon what LGBT+ couple is LO ripping off?? i thought it was more obviously ripping off fifty shades which is very straight (also yes rachel gets all the media deals bc shes in a privileged group and her story caters to that privileged group. theres a reason the doctors are out or brimstones and roses arent being published despite being some of the better written and diverse comics on the site. marketability to the group in power always trumps actually being the diverse company they claim to be)

6. rachel sending her rapid fans after private facebook groups for not being comfortable she was overstepping her bounds as a creator in fan space and a minthhe cosplayer for joking persephone is a mary sue is such a nasty look at her true character. she has such a huge platform and know they will defend her no matter what, so its not ok for her to use that to harass/silence others over something as minor as a cosplayer joking around or private fan groups not wanting her to control what they say.

7. to the anon asking why hxp "fans" dont acknowledge the orphic myths, it's because they don't care about persephone or her wants, they care about HADES and want him to have a doting wife and to fantasize about their "perfect goth husband". if they truly cared about persephone they wouldn't demonize demeter, erase her pain at the hands of hades, or rewrite her completely so her world only revolves around HIM. it's not about persephone and giving her a "choice", it's about making hades happy ONLY.

8. maybe its just me but incest is like the least of the issues in mythology much less the hxp myth. like idk if your only concern reading it was "hades and persephone are related" and not everything else thats just wild to me lmao. like just as other anon said too the incest pops up anyway? so like it just looks stupid rachel tried so desperately to get rid of it only for it to come up anyway when it could have just been there for the start and made a non-issue like pjo does.

-----FP Spoilers/Mention-----

9. lo eris is what you get when rachel thinks it's a bad idea to let hair color be any lighter or darker than their skin tones. you get weird simpson abominations like that. her art school should ask for their degree back because it was obviously wasted on her.

10. What pisses me off about Eris is not only her design and her relation to Zeus and Hera (she should be daughter to Nyx and Erebus imo) but the fact that she’s also “the goddess of wrath” in LO canon. In actual Greek canon, Lyssa/Lytta is the goddess of wrath (well, pure rage and unadulterated anger so close enough. But if you want to get technical, Ares is the closest to the god of wrath). Chaos/Discord are different from Wrath, you know.

It would make much more sense if Eris set into motion the events of Persephone’s AOW if she:

1. Disguised herself amongst the mortals digging the sacred flower field and kept using her power to make sure they ignored Persephone, thus angering her and making her more likely to commit it.

Or 2. Used her powers of chaos to influence everyone involved with little voices on their shoulders saying that everything was okay and to let loose.

But that’s just wishful thinking, I guess.

[genoc1d3r]

my turn to cry - thoughts on 3-1b

ok this has actually gotta be my favorite chapter cause holy shit so much stuff happened.

I played the Alice/kanna route and afterwards I watched a vod with the reko/shin route in which ranmaru and naomichi died before the banquet, so BIG SPOILER WARNING FOR BOTH ROUTES

Mafia Princess Sara??: Ok so first off, back in the beginning of 2020, I had a theory that Sara was a mafia heiress and that the death game was supposed to be something to “prepare” her. And that her memories were wiped or she was initially supposed to be kept blind to this whole thing (In 3-1a when everybody saw the consent form for the very first time everybody felt a sense of deja vu, except for Sara. Because why would they need her consent when she is the sole focus of the game and it’s all for her) This theory was mainly supplied by my confusion surrounding the hiring of Kai, cause why would mr Chidouin hire a former assassin to protect her?? How did he even know Kai??? But yeah, the whole thing with Shinobu Gokujo and deciding a new don through a death game just adds a lil more validity to this theory.

Sara’s real father: I also had a mini theory that Gashu Satou was her real father, but that was mostly cause of their hair color and how it would def make Sara’s hair color make more sense genetics-wise (but kai has black hair, so its most likely that his mother had black hair, which would also disprove this mini-theory but yk im not here to prove it just talk about it). And that Gashu knew of Mr. Chidouin and gave Sara to him, and it would also explain why mr Chidouin chose Kai of all people to look after her and why Kai could only watch her from a distance, in case she realized the truth that he was her brother/half-brother or something. 

GREENBLINGS CANON AAAAAAAA: I love this, I love this so much oh my god. Now I can replay and cry after 2-2 cause nankidai hates us :’). I dont have an issue with this specifically, I’m just a bit bothered by how the whole thing went. There was some buildup yea, and the cg with kanna, kugie, and shin was amazing. And that lil bit about nice hallucinations made me tear up a bit. But, then everybody kinda just moved on? and idk this whole chapter was a fuckign roller coaster I could barely keep up.

Autistic Gin <3: I’m autistic myself and I have seen many characters who are autistic-coded or exhibit many signs of autism but have never been straight up confirmed (Ex: Vera Misham from Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney). And even then, these characters usually share similar personality traits like being aloof and reserved. So it’s nice to see that Gin is representing autism in a relatively realistic manner with his hyperfixations, vocal tics, and issues with socializing. Even after nearly dying like 17 times he’s still doing well and I genuinely wish for his survival and happiness.

Ranmaru’s death: Both of Ranmaru’s deaths, (if you or if you don’t fail the electricity absorption minigame) the death feels so... off? I was really attached to him as a character, yet his death didn’t impact as much as Joe’s or Nao’s did. During his Banquet death, one second he had his really cute smiling sprite but then whoops oh no guys weird drill screw thing kills him (again). I still can barely comprehend it because it all just happened so fast. Like no cg or anything. I was honestly kinda disappointed. The “delayed” one does a better job at his death scene, but again, it was wayyy too quick and completely dismissed as everybody just moves on to defeat Maple 2.0. I at least would’ve appreciated a better transition than Midori just saying “well anyways–”

 Ranmaru’s extremely quick descent into madness in the shin route: I actually liked this idea of Ranmaru willing to go to such extremes for Sara. However, theres barely time for any of this to develop? Like again, everything just happens so fast??? I would've definitely liked if there were little hints around before the body discovery that ranmaru was gonna do something like this, just a little time for development would really be cool.

Mr. Policeman/Mr. Tazuna???: After I finished, I actually looked on the wiki to see if it said anything about his son that he mentioned and I found this: 

But yeah thats cool

The thing about Q-taro: I’m gonna say it now, I’ve liked Q-taro ever since the aftermath of 1-2, and Q-taro haters have added absolutely nothing to this fandom. Everybody saw him as a child-hater, I see him as a guy who’ll do anything to survive and succeed. I mean that wish is kinda what got him into the death game. And yeah he did try to leave that one time, but that’s what getting thrown into traumatic killing games does for you, most people don’t want to die, they want to live, no matter what it takes. We can’t all be the main character and choose to cooperate with everybody and be the “good” person in that situation. Even Sara has those extremely selfish moments and those intrusive thoughts of winning and leaving. 

This whole thing should also be applied to Ranmaru. Ranmaru has gone through so much shit in such a brief amount of time, to the point where he was considering to/actually kill people to escape with the one person he trusted in this hellhole. In that situation, Sara’s kinda at fault here, cause without Joe she’s lost her sense of morality which resulted in her becoming selfish and well... honestly kinda toxic. This emotional manipulation is really what set Ranmaru off, however it was 100% his decision to fucking kill somebody and murder’s bad. Still love him though.

But back to Qtaro, I really enjoyed the extra substance given to him in this chapter, it’s nice to see the development from being selfish to feeling deep remorse to protecting the dolls of the first trial victims, most notably Mai. As he completely forgives her for stabbing him. The chapter did a great job at fueling my already intense love for Q-taro (and it actually convinced my best friend who claims to hate Q-taro with every bone of her body to like him too!) I also love the father-son dynamic between him and Gin. I find this relationship to be really important cause Gin’s father is an abusive alcoholic and Q-taro’s an orphan who’s never had a proper role-model in his life. So it’s beautiful that despite not having anybody there for him when he was younger he can still be a good figure for another child.

Predictions/hopes for the next part: 

I just want to see whether Shin already knew about Kanna being his sister, and if he doesn’t I want a reveal. Right. Now.

A Ranmaru/Joe/Q-taro/Kai/ “Hinako” revival, p l e a se  they died so soon

More info about the people involved in the Hades Incident/Shinobu Gokujo

More info regarding Meister

Sara going on Maury

Who tf is “Hinako”????

I really hope that there isn't any specific good/bad ending. Like I want every ending to be equally bad and good yk? like equal consequences and good stuff.

Yo wtf happened to Sara’s mom?? Is she gonna come back and play a more important role in the story?? Are her parents gonna come back as floor masters???

I want things to actually change  depending on whether you picked Alice or reko, cause so far they’ve played extremely minor roles.

[ghostiiiee]

Just Like Me

To read at my Ao3 CLICK HERE This is the first chapter. sorry is its a little rough. :sweatdrop:

Almost forgot! Tw: i will be going heavy on quirkless discrimination and mental health issues. Theres not much in the first chapter but i do want to touch on it at some point.

School was never something he looked forward to. After all, what was there to look forward to? He was used to getting bullied, made fun of for being different, called names, shoved around. The irony wasn’t lost on him. Many years ago, maybe he would have been the normal one? 

Then again, what even was normal?

It used to be normal to go to school- learn history, math, science and whatever language the school taught. 

It used to be normal to not have any powers, after all -  superheroes were a dream. Stories people made up to tell themselves. Heroes existed, yes, but they never had powers. Heroes were just people, average people. 

Again, there's another word that's changed. Average. 

Normal. Average. 

Two hundred years ago, it was normal for the average person to look human.

Two hundred years ago, it was normal  for the average person to have no powers.

Two hundred years ago, it was normal for superheroes to only be a thing of stories.

That was two hundred years ago. Not now.

Now it's weird to not have powers.

Now you get bullied for being regular. Quirkless.

One of 20%. 

Mathematically, he thought it was stupid that so many people get treated so differently. He did remember Mr. Lancer telling him of people getting treated for less. Mr. Lancer told him two hundred years ago, 10% of the population was seen as satanic because of what hand they used to write with. A similar estimated percent was discriminated against because of who they loved, or what they identified as. 

“Sadly, Mr. Fenton, the human race has a history of not tolerating those who they see as a minority.”

“I remember that from history Mr. Lancer.” Danny sighed, leaning his head on his hand. His eyes stared out the window, looking at the stormy weather. “I remember you talking about how things used to be.”

The teacher pursed his lips, staying quiet and looking at him with concern.

Lancer had asked Danny to stay after class to speak to him. He never did like how Daniel’s peers would gang up on him after school ended. The best he could usually do was this. Casper’s principal was... far too likely to be accepting of anything the more wealthy students’ parents had to say.

“Is that why you’ve been spacing out all day then, Danny?” 

It was asked gently. Danny’s eyes glanced over to the balding teacher before darting back to the window. He hummed for a moment. “...Kinda. I got a lot on my mind.”

“Penny for your thoughts then?” Lancer pulled his chair next to his desk.

It was quiet for a few minutes, the sound of rain gently pattering against the classroom windows filled the room while Danny collected his thoughts. Blue eyes watched raindrops roll down the glass.

“I don’t get it, Mr. Lancer.” His voice was quiet as the floodgates opened. “Everyone in my family has quirks. Dad is strong. My mom can copy anyone’s fighting styles just by watching. Jazz can look at someone and-.... well you know.” He sank down into his chair. “Aunty A, even has a quirk. I've never seen her miss a shot. And then there's me. Daniel James Fenton. The first quirkless person in our family in a long time. Don’t get me wrong either, it doesn’t bother me too much.” Liar. “It’s just... it feels like the cherry on top of everything else.

“My parents got an invitation to teach some classes at UA in Japan. In Japan, I've never lived anywhere but here. Amity Park. It’s not like they can leave me here. PLUS, Jazz has always wanted to go there for the General studies.”

“I understand your concern, Danny. But I’ve seen your work,” There was slight amusement in Mr. Lancers voice. “Aren’t you good at building things? I know I’ve caught you tinkering with something more than once in class.”

Danny’s face flushed red. “...My parent’s usually make those. They’re old models of support gear they have made. I was seeing if I could get a glitch out.”

“And?”

“...I keep shocking myself.” He mumbled. “It hurts like hell.”

“While I can’t say I’m happy that you are getting injured. As long as you are safe, I'm glad.” Mr. Lancer offered a smile to the teen. “As for the other predicament, you are always open to contact me if you need me after you move.”

“Thank you Mr. Lancer.”

~~~~~~~

Danny was thankful that they moved over the summer and not in the middle of the year. School was already hectic enough as was. Moving in the middle of the year was not something he ever wanted to do, let alone moving across the globe in the middle of the year.

He kept to himself for the first few weeks. He liked to walk around, exploring the new area. It felt different than Amity park. More crowded. He noted early on there was definitely more hero around too. It didn’t bother him too much.

That's a lie.

More heroes means more villains.

He didn’t like villains.

He also didn’t like being a hostage.

Lucky him!

He was held hostage by a villain not even before the end of the second week. Not that this was a first time experience for him, having been a favorite target back in Amity Park. He knew all the heroes back home personally because of it. People just loved to take quirkless people hostage. One would think, with the target that seems to hang over his head, that Daniel James Fenton wouldn’t take such risks as walking around alone at night. One would think that if he did, it would be out of necessity, and he would at least have something on him to defend himself.

...yeah no that's not the case. Why in the world would that be the case?

Danny was shoved onto the ground, air leaving his lungs as he hit. He gasped for air, trying to look at who was targeting him now. He couldn’t really tell much about the person, ratty clothes and a hoodie pulled up to cover their face. Nothing could be seen under the hood, it was just shadow, pure, black shadow.

“What’s a runt like you doing out right now?” The villain crouched next to Danny. Chuckling when he tried to scoot away. They put a foot on one of Danny’s wrists, “Ah-ah. Now that’s rude. I’m talking to you punk.”

Danny didn’t respond, wincing at the pressure on his arm. 

“It’s rather rude to ignore your elders.” The villain put more pressure, adjusting so they were crouched like a vulture next to prey.

“F-fuck you. I’ve seen worse.” He growled

The regret in saying that was nearly instant. In the blink of an eye, the ground next to his head - that was solid concrete what the hell- was shattered. The villain was making an inhuman noise, a low gutteral sound coming from them. “You haven’t seen my worst. I wasn’t gonna do much to ya, but I’m starting to change my mind kid.”

He knew he should do anything else - he was already on a thin line - but fuck it. He had a free hand anyways. He grabbed something from his pocket and slammed it against the villain. “As I said before. Fuck. You.” He pressed the button on the side.

The machine sparked to life. Quite literally. Danny still didn’t know what it was supposed to do, but he could make it shock things. Like a weird taser. Unlucky for Danny he was literally pinned to the ground beneath the villain getting tased. And as everyone knows. Humans are conductive. Very conductive. 

Strangely the villain didn't even flinch. The growl getting louder as they grabbed the device from their shoulder and crushed it with their hand. Danny started shaking. Okay so that was a horrible idea. 

The shadows of the alley gathered around the villain. Climbing up their clothing and slowly slithering along their arm. They held Danny down, forming chains around him. In the villain’s hand, a knife, absorbing all light, The villian made the move to attack, and Danny closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to come.

It never did.

It lessened. 

Weight lifted from him, a weight he hadn’t realized was there besides his arm. Tentatively he opened his eyes. 

The villain was on the ground a few meters away from him, knocked out and tied up to a fire exit- similar to how Batman would leave criminals for the cops. Danny blinked. He hadn’t heard anything. So what in the world happened? And how could that have happened so fast? 

Standing up, he looked around for a sign of anyone being there to help him.

Oddly enough. It seemed no one had caused the villain to go down, at least not that Danny could see. Blue eyes scanned the area for a moment, looking for anything that wasn’t there before. Nothing popped out. Nothing was out of place. It looked like no one had been there.

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. The air condensed, forming mist as it left his mouth and floated away. It was like when he first stepped outside in the winter. Which was strange- it was the middle of summer. A small frown formed on his face. The nights here weren’t that cold normally. 

He brushed it off, ignoring the goosebumps running along his skin as the air chilled. Perhaps whoever knocked the villain out had a rather cold quirk, he mused to himself. Heroes normally make themselves known at this point, checking to see if he was okay. 

He had an inkling it wasn’t a hero. At least not a licensed one. Not that he minded. He didn’t care who it was really. They saved his life… he was grateful for that.

Danny looked up to the clear sky, moonlight peaking over the buildings enough to illuminate the alley where the street lights glowed. He smiled up to the stars. “Thank you.” He said softly. “I wasn’t paying attention tonight.”

He left the alley, starting his way back home. He never caught sight of the figure watching him.

[stopbeingcurious]

You make me feel young again*

PART THREE / MASTERLIST

pairing: post azkaban sirius black x y/n

warning: dirty thoughts/ letters

a/n i had so many request to make more of this series so here we are... enjoy :P

A couple of weeks had gone past, without any contact from Sirius and yours and Professor Lupins relationship had gone back to normal, like nothing had ever happened.

The only thing on your mind was the way Sirius touched you, how his skin felt against yours. You missed it.

You remember the words Sirius spoke the last and only time you were together;

“Not many girls like you,”

Not many girls like you? The way Sirius spoke about his time as a teenager he made it sound like he had slept around.

It was taunting your mind, you wanted to see Sirius again, you needed too. You daydreamed in class about him, at lunch in the shower, in bed. You needed that mans affection again.

It got so bad that you were loosing sleep, you were genuinely so aroused that you couldn't sleep at night, not with a puddle and a heartbeat between your legs.

You thought you could relieve some of the tension yourself but of course that didn't work, just made it worse. 

You needed male attention.

And of course your friends caught onto your behaviour changes, asking you a variety or questions when you left your dorm room looking like a disheveled mess.

In other words, you were desperate.

class

You're currently sitting in class, potions to be exact, listening to Professor Snape bore on about how it's illegal to become animagi underage. You had no interest whatsoever in the subject at hand so decided to rest your head on your hand and let your mind wander. What you didn't remember was that Professor Snape was a skilled Legilimens. His voice rung out from the front of the class just as your mind wandered in the direction it had been for a while now, Sirius.

“Y/n, I suggest you concentrate if you don't want your fellow classmates and I knowing what you're thinking about,” His eyes narrowed in your direction, pulling everyones attention from their work, all eyes on you. Some smirks, some confused, some bothered because they had been distracted.

You let out a silent huff as you switch your attention to the parchment in front of you.

common room

Your friends surround you, all looking intrigued. They had just interrupted you from reading your book sitting next to the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room.

“We know somethings up Y/n, would you just give up and tell us already!” Angelina flung her arms around in expression. She was pulled out of her expressive state with a hand on her shoulder, Freds.

“Ange is right Y/n, we just wanna know if there was anything we could do to help.” Fred asks, his body was slouched forwards slightly so he didn't seem as intimidating as he usually did.

You measure your friends that you're okay and that you're just not getting enough sleep. 

You were so into your book and now your attention has been snatched by your brain again, filling your vision with images of that night, the night where right went wrong, the night of your life.

You'd had enough of this tormenting, the only way you could get to Sirius was through Professor Lupin and you had an idea.

You proceeded to write Sirius a letter, a very detailed letter, just to bless his imagination as much as you blessed his everyday but the your mind flooded with questions; What if Sirius didn't want to see you again? Is that why he hadn't contacted you first? Did he think you were just a one time thing? But Sirius thought the complete opposite of this.

Sirius received your letter, Remus handed it to him with a stern look on his face.

“I didn't read it, I respect your privacy Sirius but you have to be smart about it,” Sirius knew straight away who the letter was from. Remus sat at the table opposite him in their shared home.

“We don't know what it says yet Moony,” Sirius scoffs and opens the letter.

Dear Sirius,

If Prof. Lupin is around, do not show any sign on your face with the words I am about to say. Sirius I miss your touch, I'm not sure if you thought it was a one time thing and I could be embarrassing myself right now but if you feel the same, if you didn’t want it to be a one time thing I wonder why I can see you next. I sit in my classes, arousal pooling in my panties because of you. Your making me feral Sirius, I need you inside of me soon, I cant please myself, I need you and your big cock to stretch out my tight pussy, its waiting for you Sirius.

Y/n :)

Sirius couldn't contain himself, he quickly grew hard in his trousers also trying not to show any signal as to what the letter had just read. Of course he wanted to see you again, he wanted his hands all over your body, his callous fingers rubbing against the red of your ass where he has just slapped.

Remus looked at him with confusion as Sirius was sitting there with sort of wide eyes wondering how he was suddenly wrapped up with an 18 year old. He was pinning over her, attached.

“Sirius, what did it say?” Remus leaned forwards in his chair, hand sewn together as well as his eyebrows.

Sirius snapped out of his stance on the command of Remus’ voice.

“It said that what we did was a mistake and that she is sorry,” Sirius lies straight through his teeth, pretending that the letter had bruised his ego.

The air was clear, and everyone could breath again.

Sirius was relieved that Remus had believed him and Remus was relieved because Sirius and yourself were no longer infatuated with each other, lifting a huge relief of his shoulder. 

But Remus didn't know the contents of Sirius next letter to you...

hogwarts

You were sitting at breakfast, tapping on the table. Your distractions had gotten better over the last couple days meaning that you'd been sleeping better meaning that your friends hadn't been on your back constantly.

“You alright Y/n?” Angelina sits next to you, swinging her legs dramatically over the bench, stretching her arm into the middle of the table to grab an apple.

“Yeah I'm okay thanks Ange,” She smiles at you. “How are you?” You ask, taking another bite of the toast that sat on your plate.

“Yeah yeah I'm all good, anyway I came here to tell you that Professor Lupin wants to see you before class,” Your eyes widen, had he read the letter between you and Sirius? You didn't think he would have, he wasn't the type to invade privacy.

Angelina noticed the colour drain from your face and a worried look creeps onto her face. “Whats wrong? What did you do? Are you in trouble?” She bombards you with questions to which you stand up and run out of the hall towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. You might as well pack your bags now, theres no way that he is going to let you off without punishment after he read the letter.

Your legs ran as fast as they could take you, dodging students and teachers, earning a phew ‘No running in corridors’.

You came to an immediate halt in front of the door you recognised so well and you knocked.

“Come in,” You heard from the other side of the door.

You take a deep breath, feel the cold untouched door handle underneath your shaking skin. You breath again, trying to steady your breaths and trying to hold back the tears that were ebbing on your waterline.

You push the door open to find your DADA Professor standing at the top of the stairs leading up to his office, you sniffle and bite your lip, hiding any emotion.

“Come into my office Y/n,” He turns around and strides into his office, leaving the door open behind him.

You begin to walk towards the stairs, having his emotionless words replay in your head, thinking out all the possibilities of how this interaction could go and how you could make it easier for yourself. You pace the floor feeling the cold air of the classroom consume you due to the lack of human warmth. You shiver and resume your journey now striding up the stairs.

Pushing the door open, you stride into his office the same way he did. You immediately saw a letter on the desk, you mentally cursed yourself, letting your Professor do all the talking.

“I see you got my message from Angelina?” He was slouched back in his chair, looking rather relaxed.

You nod, worried if you speak that your voice will break as you were on the verge of tears.

“Why so quiet? Is there something wrong?” His eyebrows furrowed as he asked. 

“No nothing, just not sleeping properly lately,” You lie, you figured you would just tell everyone the same thing so that if the subject came up everyones stories would match.

“Ah yes, Angelina told me,” You looked shocked. “Anyway,” He dismisses the subject. “I have something for you,” Remus turns your attention when he picks up the letter on the desk with his long, dainty fingers.

The letter was for you? You thought that was the letter you sent Sirius.

You take the letter that he was offering and examine it. There was no name on the front of it and it wasn't sealed at the back. You look up at your Professor and all he does is smile and nod, then your attention is back on the letter, you practically ripped it open, knowing that it was from Sirius.

Dear Y/n,

I assume you will have received this letter from Remus.

We cant send any more letters as I told Remus that your letter was about how you thought what we did was wrong and that it was a mistake so tell him that as well, thats what he knows. I am in instant need of you, I want to feel your body below me, writhing around underneath me. I need to taste you, all of you. I want to make your ass all red then kiss it all over. I want to make you cum over and over and over until you cant cum anymore, would you like that? I will find a way that we can reunite but you're going to have to wait pup, I'm sure you can do that for me.

Sirius *paw-print*

The colour drained from your face once again and your heart rate sped up drastically. Only Sirius words had this great of an effect on you. You had to hide any expression from Remus, you knew what he knew and you had to go along with it.

“Im sorry Y/n but I think it was for the best,” The Professor sat before you, shuffling papers ready for your first lesson with him.

“I agree Professor, thank you for delivering my letter,” You reply, trying to ignore the puddle in you underwear. You had to do something about it before class started, you could sit in his lesson feeling aroused the whole time!

“Your free to wait in here Y/n, class will start soon,” You decline your Professors offer and run to the toilet with the letter, needing to relieve some of this built up tension.

[literaila]

we used to

“the middle” 

spencer reid x reader 

summary: spencer cant remember the reader. she wont let him forget her. 

this is actually part two! part one here 

warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of pain, memories? angst. theres slashes though words (for example) but theyre meant to represent numbness

also! i wrote some of this while some teenage kids were watching me sit against a tree. i just thought that was important to add. enjoy! 

“Where did we meet?” 

“A little park. I was laying down enjoying the sunshine, and you came over, worried, and started checking my pulse. You said you wanted to make sure I wasn't dead.” 

She laughed. 

But she didn't tell him about the way his eyes had gotten bigger when she looked up at him. She didn't tell him how he swallowed, his face suddenly nervous. He didn't tell her how she had started laughing at him, and he blushed embarrassed. 

“After that, I asked if I could play chess with you. You let me win.”

She didn't tell him about the years she’d spent teasing him for that. She didn't tell him about the number she’d managed to slip into his bag when he’d been distracted. The number he didn't use for weeks. She didn't tell him how rejected she felt every day that went by, didn't tell him that she went to the same park almost every day just to see him. She didn't tell him about the disappointment that coursed through her veins every time she checked her phone. 

“Where was our first date?” 

“You took me to the museum. You were really nervous. I was almost worried you would run out of things to tell me.” 

She didn't tell him that it was one of the first things she’d noticed about him. That she’d loved that he had so much to say from the very beginning. 

They’d spent three days together. 

Spencer had to stay two weeks after he’d woken up. The first week was spent testing his memory, making sure everything was still in order. He spent day after day, meeting doctors, in machines. People were visiting him right and left, but he was almost always gone. 

She didn't see him much that week. 

The next week his doctors were sure that everything was fine. Besides the amnesia, there were no other effects on his brain. His broken leg was healing nicely, and he would be fine in a couple of weeks. 

But, they said, they wanted to keep him there just one more week, to make sure that they hadn't missed anything. 

So he stayed. 

And Y/N started going to see him that week. 

She’d been hesitant, worried that he wouldn't actually want to see her, that he had changed his mind, but as soon as she knocked on the door he seemed to be bright and awake. She took that as a good sign. 

Since then, three days have passed. They’d spent the majority of those days together. Spencer was full of questions, full of things that he couldn't remember he’d already told her, his brain never seemed to stop turning, to stop thinking. 

She was used to it. 

Most of the time, she was doing all of the talking. She was telling him about their relationship, about herself, she was telling him about all the things he’d learned about her in the course of five years, she was cramming it all into short sentences, giving up on giving any important details. 

It was exhausting. 

Sometimes, she started to say something, was about to mention something that they'd done together, but she always paused mid-sentence, reminded of the life Spencer had lost, of all of their days together that were lost. 

And other times, Spencer was telling her something, was talking so that she didn't have to, and he mentioned something that she already knew. He mentioned things about his childhood, about the way Derek teased him, the way Penelope was good at making him feel flustered, and she always felt herself wince. Because she already knew all of those things. She knew more things about him than he did, she knew almost everything. And he didn't. 

It was like two strangers talking. 

Except the only stranger in the room was her. 

She wasn't acting like herself. 

She was trying to avoid scaring Spencer, rushing into things, scaring him away from her forever. 

So she didn't act like herself. 

She hid the little details, the tiniest things that she didn't want him to know, she kept them locked away, didn't add them into the stories that he was always asking for. She did it constantly. And to some extent, it felt like lying, it felt like taking something important away from him. But, she also knew how easily overwhelmed her Spencer could get, she knew about all of the things that would scare him. So she didn't feel as bad hiding things from him. 

Derek and Penelope came almost every day. Some days the best they could manage was a call. Cases were taking over, the world not stopping for Spencer, and a couple of times they couldn't get to Spencer quick enough. 

So they called. And every time, Spencer seemed almost uncomfortable. He always asked if Y/N wanted to talk to them, always hesitant, because he didn't know how close all of them were, he didn't know if Y/N would feel pressured by his friends if she even liked them. 

All Spencer knew was there was a pretty girl, a girl he’d once known, sitting in his room. 

Today was like all the other days, Spencer asking questions, this time about their history together. 

Y/N had been looking out the window, daydreaming of a time where she didn't feel like a stranger to her own body. 

Spencer cleared his throat trying to get her attention. 

She looked over to him, her eyes wide and empty, she made a noise of acknowledgment, a sign that he could go on. She watched as he gathered his thoughts, already familiar with the look in his eyes.

 “What did I like about you?”

She paused. Looked away from him. What did he like about her? 

They’d talked about it many times. He’d told her thousands of times how much he loved her. She’d heard it over and over again, felt it pounding in her heart, racing around her head, every day for five years.

It didn’t seem long enough.

She thought about the things he used to compliment. 

“Your eyes. They’re so beautiful. They look like they hold all the secrets of the world.” 

She remembered him running his hands through her hair, moving it so he could see more of her face. She remembered his eyes. She remembered how comfortable they felt. 

“I hope you’ll tell me one day.” he’d said, after minutes of just looking at each other. 

“Tell you what?” she whispered, ducking her head down into his chest. 

He hadn’t answered. They both fell asleep. 

She thought of the time he told her she would look beautiful in anything. 

“It doesn’t matter to me what you wear. You’re perfect to me, always.” 

After that, he never stopped telling her that. 

“You’re perfect to me.”

“You’re perfect for me.”

“You’re perfect with me.”

“Always.”

For a moment, she wished she could hear it again. 

She removed that thought from her head almost as soon as it entered. She forced it away, locking it into her cage, somewhere deep in her body, where it wouldn’t be found again. 

She shouldn’t be thinking about things like that. 

“I think you liked that I was so open to learning new things. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t listen to you say.” 

Spencer contemplated that. He thought of all the people that asked him to stop talking, told him that it was too much, too far. 

She was probably right. 

But that seemed like a silly reason for him to love her. 

He finally nodded, accepting her answer. 

And then the nurse came in. 

And she had to leave 

 ***

Later that week, it was time for Spencer to go home.

It was time for both of them to go home since Y/N had refused to leave without him, even when he’d woken up. 

She was nervous.

She didn’t want him to know she was nervous.

They’d been living together for almost two years, together they had picked out an apartment, one that both of them had loved. They’d spent every day they had together, when they were both home, in their tiny apartment. She didn’t know what Spencer now would think about it. He’d lost all memories of it, lost all of their shared moments at home together, and when he’d asked about his apartment, the one he’d had five years ago, Y/N didn’t know what to say. 

He’d given up that apartment for her. 

He didn’t have any place to live beside their apartment. 

She smiled at him when he asked and told him about apartment searching, about how he was sure to get the safest apartment they could find. 

“We need it Y/N.” he’d whined when she refused to get the one apartment he deemed safest- because it came with a double lock and no balcony -she’d only smiled at him, kissing his nose and walking away. 

Eventually, she’d caved in. Spencer didn’t seem to like any other apartments after that one. 

After she was done sharing the story, done trying to remind him who he was supposed to be, he smiled nervously at her. 

She knew he was uncomfortable. She knew that he didn’t want to live in a brand new place, with a strange girl who he was supposed to be in love with. 

In his mind, they’d only known each other for two days, in his mind, she wasn’t anything special. In his mind, it was weird to live with someone you’d only just met.

Y/N didn’t know how to make him feel more comfortable. 

She tried to remind herself that it would take time, that it had taken time when they’d first moved in, that it would take time again. 

She didn’t want time. 

She wanted Spencer. 

She ignored that. Instead, she spent her time making sure she had all the proper medical equipment at their apartment. She spent the moments she wasn’t with Spencer online, looking for different things that could make a broken leg, a forgotten five years, easier. 

She also looked for things to prevent the pain she felt every time she moved. She didn’t want to breathe out smoke every time she tried to speak, tried to breathe. 

So far she hadn’t found anything. Her doctor recommended pain medication, told her about all the drugs that could help her. 

She refused to listen. 

She didn’t even know why. 

And now it had been more than a month since the accident, and they were finally going home. 

Together. 

She helped Spencer sign all his release papers, reminding him where he lived, what his phone number was, who they could call in case of emergency. 

She helped him and then it was time to go. It was time to go. 

They walked side by side out of the hospital, Spencer enjoyed the air outside, enjoyed something that didn’t feel like the stale walls of the hospital he’d been locked up in. Y/N looked back at the hospital. Almost longingly. Almost as if she wanted to go back. She wouldn’t feel as nervous as she did if they were still in the hospital. 

She brought him to her car. Helped him get in. They both smiled at each other awkwardly. 

The ride home was silent. Neither of them spoke a word. Spencer spent the time looking out the window, observing the drive he couldn’t remember, watching the world pass him by. Y/N avoided looking at him. She avoided looking at anything. She drove and she tried to remind herself that everything was fine. They were both going to be fine. 

By the time they got there, to the tiny apartment, both of them had only managed to rack up more nerves. 

“This is it.” Y/N said, getting out of the car, trying to keep her face calm, her body comfortable, to go help Spencer get out of the car. 

She showed him the way to the elevator. Listed out all of their neighbors that lived on the first floor. 

“This is Mrs. Hankel’s apartment. She loves you. She hates me.” she said as she passed by a door. 

It was the first laugh they shared all day. 

As they walked Spencer looked back at the door longingly. 

When they finally arrived at the door Spencer looked down at the welcome mat, laughing a little.

The mat, brown and boring, with a barely notice scrip at the bottom reading 

“shoes off, fuckers” 

Spencer looked back up at Y/N to see her laughing with him. They were getting closer, the invisible wall keeping them apart seemed to disappear for a moment. 

“Why do we-?” he asked, chuckling as he watched her smile. 

He could see the way she lit up, the life that had joined her eyes, he could see the immediate difference in her body just by looking at the mat. 

“You kept pestering me about a welcome mat,” she laughed, shaking her head and looking up at Spencer. “But Y/N '' she imitated him, “Studies have shown that most toxic chemicals that end up inside a person's home are tracked in by their shoes. A doormat would stop that-'' she giggled, her words fading. “You just wouldn’t give it up. Eventually, we had to compromise.” she ended, pointing her hand at the mat and smiling at him. 

It was her first real smile. 

Spencer felt dazed. 

But, almost as quick as it was there, it disappeared, fading off her face, her eyes becoming stone again. 

The wall was back up. 

She reminded herself not to overwhelm him, not to do anything that would be too much. She never wanted to be too much for him. He needed help, not her emotions. 

She was still reminding herself of that as they walked in the doors. 

Spencer looked around and he saw some things that he didn't really understand, like the art hanging up on the wall, the candles that seemed to rest on every empty space, the delicate paintings on the walls. But as he looked around he saw things that he did understand. He saw the textbooks, the bookshelves that occupied all the walls, and when Y/N told him that he was free to walk around, to look around, he saw all of his books placed on the bookshelves littering the apartment. He walked around and noticed all the tattered old copies that he had bought at second-hand bookstores, he saw the first edition books everyone always seemed to give, he looked around and he remembered all the books. He also saw new books, ones that he couldn't imagine reading without some persuasion. He saw old romance, new romance, he saw young adults and dystopian, he saw cookbooks, self-help books, and he laughed a little at the thought of reading any of them. 

Those were so obviously Y/N’s. 

“We have a lot of books.” he heard her say behind him, and he turned to see her standing watching him, observing him looking around. He wondered why he hadn't noticed her before. 

He smiled at her, hoping that she wasn't bothered by him snooping around. 

“Did I bring some of my books here?” he asked, turning back to look at all the books he remembered. 

“Yes. Not all of them, I needed a little bit of room. But most of them are yours.” she smiled, her face still tense, still frozen solid. 

She turned to go, wanting Spencer to look around without her hovering over him. 

She walked into the kitchen to make them something for lunch, feeling the pain circle her lungs. She thought of the medication she could be taking right now, thought of the relief her body would feel, she thought about the pain, the writhing pain that lived inside her. 

The pain on her lungs was nothing. 

The pain on her lungs, on her ribs, in her chest, felt like pain medication. 

It felt like nothing compared to- 

She paused. She let her thoughts drift off, let her body become aware again, let herself turn to stone, let everything drain out of her. 

This pain was nothing. 

She was strong enough to deal with a little pain. 

She continued to make lunch, continued to not think of anything, to only think of essential things, such as where she would sleep. How she would show Spencer their bedroom, show him where he kept all stuff. 

She thought about showing him which shampoos were his, why he enjoyed them so much. He thought about showing him the clothes she’d been buying him for years, the clothes he used to tell her he felt at home in. She thought about showing him the photo album they had made together, Spencer mostly watching, as a present for their third anniversary. She thought about showing him how to lock the door, how to make sure their security system wouldn't start blaring when they left the house. 

She had so much to teach him. 

There were so many lost memories. 

And finally, when she was about to let it go, about to forget about all the things she needed to do, Spencer walked in. 

The pain she felt just looking at him- 

Breathe in. 

“Hey. See everything?” she asked, a perfect, practiced smile on her face. 

Spencer smiled back, politely. “Yeah. Did you decorate?” 

She laughed, the feeling burning her lungs. “You helped me choose the colors,” she said reassuringly as if she was worried he was going to be upset as if she knew how this stranger would react as if she knew him-

Spencer nodded, looking solemnly at the floor. 

“So I was thinking-” Y/N started, only to be interrupted by Spencer. 

‘When can I-” he started, looking up at her sheepishly. “Sorry,” he muttered smiling at her. She nodded, her face cold as ice, nodding for him to continue. “I was wondering when I could get my stuff?” he continued, softer this time. 

She paused, her hands frozen, her face still poised, but her heart racing at his words. 

“Get your stuff?” she asked softly, trying not to let her voice shake. 

“Yeah,” he responded easily. “I asked JJ and she said I could stay at her house. At least until I can get a new apartment-” 

Y/N had stopped listening. 

She wasn't listening. 

Spencer wasn't staying. 

He wasn't.

He was. 

He was leaving. 

She felt her insides freeze, ice hitting every inch of her body, keeping her stuck, stuck in her head, stuck to the floor, stuck with the pain building, building up inside her. 

She nodded, robotically. 

Spencer said something else, something about her showing him where his clothes were. 

She wasn't listening, she refused to listen, she wasn't listening. 

Her body responded though. 

She led Spencer through their living room, showed him where the bathroom was just in case, she led them into their bedroom, her eyes avoiding his, her heart avoiding beating. 

She watched as he looked around their room, examined the bed, the small desk hiding in the corner, the dresser on the opposite side of the room. She pointed to the closet. Pointed and left the room.

She wasn't listening. 

She sat down on the couch, staring ahead of her, not listening, not feeling, nothing. She sat there, sat there, and listened. She wasn't listening. She felt close to falling asleep. 

She waited for him to come back. 

Leaving. 

Come back. 

Always. 

He walked back into the room, holding a bag, holding one of their bags. He smiled at her as he zipped it up, as he locked all his clothes up, as he got ready to leave. 

“Thank you,” he said, clueless to the feeling burying itself into her chest. “Thank you for driving me here. JJ’s coming to pick me up soon.” 

Her ears perked up at that. Confused when JJ had known to come over when Spencer had gotten a hold of her. 

He must’ve seen the question in her eyes because he answered “Garcia showed me how to use my phone.” 

She nodded. Her lips pursed, her eyes cloudy, her face void of anything, void of emotion, void of color. 

Spencer looked at her and tilted his head, he thought he noticed something different, thought that if he was trying to be a good boyfriend, the boyfriend she’d had a month ago, he would’ve asked, he would’ve done something. 

Spencer didn't know her. 

He stood there, staring at her, her eyes void, not acknowledging his staring, and they both waited, just waited until there was a knock on the door. 

They both looked over. 

Spencer looked back at Y/N. He smiled, his hands awkwardly placed in front of himself. He smiled at her, and she smiled back. 

He started walking to the door, looked back to her, said 

“Thank you. I see you soon.” 

And then he was gone. 

He was gone. 

He was gone. 

Come back. Come back come back come back come back come back. 

Her head was chanting at her, telling her what to do, telling her what she shouldn't do, telling her too many things at once. Her head was chanting at her. Over and over, chanting chanting. 

She looked up at the ceiling. 

Always. 

Always. 

Always wasn't real. 

Always was a lie. 

Always. 

She looked back down, felt the pain fill her fingertips, felt the pain cloud her head, a storm forming above her. She felt it invade her heart, invade her bones, her muscles, felt the pain swimming in her veins, swimming everywhere in her body, she felt the pain the pain the pain. 

Her face was nothing, her face was empty, it was empty 

Her body wasn't. 

She sobbed. 

She sobbed for the pain, for the pain that was everywhere, for the medication she wished she’d taken, for the life that she didn't have, for the life, for her life, for her memory, for everything. She sobbed, and she sobbed. 

She fell to the floor. 

She let herself fall apart. 

She sobbed. 

Always. 

It was just a little pain.

***

They saw each other twice a week after that. 

Spencer went back to work. 

Y/N stayed home. She worked from there.

She let the loneliness cloud her brain. 

She let herself dream of the words that weren't there. 

She never told Spencer. 

***

“Where do you work?” 

“I teach second grade. Earlier this year I decided to take a year off. We were going to do some traveling and I didn't want to be gone for too long. I’m an artist at heart though.” She teased. 

Her face was stone. Her voice was warm. 

Spencer smiled. 

***

“Did you ask me to be your boyfriend?”

“It was more of a mutual thing. I was spending the night at your apartment, right after we had gotten back from one of those old movies you like, and you asked if I was your girlfriend, if I wanted to meet your family. I just agreed, told you I’d already told my Mom you were my boyfriend. You laughed.”

She smiled at him. Sipped her coffee. 

Spencer nodded along. 

***

“What's your family like?” 

“Well, my parents love you. So does my sister. My brother likes to pretend you don't exist. You used to be okay with that. I’m in the middle. But I’m the favorite.” 

She bragged. 

She sat there. She watched him. 

He looked off behind her. 

***

“Did we have a favorite place?” 

“We used to spend a lot of time at the park. We loved the park. You always beat me at chess, cause I told you to stop letting me win. You didn't like that very much. But mostly we just sat and talked at the park. You always liked going there after a hard case.” 

Spencer didn't say a word. 

The park. 

***

“When did you meet the team?” 

“A year after. You didn't want to rush anything. You wanted your secrets. But I loved them before I knew them. You’d praised them so much I don't know how I couldn't have liked them. Penelope and I clicked. She became my best friend. We bonded over always staying home. You loved that we were so close. Sometimes you forced me out of the house to spend time with her.” 

Nothing. 

***

“When did I first tell you I loved you?” 

She paused. 

She didn't want to answer that question. 

She didn't want the reminder, the constant, consistent reminder of how much Spencer used to love her. He used to love her. 

He used to. 

“It was four months into our relationship. You blurted it out while I was sitting on your lap, watching you read. We were close then. You apologized after. I never had a doubt, I said it right back. ‘I love you.’” 

And she said it so he knew. She said it so she could rebuild the memory. 

She said it to help him remember. 

She said it because it was easy. 

She loved him. 

He used to. 

***

It was Wednesday. 

It was a Wednesday, almost a month since they’d gotten home. 

Since she’d been home. 

Since Spencer had moved out. 

It had been almost a month. 

They’d been getting to know each other for almost a month now. 

Spencer was coming over. 

It was the first time Spencer had asked to come over. Since he’d first gotten his stuff, the first day he left the hospital, since then he had moved out completely, had taken most of his stuff, the things he wanted. He’d been inviting Y/N to coffee, they spent at least one day a week together if he was home. 

She was talking to Penelope more. Checking up on him through her instead of directly asking him. She didn't want to be too overwhelming. 

It had been a month of being with him from afar. 

She was doing fine. 

Her wounds had completely healed. She’d gotten a good report from her doctor, and she was doing fine. 

She was doing fine. 

Spencer was coming over. 

He was coming over for the first real-time. And this time he had asked if he could come over, said he wanted to talk to her. 

She let her heart bubble for a moment. Let herself imagine Spencer living in her house again. 

She stopped herself before it got too far. 

She would do nothing to ruin the progress they had made. 

She waited at home, she waited and got herself ready. She prepared herself for talking to him, for not saying too much, for saying just the right amount. She prepared herself to see him again. To be in love with him while he watched. 

She waited for him. 

She turned herself to stone when he knocked on the door. 

She opened it, smiling at him and letting him in. 

He walked in, his body was tense, his eyebrows were furrowed, and his eyes were scrunched in concentration. Y/N tried not to stare at him, to stare at the familiarity in the face. He looked like her Spencer for a moment. 

She kept the smile on her face. 

“Did you need to talk about something?” she asked, she asked and she got him a bottle of water, needing to preoccupy her hands with something, with anything, just to keep the smile on her face. 

She didn't want him to see through the cracks in her foundation. 

She needed to be perfect for him. 

For him. 

You’re perfect to me. 

Always. 

She waited for him to speak. 

“I think… I think I’ve been doing something wrong,” he said after a moment, looking down at the floor, guilty like he had just made a huge confession. 

“Something wrong?” she asked, her face almost moving, almost breaking. 

Not quite. 

Spencer looked up at her. Looked into her eyes. Really looked. He looked for a girl, a girl he might’ve known, a girl that he would remember. He looked, he looked, and he couldn't see anything. She was still just the girl he had first seen, still just a person, someone he didn't know. He looked once more. 

Nothing. 

“I think I was wrong.” 

She looked back at him, looked into her eyes, the eyes that she actually knew. 

They looked so sad. 

“W-wrong?” She stuttered out, her eyes moving in concern, breaking. Spencer was never wrong. 

“Do you know who I am?” Spencer asked. His face was unmoving like he already knew the answer. 

“You’re Spencer. You're my-” she swallowed, climbing over the words. “You’re my friend.” 

Spencer looked at her. He shook his head, ignoring the panic in her eyes. “No. Do you know who I am?” 

“I-”

“Because I don't know who you are.” 

Y/N closed her mouth. She looked in his eyes, scared by the harsh tone, scared by the words. She looked at him and she didn't see her look. He wasn't looking at her like he loved her. He hadn't looked at her like that in mon- 

“I don't know who you are Y/N. I thought I might-” he paused, baffled at his past self. “I thought I might remember you. But I don't. To me, you are just a girl I met three months ago.” 

She stared at him. 

Just a girl just a girl just a girl- 

This pain was a memory that would never go away- 

“I don't think I’ll remember you. I think this was a mistake.” He said. Final. Unmoving. 

She felt stuck to the ground. 

Stuck in place, stuck to the pain clinging to her. 

“M-mistake?” she said, the words forced out of her mouth. Her body was shaking like she was freezing, she couldn't imagine not feeling pain, she couldn't imagine not knowing Spencer, she knew Spencer she knew him she knew him. 

“I think we were only fooling each other by hoping.”  

Hope. 

Hope wasn't a word in her vocabulary. Hope didn't exist in a world where Spencer didn't love her. Hope wasn't a thing, hope wasn't available. Hope. Didn't. Exist. 

Hope. 

What was hope? 

“I think we need to stop. I don't want to hurt you.” Spencer said. His voice wasn't familiar. His face wasn't familiar. 

Did she know him? 

“I don't think we should do this anymore.” 

Anymore. 

Not anymore. 

Always. 

Not always. 

Pain glued her eyes glued her mouth shut. 

“I’m sorry Y/N.” 

She watched him, frozen in place as he walked out the door. 

She didn't know what he was thinking. She didn't know that Spencer did care, that Spencer had seen her once, that she came in glimpses. She didn't know that Spencer could see how much he was hurting her, how much spending time with him was destroying him. 

She didn't see that he was trying to give her a clean break. 

One that would hurt less. 

She didn't know any of that. She only watched him pull her heart out of her chest, grab it, take it away from her, she watched as he threw it around. 

She watched as he crumbled it. 

He had said always. 

***

There was a cloud in his head. 

A cloud hanging over him, a cloud proving his world to be dark, to be covered in nothing but the dark clouds that surrounded him. 

There was a cloud hung over his head. 

The sun had disappeared. 

Oh. 

The clouds swirled around him. 

He got dizzy with realization. 

The sun. 

His world titled.

Oh 

***

my masterlist here

yes yes! its not over yet. but i hope you enjoyed. and understood. and i hope i didnt ruin your day with my writing.

final part here