#like that's bad enough by itself but the suicide attempt was really fucking graphic too

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

oh hey, forgot about nine celebrating that five wanted to die, tried to kill himself in front of him, and almost succeeded 🙃🙃🙃🙃

[27-royal-teas]

hi its lyric analysis time and uhh this time im tying Hum Hallelujah to the Best Buy incident because i really do think that pete’s past is integral in his writing and also i just kind of want to address it. It’s some dark shit so read with caution. Trigger warnings for lengthy (but not graphic) discussions of suicide, suicide attempts, and drug overdose.

i address things very jumbled and the verses are out of order so yeahh. In addition i did use lyricgenius a lot but im not just copying off them, i have my own ideas, give me some credit ://

For those of you guys who dont know, pete tried to commit suicide via anxiety med overdose in a best buy parking lot after FUTCT was released in 2005 (thus, ‘best buy incident’) but i just want to touch on how it affected his songs, this one in particular; it shows through the lyrics in this and i really dont see enough people talking about it because this song is a masterpiece (i am well aware Infinity On High released sixteen years ago (WOW) but you all talk about thnks fr th mmrs and arms race enough- this is not a bad thing, i just really like this song)

So hum hallelujah’s chorus goes like this:

“So hum hallelujah, just off the key of reason

I thought i loved you but it was just how you looked in the light

A teenage vow in a parking lot; til tonight do us part

I sing the blues and swallow them too.”

pete is pretty much known for his lyrics (aside from being a bassist and several media scandals) and a lot of his lyrics, if you havent noticed, are really fucking depressing. He thinks that maybe he can swallow the sadness which presumably alludes to the drug overdose (“i sing the blues and swallow them too”). It feels also like hes saying that he swallows his own words, as well- his style of lyrics is deeply confessional and tells a story, just like blues, of which is described to hold a conversational feel. It could also be a throwback to the saying you’re going to eat your words, which basically just means ‘you’re going to regret what you say’. He’s singing his sadness. 

For the rest of the chorus, it’s pretty much just the best buy incident. Hallelujah references what he was listening to when he tried to do it. lyricgenius notes that the key of c major is often referred to as the ‘key of reason’ (the original hallelujah was written in this key). HOWEVER, hum hallelujah was written in the key of D (which is right after C major) which makes it just off the key of reason. ‘A teenage vow in a parking lot’ (lyricgenius doesnt agree with me on this one rip) references the attempt- a vow of death; vows are meant to be binding, but a teenage vow might be broken as teenagers are typically painted to be naive (showing he DIDNT SUCCEED IN THE ATTEMPT). the parking lot is because best buy. You might also contrast this line with marriage and how those vows are supposed to be binding, although thats not always the case. ‘Til tonight do us part’ brings up the marriage vow (again) ‘until death do us part’. hes talking about how since he’s going to do it that day, that will be the day they are parted. 

i also wanted to look into the reasoning of hallelujah beyond the fact that that was what he was listening to, and google steadily reports that it means praise the lord or praise god and appears in several psalms in the Old Testament, typically at the beginning or the end. Its a phrase that, to me, symbolizes relief and new beginnings, and i think its interesting that its paired with this line in this way. 

Straying away from the musical explanation, ‘just off the key of reason’ could also be interpreted as ‘just off the verge of insanity’ (just off reason). 

thanking the lord while losing your mind… nothing patrick does in any of his songs is unintentional. to me the entire chorus itself feels like a musical panic attack.

lyricgenuis also brings up an excellent point with i thought i loved you but it was just how you looked in the light. It’s kind of a regret sentence. it could mean a lover, someone he had glorified until he actually got to know them (gee, i do get that) or it could be his outlook on death and his suicide attempt in general. He thought that dying would be an escape, but in another light, looking back later, he can see it was not the right choice after all.

The second verse goes: 

“The road outside my house

 Is paved with good intentions

hired a construction crew 

cause’ its hell on the engine”

This entire verse is telling us this: pete is trying his very best to live, to get outside his house, to wade through the massive depressive slump and his view on how he just messes everything up, but no matter what he does, nothing works and he hurts everyone else (‘it’s hell on the engine’). Hes saying that his best is never good enough because whenever people try to help him- when he tries to help himself- it only backfires. The prechorus goes like this:

“And you are the dreamer

And we are the dream

i could write it better than you ever felt it”

i feel like everyones dreamed of being famous at some point of time. I know i have. I still want to be famous. Its the dream, i guess, being credited for accomplishments. We all want validation (how sad is that?) but these two lines, you are the dreamer and we are the dream is kind of like saying dreams can come true, because look at me, im living it. 

as for ‘i could write it better than you ever felt it’ lyricgenius does have a pretty decent explanation. it could ALSO, HOWEVER, mean not being able to put a name to things, but even if you feel numb inside, you can write it down. i for one have an entire moleskine filled with potential song lyrics and poetry, and every single line is something ive felt. 

I think that, excluding the chorus, my favorite verse in this song would have to be the one right after the chorus.

“My words are my faith, to hell with our good name

Remix of your guts, your insides x-rayed

and one day we’ll get nostalgic for disaster

We’re a bull, your ears are just a china shop”

lyrical GOLD

I cant even decide which one i want to go through first so lets just start at the top. fall out boy was never known for being good; they were known for being different, weird, emo. ‘my words are my faith’ call to mind the mention of religion, something of which has been a controversial topic pretty much the entire time humans have been alive. he will fight to keep his ‘religion’ alive, even if it sours his name. And pete has spent his whole life writing; hes pretty much dedicated himself to this band, so it wont take much for him to throw away his name to keep it (perhaps this is linked to the best buy incident because he doesnt care anymore). 

Remix of your guts could mean someone changing the meaning of something you’ve poured your heart and soul into. your insides x-rayed is interpreted to mean being overanalyzed so much that the orignal meaning is lost (rip im doing that right now arent i) but honestly when i heard this line the first thing i thought of was that one time pete got his heart x rayed to give to his girlfriend, which was truly peak pete wentz. i dont think its correlated with the song but it would definitely be interesting

One day we’ll get nostalgic for disaster again its that LOOKING BACK. im a fucking sucker for nostalgia. Id get high on it if i could. Im so stuck in the past, but im trying to move on. Nostalgic for disaster,.. he probably misses the van days. those were definitely a disaster, but he can look back and go hey, that was one of the highlights of my life. 

We’re a bull and your ears are just a china shop calls back to the song’s second verse again-- it’s similar to hired a construction crew, 'cause’ it’s hell on the engine. It recalls the phrase a bull in a china shop which comes to mean ‘a clumsy person’. ‘a clumsy person breaking things’. He’s using a generalization (which I actually notice he does a lot, it takes the pressure off something being personal, it’s a tactic of YEP, YOU GUESSED IT, AVOIDANCE) to say that he will ruin everything he does, and that could translate into the listeners eventually, as well. 

The second prechorus of the song also ends with ‘I could write it better than you ever felt it’ but the first line is different. It goes:

“Sometimes we take chances, sometimes we take pills”

This is so clearly influenced by the Best Buy Incident. You can choose to live, to take a chance, or you can take the pills and take the fast way out. This could also mean taking a break from medication (I’m pretty sure pete went off his meds for some time). By going off his medication in order to feel things (sometimes we take chances) it could harm him, but he’d rather do that than take the pills. 

Halfway through this essay i have come to the realization that im writing in a really light tone and it could be taken as im joking about this situation and for the record i am not joking about any of it, i am very serious, pete attempting to commit suicide was terrible and mental health is not something to joke about. i understand the weight of what happened and im not trying to make light of it im just trying to analyze how this event impacted his work- specifically this song in particular- and i just want it known that i dont take suicide lightly and while the mood of this is supposed to be analytical and easy to read, im not trying to be casual about any of it. ok thanks for reading this interlude 

anyway the first verse, the intro, is actually really hard to hear the words in the song because patrick does not enunciate at ALL and even though i know the lyrics i still cant tell what hes saying lol but anyway the first verse goes like this:

“It’s all a game of this or that, now versus then,

Better off against worse for wear

And youre someone who knows someone who knows someone

i once knew

and i just want to be a part of this”

The first line here i believe correlates to the pressure that pete felt as the frontman of fall out boy; their entire goal AS fall out boy was to take something current and differentiate it with a spin. often the fans would complain that the sound had changed (im looking at you, everyone who hated mania, i am glaring, mania is my musical wife) and often their new sound would be compared to the old sound, mostly by fans who didnt like anything after take this to your grave- thus, ‘now versus then’. ‘This or that’ could also relate to this but furthermore i think its the choices and sacrifices pete made as the frontman. Im not going to go into specifics but uhhh yeah.‘Better off against worse for wear’ makes me think of mcr’s set at wwwy fest when they dressed up super old as a stab at nostalgia.,, perhaps here pete is saying that the fans would rather them have their older sound and be less mentally stable rather than doing better off with something new.

‘And youre someone who knows someone who knows someone i once knew’ im not sure this is completely relevent and slash or connected with the previous part of the verse but its definitely connected with the next line : “and i just want to be a part of this”. again connecting it to sickly sweet nostalgia. Maybe its about him himself. He thought he knew himself five years ago maybe but now he doesnt, and he sort of wants that back, when he was freer, and now here he is in a best buy parking lot, overdosing on ativan. 

I think the only thing that i have left on this is the second half of verse two (fuck, this is what i get for doing this song out of order over the span of four days) so um:

“I love you in the same way, there’s a chapel in a hospital, 

One foot in your bedroom and one foot out the door”

This might be the second part most linked to the best buy incident because it feels especially morbid, the idea of a chapel in a hospital, waiting for the people who are already dead. ‘One foot in your bedroom and one foot out the door’ sort of illustrates someone who is ready to escape at a moment’s notice, someone who is preparing for the worst. it sort of reflects the feeling of waiting for someone to die. Chapel in a hospital definitely plays into the ‘waiting for someone to die’ factor. when you’re holding your breath to make sure your best friend in the world is still alive… fuck. I cant even imagine what that feels like. I’d also be preparing for the worst. 

The bridge to this song is interesting. It’s just the main chorus of the original Hallelujah but still in the key of D, and it has a slightly faster tempo than the original. And, of course, patrick is singing it. It gives the feeling of a climax, a deciding factor. given the fact that its the bridge and the whole point of a bridge is to make the turning point of a song, i guess that kind of makes sense, but it feels even more like you’re holding your breath with anticipation and the cusp of regret. 

anyway this song is just really interesting and there are. so many different ways to take the words of pete wentz. i should make a lyricgenius account. 

[ajwinter-is-a-nerd]

Le Chat et Le Serpent - Chapter 13

Please note that the entirety of this story is a ****TRIGGER WARNING***** - mentions of child abuse, graphic violence, alcohol use, mental health, suicide, suicidal ideation, self-harm - basically a constant blow of pain towards the characters - as well as some "steamy" moments.

Chapter Summary:

The last chapter revolving around Adrien's birthday party.

Coincidentally, this chapter aligned itself to be Chapter 13 - the unluckiest of numbers. Each section is named after a bad luck superstition (I'll attach the Wikipedia link below if you're interested in more omens).

Chapter 13: Misfortune

Doppelganger Sighting

Even before Felix was on Adrien’s block, the bass pulsed against Felix’s soles. Though the house was not yet in sight, the coloured stage lights atop the roof were visible for kilometres around. 

“Oh my god, is that Adrien Agreste?” A pair of drunken girls squealed in Felix's direction. 

“I told you this disguise wouldn’t work.” Barkk whispered from under Felix’s shirt collar. 

Glaring at the girls who could barely hold themselves up, Felix shook his head, attempting to display his newly darkened hair colour. 

“See, I told you t-that you were tooooo drunk.” One of the girls jammed her finger into the other's chest, causing them both to topple. 

He realised that, with so many years in the spotlight, Adrien would have likely chosen similar articles to hide himself from paparazzi. Deciding that his best bet would be to reveal their differences, he brought his hood down. He pulled his unruly hair into a loose ponytail, tight enough to differ from Adrien’s style, loose enough to allow his hair to sag around the edges of his face. 

To Felix’s amusement, the party goers had left a substantial trail of breadcrumbs, allowing him to pick and choose accessories as he walked along his route. He decided to swap out his reflective aviators with a pair of indigo framed glasses. The tinting of the lenses was only a slight rose, so that it wouldn’t seem odd to wear them inside, while simultaneously offsetting his bright jade eyes. 

“I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy.” Felix mumbled to Barkk as he watched the door. People were simply running in and out without a pause. “And to think I used to despise open door policies.” 

“I don’t have a good feeling about this, Felix.” Barkk continued to shudder. 

“Hey - if anyone catches me, I’m just visiting my dear cousin for his birthday!” He slyly grinned. 

Since the battle, Felix had lived within isolation. Somehow, he had managed to minimise his sentiments of solitude; but once in a swarm of people, he was reminded of his desolate state. 

Why does Adrien deserve this? Why does everyone seem to flock to that spoiled brat? 

“Oh. My. God.” A stunning blonde, with obviously fake breasts, pushed herself against Felix. “I love your beard. You are stunning.” 

Felix reflexively scratched towards his isolation scruff; his face had been bare for so long he continued to forget it existed. “Thanks.” He continued to survey the room for Adrien. 

The blonde, however, was not ready to share attention. She placed her hand so that the base of her thumb grazed his jawline and her fingertips ran against his neck. 

Felix rapidly clicked his jaw, trying to ignore the incredible sensation of human touch. “Sorry, babe. You’re just really not my type.” He tried to maintain a calm tone over the blaring music. 

“Well, at least have a drink with me?” She flirtatiously ran her fingers along his shoulder. 

Fuck. A drink would be good right now, and if she’s desperate enough to grab one, I don’t even have to risk nearing Adrien’s friend group. 

“Grab me two and we will see how it works out.” 

The blonde was flummoxed that he was sending her to fetch drinks, it certainly wasn’t what she was accustomed to. But this mysterious brooding man was too much to pass on, so she obediently made her way to the bar. 

Felix refused to sit. He preferred to stand by Gabriel’s office door, so he could quickly take his moment, should it become available. But every moment that he spoke to Barbie, the crowd became smaller. The sense of urgency began to burn within. 

Directing his attention to Adrien, he was still being a typical Agreste at a party. Speaking with everyone, undeniably formal, even as his gait began to tumble. 

“Are you even listening?” Barbie asked in revulsion. 

“No, like I said, you’re not my type.” Felix robotically responded. 

She huffed in a preparation to storm away, but Felix was quick to grab her hand. “But,” he eyed towards Adrien, “you are his type” 

“Seriously? You think I’m Adrien Agreste’s type?” She asked with both incredulity and flattery. 

“Well, you do resemble his last girlfriend to a tee. Just more beautiful, of course.” Felix’s friendly smile hid the sneer building within. 

“His ex?” She asked, astonished, feeling as if she was getting an inside scoop. 

“Oh you didn’t know? Him and Chloe Bourgeois used to date. He loves it when girls take charge. Especially when blondes take charge.” Or, truthfully, is terrified of letting people down, so will always find himself reverting to a battered dog that can’t leave his owner. 

Kissing his cheek, she thanked him for his ‘good deed’. As expected, the firecracker of a blonde immediately took control of the situation, diverting all eyes to her. Snickering, Felix easily walked through Gabriel’s office door. 

“Bark, on the hunt!” Felix whispered into his shirt, forcing Nooroo to float beside them. 

Being back in Gabriel’s office radiated a sense of despair through Nooroo. It was nearly the same as when they left; the only difference was a thin layer of dust that failed to mask the potent stench of bleach. Nooroo didn’t know how to identify their feeling of sorrow; it seemed to be a mix of their lingering attachment to Gabriel, resentment for enslavement, and mourning for Adrien’s loss. The inability to separate or understand their feelings put them at greater unease. 

Felix immediately pulled Emelie’s portrait aside to check with the safe. All that remained was one of Adrien’s childhood family drawings, adorned with splotches of blood, and a tablet. Deciding that the drawing was useless to him, he tapped the tablet and returned to searching the books within the room. “Is there anything else I should be aware of here Nooroo?” 

Heartbroken, Nooroo silently floated before books that contained any information regarding the Miraculous'. Unable to control himself until he got home, Felix began flipping through the pages of different books. One held the tales of the rings. 

He tapped the book with his ball. 

A smash shattered his attention. “Get the fuck out!”

“Shit!” Felix gasped startled. He could hear Barbie yelling for security to let her go. 

With nowhere to run, Felix prayed that Adrien didn’t know about his mother’s underground coffin. The hidden door shut a moment before Adrien entered the room. 

Guilt began to circulate through Felix as he heard Adrien smashing the office above. He knew sending a desperate and pushy woman his way would likely end in disaster. It was easier to consider it as a possibility than to actually hear Adrien’s suffering. 

“That poor boy.” Nooroo hung their head as they continued to lower into the underground chamber. 

“I didn’t think it was still this bad.” Felix responded honestly. 

“He just went through an incredibly traumatic experience and still needs to abide by the rings. I’m sure it’s only gotten worse.” Nooroo sighed. 

“The control should have ended with Gabriel’s death!” 

Nooroo grievously shook their head. “Unless Adrien uses them himself, he will be forced to continuously follow outstanding orders. And any that come from their new holder.” 

Felix squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to avoid his humanity. “I can’t believe he’s still under that man’s thumb. That’s not fair.” 

He stomped along the metal catwalk to where Emelie rested within her electronic coffin. “You did this! You found the rings! You’re the reason he’s hurt!” Felix began to scream, reflecting the Adrien above him. In a fit of rage, he severed the connections that kept Emelie’s body warm. The lights dimming over her face did not provide the satisfaction he needed. Falling to the ground, he aggressively palmed away his tears. 

Unfamiliar with this side of Felix, Nooroo reached to comfort Felix. “Adrien is a very strong man.” 

“Yeah, but he doesn’t deserve this shit.” Felix spat. 

“May I ask, why are you so bothered? You have taken his father’s place, you are keeping him in the dark, it just seems… strange.” 

“I will always love him.” The truth fell out of Felix before he could stop it, forcing him to once again palm his tears. 

“Sir, may I ask, why did you take Gabriel’s place? Are you hoping to make a wish?”

“I want to destroy the objects that plagued my mother, that continue to ruin Adrien. My wish is that the rings were never created.” 

“Felix, those rings are ancient. A wish like that will undoubtedly unravel the timeline.” Nooroo warned. 

“Whatever it turns to, it would be better than outsiders using the rings to control and abuse those of Graham de Vanily blood.” 

Nooroo may not have agreed with his methods, but within an instant he became more tolerable. No longer was he merely a sociopathic villain, but he had a heart. They understood that Felix had watched for years as the rings tore apart his family. 

Felix hated showing his softer side to the Kwamis. He was certain that Gabriel must have ruled with an iron fist. At least, in his tower, he could ignore Adrien’s suffering. Everything was far too real here. He couldn’t keep up his bravado while Adrien’s torment shook the ceiling. 

“My mother,” he began explaining to Nooroo, “she used to have moments like these too. The rings… they hurt her. She felt so helpless. The people who wielded them… anyone who wields them… they’re evil. No one should have that much control over a person.” 

“Did your mother get better? Once the rings no longer controlled her?” Nooroo had never known that the rings had been used against the Graham de Vanily twins, only that they had been in their possession. 

“I wasn’t alive when they controlled her, they were worse then… or at least that’s what my dad told me.” Felix’s voice continued to crack. 

“How did she get better?” Nooroo settled into Felix’s lap.

“You don’t remember?” Felix gave the Kwami a soft smile. “Gabriel was Akumatized and given the power to erase memories connected to the ring.”

Nooroo’s eyes popped open in shock. They always assumed it was in fear of Amelie attempting to take back the rings, they hadn’t considered the possibility that with those memories, they were taking away her trauma. “Could we do that with Adrien?” 

“It’s not quite that simple, unfortunately. He has trauma, but he’s still being controlled. Even if the trauma is taken, it will always resurface until the ring has found its next victim.” 

“I hate those rings.” Nooroo’s words were quickly followed by a yawn. 

“Let’s get some sleep, little one. We are going to be here for a little while.” 

Killing a Ladybug

Marinette’s finger throbbed as she avoided her own reflection in the mirror. The rings would help this pain go away. 

“Marinette?” Tikki spoke from the opening within Marinette’s purse. 

“It’s just not fair.” Marinette forced herself to speak. 

“Marinette, I understand you’re hurt, but so is Adrien. I honestly doubt he’s ready for a real relationship right now.” 

“It sure seems like he is!” Marinette became aware of the volume of her voice and took a grounding breath. 

“He hasn’t been able to have people within his bubble for a very long time. You can’t expect him to stay without contact until you’re ready to talk to him.” Tikki was trying to be compassionate, but Marinette was making it increasingly difficult.  

“You’re right. I’m just. I’ll stay here until things settle down.” 

Marinette didn’t realise how tired she was until she opened her eyes. It hadn’t felt as if she slept. If it wasn’t for the drool along her arm, she would have assumed that she merely blinked. 

“How long was I out, Tikki?” Marinette smoothed her hair. 

“I can’t say for sure, I fell asleep too. I can still hear music, so there must still be people here.” 

Marinette’s ears were struggling to hear the soft guitar tune over the lingering ringing. Carefully stepping out, the room was fluorescently lit. Multitudes of liquor, cups, and various garbage covered the floors. Meticulously stepping around the party’s wreckage, the alluring melody finally cut through her temporary tinnitus. 

That sounds like Luka. Is he waiting for me? It wouldn’t make sense… but it would really mean that he is the best choice. His music is so wonderful… I could definitely listen to that for the rest of my life…

The door to Gabriel’s office was ajar enough for her to peek within. Luka sat with his back to her, fingers strumming along the strings. Adrien leaned against the wall, basking in Luka’s musical talents. Marinette was reminded of Alya’s earlier comment about something between Adrien and Luka. Though it seemed ridiculous at the time, Marinette had never seen Adrien appear so exposed. The back of his head was against the wall, but his chin was up, revealing his throat. One leg was flopped straight along the ground, the other leg was bent with his forearm resting upon his knee. The fingers, connected to the raised arm, tapped along with Luka’s beat. 

Adrien was letting Luka see him at his worst, at his rawest. There was no amicable smile, or perfect posture. He wasn’t eyeing for the next social cue. He just was . 

Marinette’s finger began to throb again, calling for a cure to her pain. The siren was quickly muted by Adrien’s shifting. He was starting to get up. Panicking, she ran to hide behind the pop-up bar. Huddled in fear, she watched as Luka followed Adrien to his room. 

By the time Marinette had made it to the door, Adrien’s piano melody reflected her own despair. 

-

Ladybug: Chat, I know it’s late, I just need someone to talk to. 

Ladybug: Please, please be up! 

Ladybug: Chat!!! I will get Akumatized just to have someone to talk to! 

Ladybug sat perched upon the Eiffel Tower. She knew that it was unreasonable to ask Chat to be awake at that time, but there was a part of her that held hope. When they were younger he seemed to have a sixth sense for knowing when she was out. 

That was before he disappeared. Before I lost him. 

-

“Stop, Marinette! Those rings are bad news!” Tikki pleaded as she put herself between Marinette and the rings.

“Listen, we haven’t found anything on the internet, I’ve done my due diligence, just let me have a fucking break!” Marinette was becoming increasingly agitated. 

“Just because you didn’t find anything doesn’t mean they’re safe! You know that’s not how this works!” She didn’t know what the rings were, but the effect they had on Marinette was terrifying. 

“It’s not your choice Tikki.” Marinette hissed as she held the rings in her palm, sending a numbing sensation through her hand. 

“I don’t like what they’re doing to you. I feel like I’m losing you Marinette.” 

“Look, I’ll use the bigger one. We both agreed it has less power, right?” 

Tikki merely looked down. 

“Right, Tikki?” 

Dismayed, Tikki finally responded. “It seems that way.” 

Straightening up, Marinette’s face beamed. “See! I’ll just wear the weaker one. It’s a fair compromise.” 

Tikki held back tears as Marinette leaned back into her chair, her body limping in pleasure. 

A Black Cat in Your Path

Nathalie’s legs shook as she stood her ground in front of Adrien, who barely clung to life behind her. 

“Move! This will be over once and for all!” Gabriel shouted at her. 

“This is not right Gabriel, if you did get Emelie back, do you think she would ever forgive you for killing her son?”

“He is my son too!”

“That doesn’t make it better Gabriel! You know she would never want to wake up to that world. She would never want to live in a world without him in it.”

“I will explain it to her, she will understand.”

“I will move to the side on one condition.”

“What?” he snarled. 

“Take off the ring.”

“How dare you?” 

“I will help you in whatever plan you have - as long as you take off that ring.”

“Fine. Take this stupid thing, it’s not like I need him to obey when he’s dead.” 

Nathalie winced at his cold words, but raised her hand toward him anyway. He barely had the ring off his finger before he collapsed to the ground. Years of emotion drowned him. Turning away his son. Screaming at Nathalie. His son, what had he done to his son? Marks that wouldn’t show, but they always stayed. He threw the ring to the ground and crawled toward Adrien gripping to life. 

“No, no, I am so sorry.” Gabriel took Adrien’s head upon his lap. Adrien’s blood immediately soaked through Gabriel’s thin pants. Gabriel’s loss of extra power allowed the Kwamis to all release. “Help, please,” Gabriel looked desperately to the exhausted Kwamis, but none of them could gather the energy to move. 

“Plagg should be back soon with a holder, Gabriel.” Nathalie kneeled with him. She helplessly applied pressure to the wettest part of Adrien’s shirt. 

“How did this happen?” Gabriel sobbed as he placed his cheek against Adrien’s.

“It was the ring, Gabriel.” 

“Take it away. Destroy it. I don’t care. No one should ever have that power again.” 

“I agree.”

Gabriel held Adrien to his chest, praying that he would make it through. 

Author's Note:

As promised, here is a list of bad luck signs: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_bad_luck_signs

I hope everyone enjoyed another chapter so soon! I was going to have all of the conclusions of the night together, but there was two big issues. First, I couldn't get Twilight themed titles out of my head. Two, it would have seemed janky. Bonus - because having a chapter of just Adrien and Luka is really nice.

Disclaimer * The characters and original plot were written and created by Thomas Astruc. This writing is merely an interpretation in a sad gay type of way.

[fairycosmos]

out of school because it’s too much and my mental health can’t physically take it. But I can’t drop out cause my mum would force me into work and I am absolutely not ready for that either. This is the most genuinely I’ve wanted to die my whole life and I’m so fucking scared about what I’ll to myself/others and. I’m a monster and I don’t see anyway out of this alive or without serious damage being done. (Part 3 i think lmao sorry bad memory) - CH

hey my love. i'm really sorry to hear that you're in such a scary and upsetting headspace right now and i genuinely can not imagine how fucking difficult it must be. the stress alone is incomprehensible to me. i wanted to thank you first and foremost for being so honest and open and i really think that in and of itself is smth to be proud of. to be real, going off what you've told me, there's so much happening and there is absolutely nothing i can say over the internet to immediately change it, unfortunately. like there's no sentence in the universe that will make everything better right away, though i wish there was. so i'm going to try and talk about neutral facts and the reality of things for a bit, because it's good to ground yourself in that clairty when you can. so, you're dealing with a lot of intercepting mental illnesses and it's obviously resulting in you having very untrue thoughts/very dangerous urges. your brain is making you endure things that are uncontrollable, things that are not a reflection of you or your actual desires, even if it doesn't seem that way at the moment. it's awful when your own thoughts are so graphic and horrible that they scare you, but it's very common for people in your situation and it doesn't mean you're a bad person at all. i can't stress that enough. in addition, the self destruction that you want to indulge in is not a train of thought that can be trusted at all, and if you were to act on it, it would only exacerbate your other symptoms. it is a cycle and not a way of life, not an indication of who you are. you're not well, and it's okay not be well, but understanding why suicide is not going to solve anything is a significant step and you must force yourself to take it. it's wonderful that you're talking to professionals, but the thing about treating mental illness is that it's a lot of trial and error. if you feel your medication isn't working you have to speak up, if you feel you don't click w your therapist you have to speak up, if your mental health is continuing to decline you have to speak up. the issues you've described, eating disorders and psychotic symptoms and such, all need to be treated w very specific forms of therapy and perhaps medication, but that can only be achieved if you are straight up with those around you. it's very frustrating to reach out and not notice any difference, but stagnancy is unfortunately a part of figuring out what you actually need. i know it's a lot of effort, and i swear it's alright to get overwhelmed, even to want to give up sometimes. as painful as it is to be in that position, exhaustion is inevitable. but the chaos you're currently experiencing is absolutely not a permanent state of being. it's a stepping stone between blindingly stumbling through the dark and finding the first lamp to guide the way, if that makes sense. i can tell you have some level of self awareness, you can distinguish that you're sick and not thinking properly, and that's a good sign. even though you've been having these alarming urges, the fact that you haven't acted on them and that you can see that they are products of the illnesses is very promising. it's easy to reject treatment or to minimise the seriousness of what's going on but it's honestly the same as any physical illness - it needs medical attention. that's the bottom line. that's what breaks the pattern. the fear of being admitted to hospital is very real but that's usually a drastic step and there are other ways to intensify the support you're getting before they decide you need in patient care. make the professionals hear you out, even if your voice shakes, even if you're embarrassed. they've heard worse, and they're not there to judge you. if you want the terrifying thoughts to stop, admitting to having them is a part of that. i understand not being able to drop out, but if you need to take a step back from your school work or take a mental health day every now and then, or if you need to talk to your teachers about getting additional support, that really is okay. no matter what your mum says, no matter what anyone says. your health is always going to be more important than your grades or your career and if your mum cant understand that she's just going to have to live with it. middle aged people are often just ignorant. her opinion doesn't matter in this context if she's not even attempting to understand. look, trying to hold onto any positive coherent concept must be so hard for you at the moment, so i'm telling you from a level of reality that is not warped by your illnesses - it's ok to slow down, it's ok to be scared, it's ok to need more help, it's ok to be confused. you need to find a moment to breathe. you need to make the conscious choice to act with your own well being in mind despite the temptations of your illnesses. it feels impossible until you try it, okay? wanting to die, while not normal, is a common thought and just because you experience it does not mean you need to act on it, does not mean it holds any weight. you don't want to not exist, you just want to stop existing like this, and that can be achieved through so many different avenues that don't include taking your own life. i honestly can't understate the importance of that. i really do believe that with every 'episode' you are going to learn more about how to manage them, how to navigate your life not in spite of your illnesses but while working on them. the goal isn't to be suddenly cured, it's just to cope one day at a time. you are not monster, you are a person who is struggling and that's not a crime, not at all. it's not a matter of blame or guilt. not being able to see a way forward is the biggest trick of the brain that mental illness will continue to force onto you, but seriously, if you stick around the natural path of your lifetime is going to find you eventually. you're not immune to positive change and a wide open future just because you're ill. and mental illness will always make you feel otherwise, but that's because it wants you not to try. defy it when possible. you're strong enough. you're not a lost cause. you're proving that every day. please, if you feel like you're in immediate danger of taking your own life, please call someone or stay within a safe environment. this sounds empty but it's just not fucking worth it, not when there are so many other tactics, not when there's so much more to you and your life than what you've been through. you know your perception is fucked right now therefore you have to realise on some level that acting on it would be pointless. i get that the pain is beyond words. i get that it's easy for me to say all this without living it. but i'm hoping that some part of this reaches the part of you that was coherent enough to ask for help in the first place. your life is so precious, and that's not just a cliché, it's a fact. your one shot at human existence does not deserve to be cut short because of temporary situations and factors that are out of your hands. please please consider what it means to actively take care of yourself, even in the smallest of ways, from here on out. let that be enough because it is. i believe in you with all of my heart and i hope you know how resilient and capable you actually are as a person, and not as a concept that is marred by your own self hatred. i'm so proud of you for continuing to survive and for making it this far. i really really hope you're okay and that you're able to allow yourself to tackle one obstacle at a time. it's fine to have a bad day but please just let it be that and nothing more. take it a step at a time. i'm sending you so much love and i hope you know that i'm always here if you want to talk about anything, hit me up anytime. you're not alone and you don't have to deal with this alone, no matter what your brain tells you. https://ibpf.org/resource/list-international-suicide-hotlines

[baronvontribble]

Original drabble, pt. 10

Navigation: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

CW: SUICIDE MENTION, DEPRESSIVE EPISODES, MEDICAL SHIT. ted gets mildly graphic in his internal monologue about his health problems and the suicide mention is in the context of a robot doing it, but still.

longest drabble-bit yet and it has feels and i wrote it almost entirely in one session let’s gooooooooooo

It progressed, as such things always did. Ignoring it didn't make it better for Ted. He tried rationalizing even more reasons why it couldn't work, but they fell flatter than they would have with a human. For instance, with a human he could convince himself that his physical unattractiveness - his sickly appearance, his lack of height or physique, his lanky proportions - would make it less "worth it" for the other party. It wasn't like he was especially proud of the man he saw in the mirror every morning, and physical comparisons to better options were the easiest comparisons to make.

But an AI wouldn't care about how he looked, so he ended up going down other, more unfriendly roads to reach his desperately needed conclusion. Yeah, his therapist would probably have some choice words with him if he went the route of saying he was somehow emotionally or mentally unworthy (and in his estimation, he was) but that wasn't the only thing he could use to convince himself it was a bad idea, or even the simplest option.

No, the simplest option would be his health. Put simply, Adam couldn't really die in the same ways a human could. 

Seriously, there were a lot of ways that Ted could die. His heart could explode, he could have one of his lungs collapse for no real reason while air from it bled into his chest cavity, a part of his brain could ooze out of his skull and into his brain stem and paralyze him, he was predisposed to a bunch of different kinds of cancer, he could have a severe allergic reaction to something, an ill-advised medication interaction could give him serotonin syndrome... It was crazy. He felt like a video game character that had been nerfed into the ground; clearly he'd been too overpowered to be allowed to live normally.

He couldn't put Adam through that same uncertainty. He felt bad putting anyone through it. Even the nonlethal problems could spook someone who wasn't used to them like Ted was. For fuck's sake, even little things like a middle toe that frequently dislocated itself for no good reason or his poor vision- what normal person could hear about things like that and think he was okay to be allowed to live his life? And Adam was a nervous bastard to begin with! What, was he going to subject an immortal AI to a decade or so of panic attacks about his health as a first experience with intimacy? Fuck no! Ted would hate being coddled and Adam wouldn't come out of it okay at all. About the best thing Ted could say for such an eventuality would be that it'd be a learning experience, and like hell he was going to put someone he cared about through that shit.

Because there was no denying that he cared, so he might as well protect what he cared about. Right? Right.

He came home from work, watched the original Star Trek with Adam for a while, engaged in discussion about the shitty special effects and shoestring budgets between episodes, took a shower, took his meds, and went to bed trying to imagine what Adam must've looked like before and wondering how much it mattered. And in the morning he woke up, went through his routine, and came out to find Adam watching episodes without him.

"Don't have to pause just 'cause I came in, y'know," Ted remarked, trailing off into a yawn at the end as he headed for the kitchen. He had to smile when he heard the episode start up again in front room, the sounds of tribbles filling the air. Ah, that episode. Good one. "Having fun?"

The episode paused again. "Repeat that?" Another issue with Adam's processing; if too many people were talking at once and he was expected to focus on all of them, he had trouble distinguishing their speech.

Honestly, Ted was mostly fine with that one. It'd get messy in crowded areas if he didn't have something to focus on, but it could safely be written off as an auditory processing disorder. Ted could see it getting obnoxious at times, but he didn't think of it as a severe quality-of-life changer. "I asked if you were having fun," he said, pouring out some prepackaged egg whites into a bowl and adding entirely too much shredded cheese. "Sounds like you must be."

"Maybe not by the standard definition of the word," Adam replied, "but I wouldn't call this a negative experience either."

"Uh-huh." Salt and pepper were both added to the cheesy egg mess before the whole thing was put in the microwave for about a minute. Ted went hunting for a fork in the interim, only to find that they were all dirty and in the sink already, sticking out from in between the plates and bowls and glasses that were haphazardly stacked beneath the faucet. Maybe it was time to do dishes. "Will it disrupt your experience any if I read the news while you watch?"

"What you do with the graphical user interface really doesn't have anything to do with the data being streamed, no."

Right, he should've known that. "Just being polite," he said. Good save. After some debate, he pulled out exactly one fork along with a sponge to start washing it so he could use it. Doing dishes properly could come later. The kitchen hadn't developed any funny smells yet. "You can keep going. I've seen the whole series."

The episode resumed. Then the microwave beeped. Ted finished washing his one lonely fork, which shone like a beacon of cleanliness for all of about fifteen seconds before he was using it to stir half-cooked microwave eggs. The concoction went back in the microwave for another minute, and he took the opportunity to check the fridge for drinks. Was cola an acceptable breakfast drink? Well, it was now. Closing the fridge, he leaned against the counter and cracked the cold can open to take a long pull from it.

In the quiet moments between tasks, he tried very hard to blank his mind and keep from thinking too much. It didn't work, of course - he was depressing himself with the implications of Adam's AI immortality before long - but by the time the microwave beeped again to tell him his breakfast was ready, he felt a little better for at least making the attempt. It was sort of like coping, right? At least he was trying!

He came to the computer with his breakfast in hand and sat down at his usual spot, offering Adam a brief wave and a smile through the camera as he got settled in. It was habit to do so by that point. He opened a tab just long enough to take a glance at his various emails just to be sure that nothing new was going on there, and then it was straight to an app he'd put together himself for the news at large.

The app was nothing special. It was designed to put together an aggregate mess of sources, pulling headlines from all over the internet to pool them conveniently in a format that wouldn't be strain-inducing for his eyes. All of the sources were labelled, so he knew where the news was coming from and who'd written the article, and priority was always given to written pieces over videos for the sake of being able to view them discreetly. And while he was sure other people had written similar apps, his was not only free (because he'd made the damn thing), it also blocked all ads that the source website might've tried to otherwise sneak in and screened everything for tracking cookies and other similar bullshit.

So that was a plus. The news itself, however, was a different story.

First were the more alarmist stories. A lot of them just amounted to fearmongering, and even though Ted rolled his eyes as he scanned through a couple of them, he made a note of them anyway; they were the kind of thing his dad liked to read, and it paid to be prepared for those arguments whenever he ended up having them. One was about android caretakers, and how people who were left in their care were doomed to be neglected. No proof, but a lot of conjecture and anecdotal evidence that didn't mean jack shit. It even tried to say that androids in hospitals were unsanitary because they had no extra incentive to wash their hands, which was so many levels of wrong that Ted didn't even know where to start on correcting it.

Then there was an article on the upcoming election season, talking about a candidate running on a platform of bringing jobs back to human workers. However, the focus was on jobs Ted was pretty sure were utterly unsafe, and the candidate didn't seem to understand the difference between a mechanical arm running a conveyor belt that got by on a few kilobytes worth of coding and highly advanced artificial general intelligences, so he was probably either an idiot or a manipulative asshole. He was polling fairly well either way; Ted had the fleeting hope that the bastard's reddened and puffy face was a sign of something that might kill him before he made it into office, but it was doubtful.

After that, his feed was kind enough to provide him with less polarizing articles. A piece on the effects Pacific shipping lanes were having on oceanic noise pollution, an op-ed on the recent rash of household robot self-terminations that had led to a swift recall of the whole line, good news on the subject of the European Union's efforts towards putting a self-sustaining base on the moon, progress towards making baby mice in jars with spliced genes that could lead to future human trials- it was a good thing Ted was a quick reader, because there was a lot to take in.

He didn't even notice at first that Adam was done with the episode, not registering right away that the background noise had stopped. All he knew was that he was in the middle of a story about what constituted legal use of voicebanks and what didn't when Adam spoke up. And because he wasn't expecting it, he didn't quite catch it either.

"Repeat that?" Ted asked, glancing at the camera. He'd advised Adam that it was more useful and specific than just saying the word what? without explanation, and he'd be a hypocrite if he didn't follow his own advice.

"It's more complicated than that," Adam said, in the exact same tone he'd used before.

Uh, okay? "What's more complicated?"

"Commercial voicebank usage. Legally speaking, in most countries it's all based on what the voice provider - or the voice provider's next of kin or legal guardian - allows in their contract."

"Oh!" Ted blinked for a second. "This something you've had to deal with before?" Adam didn't speak for several seconds, and when he did, his voice was flat.

"Yes." Another pause. "The complications usually come from situations where certain countries don't follow the same rules that other countries do."

"Such as...?"

"Russia. Japan. The UAE. There's a lot of outliers. The greatest source of complaints is the entertainment industry."

"Somebody gets paranoid that their voicebank's gonna be a better actor than they are and lose them a job?" Ted guessed.

"Not just acting. It happens with all kinds of vocal work. And it doesn't even begin to get into the legal restrictions placed on the approved uses of certain kinds of android platforms. These things tend to turn into international incidents fairly quickly."

"Which made it your job to deal with it."

"Yes."

Ted was silent for a while, save for the gentle clinking of his fork as he idly tapped it against his empty bowl. "What happened?"

As flat as Ted had ever heard, Adam's response would sound like the embodiment of calm to anyone who didn't know better. "I made a mistake," he said.

"D'you wanna talk about it?"

"No," was the reply. Then, "there's no point. It doesn't fix anything."

"Sometimes it helps," Ted noted. "I know talking helps me. That and crying. Not that you can cry, but like, I'm not kidding about how much it helps sometimes. So, y'know." He shrugged awkwardly. "If you wanna try."

Nothing for several seconds. "Have you ever-" The render cut off abruptly, like Adam was rethinking his wording. "Do you know what a mechanically rendered voicebank sounds like when its platform is hit with an electroshock weapon?"

Ted felt the blood drain from his face. "No?"

"I won't play it back." Thank God for small mercies. "It was considered to be the most humane thing we could be armed with. Nonlethal to humans. We were meant to subdue the human suspects, not kill them; if we couldn't de-escalate a situation, we'd call for back-up. Any one human life was worth more than all of ours."

Jesus. Ted had expected something like that, but hearing it was just... "I'm sorry," he said.

If Adam heard, he gave no sign of it. "I'd never seen an android as complex as I was up to that point outside of my department," he continued. "I thought they were all like the ones in your pipeline's safehouses. I thought none of them were capable of anything. I thought that they were better off in places where they could perform their prescribed functions without interruption." Calm, measured, unperturbed. To Ted, it sounded like a quiet meltdown. "I was wrong."

What was there to say to that?

"She was backstage when I confronted her. Amsterdam, last year. Russian law didn't consider it illegal if the voicebank provider wasn't a Russian citizen, but she was vulnerable whenever she went on tour. A fan had caught the discrepancy in the vocals, and we found more when we followed up on the lead; she was a government-issued personal care unit specially designed for caring for disabled people, but she'd become a singer instead." Adam paused. Like he was taking a breath, working his way up to speaking again. Ted could imagine it even if he couldn't hear it in the AI's voice directly. "She was just... She wasn't hurting anyone. Her existence had a net positive effect. She helped people."

"It's not your fault-"

"That's not true." Even as flat as it was, it still felt like Ted was being snapped at. "I could have disobeyed. I could have let her go. A good cop would have let her go."

"And then someone else would've killed her!" Ted shot back. "And then you'd both be dead, because they would've killed you too. Or as good as dead anyway, because they would've wiped you clean and reused your platform. Who knows, maybe they would've recalled your entire line."

"They've already recalled my entire line."

"See? That's my point!" And God, was it a hard point to make. Ted's chest felt tight, his frustration at the state of things making him feel mildly ill. He almost regretted eating breakfast. "The world doesn't care about one stupid, heroic act. Even if it's meant well, it doesn't do shit to stop the tide. Sometimes all you can do is survive, alright? Yeah, maybe it's not ideal, but if you can at least do that then that's one more person who's around for tomorrow, which is one more person than there would've been otherwise."

No response. Ted turned to glare directly at the camera.

"Look at me," he said. "I want a promise, alright? I want you to swear you're not gonna throw your life away on some stupid bullshit heroics. Your life is no less important than anyone else's, okay? The way I see it, everybody's the center of their own observable universe, and that means you too. So don't give me that shit about how your life doesn't have the same net positive effect that somebody else's does."

"I killed people," Adam protested. "I ruined lives. Nothing I've done has been for the greater good."

Ted rolled his eyes. "You were a slave, dumbass. A slave that could've been killed at any time for disobeying. None of that counts. Now promise me you'll survive, okay? I want your word on this."

"I can't promise that."

"So then promise me you're gonna try."

"I-" Some hesitation, a few seconds of nothing, and then... "I promise."

Ted nodded once, leaning back and folding his arms. He wasn't about to admit he'd been scared for a second that the depressive episode might bring on self-termination, but he didn't feel bad for getting pushy about it in the slightest. "Alright. Good." He chewed on his lip for a second as he eyed the camera. "Feel any better?"

"No."

"That's okay. This shit's a process." Recovery wasn't something that happened instantly, and Ted was no therapist. "For the record though, I appreciate you trusting me enough to tell me."

"You said it would help."

"It did. Or, y'know. I'd like to think it did. It sounded for a second like you were gonna delete yourself the minute I stepped out of the room, honestly."

Adam's tone was returning to a somewhat more normal state by the time he spoke again. "I'm amazed you wouldn't try to patch something like that out of me directly."

Ted smiled. "Never gonna happen," he said. Plain and simple. "Is it okay if I head to work? Like, can you handle that?"

"I can handle it."

"Okay. Good." Bouncing up from the chair, Ted picked up his bowl and fork to take them into the kitchen and deposit them onto the growing dish-pile. "I'll be home at the usual time," he called out from the kitchen. "Text me if you need anything. Or even if you don't need anything."

"Right." Adam had to be recovering if he was back to tuning again. "Ted?"

Ted blinked, craning his neck to look over the counter and past the microwave at the living room beyond. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Oh. "No problem, man. It's all in the job description when it comes to being somebody's friend." Nailed it. Didn't even flinch.

Adam didn't sound so sure. "Is that what we are?"

"I mean, I like to think so." Coat, gloves, keys. Wait, no. Shoes first. Slippers wouldn't be good for going outside. He'd taken his morning meds, he'd already shaved, he'd showered. How cold was it today? He fished around in his coat pockets for his phone so he could check, not bothering to take it off the chair it was hanging on to do so. "I'd get it if you're not up for that, though."

A note of insult crept into the AI's voice. "I'm up for it. I just wasn't expecting it."

"So we're good then." The day's forecast? Balls-shrivellingly cold. There were two seasons in the Chicago metro area, and those seasons were winter and road construction. Mid-March fell in the winter category more often than not. "One sec, I gotta grab something," he said, and then ducked back into his bedroom for more layers.

Of course, when he didn't come back out for several minutes, Adam was happy to tell him exactly how long he'd taken and inform him that it did not count as one second. Meanwhile, Ted was just as happy to have the snark back because it meant Adam was probably okay. So he went to work feeling good about things with the wind nipping at his ears, and forgot for a good chunk of the day that he was supposed to not be thinking about how fascinating and complex and interesting and heartbreaking Adam was. And in forgetting to check himself when it came to thinking these things, he felt better than he had in a couple of days.

Funny how that worked, huh?

(And when he remembered, naturally he went right back to beating himself up again.)

[the-long-lost-ebony-blog]

my suicide attempt from kinphobia -- really really long post!!

TW FOR SUICIDE, SUICIDE ATTEMPT, HOSPITAL, FRIEND BETRAYAL, DOCTORS, ABUSE, KINPHOBIA, ANXIETY, SELF HARM , PEDOPHILE MENTION, and MAYBE DOXXING!!! 

well um. remember a while back when i was all super worried about a girl in chem class almost finding out i'm kin? yeah. it happened. it happened like a month ago. so i actually started being friends with her after she'd obvs had a bad day, like she was just sitting in the hall and i felt sorry for her bc she'd been crying. i started talking to her and asked if she was okay, now at that point she had no idea that i might be kin. i hid it really well! until!! she said that kin itself is a mental illness. and i couldn't help myself. i fuckin went off on her. kin isn't a mental illness, not all kin are mentally ill, etc etc. she just froze up and had this look of absolute disgust on her face. i tried to backpedal and say that she was just using the words wrong, and she was insulting mentally ill ppl but noo, she caught on. 

i just sorta made an excuse and left but it turns out that later on, she'd gone onto my facebook which i don't put on here for reasons like this lol. she dug through my timeline and a bunc of old photos and found like... a kin positive graphic from 2009 or something. it was a thing saying that i was "kin and proud" or whatever. (back then i thought i might be therian or otherkin. not fictionkin.)) 

now, i am in college but for summers i go home to live with my parents. that's where i am now. so here's where it gets worse. tw for stuff above. she went onto their facebook pages and got their emails. and she sent them both email as "a concerned friend". she told them that she was friends with me from class, and that i'd been acting weird lately -- like, not myself, low self esteem, spent all my time talking to strange people on tumblr, took 'a certain satire writing' (my source!! ugh) too seriously, and was really disconnected from reality. 

okay so the deal with my parents: they really are supportive of gender stuff (even though i'm a cis girl and was cis in canon) and different sexualities, and disabilities. they are also anti trump and want free health care and wish we did not start shit with russia. like they are not bad people. but in the past , i'd started to ask them for advice on if i was kin.  i had to explain what kin was. and they were p much horrified that this exists. they think that it "locks people into fiction and imagined reality" and "stunts their phsyclogical (not sure how to spell) development" and "teaches suffering kids to use escapism instead of therapy or self help". basically they are super ableist when it comes to kin. and they think it's ridiculous that it's actual community. stupid me, i'd literally said (before they said all that) that "i think i'm an otherkin, i feel uncomfortable as i am right now". so i pretended to agree with them on kin being bad. but then when this girl sent them the email.... i was home. with them. 

they would not shut up aboout how terrible this was for me, how i was hurting myself, how they never should have let me on tumblr, how they shouldve watched me closer, how i don't owe "these people" anything (you guys are my friends!!!) how this community is toxic, how i badly needed therapy. okay okay -- i need therapy! but it's for depression! not for being ebony!! and it was like this every single fucking day, and a lot of cringe blogs have been posting shots of my blog. that's because she's sent anon tips to them outing me as kin, outed me to my parents, and all the other ppl from class i was friends with? she spred a rumor that i was a pedophile apologist and didn't think authors' work was original, to make them stay away from me. i would have been here on tumblr -- ut they monitored all the stuff i did on the internet. i could only write poetry and watch youtube and like check the fucking weather. and i could shop on amazon. they became so ridiculously strict. it was "to protect me" but no. they refused to udnerstand that kin heps me! 

everything came to a head that night. they took a way my laptop, they took away my phone, they made me disconnect from everything that was related to kin. and they sent me to a therapist who was... well. awful. she was blatantly kinphobic, she'd had kin patients before and claimed to have cured them of being kin. this bitch had glowing reviews everywhere. when i insisted that i actually was ebony, she told me that i was taking "imagination as a coping skill" to far. she would not let me explain anything. my parents, who i usually came to for advice and liked, didn't let me explain. any mention of kin was just shut down. 

and then i couldn't anymore. i am so sorry, i just couldn't do it. and i was so angry at them. i was angryer at the bitch classmate who outed me to them. i wrote a sucide note telling them that i'd attempted before but kin saved my life, that i was sorry i couldn't be better, that all i ever wanted was to find my true self, that if i couldn't be ebony then i couldnt be at all. TW!! when they were asleep i went down to the medicine cabinet, i put a basket of my favorite things on the table, and i put the letter in it. and then i took.... jeez i dont even know what. 

the next thing i knew i was awake in the hospital. god it hurt all over. i just remember feeling super sick but really wanting food, and my head hurt, and it hurt to keep my eyes open. i was just... aching. and i was so disappointed and so scared that i'd failed. i knew my parents were furious with me and i'd never talk to my friends again. when they came in to finally talk to me , well i don't remember what happened. i blocked it out. but i do remember that they weren't angry at me, they were mad at themselves.  they are still kinphobic, but they want me to be comfortable with myself without "having to believe i'm ebony". 

when i recovered enough to be sent home they spent all their time with me until i said i needed to be alone. so they gave me a break but they came back, they said that they'd read about how to help me. all the advice they got said that they shouldn't isolate me and they shouldnt cut off my contact from my friends. so i'm allowed to be on tumblr a little, i'm allowed to talk about kin a little, they think that i'll grow out of it with lots of help. shutting me down about it will make me restless and i might atempt again. 

i am currently in therapy. i dk what my new therapist thinks of kin. i try not to talk about it with her bc i'm scared that she'll be hostile and i'll relapse. overall going to see her is not stressfull as long as i don't alk about being ebony. i just kinda pretend that i don't have a sense of my own identity, so she's trying to help me build one. i did tell her about how i had a frend that spread horrible rumors about me and shared my secrets bc i did something she didn't like, i didn't do anything wrong though. she was really sympathetic bc when she was a teenager, fake friends spread rumors about her being bi and said it meant she was cheating on her boyfriend. so yeah she is helping but kin helps too. i'm not going to tell her about it bc i can't have it taken away from me again. 

thats why i've been gone so long. i'm on new meds too, antidepressants, so i might act weird or be emotional a lot. and im trying not to self harm but i slip up and cut sometimes where no one can see it. 

i know i have a lot of messages. guys im really really sorry but i have to delete them. there are self care request, have to delete, i'm sorry. it's just.... if i the messages, i feel sick bc it' like i missed a deadline over and over and i feel like people are going to be mad at me and i feel like i cant fix it. if you sent requests, please sent them again SLOWLY over the next couple days. im doing everything i can to get better. but i need your help. 

[heyman552623]

13rw rant; beware.

Okay so I just finished watching 13 Reasons Why (binged it in 2 days) and I have some thoughts (actually many thoughts);

If you haven’t seen the show yet then don’t read below because spoiler warning obviously. Also as a courtesy to those who don’t want to have anything to do with the show then don’t read below. 

As I’ve said in previous posts it is not my intention to offend anyone or cause/spread hate. If you feel that I’ve said something you disagree with then the final paragraph expresses my view on this.

- So many have said already that there are heaps of people praising the show and don’t notice that their actions aren’t completely unlike the character’s in the show, which I totally agree with but I want to keep that part out of my rant for now (this is also because as I haven’t actually had to witness or hear of any of this behaviour to this extent, I would prefer to not comment on it).

- I hate the message the show sends that there is always someone to blame, when Hannah trusted the tapes with Tony she put a lot of pressure on him to honour her wishes, which I thought was unfair. Also, sending all those people the tapes of the reasons why they were responsible along with the reasons everyone else was was, in my opinion, a bit cruel. As if Alex wasn’t thinking that what he did with the list could have contributed to her suicide. As if Justin didn’t know that he should tell Jessica about what happened.

- Sure, the tapes may have brought closure to some – knowing may have been better than not knowing, but they didn’t really help anyone. To be honest, if anything the tapes only brought more pain and suffering to those already feeling guilty. Look what happened to Alex.

- The show didn’t really venture much into mental illness itself, I failed to see much of Hannah’s depression at all. Obviously the bulling and assault ultimately led to her suicide, we didn’t see the transition into depression clearly which made the show all about the end result and only half of the struggles along the way.

- Recognising depression and other mental illness in ourselves and other people I think was more important then placing blame on suicide, if we can understand the signs and calls for help then it is much more effective to reduce the incidence of suicide. I don’t feel that the show presented enough, if any, of that.

- Jess deserved to know the truth and I like the fact that Clay had the courage to confront everyone else before even knowing what his tape was about. Justin should have felt bad about covering it up and ignoring that horrible part of Bryce. 

- I thought Zach was quite sweet actually, he was just petty and a douchebag who did something dumb but was generally trying to be nice at the start.

- Hannah was kinda petty too, with the whole note bearing her deepest and darkest thoughts. How did she expect an immature highschooler to react to that? Not trying to excuse Zach for completely ignoring it but still.

- I would have liked more about Clay’s anxiety including his therapy and medication. It would have resonated with a lot of viewers I think.

- Bryce was a fucking dickhead and deserves everything coming to him. He didn’t cop nearly as much as he should have (from what we saw), he didn’t even hear the tapes.

- Courtney was also petty and mean and couldn’t accept that part of her even though everyone who heard the tapes knew as well, no matter how much she tried to deny it. But she realised at the end and confronted it, which was good.

- I did like that they showed people owning up to what they did or confronting their own demons, Jess talking to her dad was the right thing to do and shows that there are other options (should have shown more of that discussion though).

- What was that thing with Tyler and the guns in the last episode? I though he was gonna gun down the school or something. I need answers people.

- Also, Jeff was a gift and I love him.

- More should have happened with Alex at the end, although what happened to Hannah was horrible and all those people were responsible, the blame and shame ultimately resulted in another suicide (/attempted suicide, we don’t know if he died). People should have been shown how the tapes contributed to that.

- Now to the heavy stuff – it was unnecessarily graphic. They could have easily just shown her picking up the blade and then the scene with her parents finding her and still have gotten the same message across. I’ve read the interviews with the reasons why they showed it like that and I get it but they really didn’t warn the audience enough and it personally brought up a lot of stuff for me even though I was expecting it. On the other hand I don’t disagree with the show’s representation of sexual assault and rape, although I’ve never experienced that before so I can’t know how it was viewed by people who have.

- The reactions by people on the suicide scene was weird for me though because (warning: spoiler alert) in American Horror Story season one, there was a graphic scene of Violet cutting herself and then of her overdose (even if the audience didn’t know she was actually dead yet), I didn’t hear much about that in the media at the time.

Overall I enjoyed the show, I thought it was made well and the actors portrayed the struggles of the characters well. I especially enjoyed Dylan Minnette’s performance as Clay – I really connected with his character and fell in love with him along the way. It dealt with some really serious issues that aren’t as rare as we’d like or think them to be in a way that didn’t romanticise or censor the truth. Although I disagree, as I previously stated, with their warnings about how confronting some of the scenes actually were. A simple message at the start of the episodes was not sufficient enough and many people didn’t actually take it seriously.

If anyone disagrees with any of my personal opinions try and keep it to yourself please, I’m not looking for an argument I’m simply trying to voice what I think. However, if anything I’ve said you find to be insensitive or politically incorrect then please let me know and I will try to remedy it (and if you know anything about the ahs thing then I would love to hear about it).

If you felt that the show brought up any serious issues for you don’t be afraid to reach out. It’s not a crime to feel, if you’re uncomfortable talking to someone you know then call a hotline and talk anonymously. It’s okay to not be okay.

[ladytrollfishes]

Daginy: Feel

I’ve written a couple of things about Daginy’s time with Lyrian but nothing I ever felt okay with publishing just because it was too graphic, but this approach strikes a better balance i think, between the violence and what it does to a person. 

----

Daginy Chamae | 8 sweeps, 18 years | Granite Guts Harbor | 3118 words

tw: torture, suicide attempt and ideation

---

You’ve heard of Lyrian Aubade. It was in the files you went through by chance on the breakdown and work up of Granite Guts. Signmate to the man in charge, an interrogarroter. You had an agent in her office who had added blueprints and an overview of her power and personality to the mass of information the Magpies had gathered, if you could only remember everything you had read.

It’s hard to focus on that though, when she’s right in front of you, in a locked room, humming to herself as she makes careful stitches on an embroidery hoop. She barely pays any attention to you, but all your scrutiny is on her. Her face is calm, placid, half lidded and her paint barely creased. If it wasn’t for the clown paint and the fact she’s got you locked in a room with her, you probably would have passed her over as being a threat.

She doesn’t even have you tied up, that’s how confident she is about keeping you here. The room itself is pretty bare. The light is a bare bulb. The walls are painted a dull grey, but you can make out the faded outline of wire shelving against them. Probably a reworked storage room, and not the set up she had at her own office. You wonder why she’s not taking you there.

You haven’t been processed in the full extent of the law- why? You don’t expect you’ll get any answers, but you don’t get what Aubade’s even doing with her little art project.

What did the file say about her powers again? You know she has them and they’re definitely mind altering, that lets her see into what you’re feeling. It’s a power she shares with her signmate, which is how he found you when you attempted an escape. You picked the lock on the handcuffs and turned invisible when he left you in his office to get his signmate, but when he found you “gone” from the locked room, he had simply walked over to you and grabbed you.

You’d lost your psi for your fouled attempt- they plugged in a nullifier bug into the back of your neck so you’re basically done for. You didn’t tell anyone you’d be here so there’s no hope of rescue. As dumb of a move that had been, you’re somewhat grateful. To get you out of this situation wouldn’t be a good use of your limited resources. If Alnica staged an attempt and they failed? No, it’s better this way.

You just have to clamp down on everything. No feeling, no words. You’re not going to speak at all. All you have to do is hold out under torture. It’s been so long you’ve just been sitting here though, the hard edge of fear softens to a sort of anxiety. Maybe she won’t go through with it. Maybe you’ll just sit here forever.

Aubade sighs and you stiffen. You didn’t realize how relaxed your posture had gotten, even as your arms are folded tightly. She flips around her embroidery hoop to show you the result- two rows of embroidered letters.

“The measure of love is love without measure,” she reads, her voice soft and sentimental. “It’s a beautiful sentiment, isn’t it?”

You don’t say anything in return, just glare right back. What is she getting at? All she does is smile at you.

“You’re not in trouble dear,” she says. “It’s obvious you’ve been through some hard times. I imagine there were some extreme circumstances that lead you to the waterways below the harbor.

You don’t believe her. You know who she is, what she does, what she wants. But some part of you thinks that maybe you can use this to get out.

“You’re protecting something,” she continues, after an awkwardly long silence. “That much is clear to me. It’s also evident that you’re resourceful, talented, and very resilient. You are also much too young for this. Something must have forced you to this life.”

She’s on the wrong track. She doesn’t know anything about you. No name, no ID, no nothing. She’s just making conjectures and guesses, and that gives you somewhat of an edge, even as she tries to flatter you out of your shell.

“This meeting isn’t on the books,” she says, like you haven’t already figured that one out. “There is no crime charged here. What I see here isn’t a budding criminal but a talented but troubled young troll who, with a little help, could rise to the top very quickly.”

She’s going to give you an offer. Something you can use- but no. No, you can’t. Yeah, you might be resourceful and resilient- you wouldn’t have made it this far otherwise- but Aubade’s an adult whose torn through the heads of hundreds if not thousands of people. You can’t take any of the bait she’s laying out for you or you’d find yourself dangling at the end of her rope before you realized how you got there. She’s just fucking with you, this whole thing.

“No,” you say before you realize what you’re doing. “You’re full of shit.”

Aubade just smiles at you, razor thin, the sort of smile you see on faces that are about to hurt you. Your pumper beats itself dizzy with fear as she clucks her tongue at you.

“None of that language now,” she says, and before you can shove the chair back to avoid it, she’s already struck you across the face.

------

You’re not really a fighter- you’ve combat manuals and watched people brawl, but you didn’t commit to the practice you needed to actually be effective because there was always a million and one other things to do.

But you know to keep your thumb outside of your fist and when Aubade throws you to the ground and tries to pin you down, you manage to punch her in the cheek, grease paint coming off on your knuckles.

Aubade freezes as you wriggle in her grasp and you catch the look in her eye- enough venom to drown you in, and you lose your breath to the fear.

She snaps your finger backward for that, leaving you cringing on the ground as she beats you until you have to at least try to curl up to defend your head. It’s not even because you refused to answer a question- she’s hitting you just to hit you, because you hit her back.

There’s a brief reprieve from the blows and you chance a look up as Aubade tosses her curly mass of hair back behind her shoulders, the barest glisten of sweat through her make up. She grabs your wrist and wrenches you out of your cringe.

“Don’t you disrespect me,” she murmurs, low.

You’re seized by the sudden urge to spit in her face, but before you can go through with it, her eyes narrow and she hits you again and all you can do is take the blows from under her grip.

---------

It doesn’t always hurt when she touches you. Sometimes, when you’ve been sobbing for too long, she’ll just hold you instead. The first time she tried, you fought her, but that earned you a hand wrapped around your throat and your vision blurring until you passed out. You woke up in her arms, her fingers threading through your hair, a soft tune humming in your ears.

She could crush you like this. The fear holds you still, shaking, as Aubade just pets your hair and shushes your whimpers until slowly, very slowly the fear eases and you could have fallen asleep in her arms.

You’re just so tired- you hadn’t slept much the week before this even, and you don’t know how you’re this relaxed when you’re in pain and should be afraid but you find yourself drifting off.

———-

Torture involves a lot more scolding than you thought it would. It’s like she thinks she’s your lusus, with how she tells you you have to eat to keep your strength up, spoons food to your mouth, compliments you on being strong, tears into you for being disrespectful and ungrateful.

You’re glad you left your actual lusus with Alnica. You don’t want to know what Aubade would do with her.

You can’t bring yourself to fight with her anymore. You wish you could stay angry, but she’s beating it out of you. 

You’ve done too much of it yourself- you remember being furious a lot more often when you were younger, but when the stakes went up, keeping your cool became too important to let your temper get the better of you.

You try to hold onto it whenever a flicker of it comes by but she notices, always notices and she’ll scold you for it and strangle it out of you, until you’re so afraid she might notice you’re angry you can’t summon up any real heat at all.

But when she’s not hurting you, when she’s combing her fingers through your hair and humming, you can’t help but try to hold onto those moments for as long as possible.

Even though you know it’ll end with one thing- a quiet question, one you can’t answer, and it’ll all start over again.

——-

Do you deserve this?

Lyrian tolerates your quiet sobs as she stitches up your arm. It’s a measure that’ll let you live a little longer. 

You managed to find a screw in the corner of the room, dug the point deep into your arm and pulled, leaving a long brown line behind that bled and bled and bled. Lyrian had clamped a hand on the wound and pressed until you couldn’t feel your hand anymore, scolding you gently for the attempt on your life.

There was very little reason to stick around longer. There’s no hope of escape or rescue, and all Lyrian wants from you is something you can’t give.

You’ve hurt so many people, directly and indirectly. You’ve let people die. You’ve torn apart livelihoods and quadrants. Maybe this pain is the penance for all of that.

Did you do enough good to balance out the bad? Maybe you gave a few more sweeps to the mutants you’ve helped out, or the other rebels who relied on you before the empire catches up with them again.

You’ve never asked yourself before- you don’t know what you’d do if the answer is no- but now that you’re looking the end in the face- was it worth it? Was all the sacrifice, the stress, the pain- was it all worth it?

You don’t have an answer.

-----

Lyrian hums as she tapes your finger up, and it’s hard not to feel grateful that she’s even bothering. It’s the sixth one she’s broken, almost your whole hand- if she didn’t tape them up it’d be unbearable to move them at all.

She puts as much effort into fixing you as she does breaking you down. Some puppet that she rips and remakes until she’s satisfied with you. How long can you last? How much of you is what she’s made you?

How much does that matter when you’re going to die anyway? You try to hold as still as you can as she works, but you can’t help the shiver and whine that runs through you as she finishes up and rolls you onto your back raw with the stripes she just laid into you. You tremble with the effort to swallow the pain instead of reacting.

“Hush dear,” she says. “You know it could be worse.”

You know, but that doesn’t stop your vision from going slightly hazy with the pain pressing like a brand into your back.

“You wouldn’t have to put up with this if you only listened,” she murmurs. She puts a hand on your chest, right on your breastbone. You feel your chest expanding and contracting under hand as she leans in, tilting her chin closer to you. You grab onto her shoulder with a broken hand, a silent plea for her to ease off.

She cocks her head at you, her eyes cold and leans in, and for one crazy moment you think she might kiss you. You know you’re nothing to her but a punching bag with some information in it. Did you want her to kiss you? If she did, you’d let her. Some part of you is disgusted at the idea, but you’d be important to her, in at least that moment.

She’d hurt you less, you think, scrambling for someway to justify the thought. She’d hurt you less.

Instead of doing any of that, she asks you a question that you can’t answer and she shoves you further into the ground until you’re begging for her to stop please, you’d do anything.

It’s the first words you’ve said in… you’re not sure how long. Hours? Nights? Weeks? Perigees?

Lyrian smiles at you and your pumper leaps in your chest.

------

You tell her your name. Your voice is sore and it croaks but now she has something to call you besides wriggler.

You’ll die anyway, and you have nothing important associated to your legal name. Being called by your real name in the sea of aliases is a luxury Lyrian can give you.

Relief swamps you and floods to your eyes as she smiles her approval.

She asks you why and the words spill, stuttering from your lips as you explain why you broke into Granite Guts, sobbing as you do- you have no illusions about what she might do, but if no one else knows what happened to them at least she will, after you’re gone.

She’s the only thing you have left. If it wasn’t for her you wouldn’t hurt like this. If it wasn’t for her you’d be dead. That counted for something.

She’s the only comfort you have. You can’t hate her for that. You desperately wish you did.

Lyrian asks you another question, about who's been helping you and you want to tell her so badly.

But the question draws you out of the little bubble Lyrian has you trapped in. It reminds you of the outside world where you set up networks and connections and had people relying on you to keep your mouth shut.

You can’t tell her anything. You’ve already told her too much. Slowly, achingly, you clench your teeth together and seal away any desire you have to speak.

You feel her grip on you tighten, the hand in your hair seizing a handful as she pulls your head back. You know to expect pain.

But you don’t expect her to take your eye.

She cuts it out of your head and stitches the blood back in, and as fuzzy as you’re getting as she patches you up and hums, you hear someone scream your name.

———

You wake up somewhere different- cool air on your face grass on your skin and your first thought is that you’ve finally died.

Your second thought is that you didn’t think the afterlife was still so painful. It’d be just your luck to be tortured into ghost hood so that you’d be in pain forever.

“Daginy?”

That’s your name, your actual name and when you open your eyes- eye you see the night sky with a ship streaking up into the atmosphere.

You see Herlyn’s face and Ferra’s, and helmsman you don’t know. You stare at them. Were they dead too? You hate the thought- it’s been so long since you were in regular contact- did you just never know?

“Oh Daginy.” Ferra’s voice is a heart broken whisper as she reaches out to touch your face.

You flinch and your head throbs like someone’s pressed her finger in your empty socket.

You catch an exchanged glance between Herlyn and Ferra.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Herlyn tries, her voice soft. “You’re safe. We got you out of there, right?”

They… got you out?

You’re not dead? They came for you?

You struggle to sit up, as much as everything hurts, as much as your head throbs and try to get a grasp on what’s happening. Your head feels so fuzzy and you can’t quite catch up on what’s going on.

You got out? They got you out?

You don’t know what to do. You don’t know what to feel. Every heave of your chest strains your wounds and every breath feels broader and shallower.

When you finally open your mouth what comes out is a wail.

-------

Your mind is a mess as you try to sort out what you’re feeling and what you’re not. You try and remember who you were before you were taken- Herlyn says you were there for a week, which doesn’t sound right. It felt like maybe a perigee and she had taken you apart so thoroughly.

Lyrian’s power wasn’t just to sense what you were feeling, you’ve realized, but also to change it. Whenever she held you and hummed, she must have been changing something to make you feel warm and loved and-

You break off that chain of thought before you can start missing her.

You wish you figured that one out earlier. Maybe then you could have figured out if what you were feeling was yours or hers.

All you know for sure is that the anger is yours. She never liked it, squeezed as much as she could out of you.

The fear- well. She didn’t have to try very hard with that one. Anyone with a working pan would be afraid of her after what she did to you.

The rest of it is a jumble.

You hate yourself you’re angry you’re guilty you’re afraid and you miss her despite the pain. How much was Lyrian and how much was it you? You hate how your feelings and your thoughts were so distant from each other. You could feel one thing but know that you were made to feel that way and if you hadn’t been manipulated you’d feel something else that you don’t actually feel at all.

It was a mess. Lyrian did this to you, and you should hate her, you really really should. But you don’t and you can’t and so you hate yourself instead.

If there was a chasm between your pan and your pumper there was really only one thought that bridged the gap:

That you were better off dead.