#speaking much easier even if I take the time to rationalise my thoughts

[ghoul--doodle]

I wish I could not have to speak verbally ever

I don’t like talking to people. I wanna just. Text. Or write.

Fuck talking out loud

[clouds-rambles]

Hey bestie may I request diluc,childe,zhongli,and venti having a bad nightmare over their s/o wanting to break up with them and when they wake up their s/o isn’t there but really they’re in another room or something if that makes sense!! Thank you 🤑

Hi bestie positively evil... i love it <3 nobody question why zhongli and the reader are married in all my headcanons thanks lmao

Pairings; (Seperate) Diluc, Childe, Zhongli, and Venti x reader

Warning(s); panic, nightmares, hurt/comfort, injury mention

Keep reading under the cut!

Diluc

Diluc wakes with a start, his brows furrowed as he takes a moment to arrange the events of his nightmare in his head

Both you and he had a particularly explosive argument after he had come back injured from a night protecting Mondstat 

You had left the winery after exclaiming that you refuse to date someone who has such a lack of regard for his own life. In the long run you’d be saving yourself from further heartbreak if he ended up dead on the front porch

Diluc wonders if dream you could be right...

The red-head finally notices the cold side of the bed you should be sleeping on. He more than remembers going to sleep with you

Panic sets in at the bottom of Dilucs stomach. He must be imagining things right? You’re probably just in the bathroom

A beat passes

Then three

No, you’re not in the bathroom. He would have heard you by now...

What if the dream was actually what had happened last night. A breath catches in the mans throat as he gets out of bed and throws a shirt on

If he couldn’t find you in his home has he truly lost you?

Diluc speedily walks through the halls of his home, checking the spare rooms, the study, the library, the living room, the dining room, the

Diluc opens the door to the kitchen his heart threatening to break out of his chest at the pace it’s beating when he finally spots you drinking a cup of tea, in your pajamas

Thank the archons it was just a dream

“Diluc, honey, are you okay?” you ask getting up from the table in the kitchen to your sweating, hyperventilating partner

Diluc says nothing but opts to hugging you, his head bowing to your chest as he breaths you in

“Diluc, you’re worrying me” you tell him returning his embrace and rubbing circles on his back

“You weren’t in bed” is all he offers to tell you. You don’t push him on the details of why he is so panicked

“I couldn’t sleep so I came down for a herbal tea” you explain kissing the man on his bed of fluffy hair “I have a cup left in the kettle, I can pour one out for you” you offer

“Please” he breathes, but doesn’t move to let you go from the embrace, you can stand to hold him and tell him sweet nothings for a little while. Tea can always be reheated

Childe

It would only be right, and he suspected as much. You had told him that because of what has recently transpired in Liyue you cannot find yourself to love a brutal harbinger

Maybe its for the best. Childe concludes not paying much attention to his weeping heart. Maybe, you’d be happier not to be under the constant eye and scrutiny of the Qixing, the Milleth, and the watchful eye of Childes own fatui informants

Without much pause form Childes last thought the man finds himself waking in his room, unsure if the dream was reality or his mind playing tricks on him, he feels your side of the bed and notices a distinct lack of warmth... and you

He cries

Childe curls himself up in a ball determined to not get caught by anyone showing such an extreme and out of character emotion, he let himself cry. He’s pretty sure he’s sobbing loudly but he doesn’t care. It’s just him in the house anyway. The one person that he doesn’t mind seeing such emotions has left him

That’s until he hears the distinct click of the bedroom door open “Oh my archon Childe, are you okay?” you ask quickly making your way to the side of his bed and placing a hand on his shoulder

The man looks up to you, he isn’t sure if you’re real 

“I thought-” he starts “I had a-” he tries to find his words without seeming like a crazed person “You weren’t-” 

“It’s okay babe, I’m right here. I’m not planning on going anywhere” you console “I just had an epiphany in my dream and I had to write it down” you add explaining your absence. Childe nods along 

“Stay” he tells you as you wipe the tears out of his eyes. You nod and hum

“Of course” you lay onto the bed and let Childe wrap himself around you

You hum him to sleep and whisper sweet nothings

Zhongli

‘I can’t love you anymore Zhongli, I feel obligated to come back to Liyue after every adventure, it’s starting to take a toll on me’

‘But our vows, [name] we made a contract at the altar’

‘To love each other, yes? Zhongli there’s no love left in this marriage, you sleep in the spare bedroom whenever I’m back, we sit in silence over dinner, I don’t think I’ve kissed you in months. The lack of love itself is the breach in the contract’

‘But I-’

‘Think about it, do you really feel the same love that you felt on the day we got married?’

‘[name]-’

Zhongli wakes up with a start, his heart beats a little fast for a second. The man convinces himself it’s just a dream he had, but the coldness of your side of the bed seems to speak otherwise

In all fairness, Zhongli should have rationalised his dream before he started wondering the house like a mad man. The only time he sleeps in the other bed is when you’ve suffered an extreme injury, dinners are often spent with jolly laughs and conversation. And Zhongli prides himself on the amount of affection he gives you around the house... and in the bedroom

But most things aren’t making sense in his head right now

“Zhongli my love” you call him upon noticing him in the hall. You had just come out of the bathroom after a midnight toilet break “Are you okay darling?” you ask placing a hand on his shoulder

The tenseness in Zhongli’s shoulders dissipate as soon as you initiate the touch

“I love you” he tells you, the declaration is out of nowhere to you. But you smile at him and embrace him

“And I love you too” you pause bringing up your hand baring the ring that sits on it “And this ring is a reminder of our vows and my unyielding love to you” you tell him with a smile

Zhongli chuckles at you and returns your hug “You seem to always know how to comfort me my dear”

“It’s because I’m a mind reader” you jest matching your spouses chuckle

Venti

Disappeared. So much so that the thousand winds could tell Venti that you were in fact not in Mondstat and had travelled to Liyue from the time Venti was playing music in the tavern to when he knocked for you early the next morning

The only trace you left was a letter. Unmistakeably written by your hand

‘Venti, writing this in a letter is much easier than saying this to your face. I am quite simply tired of your antics, no matter try to talk to you, you seem to always brush me off. Be it the nights you spend at the tavern, my general concern when you disappear for days at end just to tell me you were at the thousand winds temple, stormterrors lair, or windrise, no matter how much I tell you I checked all three. Being in a constant state of concern isn’t good for me, it’s emotionally draining and I’m terrified of finding you dead somewhere, despite your archon blood. By the time you read this I’ll be in Liyue where I’ll be staying with a friend for a while. Tell me I’m going somewhere you can’t follow, and I’ll tell you this is how I have felt many a night. I wish I could have kept loving you, [name]’

A harsh way to break up Venti admits to himself rereading the paper a few times before waking up

A dream?

Venti holds his chest, surely a dream couldn’t conjure such a horrific sinking feeling that makes him want to just vomit

Looking to your side of the bed for your comfort the sinking feeling intensifies when he doesn’t see you

So it wasn’t a dream? Venti doesn’t want to call on his kin, the thousand winds, again just to be told once more that you’re currently in Liyue sipping tea with this cousin you had mentioned in the letter 

The archon sits up in bed and takes deep breaths, he doesn’t want to explain to anybody that he had a panic attack over your horrific breakup letter, no no

After calming his breaths Venti steps out of bed with a shaky few steps before walking downstairs to engage in the typical breakout routine. Snacking. Maybe when you left you had elected to ignore some of the snacks you love to litter about your abode

When Venti walks in to the living room towards the kitchen he sees you nursing your head on the couch

“[name]?” he asks in almost disbelief

“Hm,” you answer before looking up to Venti “Oh hey love, sorry I’ve got a headache” you greet properly after a moment. Venti grins at you which causes you to tilt your head. Why is your headache so grin worthy? Weird...

“Would you like some paracetamol?” he asks walking beside you, you shake your head

“I just took some” you reply looking up at your partner “Though I’d love to rest my head on your thighs” you add. Venti more then obliges and settles down on the couch

“You know I had the strangest dream” Venti tells you after a prolonged amount of silence, you hum to let him know you’re listening “You left me” he says bluntly

Oh

Damn

You bring yourself up to Venti’s face with a smile and give him a kiss “I love you Venti, I wouldn’t leave you for even the prettiest lyre” you half console half jest

“That’s because the prettiest lyre is mine” Venti chuckles and you nod pressing another kiss to Venti’s lips

guys it’s 2.42am I’m so sorry if there’s grammatical errors, my brain isn’t catching up rn

[kopikokun]

Beach Day Blues༄ l.dh

↳ Out on a day trip to the beach with your boyfriend and his friends, you’re anticipating a fun time filled with sunny memories and sand filled swimsuits. What you’re not expecting is the cold shoulder from your usually happy-go-lucky boyfriend, but you’re going to get to the root of this issue, even if it’ll kill you.

pairing: lee donghyuck x reader ft. yuta, mark & jaehyun

content: fluff, beach day, reverse comfort fic, jealousy fic, very mildly suggestive ending

word count: 2053 words

Request 36: Haechan + “I need a hug.” (42) + “You’re cute when you’re angry.” (47) + “You own my heart.” (59) + Jealousy

← BACK TO NAVI.

— 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝.

Perhaps you’re being delusional. Perhaps you’re just dehydrated or, maybe, you rationalise, the scalding rays of the evening Sun have burned not only your skin but your brain cells too (if there were any to begin with). Maybe all of this is just in your head and you’re overthinking it.

    “Hey,” someone hisses, “is it just me or is Donghyuck giving you the cold shoulder?”

    At the question, or rather observation, your head swivels an almost sharp 90 degrees to stare Yuta straight in the eyes. “So, it wasn’t just me thinking that!”

    Yuta chuckles. “Yeah, he definitely seems off…” He peers at Donghyuck discreetly from beneath his sunglasses before turning back towards you. “Did you guys get into a fight or something?”

    “A fight? No way!” You pause, suddenly doubting yourself. “At least, I don’t think so…”

    Though you’re confident in your verdict of innocence regarding a fight, Yuta’s question prompts you to briefly run through the events of the day. To preface things, you, your boyfriend, Donghyuck, and a few of your friends—namely, Yuta, Jaehyun and Mark—had decided around half a month ago to clear up one day in advance for a ‘beach day’ this week. The idea had sprung after someone had brought up how nice and sunny the weather had been lately, and everyone just unanimously came to the conclusion that sunny weather equals beach day.

     You had begun packing for this trip a few days ahead to the surprise of everyone including yourself, which is a testament to your overwhelming excitement, because you rarely--if ever--pack that early for just a single day trip. But who can blame you? This would be your first official trip with Donghyuck. No, you should rephrase that. This would be your first official trip with Donghyuck as your boyfriend. You’ve been on plenty of trips before when you two were just ‘friends’, but now--and maybe this is the romanticist in you which you’ve successfully kept stored away up until recently speaking--it just feels different. You’re sure someone out there can relate, because you’ve never been one to obsess over something as feeble as a label, yet this trip has had your stomach in knots for ages.

  The packing process had gone smoothly--neither you nor Donghyuck had forgotten anything--and so had the car ride over. As far as you can recall, your day at the beach so far has gone without a hitch too. You’d had a little picnic, dipped in the oddly warm sea, played some beach volleyball (badly) and gotten some icecream afterward. No fights, no issues, no nothing.

   Maybe, you think, he found out I was involved in that little switch up with the sea water. You don’t entertain the idea for too long though immediately casting it away, because you know Donghyuck would never be the type to get so upset over a prank.

    So, why the attitude?

    You gaze at Donghyuck’s back, hoping that this mystery might just unravel itself if you stare long enough.

    “Huh…” Yuta’s voice tears you from your zealous staring competition with Donghyuck’s shoulders. “Then I wonder what’s up…”

    You sigh. You know you should confront him and have a mature conversation about what’s bothering him, but that’s so much easier said than done. Maybe this is God’s way of punishing you for ridiculing all those scenes in cheesy teen flicks where the couple would experience a major fall-out because of poor communication. During said scenes, you’d be pulling your hair out, internally screaming at the couple to just freaking talk already, yet now that you’ve been presented this obstacle for you to overcome yourself, you’re erring on the side of caution.

    Come on, you reason, I’ve been friends with Donghyuck for over half-a-decade and we’ve gotten into our fair share of arguments during those five years. What’s so different about now?

    Yeah, you’re right. You find yourself agreeing with your own thoughts, physically nodding along like you’re speaking to someone. Yuta raises a concerned eyebrow at you. Nothing’s different compared to then. You’re doing it again. He’s just my boyfriend, and that’s just a label. Stop. Obsessing. Over. Labels.

    Admittedly, it’s a bit embarrassing having to psyche yourself up to do this, but that’s not what’s important right now. What’s important is that little pep-talk, no matter how laughable it sounded, has gotten you to stand and saunter to Donghyuck with utmost confidence. In hindsight, you should’ve said something to Yuta beforehand instead of just springing from your seat and marching away. The thought hadn’t crossed your mind though, as it was obviously preoccupied with something arguably much more important than giving him the luxury of context.

    You decide not to be too transparent about your feelings at first as you take a seat beside Donghyuck on the sand, leaning your head on his shoulder, hoping that all of this was really just your imagination getting the best of you. You silently plead that he’ll perhaps treat you like he normally would, giving you a little peck on the cheek or at least wrapping his arm around your waist. Unfortunately, your hopes are smothered just as quickly as they arise because Donghyuck doesn’t even bat an eye at you, continuing to chat with Jaehyun and flat-out ignoring your presence. Still optimistic for a reaction, you leave a chaste kiss to his bare shoulder, just to let him know that “Hey, I’m here!”, but to no avail. Infuriatingly, he doesn’t even flinch. All he does is drone on to Jaehyun about something you couldn’t care less about.

    You huff. Audibly. A last ditch effort in vying for Donghyuck’s attention. It goes just as well as your previous attempts. You cross your arms, glaring at the side of Donghyuck’s stubborn little head, hoping to bore a deep hole through his brain. Maybe then he’ll finally take notice of you. Sensing the undeniable tensity in the air, Jaehyun clears his throat awkwardly, offering Donghyuck some lame excuse about needing to take a piss, before shuffling away. Well, at least someone knows how to take a hint.

    With Jaehyun’s departure, you’re left alone with Donghyuck. Usually, he’d be leaping to drown you in affection the second you two had privacy--or even if you two didn’t, to be frank--but all he does now is fiddle with the strings of his swimming shorts absentmindedly.

    “What’s wrong, Hyuck?” you finally ask, desperate to break this frustratingly suffocating silence. “Is something wrong?”

    Finally, after what seems like centuries, Donghyuck acknowledges your existence, though the look he gives you is not a pleasant one. In fact, it’s one of agitation. His tongue prods at his inner cheek before he says, tone bitter, “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

    Evidently taken aback, you crease your eyebrows at him. “I… Did I do something wrong, babe?”

    “Oh, come on,” he scoffs, scornful amusement overtaking his normally amiable features. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know. You can just come out and say it.”

    “Say what, Hyuck?”

    “How much more you’re into Mark than into me,” Donghyuck says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

    You can’t help but laugh, simply bewildered as to how on Earth he came to this conclusion. “I’m into who now?”

    “Mark,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes, “don’t have to pretend like you’re surprised.”

  “I’m not into--” you sigh, a smile of disbelief tugging at your lips. “Okay, tell me why you think I’m into Mark.”

    “I don’t think. I know,” Donghyuck argues and you scoff, “but it’s obvious. And I have proof. Take when we were playing volleyball for instance. The whole time, you kept eyeing Mark up and laughing at his jokes. All of them. Even the weird ones that nobody gets.”

    You snort. “Baby… I wasn’t ‘eyeing Mark up’, I was watching him just in case he missed the ball. And about the joke thing, to his credit, some of them were actually pretty funny! But, as for the the rest--and don’t tell Mark I said this--I felt kinda bad nobody else laughed at them, so I just laughed along with him. Trust me, I’ve been in his shoes before and it sucks. Not all of us are born as naturally as funny as you, Hyuck.” You’re a little remorseful that you’re essentially dissing Mark, but you’re sure he’d understand. Your relationship’s on the line here.

    Donghyuck harrumphs, but you can tell by the slight quirk of his lip that he’s a little tickled by you poking fun at Mark and he’s totally been swayed by your compliment.

    “Okay, fine that explains that, but how about when we went swimming just now? Why did you and Mark keep exchanging funny looks?”

    “That?” You giggle. “You know how your drink was mysteriously replaced by seawater?”

    “Yeah,” he trails off, his suspicion growing by the second.

    “Who do you think that was?”

    Donghyuck groans. “Wait, that was you? Seriously? That was mean, babe.”

  “Aww, I know, Hyuck. I’m sorry,” you coo. Your hand inches its way closer to his as you attempt to intertwine your fingers together.

    Donghyuck rejects your endeavour of fondness. “Nu-uh, no way. I’m not done with you yet.”

    “Oh my God, Hyuck, there’s more?” you complain, though there’s a tint of amusement in your voice.

    “Yes, there’s more, and you won’t be able to worm your way out of this one either,” he says smugly, as if it’d be a good thing if you in fact, couldn’t worm your way out of his next accusation. “How about when we went to get ice cream and you kept sliding up next to him?”

    You pout. “I just wanted to try the watermelon popsicle he got.”

    Donghyuck blinks at you, his once irritated expression dissolving. He seems dumbfounded as you hold his gaze, your mirthful smile never faltering. He turns away from you. “Oh, well… then whatever. I guess you aren’t into Mark.”

    “Hyuck,” you say, hand crawling up his arm, “were you jealous?”

    “Well, yeah, obviously,” he deadpans, still refusing to meet your gaze.

    You giggle. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

    His cold facade is immediately abandoned at your teasing intonation, and just like that, your cheery Hyuck is back. “Baby,” he whines, readjusting himself so he’s facing you head-on, “don’t tease me. I couldn’t help but be jealous, you know?”

    “And why is that?”

    Donghyuck purses his lips. “Why? What do you mean why?” He gestures up and down, eyes sweeping over you. “Look how pretty you are! What am I supposed to do when you look this good all the time? It’s unfair, really, that you’re this pretty.”

    A blistering heat, one that is much hotter than the Sun, gathers in your cheeks. “Oh really now, Hyuck?”

    “Yes, really,” he says, genuity seeping into his every word. “Literally, everyday I’m surprised you’re even real.” You grin bashfully and Donghyuck pounds his fist to his chest dramatically like he’s been shot. “See! You’re only smiling and I’m already having heart palpitations at just twenty years old.”

    “Okay, okay, Hyuck. You can stop hyping me up now,” you chuckle. You’re beyond glad that your boyfriend has returned to his spirited self, but you know you should address what just happened seriously, just in case. “But hey, I’m sorry that I made you feel that way. Looking back, it definitely could’ve been misinterpreted as flirting and I would never want you to have any reason to feel insecure about our relationship because you own my heart, Hyuck.”

    “Aw, babe, you can be really cheesy when you want to be,” says Donghyuck, pinching your cheeks. He plays what you said off casually, but you know that deep down, it resonates with him, and he honestly appreciates your sincerity. “Come here, I need a hug.”

    “Right now? There are people around, Hyuck.”

    “But you look so good right now. I can’t resist.”

    “I don’t know, Hyuck…” You smile demurely.

    “Alright, then what about,” Donghyuck reaches to tuck your hair behind your ear, whispering, “we ditch the beach day and go cuddle in the car? My skin’s burning, anyway.”

    You grin. “They’re gonna notice that we went missing, you know?”

    “So?” Donghyuck challenges, leaning in to place a short but telling kiss on the juncture which connects your ear and your jaw. “Even better. I want them to know.”

[delyth88]

Thoughts after rewatching Episode 4

Okay, so I took a couple of days to get over the excruciating cringeworthyness of a few many moments in episode 4 and have just finished rewatching it.

And I have to say thank goodness for whatever it is in the human brain that allows us to adapt! lol No, but srsly, I found it a much easier watch the second time, and its definitely keeping up the trend of the first three episodes of being something I can enjoy more the second time than the first.

So, my now somewhat less instant reaction thoughts:

I hadn’t noticed that it’s Sylvie that initiates the hand holding on Lamentis 1.  And I think I prefer this.  One thing I can’t stand is romance in TV or film where it’s all about the guy winning over the girl, like she’s clearly not interested, but somehow by the end of the movie she’s in love.  Okay, that’s a bit harsh, sometimes it’s done well, but it’s a convention that gets my hackles up and gets me all defensive, so I think I was taking some of this into the episode with me.

Interestingly, now that I’m thinking of it, I think this moment and the moment Sylvie asks if Loki is okay while they’re being escorted by the guards are the only moments I can recall where she showed any form of affection for him. *shrugs* 

Poor boy also seems so surprised at this.  And uncertain how to respond.  And I can’t help but see this in relation to the scene in Thor 1 where the frost giant grabs his forearm...  :’(

I also think another part of the reason I so disliked the romance on my first watch is that it was just another example of Loki over-doing the emotion thing in comparison to his previous characterisation. He certainly looks more into it than Sylvie, and this just bugs me, because again I think the way Sylvie is acting here is what I would have expected from Loki based on the films.

In the time prison, while I still don’t like the getting kicked in the crotch gimmick, I do like that they showed us Loki attempting to get out of the situation in what seems quite a reasonable way.  He explains the situation to Sif and asks for her help to escape.  I thought it was quite interesting, because we see his first instinct is to use his skills of persuasion and try to escape. Firstly because it’s an instance where he’s trying to plot an escape, not just avoiding her or fighting her. I like that he seems to have some hope that this is possible and isn’t just 100% resigned to the TVA being all-powerful.  And secondly, he speaks to Sif as a person, he doesn’t just treat her like some sort of solid hologram and try and knock her out, or stand by the door to make a surprise attack.  It doesn’t work, of course, and we’re supposed to find that funny, but at least he tried in a plausible way onscreen. unlike IW  And he asks her to trust him.  Which I found interesting because if he’s asking this then he must think there’s some chance that she will, which means there’s at least some level of respect between them.  And I like that.  I know I’m reading way too much into this that the writers certainly didn’t intend, but let me play over here.

I still don’t like the narcissist line.  But I think I can buy Loki exaggerating in his confession to get her to stop.  He doesn’t seem to be really particularly bothered by what he’s saying.  But when she walks out and says he will always be alone, even after what he’s just said, that seems to have an impact on him.

I do love this image though. He looks so smol. So sweet.

When Mobius retrieves Loki from the time prison after the first time, I can see after a second watch that Mobius is actually a little angry/disappointed that Loki ran off after the variant in Roxxcart.  Its subtle well subtler than Loki’s reactions so I hadn’t noticed.

I still dislike the way they did the romance thing.  The interrogation scene where Loki’s all “eww no, I don’t like her!” and then has this realisation that perhaps he does.  I felt like I was being beaten around the head with it.  Like teenagers teasing someone for liking someone else. smh

I’m also reminded that the English language really isn’t very good when it comes to words for ‘liking’ someone. I mean the UK seems to have ‘to fancy’ which would be more accurate, but gotta say I’m glad they didn’t use that here.

I still hate that Loki seems utterly unable to keep a secret or hide his emotions. To me this was a fundamental part of his character, and yet here we have Mobius calling him out because he can’t help but have this pained expression on his face and can’t keep his voice steady.  Black Widow wouldn’t have had to spend more than a minute with this variant of Loki.

Mobius: “What are you doing?”

Loki: “Passing the time.”

This line made me laugh this time.  Sassy Loki!

I still like the slightly veiled way Mobius apologises to Loki for saying he’s only destined to be the villain to make other people better. Nice, not too over the top. Makes Loki smile.

That animatronic timekeeper stuff was just weird.  There better be some good payoff for this in the next two episodes.

And now to the bit I hated the most on my first watch – that super cringey interrupted confession of feelings.

Looking at this again with fresh eyes I wonder if Loki was about to explain Mobius’s theory that their moment on Lamentis 1 might be able to destroy the TVA.  It just got awkward because to explain that he’d have to explain how he feels.  And I think they exaggerated that to make the impact of the pruning bigger.  

First he says “then who created the TVA?”  Then he turns away and he seems to be looking around for inspiration, and I think he’s actually thinking about this.  It wasn’t just rhetorical. We can see the moment he realises something, and he doesn’t seem particularly happy about it, and then he turns back to Sylvie.

“Sylvie, I have to tell you something.”

“We will figure this out.” I think this is an aside after he’s taken in how upset she is about this. And it’s true that if they take down the TVA then they probably have to learn who’s in charge eventually. And then he gets back to his original point.

“Because… er… back on Lamentis…” I think here he’s trying to find a way to explain that their moment caused the nexus event, and a big one at that, but he’s struggling to do so in a way that doesn’t make him completely vulnerable by telling her how he feels. But it’s not possible to talk about it so clinically, so he hesitates, “This is new for me…”  he realises he doesn’t actually know quite how to put this.

Now, if I can rationalise it in this way as being an important piece of information he needed to tell her that would help them bring down the TVA then I can be more okay with this than if it was just a poorly timed romantic confession (which is certainly what it appeared to be on first watch). Again, I’m probably clutching at straws here, but it helps me not want to gag while watching this. lol

I mean I still think it’s just a cringey awful scene and it’s so very cliche to interrupt someone before they can say ‘I love you’. But this is a way I can rationalise his actions and I’ll stick with this till proven otherwise, presumably in the next episode. Ha!

I can’t help but give a nod to another beautiful example of Tom’s eyes matching his shirt in the mid-credits scene. <3

I also think that what I’m experiencing watching each episode the first time is much more from Loki’s point of view.  Like I’m more personally invested in him doing well, him not being embarrassed, him looking good to others.  And so since the story is actually giving him a hell of a time I’m experiencing a lot of negative feelings on his behalf.  And this is because it’s unfolding in real time in front of me and in that moment it could go anywhere! So it feels more real perhaps??  On a second watch I know what’s coming and I’m able to watch it with an eye for the storytelling as a whole, not just as the real events of Loki’s life.  I don’t think I’ve been this much of a fan of any character in recent times to have experienced this before.  So it’s a fascinating thing to learn about being a fan. *shrugs*

Anyway, in summary, much more bearable on second watch.  Some good stuff in there, and I can ignore a good amount of the stuff I didn’t like – at least until next week.

So again I’m sorta somewhere in between loving and hating this show.

@iamanartichoke​ @scintillatingshortgirl19​ maybe some of this is useful to you?

[littlemissagrafina]

You'll be okay (Cause you're never alone)

(A female Peter Parker and irondad vent fic delving heavily into mental health. If any of the tags are triggering to you, please don't read it. Stay safe, loves.)

Read on AO3

Peyton knew she was loved, she did, but it didn't matter to her brain what she knew. It didn't agree with her. It never did.

When her body felt tired and her arms craved to wrap around her loved ones, her brain would be there trying to convince Peyton that her wants were a burden.

When her eyes wanted nothing more than to cry waterfalls of tears and her body shook with the shivers her anxiety left behind, her mind berated her, told her she was overreacting.

And when Peyton's heart ached with the burden of the sadness her mind bestowed upon it, her mind was there with thoughts of doubt of the love she knew from her family, with fears and losses amplified until she was drowning in a never ending sea of emotion. 

A deep ocean she never let out. All thanks to the words her mind spun around and around in her head, some with no foundation, and some that were all too true.

Peyton never was able to tell which ones hurt more. Those built from truth or those from doubts. It was something she didn't ever think she would know for sure.

What she did know, however, was that she couldn't escape from either kind.

Those borne from doubts could at least occasionally be rationalised far easier than those borne in truth.

But the ones that had a foundation of fact… they ached. They burned and twisted in a way that was different from the doubting ones. 

They settled into her chest and tightened until she couldn't breathe.

They couldn't be softened the way that doubt born ones could, and as such, they haunted Peyton far worse than any other.

They followed in her every interaction, every move, every word she spoke. It was what had forced her to hide herself away and for the weight to all start building upon her back in the first place.

They stemmed from May and Peyton hated that her aunt, her mother in all but blood, was the start of her spiraling that she tried so hard to hide.

Peyton loved May with all of her heart and she knew that the woman loved her just as deeply. They were so close and such a part of each other… but that didn't take away from the way May's views, misunderstanding, and ignorance had affected Peyton.

It didn't change the years of being told everything would be fine and that she was smart, she couldn't possibly be struggling with anything. 

"You just have to apply yourself more, Sweetheart."

It didn't change the countless bad days where all Peyton had wanted to do was curl up in her bed and not get up only for her aunt to say that she had no reason to be sad.

"I know things have been hard in the past, Pey, but we're fine now. There's no reason to be sad."

It didn't change the many times that May had dismissed her when Peyton had tried to bring up her thoughts on possibly being ADHD.

"You're not hyper, Peyton. You can't have ADHD."

And it didn't change the time when she finally said she battled with anxiety only for May to tell her, "Just don't be anxious then."

Moments like those were repeated over and over again for years until Peyton eventually gave up. 

She started hiding her fear of school.

Her depression was covered by fake smiles and countless jokes in a bid to be okay.

Lack of concentration and daydreaming was disguised as thinking about homework or a new idea for her lab time with Mr. Stark.

Shaking hands and anxiety hives were brushed aside as needing something to eat and her shirts or hoodies making her itch.

Slowly but surely, Peyton became a master of excuses. Although many of them she probably only got away with due to her aunt's decidedly bad observation skills.

Maybe that was one of the reasons she was able to get away with the occasional nights of blood slowly dripping down from her thighs to swirl down the shower drain. It had become her release, her escape.

An injury from patrol or her own general clumsiness used as an excuse for the bandaids that became more and more likely to disappear from their shared bathroom cabinet.

Through it all, May was none the wiser to the war her niece was waging on and within herself.

Tony Stark, however, he was a different case. He noticed things that most took for granted. He used his cocky and flashy media persona to distract from his eyes soaking in every detail he could from any situation he found himself in.

He was the one person that Peyton's own masks and acts didn't fool. He didn't always easily accept the excuses for the stray cuts that would appear on her arms or the dark, puffy circles under her eyes.

Tony wasn't like May in that way.

And so it sadly came as no surprise when he noticed after one too many weeks of Peyton being entirely too reckless with her pocket knife, when the cuts on her thighs became deeper than they had before and her healing took longer to stop the bleeding.

The constant craving for the pain had snuck up on Peyton until the escape she found was one she could no longer escape from.

Peyton had foolishly hoped that she could get away with it for a while longer even though she knew she had to be stopped, no matter how much she didn't want to.

Her hopes were for nothing and it was all thanks to a single pair of grey sweatpants.

---

The second and fourth weekends of each month were reserved for Peyton and Tony to go upstate and spend the two day weekend (from the time Peyton left her last class on Friday to Monday morning when Tony would drop her off at Midtown) at the compound.

In the early days they had used to train in the larger, more well equipped gym as well as more complex suit enhancements.

Now, however, it was still used for those things at times but it had become far more of a mini getaway for the two of them. Occasionally they would be joined by Pepper or Rhodey but for the most part it was the two of them.

It was routine. Something familiar and comforting in the reliability of the twice a month escape.

As such, Peyton's self-harm habits had formed a routine around these weekends as well. It was one of the few times she restricted herself to not cutting at all apart from the friday morning before school.

Usually, those cuts would be scabbed over and partially healed by the time Tonh picked her up. 

Today was not a usual day.

Thanks to the sudden cold brought by an early winter cold spell, a lot of Peyton's energy was spent by her metabolism trying to keep her body warm and stop her from going into hibernation. 

Add that to the new depth and disregard of the far more frequently added cuts on her thighs and you get a healing factor that doesn't have the resources to work as it normally does.

Peyton hadn't thought of that when she had shakily re-opened the cuts in the hidden second floor bathroom after her last class. The only thing that had registered was the leftover surge of anxiety from Flash's recent bullying and the sudden single minded craving to split her skin open.

Realising the time when Tony sent her a message telling her that he was in the parking lot, Peyton folded up toilet paper and roughly bundled it between her thighs and pants to stop any of the blood from seeping through on her jeans. 

She could deal with it later when she changed at the compound.

---

Unsurprisingly, she didn't deal with it, instead she flushed the wads of toilet paper down the toilet before changing into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie so she could be comfortable in the lab.

Her first mistake.

Her second mistake came from forgetting that the sluggishly bleeding cuts would eventually start to coagulate and scab. And that they did. Against her sweatpants.

Her last mistake?

Well, that was jumping up after sitting in the same position for two hours. Two hours that had her cuts start healing before they were re-opened thanks to her sudden movement.

Peyton couldn't stop the wince at the pain of the scabs peeling back as her pants shifted on her legs.

She was unaware that her mentor (read: unofficial father) had been glancing at her at times as he tried to piece together the puzzle of her increasingly strange behaviour that had formed over the last months.

As such, Peyton didn't see the way his face paled when he noticed the blood on her pants. Fear and sadness filling his heart as all the pieces were put together. It had all been right there in front of him, sign after sign, and he'd missed every one.

"Peyton." The man said, getting up from his workbench and moving towards her.

"Hmm?" Peyton hummed, ignoring the fabric tugging on her thighs as she turned to face him.

The look Tony fixed on her made Peyton pause, her eyes following his when they subconsciously flickered to the red stain on her pants. In seconds she felt the blood drain from her face and her fingers get the tell tale tingling of her anxiety flaring.

Before Tony could speak, she was rising with a well practiced excuse on her lips. "I'm so sorry. I have my period and… lemme just go change and clean up and I'll be back in a bit."

She made it to the elevator before a hand on her shoulder stopped her in her tracks. 

"Don't do this, Peyton."

"Do what?" Her feigned confusion was almost believable but Tony saw the way her hands quivered slightly at her side as she shrugged his hand off and stepped into the elevator.

Tony followed.

"Don't lie to me. Make excuses."

The doors closed and it was silent as they moved up to the living room.

After a few moments, Peyton shook her head. "I'm not–"

Tony guided her to face him. "Your period was two weeks ago, the last time we came up here. I know because you were annoyed at your nausea and cramps keeping you from trying out the new aerial bars in the gym."

The doors opened and Peyton walked out, moving towards her room and trying in vain to think of an excuse, a protest, anything to get herself out of the inevitable. 

Before she could get out of the living room, Tony caught her sleeve, stopping her in place.

"You're not okay, I see that. If this is–" Tony cut himself off, drawing in a short breath. "You are hurting, Bambina, no matter the form. I want to help you but I need you to talk to me. Please."

It was almost as if the wind was taken out of Peyton's sails. Her head droped and she let out a tired breath.

"You're right," Peyton finally admitted, words spoken so softly that Tony had to strain to hear her. 

The admission hurt Tony to hear. He'd known, but he had still wished in vain to be wrong.

"I– uh. It's not– I don't…" She didn't know what to say, didn't know how to explain or to say anything at all.

None of the words were the right ones for what she needed to say and to finally get out after so many years of keeping them locked away.

And then it all came rushing in. The realisation that someone knew. The terror of the reality of Tony, the man who was practically her father, finding out what she had done, what she did, to herself.

"Roo." A hand cupped Peyton's cheek grounding, her from the flood of emotion and thought. She looked up, blinking through the tears building in her eyes and met Tony's own teary ones.

She let out a whimper, "I'm not okay."

And she broke.

She sobbed, and she hiccuped, the force of her cries sending tremors through her body but Tony only cradled her in his arms. He held her together so she could let herself fall apart, and fall she did.

Through her tears she explained everything. All of her doubts, her fears, her anxieties, sadness, and the expectations she felt she could never live up to.

She told him about the nights cried herself to sleep and the nights where she was too numb and tired to rest. She told him of the words said to her that she couldn't help but take deeply and personally, no matter the true meaning behind them.

And she told him about the anxiety attacks, about the dissociation, and (most heavily) about the self harm. How it was sometimes the only escape she felt she had, even above her patrols or her missions as Spider-Woman.

Through it all, Tony listened. He didn't try to interrupt, he didn't tell her she was wrong or making anything up, he only listened. 

For the first time, Peyton felt as if she was truly heard.

Her tears eventually stopped, only the occasional sniffle left behind. Her dad's arms never left their place wrapped around her. They only moved when Tony shuffled them across to the couch where Peyton immediately curled into his arms again.

"I'm sorry I'm so messed up. I know I'm not okay but I'm sorry that I just dumped it on you like tha–"

"Peyt, Bambina, it's okay. It's okay." Tony's eyes were earnest, nothing but love and truth in them as he looked down at her. "This is going to sound cheesy, I know, but it is okay not to be okay."

He sat up slightly, shifting until Peyton was facing him on the couch. "I'm not going to lie, this is going to be one hell of a time to get through and past, but we will get you help and I will be by your side to support you through all of it."

Peyton chewed on her lip, fingers subconsciously digging into the tops of her thighs before Tony curled her palms into his own.

"Talk to me, Pey, what's going on in your head?"

"I'm scared." Peyton hesitated before admitting it. She was silent again, almost warring with herself to get her next words out. "I dunno how to be different or who I am without the hurt or the hiding. And I don't know how to stop wanting to hurt myself or be clumsy so I get hurt on purpose. I know it's a bad and dangerous thing but I also don't want to stop. I don't know how to escape all of this."

She looked at her dad, scared that she would find disgust at what she had now said in words despite it already being discovered earlier with her stating it. "I'm scared that you'll hate me or be angry or disgusted that I'm like this."

At her words, Tony's eyes hardened, a fierceness in them that wasn't as strong moments ago. 

"Peyton Parker, if there is one thing I Will never ever hate you, be disgusted, or angry, alright? Never. Not for one fuckibg second. Do you hear me?"

Peyton, do you hear me?" Tony repeated when she only nodded.

"Yes. I hear you."

Tony nodded. "Good because it's never changing. We're gonna get you the help you need, baby. I promise you."

Not knowing how to thank him, Peyton settled for hugging him again, smiling for the first time that evening when she felt a kiss against her hair.

"I love you, Dad." She said without thinking, freezing slightly when she felt Tony tense before he relaxed.

Tony murmured back to her, before she could apologise. "I love you too, Tesoro." 

It was quiet, then. Heavy from all that had been said, but not uncomfortable or awkward.

Things weren't okay. But okay could wait, because in these seconds and moments, after all that had changed and happened that evening, there was peace.

---

Eventually Peyton would speak once more, her voice small and almost childlike in her need for guidance and assurance.

"We'll get through this?" She asked softly.

And Tony would answer, firm and sure. 

"We will."

[jadelotusflower]

Robin Hood Rewatch: 1x13 A Clue: No

“Previously on” recaps can be annoying, but there is an art to it and I love a good one. This is a very, very good one, summarising the last episode with ramping tension as the music builds, then cuts to a different take of the last scene as the theme song starts, and we’re into the opening credits.

This is a long one, so it’s going under the cut:

Guy estimates that the “inner circle” of Robin’s gang is “a dozen at the most” and I find it very funny that neither he nor Vaisey have twigged that it’s always the same five people around him. What’s more annoying than funny is that they don’t know how many are in the “outer circle” because that really should have been A Thing in the show (Forrest and Hanton should have come back to guest star! I will never let this go!) After all, we see Little John with more men in the first episode, there are other outlaws in the forest/across the shire that are either working with Robin, or pose a risk to them, and I wish this had been explored.

Djaq manhandling and holding her sword to Pitts’s throat - I love Djaq.

The first arrow Robin shoots is intended for Vaisey, but one of the guards inconveniently walks in front and gets it in the chest. The second arrow is intended for Vaisey as well but he ducks (”my tooth!”) so we can’t fault the writing for a credible attempt at Why Doesn’t Robin Just Kill The Sheriff, because in this scene at least, he tries.

Bye Pitts. You certainly were.

I actually really love this scene (which probably seemed odd given the high body count), but Robin drawing his sword and charging, with Much, Djaq, and John backing him up to avenge Marian’s apparent death/make a final stand, as the music shifts from the jaunty Rescue Theme to Marian’s Theme, just gets me every time.

Although thanks to the cast commentary, I can’t unsee Djaq flipping that guy over her head twice, but hey, it’s a badass move. Clearly they didn’t shoot enough coverage of this fight, because we get the same action from several different angles.

Other than the flashback in episode 8, I think this is the only time we see Robin in Crusader mode, and just how lethal he (and the gang) can be when unleashed and with nothing to lose. Even when the enemy retreats Robin remains kind of wild-eyed with rage unsated, and it takes a beat for him to snap out of it. It’s symbolism time - he sticks his sword in the ground and leaves it there, and we don’t see it again this episode (or much in season 2).

There’s some nice acting going on from everyone in this scene - just utter exhaustion, Allan and Will oblivious to why the rest are so distraught, Much taking it upon himself to tell them but can’t say the words, and Robin with the finality of “she’s dead.” Their faces!

Djaq is still holding two swords as she enters the cave, which is a nice character beat - no doubt the fight also brought back unpleasant memories/triggers for her, and she remains on edge, for the moment unwilling to give up her defences even when the threat is gone.

I really love this scene too (the gang mourning Marian) and I think it’s quite deftly written - Djaq’s immediate reaction being the importance of a quick burial (as per Islamic tradition), Robin trying to keep it together, attempting to ask John/Will to build a coffin but unable to, so deflecting to ask Djaq to prepare Marian’s body, before trying twice again; John soothing him and taking charge. Will’s single tear and speaking of Marian’s goodness. Much responding with “Good? Oh, she was... She was...” looking to Robin because of course his thoughts are for Robin’s grief before his own, and also that his own relationship with Marian was complex. Allan: “She was alright...yeah” that says so much, and of course John’s “Her, we liked.” Again, some fine acting, kudos everyone.

“I loved her and I never told her” is ironic because Robin still won’t tell her until halfway through the next season, and if he had in the aftermath of her apparent death he could have spared himself a lot of the angst of the rest of the episode. But of course he doesn’t tell her, doesn’t learn from this moment, because emotions are hard, and sometimes we make the same mistakes over and over again.

I really love that it’s Allan that notices that Marian is alive, and his little “told ya” flourish.

Score note: while Marian is “dead” her Theme is strings, when she opens her eyes, it’s back to the guitar.

Guy’s guilt in finding out his impending marriage to Marian is based on false pretenses - would he still have forced the marriage if he’d known that from the start?

Djaq still has her two swords as they take Marian back to Knighton.

Guy, if your first instinct when told Marian is not at home is that she’s run away rather than marry you...maybe take a hint? “She cannot run from me” is a big yikes, and this confuses me as to Guy’s motivation in this scene. Did he intend to tell Marian the truth, but then convince himself otherwise (because “the excitement of the wedding” =/= “the wedding excites her”), but then why so angry when he thinks shes run? The difference between getting someone go/being left, I suppose.

Illness is a perfectly plausible explanation for delaying the wedding that no one seems to think of.

Edward is actually pretty bang on in this scene with Robin from a father’s perspective, telling him to let Marian go if he cannot stop it, and do the right thing. On the other hand...

“I am sick of doing the right thing” is why Robin is such a compelling character for me - because it is hard to always be good, to be held to that higher standard, and make the unselfish choice. I enjoy narratives that explore that, and this show is surprisingly unflinching about it, exemplified by:

The next scene, which is one of the most emotionally brutal/hard to watch of the entire show, in which Robin lashes out and does everything to drive Much away, including calling him “a pox”  and a “small man” until Much’s heart visibly breaks.

Now I don’t want to excuse Robin here, because he is objectively awful to someone who doesn’t deserve it, who is trying to give him support but also telling him some much needed hard truths (even if it is slightly self-serving, which is what what seems to set Robin off). But at the end of the day, if he loves Marian he needs to accept that it is her choice to marry Guy, to “do the right thing” to (she thinks) protect her father - and later of he does just that. For now Edward and Much are both right, it is more important for him to try and protect the king from Vaisey, because if he is ousted and Richard back on the throne so many lives would be improved, including the people of Locksley. But Robin has been pushed to breaking point all season, and has now snapped and can’t see reason, but is stuck in his own grief/rage.

But unlike previously, when Robin said regrettable things in the heat of the moment and then immediately took them back, this is a calculated attack designed to hurt Much the most, because he loves Robin so much that it takes A Lot to push him away. It’s a bold move to make your hero so unlikable in such a moment, because Robin really is unforgivably cruel here, and trust the audience to understand why. I mean, I don’t want to bang on about the PTSD, but it’s (partly) the PTSD, based on a triggering, precipitating event causing a self-destructive spiral. Robin needs some Ye Olde Therapy.  

For all the talk about Robin getting his title and lands back, nothing is said about what happens to Gisborne once he does, other than that they can’t prove he was the one who tried to assassinate Richard. Because really, Richard probably would believe Robin even though the tattoo was burned away, and Guy’s certainly committed other crimes that could be testified to just like they’re intending for Vaisey - and let’s be real, it’s not like a king needs evidence to order someone’s death (hello, season 2 finale). Boom - Guy executed, marriage to Marian annulled, problem solved!

So, the scene between Marian and Guy, in which Marian is more concerned with whether or not Guy tried to kill the king than the fact that he stabbed her. But its understandable, because Marian thinks there’s no way out that doesn’t risk her father’s life, and it’s easier to convince herself that maybe Guy didn’t do it to make the best of things. I think she does have some kind of feelings for him, or is at least moved by his feelings for her, and believes if nothing else she can influence him/continue working from the inside; giving up the mantle of the Nightwatchman but doing the same work (in a different way) as Lady Gisborne.

And then it’s Robin/Marian angst, round 3, and it’s a far cry from their interaction in the cave milliseconds away from “I love yous” - in both tone and body language they’re back in defensive positions talking past one another. The tension, it be thick.

Marian is making her best rationalisation with “deprived of love” and Robin not at all buying the Woobification 101. Once she tells him her decision to marry Guy, he accepts it, but it’s Marian’s reaction that’s telling, she’s surprised that he doesn’t argue, deep down she wants him to fight for her, to say that the real reason she shouldn’t marry Guy is because he loves her. It’s quite a contrast from the previous scene where Guy was very open about how he feels about her, while Robin deflects, but while she was conflicted about Guy trying to kiss her, she’s frustrated, disappointed, and angry when Robin leaves.

But really, this is rather unfair of Marian, because Robin did already declare himself in the cave (”we should be together”) without her reciprocation, so expecting him to take the first step again without any encouragement is a bit much.

Would a depressed person sit slumped against a tree all night?

“But by taking Marian in holy wedlock, I will wash away those crimes. Her pure heart will cleanse mine.” Yeah...not going to touch that one. I appreciate that there’s a lot going on with Guy and many, many people find it compelling, but I’m afraid it’s not really a narrative that interests me.

Speaking of pure hearts: Much. Faced with the same choice he was counseling Robin on, but with the additional wrinkle of knowing the king’s an imposter, he still decides to stop the wedding. “Her heart belongs to another” is A Moment and I don’t know exactly why but I find his very soft pleas following this and calling her “my lady” very affecting. 

She’s beauty and she’s grace, she punched Guy in the face.

“A trap. I knew it.” I haaaaate this line. NO YOU DIDN’T KNOW IT ROBIN YOU KNEW NOTHING OF THE KIND IF YOU HAD KNOWN YOU WOULD BE EVEN MORE OF A DICK FOR LEAVING UGGGHHHH.

“We can’t be seen together” Right in front of my salad two guards on front gate duty, who get front row tickets to the kiss. Look at them! They’re right there! This show drives me absolutely bonkers sometimes.

I do love this dress though.

“An audience with the king has been suspended!” Going out on one last pun.

Regardless, I really love this episode. Despite the lack of fallout from the emotional wringer they all went through, I can’t help but smile when the gang does their silly little jump for joy at the end.

[jade-marie]

What is your stance on the stans who hype the show up no matter what and try to tell everyone that Beth is the baddest bitch in the world? I sometimes see their tweets and posts on tumblr and don't know what show they watch. They hype up the Brio relationship and pretend almost likeDean is just sort of there and not relevant. Ehm,but he is because she is still married to the cheater and has sex with him. I have no idea why they speak so positive about it,she is staying with Dean anyway.

Lol anon chose violence. I like it. 

I feel like it’s probably easier if I just answer this section at a time, apologies if I go off topic, I’m feeling rather frustrated about the whole thing too, so I’m venting.

People constantly hyping up the show:

I see this all the time and it really bothers me. It’s a show that had/possibly still has huge potential, but it’s wasted constantly. The writing is really sloppy, it’s full of potholes, it’s poorly paced etc. If you can look past those issues and still enjoy the show, that’s great, good for you. But I can’t stand when people try to pretend like those flaws don’t exist and it’s just this incredibly well-written show because it’s not. Objectively, it’s not. Plot holes are not subjective, lack of continuity is not subjective, racism is not subjective, and you can still enjoy the show while admitting that it has problems.

I’ve lost count of how many times I question if I’m watching the same show as everybody else. Even last night, every time I came on Tumblr I would feel like I was genuinely going fucking crazy because the reactions I was seeing, versus what was actually happening in the episode did not compute for me whatsoever. 

People claiming that Beth is the baddest bitch in the world:

Just like with the show, Beth had/possibly still has incredible potential as a character. Season one Beth was fucking iconic and I adored her. But as the show went on, she just developed this huge lack of accountability and self-awareness which I find really frustrating to watch. The little cat and mouse game between her and Rio was enjoyable before. But as we got into season two and, especially, season three it felt like she was constantly escalating the situation while simultaneously refusing to accept any responsibility for the consequences.

In my opinion, the fact that she stays with Dean is quite possibly the biggest hindrance to her character development. Any time they decide to have her pull some sort of boss move or try to make her seem powerful, it’s automatically negated by the fact she stays with that lying, cheating, disgusting, fucking creature. How am I supposed to see her as powerful in any way, if she won’t even take back the power in her own marriage? Again, you can enjoy her character without pretending that she’s a complete boss because she’s just not. She has the potential to be, but she’s not

People hyping up Brio:

This is perhaps one of my biggest bugbears at the moment. I was fucking obsessed with them, I thought the chemistry was great and they had so much potential back in season two. Again, a victim of shitty writing choices. By the time we get through s3 and now the s4 premiere, Beth is still actively trying to kill him. Just that by itself already puts an immediate dampener on any interactions they have. On top of that, you’ve got the shooting which has absolutely no resolution, up till now.

And then on top of all of that, you still almost have Beth using Rio as a surrogate for Dean. She point blank refuses to deal with the shit in her marriage, she allows Dean to have power over her, she allows his misdeeds to go completely unpunished, but she lashes out at Rio constantly. Every action he takes will gain a reaction from her, usually a reaction that escalates the situation. I mean, he's currently running around with a fucking hit out on him because he took her money. I don’t care what anyone says, that’s what it boils down to. He’s put her in a position where she doesn’t have control over her money or her business, and that’s why she wants him dead.  She’s not scared of him and she knows he won’t hurt her. 

I really don’t understand how people are getting anything positive from their interactions at the moment, it’s beyond confusing to me.  And I don’t understand how people can want anything to happen between them while there’s so much unresolved shit. 

People dismissing Dean’s presence:

I think it’s actually a really important point because I don’t know that anything would happen between Beth and Rio while she’s still with Dean. Back in s2, they weren’t actually together. She had kicked him out of the house, he only moved back in because he was faking cancer and then he got shot. But they weren’t sharing a bed, they were no longer intimate in any way. For all intents and purposes, they were separated. Now, however, they’re back together. They share a bed, they were having sex (at least last season when she was trying to get pregnant) and she forgave him for cheating on her again.

Considering the fact that he was actually cheating on her, I don’t know that anything will happen before she leaves Dean because she wouldn’t be able to rationalise her behaviour as better than his.

[xerospaced]

So I’m still seeking to have my BPD diagnosis removed from my health record coz...

Somehow, despite my exhaustive description of events that led to the circumstances I had presented with, the psychiatrist managed to overlook CEN and C-PTSD. 

You see, as a fellow woman who happened to be experiencing mood swings, it must be that I had a personality disorder rather than... Oh, I don’t know, let me explore a little more so I can get a clearer idea of these complex issues you’ve presented with. Nope, just straight diagnosis. But ykno, it’s the NHS, you get what you pay for I suppose.

So, I want this shit off my record.

1. I spent far too long relating to content which, yes I did relate to to some extent BUT a lot of which was rooted in very different and easily explicable reasons such as:

2. Presenting as an intelligent young working woman who was well kempt and self-aware, it was never for a moment considered that there may be any other element at hand like, say, oh, I don’t know - a neurodevelopmental “disorder”

3. The overwhelming number of therapists I saw who failed to ever pick up on: - a) My significant (to a point of damn near defiant) lack of eye contact - b) The CONSTANT stimming (not to mention that I even attended many appointments with fidget toys before I even considered that I was autistic or knew I was stimming) - c) The constant lateness to EVERYTHING, the missed appointments, the “I forgots” the I never seem to get anything done - d) SERIOUSLY THE FUGGEN STIMMING - e) [in relation to b & d] The exaggerated use of hand gestures whilst speaking and the many “odd” positions I would find myself sitting in - f) The difficulty in finishing a coherent thought without trailing off and the “less than common” word choices I employed as well as somewhat strange manner in which I speak - g) The varying speeds/volumes/tones/and LITERAL FUCKING accents that would slip out during speech - h) The clear display that I was looking at and taking in everything LITERALLY EVERYTHING in the room All of which was actually clearly indicative of likely neurodivergence and, in actuality, were displays of the functions of ADHD and [entirely likely damn near definite] autism I ACTUALLY have

4. It was easier to sum up as young woman + abuse + mood swings = personality disorder BECAUSE AUTISM AND ADHD IS FOR THE MALES

5. The BPD diagnosis impacted a significant familial matter which could have been avoided had I been adequately assessed. 

6. I have to KNOW what I am experiencing in order to request assessment and diagnosis pretty much exists in relation to the scope of my initial theories, ergo: thought I had bi-polar - got diagnosed BPD.

7. Autistic women and those with ADHD are FREQUENTLY misdiagnosed as borderline or bi-polar (so seriously FIGURE IT OUT how could they not think to consider that

8. My academic excellence and advanced mental age/maturity + lack of personal relationships and intense interests were a clear indication that I was not of the “average” neurotypical type mind you would expect to see presenting with a personality disorder. It should not have been assessed as such. This was NEVER taken into consideration.

All in all, I am uncomfortable with my current diagnoses and what it had led to. I spent a lot of time relating to content and people within the BPD community (nothing against that or them) BUT when you relate to a BEHAVIOUR or FEELING and you have ALSO experienced similar abuse/neglect as is typical of that community, it results in coming to the INCORRECT conclusions about WHY you are experiencing and responding to life as you are. Read: Impulse behaviour rooted in “avoidance of negative feelings and seeking positive outcomes” seeming like it fit my individual case when in actuality - Impulse behaviour as a result of adHd [the Hyperactivity in particular] resulting in an “antsy” state which is sated in the impulse decision to LOOK AT PRETTY THINGS and COLLECT THEM ALL (throw in a dash of Autistic special interest in apparel, put two and two together and Bob’s your fucking uncle wouldyalookatthat!) Read: Self-harm as a means of punishment or gratification - actuality: as a reaction to sensory overload and a means of counteracting painful stimuli. Read: Intense anger, emotional outbursts - actuality: sensory overload, meltdown; ADHD rage attacks/irritability Read: Dissociation as a result of escaping feelings - actuality: catatonia due to sensory overload Read: Instability/mood swings - Actuality: Autistic sensory overload; ADHD hyperactivity - impulsive component, under stimulation = increased irritability = mood swings

I could go on.

Anyway. I have a real uncomfortable association to BPD. and, if I am entirely honest, I feel that - though I did learn a lot in my journey of trying to manage what I believed was BPD - I also caused myself some harm along the way. Believing the way my brain is hardwired was something that I could retrain and, even more harmful in nature, rejecting certain aspects of myself that I actually should have been learning to accept as part of my brain function and embracing in order to learn how to navigate life WITH these components rather than forcefully controlling them in a bid to bend them into some factory style notion of “ideal” that I was intended to strive towards in order to consider myself “recovered”.

My entire approach to self, to healing, and to understanding has changed. Developed beyond belief. As a result of finally understanding that the intensity of the emotions I feel, the hyperfocus, the stimming, the ways in which I connect (or fail to connect) with people, the impulsivity, the meltdowns 

- all understood and being managed in a way that it’s worlds away from the BPD experience. 

And most significantly of all 

Learning that the extreme emotions I feel are with me for Life. Accepting that I will always be subject to experiencing sensory overload and that there are ways to manage it that don’t involve trying to rationalise thoughts and feelings but rather recognising the elements that have caused the overload to prepare for or avoid them in future, as well as attending to the need in the moment. 

It’s an entirely different understanding of self. And I spent the better part of five years on the wrong path. All coz I was given a label with no consideration as to what else may be at play. 

I am comfortable with my understanding of self now. And I am confident in my ADHD diagnosis as well as my understanding of myself as an Autistic woman.  I just want the diagnosis gone, because it has done more damage to my perception of and approach to self than good and I no longer wish to carry that inaccurate definition with me.

[thewatermelloncat]

Lost Boy

“I’m not supposed to tell you this. But I was talking to Ben and they’re thinking of sending you back to the Isle” Uma breaks the silence that had fallen between them.

“What’s so bad about that?” Harry looks back to her. “I don’t fit in here and I never will.”

“The crew’s here. I’m here, and you’re my first mate” she tries but even now she feels like her words won’t stick.

“The crew’s dead Uma” Harry says suddenly. “We all split a long time ago.”

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Summary: After being allowed into Auradon, Harry finds that it’s not the place for him.

Warnings: Like one swear word?

Taglist: @wafflethottt

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Harry Hook didn’t want revenge – not anymore. He wanted to cause mischief and wreak havoc, but he couldn’t get away with it here. Though that didn’t necessarily stop him. For the first week since he and the crew had moved to Auradon, they had pulled pranks and disobeyed rules together. That was until people started realising that they didn’t like getting in trouble for it, and gradually they all went their separate ways.

Since then Harry had largely stopped breaking rules and causing disturbances, though fights were common and his shirt never stayed tucked in. It wasn’t any fun for him to cause mischief with no one to do it with or no one who would celebrate his achievements with him. Instead he closed in on himself.

He’d see the crew around the place laughing and making new friends as he walked past them with no place to go, no purpose. Some of them were old enough to finish school this year and were talking about their futures. He didn’t have one planned out – well, here anyway.

Uma talked about hers a lot. She was the only one that stuck around him. Without their ship the crew were barely in one place at a time. Even in the mess hall they all sat apart with their new friend groups. Sometimes Gil sat with them, sometimes he didn’t. Though Harry still called him a friend because he never remembered a time when they decided that they weren’t.

On the Isle he thought that Auradon had taken everything away from him. It wasn’t until he got to Auradon that he realised that it was then that Auradon had taken everything away from him. On the Isle he had all he wanted.

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Magical History became his favourite class. Not because he liked the subject, in fact he despised it. He’d heard enough of his father’s drunken rants about pixie dust so that, although he knew a lot about it, he never wanted to hear about it again. But from his desk, he could look out the window and across the water to the Isle where he could see the old ship docked against the wharf.

He got detention many a time for zoning out as he stared back at his home. Little did they realise that being in Auradon was enough of a punishment for him.

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“You can’t keep walking outta that class” Uma says from behind him while he faces away from her out to the water.

“Well I ain’t gonna sit there and listen to the fairy talk shit about my father! Her whole curriculum is biased!” Harry bites back, not even turning to look at her. It hadn’t been long since he’d stormed out of History of Woodsmen and Pirates, he hadn’t even known what the blasted Tinkerbell was speaking about but something in him clicked and he decided that he’d had enough.

He’d hated that class to begin with. Everyone always thought that he wasn’t listening to whatever Tinkerbell was saying, just because he didn’t wear the standard headphones that allowed the rest of the class to hear her speak. He could hear her just fine. Though he wished he couldn’t.

It was clear that she hated him. Her eyes almost never left him, like she didn’t trust him. Sometimes that suited Harry fine so he could glare back at her, sometimes he just wanted to be left alone.

It didn’t help any that he’d quickly taken to sitting at the back of the classroom so he could avoid most of his classmate’s stares every time his father was mentioned. Those who chose to look back had to live with getting glared back at with a hundred times the ferocity. Eventually they all chose not to.

“Look, Harry. You know the class is compulsory, you have to pass it” Uma says as she sits down on the sand next to him, and he fights the temptation to shuffle away. “If you keep walking out, they’ll fail you and you’ll have to retake it.”

“Everything in that class is wrong” Harry refuses to accept. “I won’t sit through it when I know full well how everything really happened.”

“You know everything how your father told it to you” Uma points out.

“That means the same thing” Harry mutters quickly under his breath.

Uma sighs before she turns toward him, shuffling back a little so she can stretch her legs out. “Maybe everything isn’t so black and white.”

“You fucking serious?” Harry glares at her. “You’re taking their side?”

“Our parents were hellbent on revenge since they lost. I wouldn’t be surprised if they changed parts of stories to make it easier on their egos” she rationalises.

Harry is silent for a long while, staring out across the ocean in front of them. Whether it’s because her point made some sort of sense to him or that he can’t comprehend it at all, Uma doesn’t know. It feels like minutes that she waits for him to speak, only to come to the conclusion that he doesn’t plan to.

“I’m not supposed to tell you this. But I was talking to Ben and they’re thinking of sending you back to the Isle” Uma breaks the silence that had fallen between them.

“What’s so bad about that?” Harry looks back to her. “I don’t fit in here and I never will.”

“The crew’s here. I’m here, and you’re my first mate” she tries but even now she feels like her words won’t stick.

“The crew’s dead Uma” Harry says suddenly, deadly serious. “We all split a long time ago.”

“I can help you if you want to stay” she tells him earnestly.

“Well the thing is, lass” Uma flinches as Harry calls her a generic name rather than her own. “I don’t want to stay. I couldn’t leave soon enough.”

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Those were the last words they said to each other for a long time – aside from when they had said goodbye before he was driven away in a limousine.

Since then Uma had gone back to her studies and focusing on her future in Auradon without Harry in the way to stop her. She had started reforging the friendship she had with Gil. She met his new friends and hung out with them a lot, but she missed Harry. Life around there wasn’t the same without him.

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Months after Harry’s departure, Uma started hearing whispers that he was doing well for himself back on the Isle. Apparently, he was practically running the place after taking over his father’s crew. The captain was getting older after not needing to be resurrected from death before being thrown onto the Isle, twenty or so years prior. His crew had some unrest that he was no longer suitable to be captain and had welcomed the prospect of Harry taking over from him.

Except Captain Hook wouldn’t give up his crew without a fight. The duel between father and son was said to be legendary, both being skilled swordsmen it was thought to be an even match. Though the older man had made the mistake of teaching his son everything that he knew, years prior. The duel ended with Harry disarming him, and with a sword and his own hook to his father’s neck, the crew was his.

Uma doesn’t know why she always thought that he needed her to operate. Maybe it was because he followed her orders without question that she thought he wasn’t capable of making his own. But now she sees that under her leadership, his talents as a Captain had stayed hidden and she was stupid not to notice them until now.

Dare she say she was jealous that out from under her rule and with his own crew, he was running the Isle better than she had been able to. Over time she found herself making friends with the new transfers from the Isle just to see how he was doing. Though no amount of information she could get out of them could fill the hole his departure had left inside her. She still had so many questions: What territories does he have? Is he hurt? Does he regret leaving? Does he think about her?

For weeks she found herself zoning out in class, looking over at the Isle through any window that could see it. She would take herself down to the water and stand amongst the waves to be closer to it. Not for some time connecting that in her heart, she felt a deep longing for it. When the connection was finally made, she started to think about going back to it. Though the logical part of her brain would push it down and remind her that she would have a safer future in Auradon. A better future.

Subconsciously she would plan how to get back there, unaware that her mind was actually considering it. She quickly ruled out the thought of doing something terrible and being sent back, she wanted to leave with what dignity she had. She also knew that she didn’t want to tell anyone, lest it find its way to Gil. If he found out she was leaving he would feel pressure to follow her and she wanted him to stay and enjoy his new life off the Isle.

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It wasn’t until she couldn’t get to sleep one night that she made the split-second decision to get out of bed and pack her things. She didn’t have much – that she wanted to take anyway. So, she stuffed all the clothes that she wanted and all the money that she had into a backpack which she slung over her shoulder.

She wrote Mal – and simultaneously Evie – a note. Knowing that Mal would understand why she left, though Evie wouldn’t. She thought about writing Gil one, it was what he deserved but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Knowing that she would regret writing one if he followed her more than she would regret not writing him one at all.

In the dark of the night she made her bed and slipped out the window, the few things left behind in her room the only sign that she was ever there. Quietly she crept along the rooftops before scaling down the walls of the dormitories, keeping out of sight. Walking through the courtyard in the dark brought back memories of her and Harry breaking curfew before she had started to unknowingly push him away. Though this time she only feared getting caught because she knew they would try to stop her from leaving.

Without a hitch she made it to the small garage by the waterfront and enchanted a pushbike to take her across the water. It seemed stupid considering the number of mopeds and motorbikes stored there but she didn’t want to take something that actually mattered.

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The gates to the Isle once again greeted her with a sense of foreboding. Only this time she was entering back into a world of dangers that she knew, and not entering a world where she knew nothing. She left the bike leaning against the arch, having no further use for it. Someone could pick it up in the morning and sell it for parts for all she cared.

Swallowing nervously, she sets off walking deeper into her home, her hands feeling empty without her sword. She knows she is quick but she also knows the Isle is a changed place since she left over a year ago and she’s probably out of practice. There is no guarantee she could escape a fight unscathed, or escape at all.

By the time she reaches the old wharf, the sun is rising and people are starting to mill about the place, opening up their market stalls or beginning to fish off the dock. Everything looks so different from how she left it; dare she say it looks better. Gone are the wobbly boards and the holes in the boardwalk, and there is more order. No one is yelling off their balcony for someone to get off their fishing spot or away from their market stall. Everyone looks happier, their faces cleaner and more well-fed.

Down in the water she sees her old ship. Out of anything around the wharf, it is the only thing that remains unchanged. Though it seems that someone has been keeping it up to sailing condition. The sails are raised signalling that the ship is not in use, but the deck has been scrubbed clean to keep the wood from rotting.

Uma hears him before she sees him. She would recognise that laugh anywhere. Following its direction, she descends the levels of the wharf coming to walk past her old ship, not sparing it more than a second glance as she continues toward the Jolly Rodger a little further along.

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As she approaches, she sees Harry standing on deck with two other members of the crew, no doubt giving out orders for the day. A sense of nostalgia washes over her as she remembers doing that task herself for years up until many months ago. And suddenly she jealous again, seeing how happy he looks; how happy he would have looked without her.

“Captain!” a member of the crew calls out to Harry from the crow’s nest, gesturing over to Uma as she stops a little way from the ship. She didn’t want to get too close not knowing how Harry will react to seeing her, and what he may command his crew to do in response. Now she is technically a nobody with no name, no reputation after she abandoned the Isle for Auradon. Ursula didn’t have a fearsome enough reputation to protect her like Maleficent did for Mal.

Nervously she watches as Harry’s eyes look down to her, and he says something to the crew members before he leaves them and heads down to the gangplank. She breathes out a sigh of relief seeing him approaching her alone with only his hook in hand, so she figures that he isn’t going to fight her.

Though her heart doesn’t stop racing as he approaches her. With the space between them closing she realises that she has no idea what to say to him, and she tells him as much when he stops in front of her.

Harry chuckles down at her and Uma notices how much he’s grown as she looks back up at him. Not so much in getting taller but he looks older, more sophisticated. Back in his long red coat reminiscent of his father but missing the pirate hat. His hook still shines in his hand and dark charcoal lines his eyes again – how she’d missed that.

“Took you longer than I’d thought” Harry tells her causally like they’d just spoken the other day, not having months of no communication between them.

“You knew I would come?” Uma asks him.

Harry hums affirmatively, nodding his head before frowning at her. “What’s that look for?”

Uma blinks as she realises she’s shying away from him, feeling like she is nothing under his control of the situation, his control over the wharf. He could say he doesn’t want to see her and be done with her, leaving her with nothing she can do about it. That prospect is so unfamiliar to her. “You seem so different” is what she settles for.

“So do you” he looks down at her, seeing her missing all of her usual confidence.

“You were right, you know” Uma admits, looking down at the wharf in defeat. “Auradon wasn’t all it cracked up to be.”

“What’s wrong about that?” Harry asks. “You’re back here now.”

“I have nothing here, Harry” Uma tells him sadly, her eyes close to tears. She flicks her eyes around the wharf, the place she used to run, before they fall back on the person who owns it standing in front of her. “I abandoned everyone, and I abandoned you back in Auradon because I was too self-centred to see you struggling. You rule my old turf now, you could kick me out and never see me again if you wanted to.” Uma’s voice is shaky and she fidgets with her hands wishing she could reach out and touch Harry, feel some connection to him again. She missed him.

“If you thought that, why did you come to me as the first thing you did?”

“I don’t know” Uma bites her lip and averts her eyes to keep from crying.

Harry scoffs slightly and steps forward wrapping his arms around her. At first, she is too shocked that he wanted anything to do with her to be able to move, but eventually she moves her arms around his waist without question. “You don’t have nothing, there’s the old ship waiting for you” he tells her placing a kiss on the top of her head like he used to do.

“I missed you” Uma sobs into his chest as he continues to hold her.

She feels him laugh a little and he tightens his hold on her. “There’s none of the crew left anymore, but there are a few kids in the alleys that could do with a good home.”

“I don’t want to be a Captain anymore” she tells him and he pulls away from her in shock.

He blinks at her, thinking he mustn’t have heard her right.

“I don’t have a purpose anymore, Harry. I had the crew to help me get off the Isle and get revenge on Auradon” she explains. “We got our freedom, but I don’t want revenge anymore.”

Harry seems to relax as her point makes sense to him. “What are you going to do then?”

“You tell me, Captain Hook.”

[loyally-unfaithful]

—; even if i am fooling myself, my feelings are true . (3)

word count: 4.1k

pairing: origami cyclone | ivan karelin / gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

summary: even if he was lying to you by pretending to be your lover, he told himself it was worth it. it made you happy. it helped you. he’s helping you. this ruse is only done in good faith. 

if it were to make you smile, if it were to help you brighten up, then all his lies and deceptions could be forgiven, he rationalised.

a/n: i know that ivan's peak depression and garbage self-esteem is pre-episode 8, and after that he's actually fine and coping ok thanks to the power of friendship but let's pretend that ,,, 2020 is hitting ivan hard, he keeps getting cucked by that one sekiro boss, he can’t defeat alatreon, and he's second guessing himself

he decided that he’ll tell you once you were released.

the door leading to your room opened with a marked click, announcing anytime a person entered (or exited) the room.

this time was no different. the door clicked as ivan quietly stepped inside.

he’ll have to ask you when you could be discharged, didn’t he?

though not quite taking your eyes off of your book, you shifted your head slightly to where the sound came from, notifying him that you were listening.

« hey, i’m back… sorry i couldn’t get by sooner. »

this time, you took your eyes off of the pages to answer him: « it’s really not an issue, you reassured him, don’t force yourself if you’re too busy okay? »

he blinked. the hero can’t help being unnerved: something about the way you said that made it seem as if you could see through him. for the past few weeks that he has known you, he has a nagging feeling that you know more than you let on, but frustratingly enough he still couldn’t figure out what’s between the lines.

probably just his paranoia.

he has learnt that you were, for the most part, an honest and straightforward person: if you had something to say, you’ll tell him—so the blond brushed his hypervigilance to his job as hero.

« still… i can’t help but feel bad… he smiled apologetically. – i know, i know... you conceded. »

ivan gently placed a humble bouquet of lily-of-the-valley, which he had come to learn was your favourite flower, on the table and seated himself besides you. book dog-eared and put away, you let your hand settle in his, allowing your fingers to intertwine with his. a warm smile crept on your face as you felt his thumb stroke the back of your hand.

« just, i don’t want you to worry. you turned to look to where he sat. i’d still live even if you don’t visit every few days. a soft laugh escaped you. »

you’ve changed, he noticed. you’re different.

you looked much happier. you smiled, genuinely smiled, and laughed, genuinely laughed, a lot more. your eyes were clear and focused, instead of the bleary, tear-soaked eyes he had come to associate with you.

you were much more animate than you were. animate in every sense of the word: yes, you were doing better in rehab, but you’ve started doing more outside of that. you were slowly, but surely, going through your abandoned stack of books. even though you were not that big of a fan of watching tv, he has caught you turning the fixture on a few times to serve as white noise as you read, tuning in to whatever was being broadcasted at the time. occasionally, you’ve even ventured outside your room to visit the hospital garden. you were much easier to talk to. you were more open and easy going. you’ve even started interacting with the hospital staff. he found himself being able to hold full conversations with you instead of the flat monosyllabic replies he had expected.

lively. lively was the word to describe you now.

 he recalls your first few interactions since his appearance. they were all lukewarm at best. were you always this unapproachable? this cold? what had happened to your warmth? he remembers asking himself that. the hero supposes it’s normal… he was disguised as someone who had hurt you. perhaps even humiliated you in front of all the staff present at the time, including he and dragon kid. so your behaviour was to be expected: after the relief of having your partner back, you probably remembered your own anger. the cold shoulder was to be expected. he tried his best to be patient with you, not letting your poorly hidden glare and scrutiny get to him. but even so, he would shiver at the thought of being watched. never before had he felt so much so like a prey pursued by a raptor.

the blond tried his best to coax you out of your impenetrable shell, doing his best to appear empathetic and appease you. if it would help you lighten up, then he’d willingly take the brunt of your hatred.

once in a while, he’d try to get you to speak, to no avail. you’d either ignore him, scowling, or whisper out a terse response. ivan tried not to get discouraged, he really did, but it was hard to do when the object of his affection, the person he cared for, the person he wanted to help rejected him with such disdain and pushed him away so coldly.

« how are you f— he started. – why are you here? but you had brashly interrupted him. why do you keep visiting me? what are you trying to prove? you spat, venom laced in your voice. » in your ire, you clenched your blanket tightly, until your knuckles turned white.

ivan was visibly taken aback by your slew of spiteful questions, and by your seemingly irreparable distrust. he doesn’t like the darkness in your eyes. much less at the thought that it was directed at him. he hesitated to answer, afraid that the wrong word could set your already agitated self off. ‘calm down, ivan. they’re not mad at you. he told himself. they’re mad the person you’re impersonating.

he swallowed, throat dry: « i don’t… what do you mean? he tilted his head, crushed. i’m not trying to prove anything, i was just worried about you. he hoped his tone conveyed the sincerity in his words. i’m really sorry i hurt you, i… i wasn’t thinking straight and i hurt you in the process. he shook his head in repentance. if i’ve humiliated you in any way, i’m really sorry. i really am. please believe me when i say that i care about you. he pleaded. »

it seemed that his earnest response had caught you off guard, having sat up straight up. for the first time in a long while, he found that you had properly turned to face him. you had unclenched your hands, and your eyes were wide. any trace of resentment had disappeared, in its stead was genuine surprise. as if not quite believing his words, you squinted in his direction as you went over his words again.

« you’re… not lying? » came your slow and incredulous response, voice having lost every trace of anger. there was no tension in the way you said it, innocent without any signs otherwise.

were you astonished by his response… why?

what did you mean by that?

it wasn’t a question directed at him, and more like a statement. a realisation. but still he moved to answer you, to redeem himself before your eyes.

« of course not… why would— i have no reason to lie to you… »

wrong answer.

he had to stop himself from wincing as you frowned, sceptical. you retracted your gaze from him and returned to quietly gaze out of the window.

he got the memo that the conversation had ended, that you didn’t want to elaborate nor continue. so he left. feeling at a loss after your tense exchange.

but even so, he came back a few days later, to your very apparent surprise.

even if your first few days with him as “taylor” were shaky, he was glad that he never gave up: having come to look forward to spending time in your company. instead of the solemn and wary person he had been introduced to, there was a warm and approachable person in its place. instead of the suspicious and closed off person he had to deal with, you’ve shown yourself to be a frank and honest, if sometimes candid, person.

 when he returned, the door clicked as he entered, and your reaction was instantaneous: « you came back. »

was it a statement? was it a question? he couldn’t make the tone in which you said that, but you hadn’t sounded angry as you did the last time, so he considered that he was still in the clear. maybe you were stupefied that he still came back after your vitriolic interrogation. for better or for worse, neither of you spoke much that day. ivan didn’t know what to say, while you remain as silent as you always were, fiddling with your sleeve. the tension was still omnipresent, but it didn’t feel as oppressive. it didn’t feel like a single misstep would send you over the edge. neither of you tried to meet each other’s eyes, but it almost felt like your avoidance was due to your chagrin at your past actions. your eyebrows knitted in contrition and you tapped your fingers absentmindedly on the sheets.

ivan sighed. he had decided to call it a day, happy enough to see that you were still alive and doing more or less ok. the young man wondered if he always felt this tired. he had stepped off to leave when you spoke up on your own initiative: « i’m sorry. »

your voice had been small, and he probably wouldn’t have heard it if the room wasn’t so depressingly silent. but despite the meekness of your own voice, your sincerity came through.

« i’m sorry. you said again, this time louder. i shouldn’t have been so crass… with you. » your expression was twisted in penitence. « i assumed the worst out of the situation when you’ve been nothing but accommodating with me. you paused. despite your good intentions, i continued to make disparaging remarks about you. i’m really sorry… »

without realising it, the blond had walked back over to your bed and started on his side of the apology, which he stuttered out: « i… it was… i deserved it, for making you upset… »

you smiled, but it didn't reach your eyes, almost like you tried to allow yourself to believe a well-intentioned lie, but couldn’t. you smiled and said nothing, moving instead to hold his hand tenderly in yours as a peace treaty. « if…. you can find it in your heart to forgive me, i would like to start over and give you a chance. you met his eyes, and he was relieved to see that they did not hold a single strand of malice. rather, you smiled. smiled so earnestly it hurt his heart. thank you so much for coming back. »

ever since, you’ve even started cracking your own jokes and no longer scrutinised his words seriously, almost as if you were trying to dissect each one of them. he happily listens to you jabber on about the new book you read, what you happened to have heard in passing while conversing with the medical staff or while being idle in the garden, and what was discussed on the news. anything. and he listened happily. because if you were talking, it meant you were happy. if you were happy, then it meant that you were hopefully getting better.

like night and day. from dispirited to lively.

he’s happy seeing you thriving.

even if he was lying to you by pretending to be your lover, he told himself it was worth it. it made you happy. it helped you. he’s helping you. this ruse is only done in good faith. if it were to make you smile, if it were to help you brighten up, then all his lies and deceptions could be forgiven, he rationalised.

« a successful rescue! as expected from the king of heroes: barnaby brooks jr! »

the announcer emphatically shouted. that train of thought halted, and ivan’s eyes flicked to the screen in the corner of the room.

‘must be a rerun from yesterday’s arrest.’ he mused, as the tv quickly changed camera, showcasing the past event in all its chaotic glory.

« he’s incredible isn’t he? your voice drew his attention back to you and he tilted his head. – barnaby? his voice wavered. »

it was an innocuous statement, but somehow the blond felt his heart crack a little. barnaby deserved to be crowned the king of heroes: he was strong, reliable, confident, everything he was not. barnaby’s power can be used to help people, unlike his. it made sense that he would be the hero everyone favoured, including you. go figure, seeing as barnaby was also very popular back at the academy. in a stroke of selfishness that made him hate himself, ivan had hoped that, somehow, he would’ve been your favourite hero. but there wasn’t any chance of that being true if he were realistic. he should’ve known better. despite his best efforts, he never really did manage to do more. to pull his weight. he blended in the background, with a passivity not befitting a hero.

unknowingly, he let out a heavy sigh. if only he were better. if only he were more like barnaby, or the other heroes. if only he were marginally as incorruptible as wild tiger, as self-assured as blue rose, as resilient as fire emblem, as steadfast as sky high, as tireless as dragon kid, as tenacious as rock bison. if only he were better. if only he were someone else, but him.

someone who could genuinely make you happier without having to disguise himself as somebody else.

he teared his eyes away from you to look elsewhere as he responded: « yeah, he’s really amazing. he hoped his voice didn’t betray how disheartened he was. the blond wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable. you tilted your head quizzically. – i admit, he and his partner are quite enjoyable to watch. was it possible for his heart to drop even lower? but they’re not who i’m referring to. you completed with a chuckle. – oh? he asked, half curious and half worried. – i was actually, um, it was your turn to be sheepish, faltering, as you meet his eyes. talking about origami cyclone… it actually took him a few moments before it registered in his head that you were talking about him, though it only filled him with more confusion when he did. – but why? he asked incredulously. – but why not? you parroted with a laugh. i think his kabuki themed costume is pretty cool… it must be super intricate! you remembered when you saw it in person, how you found yourself fawning over it and its design. not to mention, his ability is also super impressive! can you imagine? he can camouflage himself anywhere! – but he’s not much of a hero… he mumbled. what could he do with that kind of ability? besides, all he does is just stay in the background… – photobombing like a pro, as usual we can see origami cyclone lurking in the background! with oddly perfect timing, the host cuts in to announce the points origami had gathered (or lack thereof). despite revving up his ad appeal, he has not earned any points! acting as if the announcement helped ivan make his point, he resumed avoiding your eyes, focusing on the one tile that suddenly looked very interesting. »

sensing the prolonged silence, ivan gave up expecting a response from your part. he doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse. he’s scared of what you might say, but he’s equally as terrified of the implication of your silence.

« so what if he stays in the background? your resolute tone caught him off guard, and he peered at you with wide eyes. i don’t think that makes him any less of a hero than the rest. your conviction astounded him. he’s able to help and contribute in ways the other heroes can’t. sure, maybe in terms of strength he couldn’t compare to, say, wild tiger, but during a recon mission or in situations where one is required to sneak into an enemy territory he would excel above every other hero. he’s not a power type next and he can’t control the elements, so it wouldn’t be fair to compare him to what barnaby could do with his hundred power or what blue rose could do with her ice manipulation. it would be like comparing a cat’s ability to fly with those of a bird.

besides, i’m sure there’s something only origami can do!

you took a small moment to choose your words, contemplating whether you should continue or not, but after a small pause, you decided to do so. this time, however, your voice was much smaller. he would even qualify it as timid.

when, um… after our fight, he came over to visit me. i mean, i know it was probably some planned activity for the campaign, but… it still made me happy, regardless. and even after that, he kept checking up on me during the rest of the event, trying to cheer me up and make me laugh with his antics. tried to get me talking, you know? you shook your head. i guess my miserable self must’ve been very obvious… you laughed dryly. i applaud him for bearing with me for such a long time: i must’ve been such a pain to deal with during the first few days. i admit i felt a little bad taking up his time like that, but for what it’s worth he managed to lift my spirits and his visits made my day just a little brighter.

so even if it doesn’t seem like he’s doing much on herotv, i believe that he’s a kind, and loyal person—the type who wouldn’t easily abandon or give up on others. and i think that that is what makes him a real hero, not points on a tv show. »

« i’m sorry, that must’ve been very corny… you scratched the back of your neck. »

it took him a moment to fully process what you had just said, and took the blond another to fully consider your words. a part of him didn’t—couldn’t—believe you: there was no way you thought that way about a loser like him, right? but a grateful smile bloomed on his face, nonetheless.

« huh… he acknowledged. yeah… he agreed. i guess you’re right, love. even so, he allowed himself to believe your words. »

you hummed happily, pleased at winning this “argument”, and took to rest your head on his shoulder. he had gotten used to your affectionate nature, no longer finding himself flustered beyond words when you shifted closer to him and leaned into his side, nestling yourself comfortably within his arms. willingly, he wrapped his arms around your middle and carefully laced his fingers with yours. he let out a content sigh. his hand fitted perfectly around yours. you nuzzled his hair. there was no one else he’d rather be with, he belonged with you. your presence brought peace to his mind, your words always managing to reassure his turbulent thoughts and ease away his anxieties. truthfully, your presence comforted him in ways he couldn’t understand.

he wonders when you stopped needing him and he started needing you.

it’s hardly the right place to consider it, but he wished he could just capture and relive this one perfect moment—you, in his arms, humming a charming tune, stopping once in a while whenever you wanted to share an interesting trivia encountered during your reading. him, cradling you, watching over you quietly, attentively listening to what you said while he reveled in the time he got to share with you—over and over again. he wished he could stay in this one perfect, idyllic, moment and continue pretending.

close his eyes and pretend.

pretend everything was alright. pretend that this is where he belonged. pretend that he wasn’t lying to you. pretend that this was right.

but he was here to make sure of something right?

« oh, and by the way, do you know when you’ll be released? – hmm? ivan didn’t like the jarring silence that followed when you halted your humming. ...oh. your voice sounded disappointed and you seemed hesitant to tell him the truth. well, if everything went well they said i could go home tomorrow morning or afternoon. »

tomorrow?

« oh. » ivan responded, his voice tinted with a finality that concerned you.

he had decided that he’ll tell you once you were released, didn’t he?

he’d have to tell you the truth by tomorrow.

« but look taylor, it’s not all bad! you sensed that the mood had shifted downwards and you tried to lift it back up. once we’re out of here you can help me pick out a cane that’ll match with my style, maybe a colour that brings out my eyes. – yeah… »

he tried to sound enthused, but he doesn’t think that he fooled you. if you weren’t, you didn’t say anything.

the conversation had died out, and neither of you were particularly keen on trying to resuscitate it, so you both simply appreciated each other’s presence in a comfortable silence. or at least tried to.

this was a much harder feat for taylor, consumed by their own thoughts.

“taylor”. that’s what you called them. but wait, no, he was ivan.

that’s right, he’s disguised as your past lover wasn’t he? so yes, he was called taylor. that was the right name to call him by.

but he wondered how his name would sound with your enchanting voice. my name is ivan. he needs to tell you the truth. please say it?

oh god he needed to tell you the truth didn’t he?

he wanted to pretend that the person you were spending so much time with and pouring your heart to was him. he wished the skin you kissed were his, the hair you’d run your fingers through were his, the person you derived so much comfort from was him, the name coming from your lips were his.

but that wasn’t the case, was it? this wasn’t him. the skin you kissed wasn't his. the hair you played with wasn't his. the person that always made you happier wasn’t him. the name you called adoringly wasn’t his. the hand yours fitted so perfectly in wasn’t his, it was taylor’s. none of this was ever his. they were all taylor’s. this was taylor’s body. this wasn’t his body.

this wasn’t his body. this wasn’t his body. it made him so viscerally aware of the fact that none of this is real. it made the shapeshifter’s skin crawl. that’s right, none of this is real. he’s not meant to be with you. it’s all a lie. he wasn’t the one who you’d choose to share these intimate moments with. he wasn’t the one you were so eager to see. he wasn’t the one you had feelings for. was your closeness always this restrictive? his breath quickened. the impostor wanted to tear his skin off. he can’t breathe. he stopped himself from gasping for air, not wanting to out himself to you. his mind raced. he didn’t want to be here. he wanted to be here, but he needed to be elsewhere. he can’t stay here. he needed to go. his pulse ran wild.

he can’t breathe.

he can’t breathe.

« taylor? »

he snapped out from whatever trance he was in and his eyes slid over to where you were. noticing the tension that had gathered in his arm, he quickly let go of your hands—unhanding you as if he were holding an intense heat which seared his hand, which was what your prolonged contact started feeling like. your touch had set his skin on fire, making it painful. he must’ve started gripping at them tighter than he meant, than what would’ve been comfortable, because you instinctively massaged your wrist as soon as he let go.

« y-yeah… i’m so sorry, i’m r-really sor— he stammered, still trying to get his breathing, and voice, under control. – you look tired. you lifted yourself off of him and he didn’t protest against the separation, letting his arm flop uselessly. i think you should get some rest… your voice was tinged with worry. »

moving much too fast and much too slow for his liking, than what was considered normal, ivan stood up.

« u-uh, yeah… i think i’ll do just that… see you tomorrow... »

his voice didn’t sound confident. you didn’t seem to buy his promise. but too drained to rectify whatever had happened, the blond found his way out of the room.

what had happened to the peace that followed spending time with you? inhale and exhale, in and out. he needs to tell you the truth, and soon. everything will be ok, everything will be ok, everything will be ok. he can’t keep going like this, and it’s not fair for you either.

ivan stops in his tracks. his reflection on the glass pane beside him seemed to mock him. he frowns. he hates the person he sees in the mirror.

a/n: feel free to decide for yourself who that person in the mirror is lmao

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[buzzworddotie]

A little (not quite) Anxiety Ramble

Do something! Do SOMETHING! Don’t stop doing something!

Welcome to 2020.

It won’t stop, my brain will not shut off. We’ve been in lockdown for… to be honest off the top of my head I can’t even get dates right but I’ve been in isolation mode, working from home for about 4 weeks now maybe?

On week 2, I became more lethargic than I ever have in my life, I withdrew from any contact with other people, my brain was in a fog, I couldn’t focus. My muscles were tired and refusing to function and my energy was entirely zapped.

I managed to pull myself out of that by attempting to not guilt myself for eating that bowl of carb loaded cereal or allowing myself to rationalise that it’s OK to just watch a movie.

But here I find myself in that cloudy little place again. My anxiety is in such a way that my brain refuses to shut down and my motivation is becoming a precious commodity that I’m unsure of how exactly to keep it in a steady flow.

When the anxiety kicks in like this for me, I stress and worry about every and any thing. Things entirely out of my control, other people, how I am perceived, why I am not now or have ever been good enough for anything or anyone. 

My rational brain packs its bags and heads for the door as I stare in the mirror and hate everything I see looking back. My doubts, my insecurities, my shame - every dark little voice that can be mustered up gets louder and louder.

And so I overthink every action I make, I try too hard to impress a version of myself on people. I try too hard to force anyone who might give a shit that I am in fact OK! And you know there’s nothing saner than someone screaming “I’M OK!!” directly into another person's face manically.

Sleeping is the worst, or in my case not sleeping. It doesn’t matter how tired I may or may not be, I can be assured that as soon as I lay my head down that anxiety demon comes alive.

I cannot remember the last time I slept for a solid 7 - 8 hours. I can recall what it feels like to be at complete odds and ends at 4am because it’s happening every goddamn night!

Is this a symptom of what is happening in the world right now or is it just an exemplification of how screwed up I might actually be? These are the beautiful thoughts which haunt my brain in between scrolling through Twitter or Reddit, telling myself to not scroll through Twitter or Reddit and then, you know, casually reminding myself that I will never be good enough for whatever the fuck I think I should be good enough for!

I’ve always been a bit of an introverted extrovert, or am I an extroverted introvert? I’m not sure, the point is I’ve never had a problem being a bit “isolated”. I’m quite happy in my own company and just pondering about, in my own little world doing whatever silly things I decide to do with myself. However, that world of mine was always interrupted with everyday interactions - people I work with, the ability to visit someone and general activities which we just take for granted.

I’m starting to even question if I am as introverted as I liked to think I was at all! I told myself that being locked down wasn’t a big deal for me, not a massive shift in my life. I’m single, I live alone… Just a real wholesome and healthy picture there! “I’m OK!!!”

First World Problems.

One thing about me I’ve known since childhood is that I love my independence. I was told by my parents growing up I was the most independent of all my siblings. There is a sense of freedom that comes with independence and I think losing that is throwing me for a bit of a loop.

The freedom and independence to just make a decision to do something in the moment and being able to just do it. Even the smallest, stupidest of things like going for a browse in a shop. Such a boring and mundane activity but an activity that clearly ticked some kind of box for my mind.

Of course, I am wary of banging on about this word “freedom” but allow me to state, I do not mean freedom with the gusto of some hardcore, right wing, gun toting Murican (Or the Irish lady, she whom shall not be named… We all know).

No, I’m not trying to suggest my first world concept of freedom is being threatened on some conspiracy level, I accept the merit in the fact that for a period of time we have to do what’s best for the greater good. But jaysus, it’s not easy at times is it?

Without the fundamental freedoms which I take for granted as everyday life it’s as if my brain is being withheld vital nutrients for it to operate full steam ahead. Don’t get me wrong, this anxiety trip isn’t a new phenomenon for me, I know the bitch well, but I had such a great grip on things and I think the hardest part for a minute there was trying to figure out how I was allowing it all to spiral so ferociously when I know I have the tools to not do that.

It also bothers me because I am, by nature, incredibly laid back and positive. I flip between Energizer Bunny, Everything is Awesome and easily passing for a hippie stoner on my good days. So seeing myself behave erratically at times now makes me not recognise or like the person I am having to live with during this lockdown! Her neediness and desire to please is very, very off putting to me.

But maybe I just need to let her be a little bit, maybe I just need to let her know that it is fine. It is fine if a momentary lapse in the mind causes a mini freak out which embodies itself as wanting to just shut down, it is fine if she does just go a bit OTT at times with people to overly compensate for how weak and low she is feeling. It’s fine.

It is fine. Once you recognise that that’s all it is, it does not lessen your worth to behave in a way you might later regret and it does not lessen your value if you allow your insecurities or vulnerabilities to sneak through every now and then. You just have to hope that whoever is lucky enough to get the brunt of your vulnerability can appreciate the value in getting a taste of it at all. Because that right there, that vulnerability, that is a precious thing which is not afforded to many, if any at all. 

It is the most beautiful aspect of humanity, to be vulnerable. And it is really fucking hard to let go of. Vulnerability takes an incredible amount of strength, it’s a feather that keeps on floating through regardless of how much dirt and debris gets attached to weigh it down. It is delicate and strong all at the same time. 

And for me, it is terrifying to let that wall down. It feels frightening to think for a moment I let someone see weakness or gave a hint that I, with all my positivity and strength and being there for other people, could have a moment of weakness. It cracks the veneer of who I want to pretend I am.

Meet my friend, Anxiety.

Anxiety has been an under current which has existed within me since my childhood but something I only recognised as I began to get older and, yes, get help. Speaking to a professional allowed me the opportunity to begin to understand myself and learn about myself, gain self awareness.

Where I am now compared to where I was back then are completely opposed. At its worst, I was consumed by my anxiety and all the other little niggly things which tortured my brain. It all manifested in self-hate usually, maybe hate is a strong word but certainly a really strong dislike of myself! I would allow that to spin in circles in my mind until I was lost in it and trying to fix a million and one things about myself and others which really, was all very surface or non-existent.

The difference today is that I can, at last, recognise it. I can see the signs, at times I am deep within them and it takes a step back to shake it off and see it but at least I can find it within myself to rationalise and take that step back.

It doesn’t make it easy, there is nothing easy about managing mental health in the same sense there is nothing easy about managing physical health. If I want that toned stomach I will have to feel the burn and it has to work the same for mental health too!

Jesus, it is not easy at times. I will always remember an episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race in which the contestant Katya suffered severely from debilitating anxiety. During a walk through Ru asked the Queen if she was, in fact, addicted to the anxiety. This registered with Katya and as time has gone by and that interaction replays in my own mind, I realise it often registers for me too.

When it is all you know, you can easily become all consumed by the anxiety, the worry, the stress and you can get sucked right down into it. And you can find a level of comfort within that discomfort, it’s recognisable and it can feel easier to submit yourself to it than seek out the light and pull yourself back from it.

When I break it down I can see the various triggers for my anxiety:

Opening up and being vulnerable = Opening myself up for rejection.

Feeling like I cannot help = Opening myself up for failure.

Failure, rejection = Not good enough. 

Attempting to improve and increase my self worth is really something that I never understood was such an issue for me, mostly because the concept of “self worth” was never something that even showed up on my radar. But guess what? It’s a thing! 

Self love is not about having an over inflated and delirious ego, it is about recognising that you do have worth as a human being. Recognise yourself as a human being.

Oh god, she’s going to talk about her childhood...

So, why is it that I may not have always recognised myself as a human being, worthy of care and love? Well, I will refrain from the details that will cause my very being to quiver but I was raised in a home in which I received a lot of love, but it was unstable. Arguments, raised voices, depression and a lack of seeing love between my parents. A tumultuous family backstory which, while I was not in existence for much of it, carried a heavy cloud over all proceedings. I was in existence for difficult times with siblings and parents who butted heads constantly. 

I was a witness, I was shielded from being on the receiving end for the most part but I still stayed awake at night waiting for things to take a turn for the worse. I jumped at nothing and everything, like a scared little mouse. I was reserved and private with friends, I held the problems into myself and did not expose anyone to it. 

As well as this, I faced a level of mental, physical and, like so many other girls and women out there, sexual abuse. I won’t delve into all the details but it seems like some sick, twisted joke that once you are forced to be subjected to this as a child, you do not recognise the issue with it which leaves you vulnerable for it again as you mature into an adult and set off on your own.

This is because your self worth has been destroyed. So when you see ladies coming to the fore as part of #MeToo or another movement, or no movement at all, don’t be so quick to judge. These ladies have likely held their tongue because their self worth has been so low that until they became exposed to others discussing it they didn’t even realise what had happened to them.

I won’t dwell too long on that, I could spend a long time dissecting it but it isn’t for now.

I will note, neither of my parents were responsible for that abuse. However, what my beautiful, kind and lovely parents were responsible for was me and as much as it absolutely kills me to have to admit, there were failings. Aside from generally being exposed to an unhappy home, as a child I was used to bridge the gap. Something which ran into my adulthood.

If my father was angry, upset or, as I now reflect and realise, in a spiral of depression it was my responsibility to pick him out of it. From a young age, I was the fixer - a tool to try to make things better. 

Until I actually discussed this with a professional I never saw the problem here, everything was normalised to me, but apparently not great! It’s a lot of pressure to put on a child!

Add into that a complex / chip on my shoulder of never being as good as an older sibling, whom I perceived as the ‘golden child’, feeling like I had to keep things hurting me hidden for fear of disrupting an already disruptive home for which I felt responsible for keeping the peace or holding together and well, you get yourself a nice little stew that is a recipe for absolute fucked up adulthood!

Honest Reflection.

How could I ever expect to grow into a well developed individual? The balance of genuine love I did receive from my parents is what I believe kept me from falling down an even more desperate track, a track which I pondered along on many occasions. A dark road with flickering lights where the allure of escape was often far too real.

However, my internal commentary of having to be responsible for others actually kept me from ending it on many occasions as I could not release the feeling of not wanting to let anyone down.

Jesus, unpack this shit and it’s an absolute shit show! But I don’t claim to be special or unique, the sad reality is how many people went through a similar journey or worse and are now in their early to mid adulthood and attempting to get to grips with it all. And that’s only if they managed to find the tools and resources to recognise it in the first place.

Recognise that 1. You are not mental and 2. You are not a terrible human being. 

I can’t speak to anyone else but clearly I have lacked the tools to manage or cope with my emotions. Anything outside of my control freaks me out and I lose the absolute run of myself! I panic, I seek out approval and validation and often in unhealthy ways. I have had eating disorders which I have been in denial about, I have drank too much, gone off the rails and slept with far too many people! 

What now? What triggered my writing, which has evidently turned into an unintentional essay about myself (fair play if you’ve made it this far, you’re a better person than me).

I recognised irrational behaviour and a deep dip in my mood as well as an increase of self critical behaviours. That was when I began writing, this is now the future, or present, or wait, is this inception? I’ve incepted myself, just know as you read now a couple of days have passed.

And it took those couple of days for the lightbulb to click on but better late than never! 

Let there be Light!

I began writing this aimlessly as a means to just put my thoughts down and that was a step in the direction of realising I had to do something. I am now slowly picking myself back up from it all.

First step, I went to the chemist and I just asked what can you give me for anxiety, I am not sleeping, I have not had a proper night sleep in close to two weeks or more - I asked for…… Help!

Gulp, scary, try it sometime.

The Pharmacist gave me a product called “Avena Sativa” (check it out). I added 20-30 drops to a little bit of water and it immediately relaxed and eased my mind. I took more before bed and baby, when I say I slept! Pure, deep, joyful sleep - all the z’s.

But wait, there’s more! Thinking I might as well hit this from all angles, I also grabbed some Vitamin D supplements and began retaking my B-12. I don’t know if one or all of these things did the trick but I can certainly feel the easing effects.

So that’s the taking stuff, but that isn’t all I did - Oh no, that would be too short for me!

I knew I really needed to hit this hard if I wanted to pull myself out of the hole I could eventually be down deep within. I’m a fan of meditation, I get that some skeptical people might huff it off as new age hippie nonsense or whatever, but it can work. Youtube has a host of wonderful meditation videos and for me, switching off from the world and onto one of those helps me massively. 

Additionally, I stopped hanging out of my phone, for the best part at least. I have a bit of anxiety with my phone (of course I do). I went through a period of time where my phone was a bearer of bad news, any phone call could have been bad news and eventually, it was. I realised I find it hard to let go of that, the idea that if I do not have my phone on me and with sound on 24/7 I risk not getting an important piece of news, I risk letting someone down or not being there as I should be.

Should = dangerous word. Don’t let ‘should’ govern your life or mind. Every ‘should’ is an expectation and additional level of stress you are putting on yourself. Best advice I received was to replace ‘I should’ with ‘I want to’ and see what the end result becomes.

Let’s wrap this up.

All in all, this is a time that can lead those susceptible to anxiety, and even those who are not typically, to find themselves in the mental trenches. It’s imperative to look at yourself from the outside and attempt to recognise what might be the deep rooted cause of what is effing you up. Do you really hate your body right now or is your self worth a bit low because of some other reason that deserves to be addressed?

Maybe consider going a bit easy on yourself? Don’t beat yourself up over that response or message that you regret. Don’t assume you can control others, just be yourself. Speak your truth at any given time and allow yourself that beautiful release of scary, scary vulnerability. 

Don’t run from it or beat yourself up over every and any little interaction or negative thought, give yourself a break and pull yourself out of the addiction of dark thoughts. Seek out help, ask for help - even if you are just asking yourself. Make healthy choices that will have a knock on effect of making you feel good about yourself or happy in your decision.

It is far from easy, but again, nothing worth having in this life is ever easy. But then the end result, when you push through and put in that effort - it is so, so very worth it to be able to have that moment of that day when you actually don’t doubt yourself or hate yourself.

I will keep motoring along with my own work and efforts and I ask that you do the same, if you find yourself in that dark place. Push through and don’t give up on yourself, you’re all you’ve got and that’s a pretty amazing thing to have.

[imgeorgeirl]

How to deal with personal failure

Sometimes you might try as hard as you can and put so much effort into something and you get the results back and they just aren’t what you want. Failure can be under 50% or it could be a personal failure, when you just dont get the result you were hoping for. Recently i experienced my worst personal failure to date and I had to find ways to deal with that. I have a few tips on how to deal with a personal failure:

1. Let yourself cry

I know that crying isn’t fun; your eyes get sore, your nose runs and if you’re around other people it just makes you look like a mess. However, sometimes when you have all this emotion built up you just have to let it out. Having a big cry will make you feel better trust me! Remember to drink water or something after you’re finished because crying can be very dehydrating. Also, if your eyes get too sore put some eyedrops in them to help rehydrate them. Try not to continue to strain your eyes by getting too much screen time because that can also dry out your eyes and make you feel worse.

2. Have a break

Sometimes, a personal failure can feel like a failure because you’ve built up so much stress and anxiety that can cause you to make a mountain out of a molehill. The mountain of a failure might just be a little molehill. So, after you’ve had a cry (if you need to, no pressure!) don’t immediately jump back into studying or work, just take a breather. You don’t want to straight away built up all the stress again because that will just turn into a horrible cycle. So just sit down, watch a movie, eat an ice-cream, whatever makes you feel relaxed.

3. Dont be afraid to ask for help!

I know more than enough about being to afraid to ask for help, and having so much anxiety that it feels like you cant talk to anyone about your problems. I kept everything inside me for weeks until I finally told my mum how I was feeling but when I did finally tell someone, opening up made everything feel so much easier and smaller. talking about your issues really helps to rationalise them and to find ways to deal with them.

4. If you can’t ask for help, be your own help.

sometimes its too hard to ask for help, or you let your anxiety get the better of you, but thats okay! Don’t be too harsh on yourself about that, it will only worsen the problem. In this case, be your own help. The same way talking about your issues allows you to manifest internalised thoughts and emotions that would have otherwise been left alone into reality in order to work through them, writing things down in a journal or even typing it into your phone works the same way (look up journal therapy). Speaking from an emotional point of view, journaling helps to clear the mind emotionally and mentally, because everything is out on paper so to speak.

5. Try again...when you’re ready

In my case, I wasn’t ready to move out, and I felt like I had failed, but talking through my issues and crying it out made me realise that I hadn’t failed, and that I just simply wasn’t ready. I am in no rush to try again but maybe in another years time i might try again to see if I’ve gained the mental maturity to move out. If I then decide I’m still not ready, so what? Im not ready, ill try again when I am. If you fail, then try again, but don’t feel pressured to try again immediately (unless the task is time sensitive then definitely dont leave it too long). Say you have an essay due in a week that you keep trying to write and you just seem to keep failing at it, take a break and then try again in a few hours, or a few minutes or however long you need in order to regain your strength.

And Finally...just remember that you can get through this! No matter what situation you’re in, remember that It will pass, and you will be a better person for it! Stay strong and persevere!

[mystarsignisno]

Song analysis - Karma (AJR) and Scott

For @londonflowerboy, who brought this to my attention Hope you enjoy a nice dose of Angst (TM)

--- I’ve been so good I’ve been helpful and friendly I’ve been so good Why am I feeling empty? I’ve been so good I’ve been so good this year - Scott has been actively trying to be a better person for some time, but often you can't see the effect it has when you're the one enacting the change: that is, that Scott objectively has been a better person, but it doesn't make him feel fulfilled. I’ve been so good But it’s still getting harder I’ve been so good Where the hell is the karma? I’ve been so good I’ve been so good this year - this lack of fulfillment has been wearing away at his motivation, and now he's struggling. He's looking for things to indicate improvement and to motivate himself, but isn't finding anything. Why Are you asking me why? My days and nights are filled with disappointment - Compared to the glory days of the LNER, current life must be a bit of a let down. I suppose preservation was very much viewed through rose tinted glass, made out to be better than one could expect. Fine Oh, no everything’s fine I’m not sure why I booked today’s appointment - However, Scott is lucky in that he's been preserved, and in working order. Therefore a lot of engines would say that Scott's life is, in fact, perfectly fine and he has nothing to complain about. Scott is possibly internalizing this attitude. I’ve been so good I’ve been helpful and friendly I’ve been so good Why am I feeling empty? I’ve been so good I’ve been so good this year And I’ve been so good But it’s still getting harder I’ve been so good Where the hell is the karma? I’ve been so good I’ve been so good this year - See above, but all these questions Scott keeps asking himself don't seem to have satisfactory answers. If you keep coming up with one answer, surely it must be the right one...? What Am I normal or not? Am I crazier than other patients? - Perhaps a little dig at his celebrity status, that Scott hasn't been normal for a long time and never will be truly 'normal' ever again Right I’ve done everything right So where’s the karma doc I’ve lost my patience - He doesn't see any sort of positive return on his efforts to be a better person and he's running out of motivation and energy: if there's not going to be any real change, why bother striving to be more? ‘Cause I’ve been so good I’ve been working my ass off I’ve been so good Still I’m lonely and stressed out I’ve been so good I’ve been so good this year - Scott has been trying to 'pull his weight', taking excursion trains and generally trying to do his best for the museum. However, he's still one of only 2 A1/a3s (assuming Gordon does not absolutely insist on his A0 classification), and is still quite lonely. And I’ve been so good But it’s still getting harder I’ve been so good Where the hell is the karma? I’ve been so good I’ve been so good this year - With no visible benefit and flagging motivation, Scott's about to give up. Why try if does no good? (Ah ah ah ah) (x6) I’ve been so good this year (x2) Time I know we’re out of time But what if sad thoughts come and I can’t stop it? - Struggling with one's own thoughts is a common experience, but for someone like Scott who assumably spends extended periods without support (this is laid out a bit like a therapy session and getting a Gresley to therapy is like getting James to skip out on a new coat of paint), he's worrying about his ability to cope Bye I don’t wanna say bye If only I could keep you in my pocket - Feelings of fear at the thought of leaving one of the (probably only) parts of his support network willing to sit and listen to him To give me Some diagnosis of why I’m so hollow Please give me instructions I promise I’ll follow - Scott is absolutely desperate and seeking ways to feel better (even if it means following instructions, which he rarely would do normally) I tripped on my ankle and fractured my elbow But doesn’t that mean that the tour’s gonna sell, though? - Self deprecation. Like a great number of comedians, Scott tries to offset his pain by highlighting any positive he can find: even if it's correlation not causation I try to explain the good faith that’s been wasted But after an hour it sounds like complaining - Scott hates trying to explain how he feels because it ends up feeling so selfish that he can't rationalise it to himself, even if it's unhealthy to bottle up his feelings Wait, don’t go away, can I lie here forever? You say that I’m better, why don’t I feel better? - Even if people tell him he's doing better, he'd have trouble believing anything he can't see. He would much rather stay somewhere he can read the people around him easier and be absolutely sure he isn't messing up The universe works in mysterious ways But I’m starting to think it ain’t working for me Doctor, should I be good, should I be good this year? - More questioning. What Scott really needs is some direction, a reason to do things so that he can just follow a plan set out for him. To be on track, so to speak.

[calleo-bricriu]

“Try to use their nostalgia and insecurity over their broken dreams to get them on your side.” (From your favorite Goblin, Aldig. Hope you don't mind me requesting that)

(( Hyperbole and a Half Sentence Starters Always accepting. ))

"What?" Calleo's response more a laugh that a word, partially because he was trying, at the same time, to not choke on his coffee.

"You know what that'd entail right? I'd have to start swanning about--and being about as aggressive as one of those feathered bastards at that--knowing my luck I'd just trip over whatever ridiculous, flashy clothing they'd be expecting and end up flat on my face."

Aldig's nod was a thoughtful one, "That's one hell of an amazing mental image but I think we both know you do it on purpose." The Goblin reached over to poke Calleo with a sharp nail, "Makes you seem eccentrically harmless when you're clumsy and socially awkward."

Calleo blinked owlishly, staring for a moment, "It--isn't purposely the majority of the time, it's the times that I'm perfectly put together and look as though I have even the slightest idea of what's going on around me that require effort. I'm still aware of what's going on around me, I just largely don't care and file it away for those times it'll be useful as blackmail or calling in a favour."

"I'm not exactly agile outside of a duel either; never have been, half the charms around me are to keep me from walking straight into a wall because I'm often focused on dozens of other things at the same time."

The look Calleo received told him that Aldig simply didn't buy a word of it.

"Aldig, how often do you see me outside of a work related context?"

The Goblin canted his head slightly.

"It's a serious question but if you don't need exact numbers, it's 'not often' isn't it?"

"Doesn't matter, I know how you work and that's how you work," Aldig shrugged. "Harmless, engaging, friendly, stuck in some sort of fashion time warp, you're telling me that's not the act and the bits that have you pulled together and ruthlessly cutthroat even by my standards are what takes effort?"

Calleo shrugged in return, "It takes a lot of energy to be horrible even to horrible people and what you're suggesting in this case is I start acting like the horrible thing they used to work for. I don't know that that'll work, they know where that leads."

Calleo leaned back, resting his head on the sofa cushions and looking upside down at Aldig. It never did any good to sit on most of the furniture at Aldig's house, he had never had the inclination to have furniture that was even remotely sized for humans and Calleo found it easier to simply sit on the floor instead of trying to fold himself to awkwardly fit on things not meant for someone his size.

"Exploiting their insecurity and broken dreams, as you so colourfully put it, would work; however. Not in the sense of, 'Okay let's try this again' of course, far too much work and it wouldn't work unless it somehow got sandwiched in with that whole EEC nonsense they've got going at the moment, and you know people would fight that tooth and nail because how on Earth could Muggles have a better idea of a relatively unified Europe than the people who think mass murders will start if someone sees you use Accio in front of them."

"How many pins does it take to hold that all up?" Aldig often changed the topic when the topic skirted too closely to things he preferred not to think or speak about. He move to inspect Calleo's hair more closely. "And why do you still put it up like that? Not even old ladies do it anymore, it's been out of style since the 1920s. You're one complicated dress and a too tight corset away from a Gibson Girl at any given moment."

"Around three or four dozen depending on how loose I want it, plus the wands in the back. Magic is unpredictable, it's too long when it's down, and removing everything on it so I could cut it, then putting all those rituals back on it is more work than pinning it up like that." Calleo sat up a bit, "What are you doing?"

"Counting the pins." In the few seconds it had taken Calleo to get to asking Aldig hat he was doing, the Goblin had already removed all three wands, which were now sitting on the sofa, and had a good dozen pins out, holding a few of them in his mouth and setting the rest in a pile.

"You'd best put those back when you're done counting, Aldig." Calleo laughed quietly, and did not shake his head for a change; that would have made a mess of things, and likely resulted in pins being buried somewhere in his hair that he'd only find when he next went to wash it. "I'd imagine I'll have to take the route of, 'Hey, remember how you lot completely fucked everyone over about fifty years ago? And how you all owe me several dozen favours for what I had to put up while you all had a great deal of fun with the fact that I was a prisoner and you were allowed to treat me as such? You can rationalise me calling in every one of those favours as wanting to do some make-up work as reparations for what you've done if the former is too much of an ego blow.'"

"That'll probably work, and where it doesn't work--"

"Blackmail." The word was slightly muffled by the amount of hairpins in the Goblin's mouth. Aldig, as usual, didn't cut Calleo off so much as he finished the thought.

"That's such an ugly word, Aldig. I prefer to think of it as my having access to evidence that was conveniently hidden away at their original trials that kept the majority of them from execution or long prison sentences. It'd be such a shame if those documents found their way back to the correct authorities, after all."

"Mm." At some point, the conversation must have drifted beyond what Aldig felt like speaking on. It wasn't an uncommon occurance when the topic of any sort of war or having to deal with what amounted to old war criminals who had managed to escape the amount of justice they'd deserved. That point became more evident when he dangled a fistful of hair down in front of Calleo's face, "These had silver bits in them the last time I saw them."

"Vanity." Calleo shrugged. "I'm allowed to have at least one or two harmless vices. Besides," he moved Aldig's hand (and his own hair) out of his face, "where did you ever get the impression that I intended to grow up or age gracefully. I like it that bright orange-red and what nature decides I'm not allowed anymore, charms and occasionally chemical dyes can counter."

"Probably just as well. You'd look enitrely mad if it were all silver or white as opposed to your usual maybe thirty-six percent mad," Aldig stopped talking after that statement. After he'd fished out all of the pins he could find from Calleo's hair he started the process of putting it either back the way it was or into something entirely different. Calleo wasn't exactly certain as he couldn't see behind him and Aldig didn't seem to be interested in further conversation (apart from telling Calleo to stop moving if he tried to turn around and say something).

[ranjxtul]

Hard Feelings

So here I am, finally back with a sequel to The Necromancer’s Doctor (still indulging my favourite ship) but this time with 3k words of character study. As far as I’m aware no warnings apply. Ships of course are Anna Ripley/Delilah Briarwood

The castle’s hallways are hollow. Sounds seem to echo more than they did before and that hollow ache traverses not only the cavernous stone but the souls of those living within. Anna Ripley has watched Delilah Briarwood for two weeks. She has barely spoken a word in that time frame.

It has been two weeks since Sylas Briarwood’s demise. It has been two weeks since fate or perhaps some god to which Anna Ripley has seldom given more than a passing thought has intervened and irrevocably changed the paths of Delilah Briarwood and herself. In general, she has never considered the divine or any power above man’s ingenuity beyond a comfort at best or frivolous entertainment at worst. When she met the Briarwoods, their zealotry for the god which they only called ‘The Whispered One’ irritated her on her bad days, but otherwise she ignored it. Now, she finds herself wondering what will happen to that worship and to that devotion. She had deduced Sylas had been directly tied to it, and with his death what would this god do?

Anna almost laughs at herself as she considers it. She is actually considering a God’s influence. To what extent does she believe it though? And to what extent does believe it has and can touch her? To what extent has it touched the current situation? Or is the current situation one made purely of human desire and action? These uncertainties spin in the doctor’s head as she moves about her day.

Perhaps she is foolish for even considering a higher power. After all, it was her gun, her actions, Delilah’s magic, and their lust that brought them to that moment. That modicum of thought brings her to a new tangent: her own emotional state. Ever since she was a child, she has learnt to rationalise and put emotions secondary and of course Delilah is just the opposite. Her blunt, cold intelligence is what gave her the job she had for King Bertrand though, that wretched king. It has carried her so far, but Delilah Briarwood uprooted all of that.

The necromancer spun her own arcane traps over Anna and whispered sweet nothings in her ear. She undid her at the seams and made her vulnerable whilst Anna attempted to do the same. She searched and searched. The woman in her bed for so long was a puzzle to unravel until she was something more. But it is possible Delilah beat her unintentionally at her own game. She found and unlocked a very deep part of Anna Ripley which the woman has not faced in years.

She’s scared. And she hates herself for it. She isn’t supposed to be scared. She is always sure, but now she only finds herself sure when she is dissecting a vein or working with chemicals but around the woman who laid her bare in every way, she is unsure. She wants Delilah. She knows that much. She wants to feel more of the warm rush in her chest and she wants to have what she grew up believing she could never prioritise: love. Then again, she doesn’t know when any of this has changed, and some small voice laughs in the back of her head telling her to stick to anatomy and medicine; however, as she glances over at the dark haired woman lying listlessly in bed. She has no instinct to flee.

And she has no idea what scares her more: the fact that she wants to stay or the fact that she cares as much as she does for the pain in her darling’s eyes.

Delilah’s dark eyes stare glassily up at the ceiling. The embers of thoughts flicker and fight to stay alight as grief and all-consuming conflict take residence in her mind. Slowly, she processes what she can. Little by little she labours through the emotions and sickening feeling in the pit of her mostly empty stomach which accompanies them.

Sylas is dead. He is dead. The more she says it, aloud or in her head the less real it becomes. Soon it is meaningless. It is almost like the first time he died and she cried out to the Whispered One for help, it just doesn’t feel real. But this time, somewhere in the hollow numb feeling, she knows that it’s real.

On a certain level, she’s processed that fact and she’s okay with that. Love in life is not subject to eternal permanence, even as much as she’d like it to be (oh it’d be so much easier if it were). On a more surface level she is flickering between surging grief, guilt, and numbness. Grief for the man who consumed her life, loved her, and guided her. Guilt for still feeling the love for the cold doctor in her bed; after all, without the doctor, there wouldn’t be grief. They’re contingent concepts. It’s fitting, Delilah muses, for grief to follow a doctor; a doctor is a mortal herald of death. And from the grief and guilt sprouts the withering numbness.

She sinks gladly into the unfeeling abyss. In the first few days she cried her tears out and screamed her throat raw in grief. Then, in the succeeding days she cried more as the demons waged war in her head. Now she’s given in and she lets them fight. She lets them dig their rapiers in and lets the pain course through her body in rushes, and then she happily sinks back into the numbness. It’s easier to process it all that way.

She can’t go back. Her life-string has been woven in this way, perhaps by her own choice and heart but perhaps by divinity. Either way, she is on an unsure path. She Sylas and Anna fled the Empire with the intention of just that.

Taking over Whitestone had several purposes. One was to take advantage of its political isolation to continue to hide, and another was for the Whispered One. Delilah wonders now if it was all worth it. She doesn’t in that moment quite consider the bloodshed in its full glory but she considers: was it worth it? She grew up in Wildemount and trained in the Rexxentrum at the Soltryce Academy. Years later, the teachings still ring in the necromancer’s ears. Though, looking back even after all these years of attempting to remember she cannot remember everything properly. She does remember the extreme magics, the harsh measures, and the suppression of any trait teachers deemed ‘soft’ or ‘unsuitable.’ Perhaps why none of her actions seem outlandish.

Still, worth it or not, she is ‘leading’ a people alone, her partner is dead, and her lover is responsible. The absurdity of it all almost sparks a bit of laughter for intellect’s sake. The principal of absurdity is simple (at least in this particular context) and she mulls it over in her head: anything that is outside of a society’s perceived norms and values. She can almost laugh at how absurd her situation is. Her response is also absurd with respect to her desperate search to find a meaning in any of this or a reason. It is human nature to look for such an abstraction in these situations, but she has yet to find any and she doubts she’ll find any.

Even thinking of her God. Even praying to him. He does not answer, and so Delilah awaits his retribution and punishment. She’s known since Sylas’ death that he would have his justice. Sylas was his tie and his prize. She knows she could continue in their quest alone and hope for the best, but is it worth it?

That is the question she finds herself facing at all corners no matter how hard she attempts to avoid it. Suddenly, everything she envisioned at the Whispered One’s side seems distant and useless. Perhaps Anna’s cold logic had a point. Gods and man seldom stood side by side.

She knows she still believes in divinity, but she doesn’t know is if she is disillusioned.

Delilah has been disillusioned about many things in life. It’s bound to happen when one is so strongly rooted in the emotions that run red and blue through the system of veins in the human body working in conjunction with the rapidly firing delicate neurons. Her response to disillusionment is always the same. She falls and falls hard until she hits the ground with a hollow crack. The same hormone filled blood that pulsed in her veins spills onto the cold stone and she weeps. She berates herself for believing in the follies of what was promised. She’s naive by no means, but she’s not half-hearted.

The blood on the stone dries and then she rises and claws her way up, promising herself to be better. Promising herself she’s never going to fall down the same hole again. She learned her lesson with her schooling. She knows the academy is not a place for the faint of heart or the naive like she perhaps was as a child. She rose atop and conquered the academy, however. Deliah Brairwood was a professor at the academy.

When she married Sylas, she found herself caught in the happiness of love and marriage and peace, something she’d seldom experienced since she was a child. Then he’d gotten sick and her rose, love filled glasses shattered, but from the ashes she schemed her way out. She raised Sylas from dead.

Now, here in Whitestone, she had believed she is wise enough, but she seems to be wrong. Once again, she found herself caught up in her heart and the fallout crushed her wings and silenced her heart. She’s like a phoenix; a dark feathered, dangerous bird, and she’ll rise from the ashes but right now she can only lie in the rubble and reform.

     Delilah isn’t sure if she feels that way with her God. He has been silent. There have been no whispered dreams. No signs. Silence. Her ideals as dictated by the Whispered One stand, but on a hill of sand, falling grain by grain. If she becomes disillusioned with him, maybe the fall won’t be so hard. After all, she’s already bleeding onto the stone. What’s one more layer of rubble?

Delilah does realise that she has Anna Ripley by her side. She is not alone, and if she can just speak, perhaps the woman beside her can help her rise. At that thought though, a pillar of self-pitying guilt rises in her gut along with some bile. If only she hadn’t started to fall for the doctor.

If only it had been left at midnight kisses and being fucked into submission then in the morning returning to their working relationship. Delilah laments the simplicity of what it once was for Sylas was supposed to be her love, but gazing at the dark-haired pale woman beside her she cannot regret feeling for her. It is human nature to be this complex she supposes, but it becomes tiresome.

In some ways, Delilah admires Anna. She admires her rationality and her ability to block out the emotion of a situation. Anna can observe a situation for what it is easily; whereas Delilah has issues doing so. Of course there are a multitude of other traits which Delilah loves about the woman, but that is one trait she specifically admires.

She wonders if she had Anna’s perspective if perhaps the situation would be less arduous. She swallows the thought painfully as her own inner monologue chides her: she is stuck with herself. Little does she know though, Anna’s rationality is clouded.

They’ve not communicated enough, and it is not for a lack of trying. Anna is trying to understand where Delilah is in mourning, and she is trying to understand how the woman copes. From what she can ascertain observationally, it seems to be in short bursts of emotion and now she’s shut down. Delilah is following the model for the stages of grief it seems.

At least that’s what Anna’s medically trained brain says, but this newly awakened young, quiet voice in her head reminds her it’s more complicated. Humans aren’t psychological models in a book and of course Anna knows this but she’s never paid much attention to the fact. This voice however, is forcing her to do so. Delilah is more than her grief for Sylas.

After all, she recognises there wouldn’t be any need for grief had she and Delilah not begun an affair. She assumes there’s emotion behind that and most likely some sort of processing and dreadful anticipation with that God of hers. Though, that loathsome fear that lives in this new voice in Anna’s subconscious stops her from unpacking any assumptions. She doesn’t know anything, even when Delilah tells her what she feels, or in the past has told her, she truly doesn’t know. Feelings are a guessing game. She doesn’t want to wade through hints and clues and jump to any incorrect conclusions, nor does she want to be unable to solve a particular puzzle of emotion. She hates uncertainty and in this case, she doesn’t want to be hurt.

She’s spent her whole life letting any and all weapons (both figurative and literal) richot off of her titanium shell. It’s not an arduous task; in fact, Anna prefers this to letting things affect her. Focusing on what is important to her is more rewarding and much easier than focusing on what others have to say. In some light, she supposes it is a flaw. Her hubris did get the best of her. It is what set her on the path with the Briarwoods to Whitestone.

But, underneath layers of hubris and the very essence of Anna Ripley the voice now awakened and filled with fear of being hurt by the woman beside her. Is this what it is to love? Is this what it feels like to want someone on a level beyond flesh and stolen kisses?

She always told herself she’d be in love with her work. After all, the sinew and bones she loves working with were her first love, but now she has someone. She’s always been a practical woman and she’s never seen the practicality of having someone to love. They can hurt you, but now she wrestles with herself. Delilah Briarwood is something to her. She is more than just something.

Are the fear and the vulnerability and the uncertainty that now plague her being signs that she loves the mourning woman before her?

It is on the fourth day of the third week that Delilah drags herself out of her bed. Anna is about the castle, and a surprised Cassandra De Rolo watches with weary wide eyes as an exhausted (despite having slept for days) Delilah makes her way through the halls. Her footsteps echo. She notices and thinks that maybe the echo is more prominent than before.

She finds Anna in her lab below the castle. The only sounds that reach her ears as she slips through the door are the sound of a saw and metal against metal. Those sounds echo too. When she takes in the scene before her, a sigh of relief almost escapes her lips.

It is so familiar. Anna is sitting hunched over on one of her stools, hovered over a flayed open arm of a body. Delilah can’t tell if the subject is dead or alive, and frankly has no desire to know. “Anna.” She says in a voice that is her own but carries a false bravado.

The doctor’s head sharply whips up. Her face morphs from a thin line to a more neutral expression and she raises an eyebrow, “Oh, Delilah. You’re up.”

“Yes.” She considers belaboring the point or making small talk, asking about the affairs of the castle, but all of that seems pointless in the moment. “Are you doing anything important?”

Anna glances back over to the open arm, and back over at the necromancer in front of her. “No.” She stands abruptly. She can finish what she was doing later. After all, human flesh is all the same reddish brown no matter what. “Is there anything you need, darling?” she raises her brow further as she makes her way into the hall, Delilah following.

“I wanted to just talk to you.” The voice is soft and the words are words Anna has been dreading. Not because she doesn’t care for Delilah, but because most likely she’ll have to sort out emotional assumptions.

“Go ahead. I’m listening,” she says anyway with a nod.

“I- I’m sorry for grieving him,” Delilah says almost immediately the cadence of her voice becoming much more rushed.

“You’ve every right to do so.” Anna says with a small nod which she hopes is encouraging. Then she adds, “You loved him for so long, and did so much for him. You’re allowed to mourn his loss.” She observes the woman’s face for a reaction.

The one she receives is only a brief wince, “Yes, that is true; however, I don’t want to come off as…” she trails off, for once at a loss for words, “as insensitive toward what I feel for you Anna. Because that hasn’t changed, and I don’t believe it will. His death is just… quite a bit to process. You know it was never my plan for him to die. I hadn’t quite fully formed what exactly my plan was, but his death wasn’t part of it.”

This grief ridden Delilah is a shell of the woman Anna knew, and she doesn’t shy away from this for once in her life. She decides to stay in that moment, but she’s not a woman of words in situations like these. After all, she knows the flesh, it is her trade. So, she pulls Delilah down for a kiss, gentler than usual. She hopes to convey an apology for her lack of words and any semblance of understanding she can muster. Thankfully, Delilah reciprocates.

When the women pull away, Anna’s brown eyes meet Deliah’s green eyes with intent. “It is okay to mourn.”  

[lovenotesuggestions]

Hello! So I've got a problem with like, my thought process I guess you could say. I think it's because of my mom, but honestly I don't really know. I get paranoid really easily over the smallest to the most overly drastic and dramatic things. For example, my girlfriend likes to drink alcohol, and while my morals are against alcohol, I'd never stop her from drinking, and she likes to go with her best friend maybe 2-3 times a month (🍥 part 1)

And while I know that's not an amount that could do extreme damage to her body, I'm always terrified of something going wrong. And another example would be like, I could make a minor mistake, and I'll be terrified that I've angered or upset my girlfriend, and I would sometimes refuse to stop talking about a problem until it's resolved in fear that I would lose her before I can and the last thing we do together is argue (like in super dramatic movies) (🍥 part 2)

I know it's EXTREMELY toxic of me, and is very self-destructive. And I know it's a combination of my anxiety, insecurity, and paranoia. Heck, I don't even think it's my mom's fault. She used to tell me smaller things, like I needed to stop eating rice or else I could get diabetes (it runs in the family) but I think the small things like that built up, along with dramatic movies that always tugged at my emotions, that made me paranoid. (🍥 part 3)

Anyway, I kind of got off topic giving you some bg info. What I wanted to ask is, what advice would you recommend to stop or at least lessen such a terrible thought process? Therapy isn't an option for me, so I was hoping you'd have another possibility for me. I probably sound super crazy and unstable, but honestly this stuff doesn't affect me too often. It just fluctuates every now and then. But I'd appreciate the advice. Thank you listening to my craziness! (🍥 part 4/4)

Hello! I sent an ask a couple days ago that consisted of 4 parts, and a 🍥 emoji, and I didn't realize that it was claimed already! So I was wondering if I were able to claim 🍓💕? Thanks so much for what you do!

You don’t sound crazy or unstable, and you don’t sound like a toxic person - you sound like a person with symptoms of anxiety. And whilst it’s good to recognise when your behaviours might be harmful to yourself and to others, it’s not helpful to anyone for you to beat yourself up and be self-deprecating. You’re not crazy - you’re experiencing symptoms. I think that’s the first thing worth trying to do: be more aware of the language you use to describe yourself and try and adjust it to be a little more fair and a little kinder to yourself. If you wouldn’t talk about a close friend that way, try not to talk about yourself that way. 

I always recommend seeking medical help if you’re able to - I appreciate that therapy isn’t an option, but if you’re able to see your GP that might at least give you some support. For example, if your doctor has a record that you’ve been having these difficulties, it can be easier to get support in things like getting a sick note or extenuating circumstances or additional accommodations if you need something like that for school/work etc. You could also potentially access medication even if therapy isn’t an option. There are a bunch of effective anti-anxiety meds on the market that you might find helpful if you’re able to access them. For instance, I’m on beta blockers that I take as and when I need them if I’m feeling particularly anxious, and they can reduce the physical symptoms of anxiety (like trembling/fast heart rate/feeling nauseous, etc.) which can make anxiety spikes a little easier to cope with. If this or any other type of anxiety medication is of interest to you, and you have the means to visit your family doctor to talk to them about it, that’s another potential treatment option if you can’t access therapy. 

Another thing worth trying is to attempt to keep track of your triggers. There are a lot of really great mood tracking apps (I use Daylio personally) that you can use to identify how you’ve been feeling on a particular day, and what you did. Being mindful of what you’re doing and how it’s making you feel, and examining if you can identify a cause of your anxiety spikes can be really helpful in the long run, because it helps you identify behaviours that make your anxiety better or worse, and allows you to change the way you act and avoid any triggers you identify. Similarly, you can also identify coping mechanisms you’ve tried, and examine whether they’re healthy or unhealthy, and how effective they are. 

Also I know this is really cliché, but some super accessible things that a lot of people do to cope with anxiety are things like mindfulness, meditation, yoga, and breathing exercises. Stuff like full-body mind scans and progressive muscle relaxation are really easy to do, and there are dozens of apps and youtube videos and stuff out there that can guide you through exercises that you can use if you’re feeling particularly paranoid, and they can help to calm your physical symptoms and sort of reset your thought practice. Of course they don’t work for everyone, and they aren’t a cure, but they can be a really helpful coping mechanism.

If you’re not able to access therapy in person, there are still a lot of resources you can use. If cost is a factor, there are a lot of lower-cost online therapy options, as well as free support services like online counselling (i.e. 7cupsoftea) and anxiety helplines/hotlines that allow you to speak to an adviser over the phone or via instant messenger, which might be helpful if you find yourself particularly panicky and need someone to talk you down. 

As well as that, there are a lot of online resources to help you cope longer term. Mental health charity websites can often be a good place to start looking to research potential treatment options and coping mechanisms. A lot of CBT worksheets are available online for you to work through by yourself - even if you don’t have a therapist to go through them with, you can still do those exercises. If you google something like ‘CBT anxiety workbook’ or ‘CBT anxiety exercises’ you should come up with a ton of resources that you can flick through and see if you can identify any that you think might be helpful. Stuff like making a table to record details of your anxiety spikes can be really helpful (these usually involve details such as: when it happened, what was happening at the time, why you think it happened, how bad was your anxiety on a scale of 1 to 10, what actions did you take to try and calm those feelings, how effective were those actions, how bad was your anxiety on the same scale after taking those actions) in terms of identifying patterns in your behaviour, and what helps and what makes it worse. The physical act of writing everything down makes you more aware of and more likely to examine your own thought processes and behavioural patterns, and also allows you to identify patterns you may not have seen before. Another CBT exercise I’ve read about that can help with feelings of anxiety in the moment is a likelihood exercise - asking yourself what your anxiety/paranoia thinks will happen, estimating how many times you’ve thought that would happen, thinking about how many times it’s actually happened in reality, and comparing that, can help you rationalise those fears. 

Other similar techniques include:

Doing some sort of vigorous activity to clear the anxiety from your body - short periods of exercise, house/yard work like vacuuming, turning up some loud music and having a dance

Making a list of soothing activities (i.e. having a hot drink, taking a shower, washing your face, wrapping yourself up in a blanket, etc.) and picking one when you’re feeling shaky to help self-soothe

Trying to get some mental distance from your worries by finding something else to focus on to interrupt those spirals - try and make it something productive and/or enjoyable. Doing something productive, even if it’s really simple like gathering up dirty laundry, gives you a task to focus on and can help you feel like you’ve accomplished something. 

Setting aside daily ‘worry clearing time,’ in which you write down the things you’re worried about. If these worries arise outside of that time, try to tell yourself ‘I’ll worry about that later, but not now.’ 

In combination with the above, you can make an action plan of what you would do if any of your worries happen, so you feel more secure and prepared. 

Some people find it helpful when they’re identifying their worries because they can them see the ones that they have no control over, or that aren’t actually that big a deal, and decide to set them aside and prioritise other things. 

Try not to avoid your anxiety, or the things you don’t want to do because of it. Acknowledging it as something that you’re experiencing but that is separate from yourself - a external entity or force inside your head, can be helpful. When you start to feel anxious, some people actually address their anxiety and talk to it like it’s a person - this can help to separate it from your own personality and help you forgive yourself for being symptomatic. 

Research unhealthy coping mechanisms so you can identify them. Things like over-reassurance (asking for a bit of reassurance from a friend/family member/partner is fine, but if you’re doing it all the time or need to repeat themselves because you don’t believe them at first), stress eating, avoidance, and substance use are some common ones. 

I’ll slap a big caveat on this and point out that I’m not a therapist or a medical professional, so take all of this with a pinch of salt and make sure to do your own research - I’m just passing along things I’ve read/heard from others. 

I hope that’s helpful, and I wish you all the best in your road to recovery 💕

Followers: if anyone else has any tips for this anon or experience you’d like to share, feel free to do so!