#the amount of times i looked something up and saw myself staring back at me is…too many times

[thefoolishone666]

Kickin Chicken once said

@hiwelcometothemonstersancturary gave me the go to do this, which is mistake one for them, so here is my go at giving them what they encouraged while I pray it works well. And if not...well I at least tried.

* (Refering to Bobby) She is called Captain Heartbeat cause she will squeeze love out of your heart...and blood, but mostly love.

* (After speaking pr-bt for a 2 minutes) You ever forget your first language?

* Mods, take their swimming privileges away and put them in the pool.

* I would go evil, but I am going to follow dad's steps of being good...plus I saw they went shoe shopping so...

* What do you mean I can't seduce myself!?

* (Loud thud off Camera) PERCEPÇÃO DE PROFUNDIDADE!

* Our ship has a pool, an omelet bar, tons of rooms for you to sleep in, one would say that is a cruise, to which I say, fair, but have you seen the plank, cause I am about to get you real familiar with it.

* I heard some demons were touched starved. I got more than enough buckshot to help with that.

* Bubba, reading chat: "Kickin isn't the sharpest knife in the group," Well that is rude...

Kickin: I did eat packing peanuts when I was younger to be fair.

Everyone in room:

Kickin:...Wait is this new information for you?

Everyone: YES!?

* Wonder how many people come on to see me stream thinking "Oh hey, the voice actor for Kickin does streaming," or "Hey is this the official channel for the Smiling Critters show?" And they just come in on me saying something like, "I HAVE BUILT A TO SCALE JOLLY ROGER WITH POPSICLE STICKS!"

* Hey Theo, it's you! (Gets empty bottle thrown at head) Ow.

* White is the color of evil, cause nothing exists in it! Delight taught me that!

* I would cry, but I am too dehydrated to do such a thing. (Goes to drink some water, pauses, puts water bottle back down)

* It is always funny to see people react to my complete indifference to horrible stuff.

* I needed to find a way to get a gambling addiction, so I thought space could have the answer.

* (Seeing Bubba being affected by the blue screen) Bubba, I know you always wanted to become the one thing I love, but this is ridiculous!

* I am just saying revenge is amazing, ok? Yeah, you gain a tremendous amount of regret sometimes, but it is amazing.

* Cool motive bro, still murder!

* (In response to Angel giving them food) It hasn't been that long since I started streaming, it has only been...5 hours...

* This is my favorite bird. (Holds up middle finger before pointing to self) It is the chicken.

* (Wearing VR) The future is today!...I might need it adjusted though.

* Does dying take away time away from my vacation days?

* IT IS ALL A CONSPIRACY TO END ME! IF NO ONE EVER HEARS FROM ME AGAIN, IT IS CAUSE THEY KILLED ME, CHOPPED ME UP, AND FED ME TO THE WOLVES DANG IT!

* Fursuits are getting so good you can now subject yourself to your own form of trauma to fuse into it. Brought to you by Playtime.

* I have seen the internet and honestly, have seen worse. Which is saying alot.

* (Looks at Candy Cat in his lap before looking at camera)...Help. me.

* Theo: You finally did it! Did it help when you imagined it was me you were fighting?

Kickin: Not at all...worked when it was Dogday though.

Dogday: WHAT DID I DO?

Kickin: Hell if I know. As long as it works though.

* (Playing I Expect You to Die, dies trying to do an action pose)...(Starts singing the James Bond theme notes)

* (Reacting to "Unnecessary Feelings") Bubba, I was promised a crime drama, not a reminder that no one in this house knows how to feeling well, including us!

* I would boop you, but I don't want a pirate hook this early in my character development.

* William then preceded to commit several hours of joy, on at least an entire classroom of kids to learn why death does.

* You can have one hit Hoppy...Ah não, ela tem uma cadeira!

* Don't worry, I won't hurt you, I am just going to turn into a nuke to fall on you.

* (Stares at camera while winding music box)

* Chica, you wouldn't hurt your brother, would you? Or would you want me to be you and Foxy's kid, whichever makes you more merciful on me.

* I am here to break the stereotype that parrots can only be pirates and no other reasons at all.

* (Refering to how much money he has in game) $60!? I can finally afford 1 AAA video game! (Pulls up Balan Wonderworld steam page) I am going to buy this one guys!

* Kickin, coming into Crafty's stream: You mind if I borrow a picture.

Crafty: Uh sure...Why?

Kickin, taking one of the monsters: A reminder.

Crafty: A reminder of what?

Kickin: Of who in this family is an actual threat. (Leaves without elaboration)

* Don't make fun of me, I will cry will I beat you up.

* We don't even own a game cube, I just want to find a copy of Skies of Arcadia to display.

* When you get into a certain mindset for so long, it is so jarring to have to go into a different line of think, like you just suddenly ask, "Wait I don't have to ration this sandwich for the entire year?"

* WHY DID I LET THEO TALK ME INTO PLAYING THIS!?

* I am still surprised I recovered so well from all of that.

* What would the others do without me? Minus not having a heart attack everyday.

* I SURVIVED THAT FACTORY FOR OVER 10 YEARS, I WILL NOT LET A SLIDING PUZZLE DEFEAT ME!

* Have good night everyone! I don't remember how I end these...I will make you walk the plank! No, that is not it...

[voltstone]

ERICSON'S WALLFLOWER

or bpd as a twdg fandom essay, & violet's analysis

[Mar.26-29.2024 | 27,991]

Throughout my time spent within the TWDG fandom—since late 2019, early 2020—, Violet as not merely a love interest but a character exists as the fandom’s staunch polarization. And the funny thing?

I get it. A lot.

Much of what I’ve read into this character has been extrapolated from my own experiences, and those experiences speak to an inherent, polarizing chaos. It’s something that’s quite honestly a purgatory to try and articulate—I have tried—, and another bane to hope that people will get it. At least, enough to not just sweep my words under the rug. This essay is ultimately a trial to see if I’ve done enough work with myself, both emotionally and in writing, to be able to explain this to those none the wiser, or to the some who feel the same things, but have yet to hear it spoken with absolute clarity.

Through a fandom essay, no less. Specifically about a video game character who grows on people—Louis promises so.

Borderline Personality Disorder.

Nobody really likes to talk about it. Too many times in my life, I’ve had people sweep it under the rug because it is not a pretty thing, in times where I was pleading for help; often, in presence of the wrong crowd, it feels like a target nailed to my back.

It’s intrenched within stigma. And what’s difficult about that is…, yeah. I get why. There’s no mystery to it.

…yet there is so much people do not understand because not talking about it is so much easier, and the joke is, talk therapy is quite literally BPD’s primary treatment.

And so let’s talk about it. Allow me to pull away the confusion this disorder brings, and lay it out—as best I can—in a more digestible manner, through a deconstruction of Violet. I’ll have a little fun with it. However, if this essay reads in a more…straightforward tone compared to the couple others I’ve written now, it should. I’ve attempted to write this in a more lighthearted language before, but it didn’t really get the message across well, I would slip to this anyway, so. Yeah. I will still be conversational, just less so.

With that, however, this is another long essay. I hope you enjoy. :)

[Given the subject matter & the inclusion of my own experiences, take heed. This discussion is sensitive. W/ my experiences, I assure you I'm fine. I speak from a place where I’ve worked through my experiences.]

[Also, to stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale: I reference Louis and one of your essays about him, hence the @. But this thing's real long and about Violet, and stuff. Lol.]

[Briefly, but Exhaustively, to Clarify]

Before any discussion of BPD, then Violet’s deconstruction, a few things.

One. No, I’m not outright diagnosing Violet with BPD. She isn’t diagnosed in the game. I’ve not heard anything by Telltale or anyone associated remark BPD either. None of the schoolkids, for the matter, are diagnosed because it’s not that kind of story. The most we’re given is a narrative that explores their patterns in behavior, and then one…“diagnosis” with Willy. That being the, uh, chronic masturbation. (No, I did not think masturbation would be included in this discussion, but here we are. Thanks, you bug-eyed child.) Even then, however, that was likely a symptom of a larger issue with Willy.

Instead, I like this character. I see a lot of myself in this character, recognize the patterns she exhibits, and I’m hardly the first to associate Violet with BPD—since though she’s not diagnosed…, she is a little bit textbook. I’ve also seen a lot of the fandom misinterpret, preemptively judge, Violet for the things she does.

And I don’t mean the confusion and betrayal players feel should they save Louis over Violet. That reaction is normal. Yes, feel confused and betrayed. Because that’s the intention. What I take issue with, and part of why I’ve wanted to write this for a long while, is the…undertones beneath what is generally said. The opinions, too, that go along with it. All of which, ultimately, feed into the stigma that BPD is so intrenched within. The ignorance, and the refusal to understand both why and how.

So I do this through Violet because I adore TWDG, I’m in a TWDG mood, and, she is actually a phenomenal example to use for discussions around BPD. No, she’s not canonically diagnosed, but, it is better to explain a character by using a researched concept, just as much as it’s easier to explain said concept through a fictional example.

…and myself.

This essay will have a lot of commentary based around my experiences. A lot of this disorder’s stigmatization makes it difficult to find good information to understand what it does—specifically from the perspective of the borderline personality, not observers—, because…it’s just not the same as ADHD or depression, which have been big talking points within the recent years. I also have ADHD—runs in the family. That said, conversations in mental health has its fair share of stigma regardless, it’s just that BPD…does not help itself, largely due to the concepts I’ll be going over.

Also, I am very similar to Violet, down to how we dress, but also in personality. We’re not the same, but there’s enough where I feel like I can explain a lot of this character in relation to BPD. Because it’s a personality disorder. In similar personalities, the disorder will—more often than not—present itself the same way.

This does lead me to a third: as much as I’d like to say that this discussion will be the absolute, universal truth, the reality is no, this discussion will likely have blind-spots. It won’t be universal. For a myriad of reasons.

BPD is, again, a personality disorder. Its expression is entirely dependent on the personality, and the experiences established. So anyone who is not an indifferent/apathetic person, who is more extroverted and not the marginal recluse that I am, there will be aspects of this that won’t align. The rudimentary concepts may apply, but the expressions and emotional processings behind these concepts may not.

This also bleeds into the fact that BPD overlaps with many conditions, and traits of the disorder can be found elsewhere. Which, quite frankly, is fairly standard for most disorders, because it’s about the expression and amalgamation of the traits, not the traits themselves. So, as I discuss BPD, you’ll likely find yourself relating to certain points.

Do not take this to mean that you yourself have borderline.

Well, okay. You might. There’s nothing wrong with doing research, and to evaluate all of your resources. Keep in mind, however, there is a difference between one condition relating to another, and one BPD relating to a likewise diagnosis.

BPD overlaps with many conditions (like ADHD); it shares many traits in others.

The reasons for it includes how BPD is developed, where the development will be alongside other conditions—like, say, PTSD—, or other conditions may predispose the condition—ADHD—, or, or, both.

And then, some of this relatability is due to language. There are limitations in the words I choose, especially when this essay is intended for a wider audience. When I say, I go from 0 to 100, you may know precisely what I’m putting down, or, your 0 to 100 is my 0 to 10. And there will be that barrier in understanding because…we’re different people, with different experiences, living alongside different conditions.

Some of you reading will just never understand what it means to get whiplashed by your emotions at the drop of a dime, where you’re perfectly fine one minute, and then you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack the next because someone said something, and you don’t understand why it hurt you the way it did, but it did, and you’ve already lost your shit, but you don’t want to do anything, but you can’t trust that you won’t… All…with the guilt that it is happening again, and you should have known better, and it’s all your fault…

Yeah. It’s okay if you don’t understand what that’s like. And to be quite blunt, if you don’t, be grateful. BPD isn’t fun for anyone. There are slight blessings, but those are gravely overshadowed.

Given that I do expect a lot of people reading this won’t understand, this essay will be exhaustive. I don’t really want to cut corners, even though certain aspects of my experiences will be kept to myself, and not everything about this disorder can be related to a video game character.

I do want to give it its due. The drafts before fell into the trap of not articulating precisely what I wanted, with the transparency I needed.

…hence why it’s long, but with that, let’s start with understanding BPD at its core.

[BPD, in Experience, as an Introduction]

So. Borderline Personality Disorder.

Boiled down, it is purely the complete lack of, or, the severe impairment of emotional regulation.

That’s it.

That is literally all it is. And in understanding that, it explains (in part) how and why many of you may relate to certain aspects throughout this essay—emotions, and the (dys)regulation thereof, are integral to each and every one of us.

However, BPD is distinct, and I will comb through the how and why in this section. It is quite simplistic when boiled down, but this synopsis implicates everything about a person.

It is also. Not. Bipolar Disorder.

(Yeah, let me just kick this out of the way.) 

Bipolar Disorder is about the brain chemistry, and is defined by manic and depressive swings.

Borderline Personality Disorder is a disorder of the personality. It’s systemic to the person. Could someone with BPD also have bipolar? Well, yes, which doesn’t help in the confusion, but to be the least bit informative, those instances often imply a specific BPD type (comorbid).

[Further resources will be linked at the end, for the BPD types, relationship with bipolar, and additional elements to come. For the sake of the essay, I won’t delve into this in-depth.]

This nuance—comorbid-BPD and bipolar—illustrates how complicated of a conversation BPD is. Again, it’s why this essay will be exhaustive, but also selective in what it covers.

Including, but not limited to, this kind of nuance.

To embark what a severe impairment/lack of emotional regulation means, it’s important first to establish the working definition of what emotions are—the definition, at least, which this essay utilizes.

Emotions are the reactionary senses of the body. Where sight, smell, touch, taste and hearing are the immediate feedback from the environment to the body, the emotions are the immediate responses to the stimuli, to prompt our actions thereafter.

Our relationship to our emotions is a very complicated one, because…we physically feel our emotions, which can be conflated with the feedback from our environment. Comprehension is also required to understand what, exactly, these emotions are signaling to us, because an environment isn’t just physical. Social, cultural, and psychological environments are included. 

If you ever wonder what, exactly, a dog with the intelligence of a 3-year-old actually means, it’s their comprehension level of their emotions. These dogs are feeling the same emotions as a 3-year-old, and a 30-year-old. But there’s a catch: dogs don’t do the whole language acquisition thing like we do. Language acquisition being the learning process we undergo in our youth, because we are wired to speak and derive meaning through vocal, then visual, patterns.

I say this because a lot of emotions are, physically, perceived the same way, but we use language to distinguish one from another because contexts do matter. And they matter a lot.

Like, what’s the difference between lust and common excitement? They both feel similar, don’t they? But, lust is specific to a defined context.

And in this way, language absolutely contributes to the complexity of emotions.

But ultimately, emotions are just there to tell you what comforts you, and what doesn’t. It establishes what kind of environment you feel safe within, or at risk; the gradient within that establishes what you prefer, what you can tolerate. So the places you go to. The people you surround yourself with. Your interests. Activities. How you want to present yourself. Your morals, and ambitions. Identity and sense of self.

All of it is prompted by emotion, and your comprehension of that—ultimately through language—establishes how you respond.

How we actually navigate this is through regulation. Or rather, the process of self-comprehension, where an individual has to evaluate a situation, their internal reaction to such stimuli (both in thought and feelings), and the appropriate behavioral response. Dysregulation, then, is where that process is faulty.

So as we mature into adulthood, and our learned behaviors are set in stone (more or less; old dog, new trick or something), we’ve ideally learned how to comprehend these emotions, how to use language to articulate them and relay them to others, and find what is comfortable and what isn’t.

People get in the way of themselves, however.

For some fucking reason, we think we’re so fucking smart because we can talk, and we got thumbs, and we, like, stand on two feet. Or if we don’t got two fucking feet, we can build a wheely chair to sit our asses down.

And? We like to convince ourselves that we know better than our emotions, to the point where they’re disregarded. Of course, social contexts, understanding how your actions may impact others—those are all nuances which, yes, our emotions may not respect, but we do.

In regards to when people refuse to acknowledge emotions for what they are…

Piece of advice, from someone with BPD, emotions run like rivers. You do not decide what that river’s water is, how much there will be, and when it will flood. What you can decide is what canals to dig to retroactively contain that river, when to do that, and to establish how to treat the different flooding waters. You will drown if you think you can just ignore them.

Because the funny thing about water? If you fall high enough, land the wrong way, you might as well have hit stone.

In this way, emotions are devastating, and the mind and body has many mechanisms to deploy should an individual be constantly bombarded, and there is a need to prioritize our primary senses—touch, smell, sight… To prioritize a survival.

Take DID, for instance, where often it’s the mind “divorcing” itself into several identities in order to protect and shield the host from further trauma. There are many, many disorders like this where the brain deploys its failsafe, but that failsafe comes at a price.

BPD is, effectively, what happens when one of these mechanisms deploy, but the cost cripples an integral function to the human experience. It cripples the capability to dig those canals, redirect those rivers, and it can even imply a blindness to what kind of water is flooding.

…in many respects, this implies that BPD is, inherently, a disorder rooted in other conditions, just set to the absolute extreme. But when I say “absolute extreme” to someone who has never experienced emotional turmoil, the wrong impression may be impressed. Again, much of what I say may relate to your own experiences, and it’s why I have to take great care in articulating precisely what I mean because…it can be easily misinterpreted. Everybody has had moments where they are not in control of what they feel, and they do things. However, while the instances may look the same, the mechanisms, patterns and history behind them…are not.

Hence why BPD and bipolar are so often confused, because at the height of those disorders, it can very well look the same. I have had manic episodes that look identical to someone in a bipolar episode within one moment. But the differences are the mechanisms, patterns, and history. For these two disorders, it’s what’s actually going on in the brain, what stimuli we’re actually reacting to, and then timeframe. Mania in bipolar can last months; in me, I plummet into mania for minutes, or hours, or days—a week at most. And I can rocket right back out of it, back to an indifference, or into some other extreme.

And those mechanisms, and patterns, and histories are what make BPD, well, BPD. 

We now get to how BPD happens. And though there is some debate, BPD is a developmental disorder. It’s created.

Through a number of factors. Genetics (like a family history), accompanying conditions (such as ADHD, autism, due to the predisposition to emotional dysregulation), past experiences of trauma, and, the environment.

And that’s the footnote version. Because this disorder, while there are strong patterns observed across diagnosed individuals, again has its nuances. Going into what causes BPD will lead you down a steep rabbit hole—in part because it’s dependent on the person, history, and environment, and in part because…, well, there is stigma, and there’s a lot of unknowns. Borderline, as a name, is not telling of what the disorder is. There’s a long misogynistic history to the disorder’s criteria, despite the fact that there’s a lot of men out there that have stunted their emotions, will fly off the handle when their egos are slightly bruised, call themselves alphas, are vehemently loyal to that alpha identity…

Hm.

That’s a discussion for another day. Point being, I cannot indulge this essay into every kind of way a person can land themselves with the disorder. It’s never ending. I have other priorities to indulge. Such as:

What kind of abuse is commonly attributed to BPD?

The answer? For such a volatile personality?

Neglect.

Funny, isn’t it? How neglect—the absence of—is what often causes BPD, of all things. Most would likely scoff, because our world has groomed the idea that the other kinds are worse, and are what creates monsters. Because it doesn’t make good tv, does it? Like the times where I was sat in time-out for…some reason or another, on a bench beside a chalkboard. Upwards to 10 hours of the day—which is a long time at three years old. That doesn’t make for interesting scenes, does it?

No. And because it doesn’t, and stories like their spectacle, media relies on the other kinds. To the point now where it’s necessary for our idled attention spans.

To be clear, this isn’t to demote abuse types outside of neglect, nor is it to insinuate that they cannot coexist within one circumstance. The fact of the matter is, different traumas with different people in different environments will lead to different conditions. There is no worth in proving to each other which trauma is worse or better, because it’s entirely dependent on the people and environment(s) involved.

What I will demote is the common, ignorant insinuation that neglect doesn’t destroy a person.

It’s why it is ironic, how BPD—an explosive thing—is often born from neglect.

How it does such a thing is…complicated. Lucky for this essay, I’ve lived it.

Within the first handful of years in my life, there were many things like sitting on that stupid bench in my room, for hours upon hours. My parents, at the time, were young themselves and fresh from college. My dad was in the military, so he had been deployed, leaving my mom alone with me, and…her BPD. I suspect postpartum made things worse.

Before you assume, it isn’t that she didn’t love me. Quite the opposite, but it was only through the divorce a few years later was she diagnosed. So, she didn’t have the resources for such a disorder at the time. Which made things worse, because part of treating BPD is being aware you have it.

The thing about these kinds of abuse is that…they come from the people you least want to admit, and for me, it had been my own mother.

And, the thing about neglect, especially mine, is that it’s hard to explain how no…, she was home. It wasn’t like she’d leave me like that. But, even so, I couldn’t tell you what the fuck she was doing when she wasn’t in the same room.

I was left to my own devices. I told myself stories with my stuffed animals to pass the time. I was often hungry too, and there are two accounts from family where, upon visiting, they saw this little toddler know how to work the baby-gate to the kitchen, and start to prepare food—sandwiches for me, and I’d pour food for the dog.

I seldom spoke, was borderline mute. Didn’t really converse until four. But I knew what people were saying before that. I did also pick-up behaviors from my dog as well; I would pant whenever I was happy, and whimper instead of cry.

By the tail-end, as I was getting into kindergarten, my brother was born, the divorce was in motion, and my dad would thankfully win full custody, and my mom, visitation.

You see, through those initial years, those mechanisms deployed.

I had to swallow down the instinct that the parent would be the one to nurture, and I had to find ways to feed myself, then my best friend and true guardian—the dog. Had to learn how to work things like a baby-gate. I also had to be vigilant of her, and know what mood she was in.

It’s these two things, working together, which utterly fractured me emotionally. The feeling of being hungry, truly hungry, is not something I wish for anyone. The realization that it’s not because you’re out of food—not until the separation began, and the weekends with my mom were marked by this hunger—, but because you don’t know how to get that food, and the bigger person is not getting the food, so you try to learn but you are still a small child… It’s even worse. It does something to you. Then, having to sacrifice your own emotional nourishment in order to keep an eye on an adult’s volatility is that final nail.

That was the first stage of my neglect. And it was bad. It was a really, really bad situation. My brother only lived with my mom for a couple years before Dad’s full custody. In that time, from when our mother was the only one to take care of us with my dad helpless in a different country, then to switching every week, he developed OCD tendencies, which are still present.

Twenty years later now, it’s been remarked that I was…kinda the best candidate to survive this out of not just my brother and I, but our cousins as well. And I agree. I’m naturally reserved, and even as a kid, I would push back against my mom. It would ignite her, but the fact that I was confrontation said enough. Meanwhile…, I do not know how the fuck my brother would be mentally if he’d been the one stuck alone with her for those three, four years. I don’t know what my dad would’ve come back to whenever he was allowed to be with his family.

And I would not trade places if given the chance. Because even if I’m a black sheep, my mechanisms allowed me to get away as well-adjusted as I could be.

But… Still. Beneath those remarks…, there is a misunderstanding. When my family says I was the best candidate, it’s because they look at me and see a person who isn’t sick. When I say I was, I mean…my brother would have been worse off.

Granted, now that I’m out of school, it’s slowly dawned on them that…yeah no. There is something wrong.

…as I aged through childhood, I didn’t quite understand what the costs of the mechanisms deployed were, but I knew there was something very, very wrong even back then. And I would tell my family. Every now and again, throughout years, I’d raise alarm because I realized I reminded myself of my mom.

Only to be told that I wasn’t my mother, and that I was overreacting. Told me that, “People like her don’t know there’s something wrong—that’s the disorder.”

Come a mere few years ago, and I am told about times where my mother, as an adult not long before having me, would break down because she didn’t want to be like my grandmother.

There was a family history. My mother knew it. However, she was also diagnosed through the divorce, because she couldn’t take care of my brother and I. Highly doubt admitting her BPD was the reason was because “she didn’t know there was something wrong.”

I was told there was nothing wrong. Meanwhile, I would do things I didn’t understand, and experience the world in a way people around me didn’t, …as it turns out.

For one, which is still true now, I cannot cook for myself, in a kitchen, when it’s dark out. I also cannot cook when someone else is nearby, or already in the kitchen itself. I will wait, because should I cook in those times, there’s a feeling. And I can’t stand it. The feeling of—

Oh. No, the feeling isn’t being watched. 

It’s the feeling where someone may be lurking, and I’m about to get caught. This is likely a remnant of times when I was very, very young, and I tried to feed myself, and I…was caught. And she blew up.

There are other behaviors like that, specific to me. Because the body remembers before you yourself.

In the years after my mom, I found myself in the second phase of neglect—the one, I argue, is what actually creates BPD.

And again. For another time. It came from the people I least want to admit.

The neglect, the denial, in every alarm I raised did something to me. Another thing, though given my experiences, it also did feel similar to the first phase. My family loves me, I understand, and I get why they denied. Because they knew about what was happening to me, then my brother, but circumstances had them trapped in watching from afar. A sort of…they didn’t get to me in time. 

My mom was also a nightmare for my dad. So…, to see that resemblance is not something anybody wants to admit.

But still. I was in therapy (to socialize me), but that didn’t last forever, and people kinda just shrugged and thought it was good. The therapy did its job. Without noticing what was happening.

The mechanism that deployed was still there, never to be acknowledged. So it festered. It scarred my trauma over, and now, there’s a great blemish on my mental health. 

And that blemish has a name, and it’s BPD—the disorder cultivated by the neglect of an aftermath. Where trauma struck, and there was no chance given to process it effectively, and to heal.

All of the nuances I’ve discussed before remain to be true. From what I understand, however, is that the primary reason why Borderline Personality Disorder can look so differently on so, so many people, through a range of traumas is…it’s consequence. BPD has its characteristics, the ones that distinguish, because ignoring the recovery after significant trauma presents itself the same.

Now, I’ll indulge in one of these characteristics.

It wasn’t until recent, as I embarked my adulthood, where I realized the core mechanism I had inadvertently deployed, the one that came with a price:

Alexithymia.

Or, emotional blindness.

This in itself is not considered a disorder, largely because (and for the sake of this essay) it is an associated symptom, a mechanism, of many, many conditions. Depression, PTSD, eating disorders, ADHD and autism (again), schizophrenia, and I can go on, and on, and on.

BPD is included, of course.

There are many ways to be blind. Take visual blindness, where it can be an absolute void, a severe impairment, some colors recognized but not all, or, there’s too much feedback at once, and the light becomes illegible. Being devoid of emotions, or apathetic, is the standard; some people may feel a perpetual onslaught that cannot be deciphered, and others could find themselves in between.

Whatever it may be, alexithymia is characterized as the impaired awareness, explicit identification, and/or articulation of one’s feelings. So, as long as the shoe fits, and the person can’t decipher, convey/express their emotions… That shoe’s not on the wrong foot.

In my case, I fall into the standard.

When I was young, I likely stifled my own emotions in exchange for vigilance. It never left, however. If anything, it got worse the more I neglected recovery. Now, I don’t feel much, day to day. I know I experience emotion, and react to my environment, and have thoughts… Yet, the environment is almost dreamlike. It doesn’t quite register, and the people in my life feel like figments unless I’m right there with them, in the same room. I’m indifferent to most. Memories are a lot like this too—not like I don’t remember anything at all, but in the moment, I kinda just exist. I can think and plan about the future too, but it’s that I’ve realized I have to, not that I feel any kind of urgency.

Because I don’t care. At all.

Or, I do, but there’s nothing in here to tell me that. Because my body, also, is quite null. It doesn’t tell me what I feel. I couldn’t tell you in the moment, so I’ll usually resort to, “I’m fine.” And inside this head of mine? Not much. Kinda like static—the tv is on, there’s a lot of channels going, but it’s just…not there. Beyond static.

So as I write this, and write any of my works, it's less of spilling all the crazy thoughts inside my head, organizing them, and more of me spilling an open wound I don't know how to close, figured I don't really want to close it, because I kinda just like watching it spill across the page and see what I'm thinking, and what I can create.

To be quite honest, being a writer in this way does legitimately feel like I'm a blind sculptor.

If all this sounds like a depressing experience, I'm fine. Genuinely. I am. This is actually quite comfortable for me, and it's also me at my most rational. Plus, it helps that I've developed a fairly strong coping means—this writing thing—that serves to be a therapy in emotional comprehension. Another mechanism, really, that is derivative of what I did as a toddler.

I'm also a hermit. I'm content with being reclusive, and to myself.

And again, I’ve already processed all of this. I wouldn’t be writing this essay otherwise.

So how does alexithymia relate to BPD? In what way is being apathetic mean I can fly off the handle?

What does alexithymia mean for an episode?

BPD episodes vary. Depends on the person, and a trigger, and the environment.

In the traditional a switch is flipped, and the person just loses it, it’s via said trigger. A legitimate trigger, not whatever TikTok is blabbering. Trigger as in to a gun, and it just takes one pull, and you’ve been set off.

When this happens—BPD or not—, it effectively shuts down the reasoning part of the individual’s brain, and sends them straight into fight-or-flight. They are in a very primal state, and will react on emotion alone.

In BPD, our brains are wired to do that in (potentially) a very, very short period of time. Can be literally a blink and you miss it. There’s a look in the eye. If you know, you know. It happens enough times to establish a history of this within the person. Forces people to walk on egg shells to avoid this. Because it’s scary. It can get scary.

Here’s the thing:

It’s scary for us too.

Not too long ago, a lot of changes happened in my life, and on my birthday, I was driving, and I wanted, so badly, to just swerve off the road and down into the woodland—the ditches would’ve been steep enough. Woke up that day wanting to. Didn’t understand why, but I also wasn’t asking because that reasoning part of my brain was switched off. That day, the episode wasn’t explosive, but had I brushed upon a trigger, or someone accidentally said/did something, it would likely have been the case.

I was in an agitated state—straying down the line between stability, and not, where at first glance I’m fine, but…the more you look, there’s something quite wrong.

I was also craving McDonald’s. So I went. I sat myself down on my own, and ate my food.

And suddenly… Literally nothing was wrong. Well, no. I was still mildly stressed from moving from college, but, nothing was wrong that day. I was just hungry, not suicidal. Yet…it felt like I was. Had me believe it for a hot minute.

Had I not had the burger, fries, and McFlurry… I don’t know. Had I had access to something swifter than a car. I really don’t know.

This is what the disorder does. This is why it’s scary for the people around, and terrifying for us.

And in those like me, where everything is null, until it isn’t, it’s terrifying in a specific way. Goes from 0 to 100. Can get to the point where I have pain shooting down my arms, like I’m about to have a heart attack, because everything comes down upon me at once. Or, in episodes like the one I just mentioned, it creeps up on you—that agitated state. To the point where I don’t realize I’m in it, just that I’m suddenly hyperaware of everything, and there is something wrong, but I am not asking why because I can’t. So I just do. Quite blindly. And eat because driving off a road is too much effort.

So it gets scary. In those like me, where emotions just aren’t registering, I can’t tell you what I’m feeling until after the fact, or after considerable thought. Which is also fucking difficult because I don’t rightly know what I’m thinking. But given the situation, that could be too fucking late. And if the situation has me alone, to myself?

With BPD, there are triggers we know to avoid because they are related to traumas. There are things that wouldn’t normally trigger, but somehow did because they were the straw that broke the camel’s back, and we didn’t even know we had a fucking camel. And then. Sometimes. We don’t even know what the fuck the trigger was, and will never know.

The last is very common when we’re unaware of our BPD, but…it also just happens sometimes as well. The world’s big. The shit life yeets is limitless. I dunno.

There’s also a humiliation to an episode. I don't know what's going on. I can't reason like I should, and I don't want you to look at me. I want you gone, especially if I have deemed you the trigger. I want to be left alone. Things will escalate, and escalate, and escalate until that is achieved.

And, there’s a guilt as well. Especially when you know you have BPD, because by then, you should know better, but apparently, you don’t.

This all sounds quite helpless, I realize. However, there’s a reason why talk therapy is the central form of treatment for BPD. Knowing how to communicate does wonders. For those with borderline, learning how to comprehend and articulate emotions, and knowing what triggers to avoid, is a long, arduous process, but it helps. In regulating emotions as best we can, and in explaining to people beforehand what to do—or after the fact, where it’s to explain it wasn’t their fault.

And for those without BPD? Being able to recognize the warning signs on a person is detrimental. Because, believe it or not, there are warning signs. Sometimes they could be the split-second before, however, if there is someone in an agitated state, knowing what that looks like means you know how to avoid an episode, and it gives room to be able to console the person beforehand.

As said. There’s a look in the eyes. I know, because that’s what I spent my first few years of life figuring out.

The arduous process also unveils the…ambiguous sides to BPD. The stuff that people don’t really talk as much, whenever BPD is brought to the table at all. 

For this essay, I will spare a glance at identity. No, identity doesn’t have much to do with Violet. However, acknowledging this ambiguous side to BPD establishes just how far this disorder goes, and it tends to crop up when least expected. (It will do so in this essay.)

A disorder of emotional regulation implicates everything, and sense of self is guided by emotion.

So what happens to one’s identity if there’s no guide to that sense of self?

It’s bleak. Or there’s a turbulence. Either way, it’s hard to decipher what exactly you want out of life, and for yourself, because there’s just no good way to tell what makes you comfortable, and what doesn’t. But you still strive to find stability. So you mirror those around you. To blend in and be accepted. By chance, it can extend beyond humans; me mimicking my dog—panting when I’m happy, whimpering when I’m sad—, it was probably so that my dog would console me when my mom wasn’t around. Because my dog (a lovely boxer) was very attuned to me.

The conversation with identity is…just another complicated thing. And this one is harder to articulate, in part because it’s not really discussed by people who don’t have the disorder. As opposed to the mood swings.

All that to say, when it comes to this analysis, the truth is, there’s not a feasible way to explore the nuances such as Violet’s relationship with identity, or alexithymia, because they aren’t spoken aloud to give us enough insight, and by proxy, these aspects of BPD are not what Violet represents. But acknowledging such nuances provides a better understanding in what this disorder means.

Regardless, Violet is a representation BPD in relationships, and the dysfunction of those bonds. How it’s exacerbated within an apocalypse, and then the self-treatment of.

Or, or, Violet has…a tendency to be a wallflower. More or less.

[Ericson's Resident Wallflower]

The Final Season (TFS) is particular when it comes to Violet. It will be evident throughout this essay, the care that the game and the team behind it devoted for her. From the dialogue to her actions, Telltale did well in illustrating this character. I will argue, however, that the quiet intensity in nuance laid throughout is what evoked the need to write this essay.

Because Violet represents something quite thoughtful in regards to mental health—the reality of what a disorder is, and what it can do.

So TFS is particular, and it begins with her introduction, where there’s this need to recontextualize her. Not once, but twice.

Clementine is first introduced to her silently. She follows Marlon out into the courtyard, and Tenn whistles at the wall.

Because on the school’s wall is a girl, and she rises from her lounging at its height. There’s a glance shared between Clementine and Violet, before Clementine speaks more with Marlon. After that, another glance, where Violet turns away—not before the player can spy a bit of intrigue in her face.

Clementine reunites with A.J, meets Louis, before a recontextualization, where Violet (she does talk) snarks about the crashed car, and the walkers that the accident brought to their door.

And it takes Louis to pry a proper greeting from her:

“Ahem. ‘Hello, Clementine. I’m Violet. Nice to meet you.’” “What he said.” [. . .] “Don’t mind Violet. She, uh…, grows on you. I promise.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | School Gate]

Good job, Violet. Way to be sociable.

Sarcasm aside, yeah, it’s a little rough. Violet is overall dismissive of Clementine, save for the comments. To the point where she has Louis introduce her ass.

Now Louis…is a quiet presence throughout this essay, though he is all the more integral to her character. There will be fewer words compared to other relationships, but those words signify a unique dichotomy between him and Violet, one that the other schoolkids—Minnie and Brody included—do not have with her.

And it starts immediately. That dichotomy. Louis is the one who tells Clementine Violet’s name. He is the one who formally introduces the two. Because he knows how Violet is. Ensures to lingers so that he tell Clementine—promise her—how Violet is worth sticking around for.

It’s just that the girl is troubled. So.

Thereafter, his banter is teasing, and Violet is still sardonic. But, she ultimately does play along. In her own way. When in the woods, and the schoolkids are focused on clearing walkers to have Aasim, Brody and Mitch make a safe return, Louis strikes the conversation, Violet scoffs, but can relent depending on the player’s dialogue choice(s). It is important to note that Violet scoffing doesn’t necessarily equate to her being mean; it’s clear through the card game later that…this is her way of banter, with Louis especially. She takes jabs at him. He retorts. Does the same. It’s on equal footing.

The next true recontextualization presents a taste of what Louis means. After clearing the walkers, and A.J socks Marlon, Clementine is left to acquaint herself with the other schoolkids. Mitch and Willy, Omar and Louis, Aasim, Ruby (where A.J apologizes for biting), and Tenn, right alongside Violet.

And those two are tending to the school’s makeshift cemetery. It brief, but Violet explains they lost the twins, and for the hour, they’re paying their respects.

From the wall, then the gate, then here, at their burial ground, it’s as though TFS wanted to scatter Violet’s introduction across her nuances. First it’s a silent couple glances, with her overlooking the courtyard at a perch, then it’s her being a little prick at the gate, a lightheartedness when mowing down walkers, and then it’s…this, a staunch vulnerability to and for her people. In context to the graves, her people being the twins.

All the moments that night thereafter feed into this. The card game goes back to an apathetic, yet also teasing, demeanor. Her shared conversation with Clementine, as A.J becomes an artist draws, it’s again a vulnerability, this time rattled by the fact that the dorm was once the twins’.

Throughout this first episode, Violet’s standing with the rest is shown to be quite reflective of this almost inconsistent preamble.

Marlon is the most succinct when he remarks, in the rain, after Clementine chooses to ask for Violet’s support:

“Violet being difficult. Why am I not surprised?” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Courtyard]

It’s such a blunt statement, intended to dig at her.

Though, there is truth to it. Violet’s introduction overall says as much. She admits it herself when in the dorm, and she finds that Clementine is housed where the twins were.

“Honestly, I just miss having someone around to talk to. [. . .] And I’m not, exactly, like…a people person. You know? I know I sometimes have a habit… Have a habit of being a little bit too harsh.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Dorm]

Violet is not sociable, so naturally, she struggles to find someone to talk to. But, she is also sardonic—that much we got from the gate, even if it was followed by Louis’ banter which she reciprocates. 

But ultimately, it’s Brody who gives the best context to Violet, and really voices what Louis is getting at.

When Clementine goes fishing, Brody begins a conversation, and within that, she can reveal based off the prompts:

[She’s…intense.] “She’s always been a little bit like that. But after the twins died, she really closed up.” [It wasn’t your fault.] “Still, I was the one that had to break the news to her. And ever since I did, she’s become distant.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

There’s two key things here, starting with the unsociability that Violet’s demeanor and Marlon’s slight reference.

Then, the revelation that Violet has closed herself off. She’s become distant within the past year.

…it implies that the Violet first introduced to us is not truly Violet, in a sense. It presents to the player thatmuch of her arc with Clementine will be about uncovering her, and really bringing Violet from this depressive spiral. Romantically or platonically so. And these lines are intended to both explain the character, and to incite enough intrigue for the player to follow Violet down her route. 

But it’s rather unfortunate that so much of this character is hidden away from the start, because there's the chance that people glance over her, take this initial Violet as Violet, and decide to spend more time with Louis and follow down his route. Because, for the sake of this essay, it's damn near impossible to really appreciate this character when you don't go with her route.

Same can be said for Louis, of course. But, respectfully...

It ain't about him. So. Moving on.

Playing leader.

When Marlon is shot, Violet immediately jumps into action to protect Clementine and A.J from getting jumped by the rest, and she assumes the leadership role. Regardless of player choice. There is an curious point with her being a leader, though that will be set aside to explore later.

Instead, I’ll side-step, and bring about a piece of conversation upon Clementine and A.J’s return. In this, we gather a very telling side of Violet, one that speaks volumes to her character.

[Clementine] “You’re sitting in Marlon’s chair, aren’t you? You’re their leader now. They’ll listen to you.” [Violet] “They don’t, though. They only listen when they want to.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Office]

Again, we’re side-stepping from the playing leader thing. Violet says that they don’t listen to her—says it like it wasn’t a really a surprise, just a point of frustration. Because, of course, Violet’s difficult. The last leader said so. But also, none of them have stepped up to fill that role. They take issue with her, but none of the schoolkids have really challenged her to take the mantel for themselves.

The silent nuance here is…why is it that she’s the leader? Violet made it seem like she really didn’t want to be at the boarding school—what with the contention between most, then the fact that she’s still in mourning. Tenn appeared like he was the only one keeping her there, but by stepping up in this way, not necessarily.

His presence and her need to protect him is a huge factor. Absolutely. Just not the only one.

We return again to Louis, the one schoolkid with the shared dichotomy. He is the other love interest. Him and Violet are often on opposite sides—especially in regards to everything Marlon.

And yet…, the way they speak about each other when one is taken away says everything about such a dichotomy.

To start, we’ll look at Louis:

“I know I’m always teasing her. Trying to get her to do that one eye roll she does—you know the one. Where it’s like, ‘you’re such a dumbass,’ she has to do a full-body eye roll. I do it because, when I actually do manage to make her laugh, it’s worth it. If I needed her, she’d be there. Meat cleaver in hand, ready to chop someone in half if it meant protecting me.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

He brings context as to why their banter is so dogged to tease. Louis does it because it’s reciprocated once he gets under his skin, and she retorts back with the signature full-body eye roll, but also, because he’s striving to reach another side of her, one where she laughs.

Because Louis is a big entertainer. He craves to draw that out from people, so when he has someone like Violet where it’s not easy to do that, it means that much more when she does, because it tells Louis how despite everything, she is there, listening.

Then there’s Violet, and her words for him:

“You know, when I first got here, I hated him. He was so…much. You know? He walks into a room, and it’s like, ‘Look at me! Watch me perform!’ It’s so stupid. But then I realized, under all that, he… He really cares about people, and he doesn’t just feel it, he says it. He’ll tell you every goddamn day how much you mean to him. Shit, he’ll probably sing about it. [. . .] We’ve got to get him back.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

She nods to Louis being this big entertainer. Says that she hated it, and that it’s stupid. And yet, Violet thinks fondly of how genuine of a guy he is.

And between these two quotes, there’s a mastery in storytelling, because there’s an active dialogue between Louis and Violet. Doesn’t matter if one is on the boat, and they’re not. Their words parallel. Had they been in the room together, this would’ve been a back-and-forth.

Louis says that he teases her. Tries to get underneath her skin. Violet says that hated it, and hated him, for his antics. Yet, she then admits that…there’s a genuine nature there, because Louis does care, and he will say and sing it so. That genuine nature is the fact that he just really wants Violet to laugh, and to find that side of her.

Because Violet’s his friend. He values Violet as his protector, because Louis knows that she will be there whenever he desperately needed her.

And Louis is Violet’s friend. Which is why, without a word from Clementine, she states, firmly, that they need to get Louis back. Because in that hour, he was in peril, and he desperately needed Violet’s cleaver at hand.

It’s a tragedy, really, for both. When the other is taken, the one thing that each praise of the other is what’s stolen. For Louis, his knight is blinded; he has to be the one to protect her. For Violet, a comfort goes mute; she can sing in his place.

After spending a few moments with Clementine in the dorm, there’s Ruby’s hootenanny, and through that hootenanny, Violet can tell Clementine what brought her to Ericson’s:

“I spent a lot of time at my grandma’s house growing up, what with my dad being a drunk and my mom working three jobs. But after my grandpa died, Grandma just kinda…shut down. Spent all day and night rocking in her little chair in the den. I’d sit there at her feet as we both watched tv, mostly cartoons, since she never seemed to care. Sometimes I could hear her crying, but I didn’t look back. I’d just feel really weird and turn up the volume, you know? “Anyway, one day she left the den and came back with another chair, and a .22 rifle. Set the rifle butt on top of that chair, holding the barrel back to her chest. So, you know…, she had trouble reaching the trigger this way, but she must have known it would happen… Because she took out this really tacky wooden backscratcher—the real long kind with the one end shaped like a hand—and used that to push the trigger in. So…yeah. Bang, right? Her body folded up and just…kept rocking. “My mom came to get me five hours later. I hadn’t moved. She asked why I didn’t call the police or an ambulance or anything. I just shrugged and told her it wasn’t like Grandma was going anywhere…, and besides, I just wanted to finish my cartoons. She shipped me off to Ericson the next day. I was eleven.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Piano Room]

Through all of what Violet tells Clementine, there is still that flare to make the story more interesting for, you know, a video game. It’s a violent kind of neglect she shares.

But it is neglect all the same.

Violet was born to an alcoholic and a mom who stretched herself thin to compensate, yet even so, she later can admit that their home was a trailer—so the income of three jobs, all her time spent away from her mom, wasn’t enough. Perhaps there were financial troubles. The money might’ve been all drained away by cans of beer, or bottles. Violet did have an escape through her grandparents, though that didn’t last, and she was trapped to the same neglect. This time, with a better house. Probably.

Until her grandmother went and shot herself.

…with Violet in the room. Right behind the child.

And? There was no consolation; she was sent straight to Ericson’s, where the apocalypse then struck, the adults left, and Violet…was the difficult one, designated as this wallflower, or buzzkill. There were the twins, Minnie especially. Yet, even then… That relationship likely wasn’t reciprocated.

The flare that TFS adds to why Violet found her place in troubled youth—the violence, which could’ve dashed the screen she watched for those five hours—, it hides much of what went wrong with her, but simultaneously, it defines the gravity of her childhood.

It describes a mechanism of hers. One undoubtedly developed from her times alone with a drunk, whenever her grandparents and mother weren’t there. A sense of apathy, and with it, a broken moral compass. To not mind yourself, and not get in the way. To let it happen, and just get it over with, in whatever way that could imply.

And, with the sheer gravity, it begs the question…, how far did that neglect go? All of the abuse, if it wasn’t the only kind. Children aren’t born to sit in one place for hours, with fresh gore rocking in a chair behind.

The question wasn’t answered, of course. She was sent away instead. Then there were the adults. And then, other schoolkids. Violet isn’t…a people person, you know, so it’s only natural for her to be the difficult one as Marlon says.

Still, however, with Clementine as they watch the stars together, Violet denotes for the bird constellation,

“A bird is free. It could go anywhere it wanted to. Up and up and up, and never come back. Go south, east, west, doesn’t matter. You could fly straight into a sunset. And see where it ends.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Belltower]

And to that,

[Clementine] “You wish it was you, don’t you?” [Violet] “Sometimes, when it all feels so heavy down here, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be weightless.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Belltower]

Violet has struggled to belong, and yet, she remains. Yes, there’s the apocalypse. However, in all the years at the school, she could have left just as well. There’s a version of her, lost in development, where Violet does leave had she not been saved.

So why didn’t she?

The answer to that, quite simply, is one Louis may admit to Clementine, should that version keep his tongue, and the silent nuance behind her playing leader:

Violet is too loyal to her people to leave.

It’s why Louis teases her, to try and find that laugh, and why he knows that if he needs her, she will be there to protect him. Violently, with a meat cleaver.

It’s why she takes charge, because Violet knows none of the others wanted to, but they needed someone to lead. Whether or not they appreciated that it was her.

And, it’s why she acts without thought to stand her ground against Marlon. If she’s asked, the camera doesn’t leave her because it is no surprise that she will stand beside Clementine, as opposed to Louis, where he decides with uncertainty, and the camera has him shuffle to frame; for Violet, the change in her face is immediate. The camera doesn’t have the time to idle in tension. What Louis says is dead-on:

“If I needed her, she’d be there. Meat cleaver in hand, ready to chop someone in half if it meant protecting me.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

Even if she isn’t asked, Violet will then stand her ground once Marlon is shot. She vouches for the outsiders, in the name of reason, and for the twins and Brody.

She doesn’t think when Clementine is in danger—didn’t matter that her and A.J are just exiled. Violet will do as told, trust Clementine—to shoot, or to run.

Takes the helm after Marlon. Backs Clementine every step of the way.

Cannot let Minnie go until she has to, and Violet has seen that the person she clung after is gone.

Violet is too loyal to her people to leave, for her loyalty unbridled.

It’s her strongest quality. It is, also, what marks Violet with borderline.

[Emotional Anchorage]

We slip back to describe BPD at large, beyond this essay and character. However, everything of this section has its place with Violet.

And it begins with emotional anchorage.

Emotional anchors are not inherent to BPD. It’s not unique to the disorder because, instead, I’d argue it is a universal experience. These anchors are anything which triggers an emotional response. These can be specific objects—like an old stuffed bear, a photograph, a house—, or stimuli—like a scent, a song. Tangible things like these are indicative of our nature. Humans like things. We like to collect, and tinker, and destroy. It helps if it’s shiny. It really helps when there’s fire or light involved.

Here's another thing about anchors:

They can be people.

They commonly are. It’s how we distinguish strangers from significant relationships—friends, family, partners. Anchorage is present despite the nuances between friends (just a friend vs BFF), and family (siblings vs parents vs offspring). And, partners—emotional anchorage explains how queerplatonic relationships come to be, because the fundamental element of a partner (being an emotional anchor) is present, it’s just the romantic and/or sexual implications are ambiguous.

Emotional anchoring is the process in establishing the anchor, leaving anchorage as this essay’s way to articulate the concept itself.

Borderline Personality Disorder will naturally encourage these attachments.

Within the community, BPD has a term: favorite person (or FP). It is as it reads. There is a designated favorite for us, and this favorite person can be a friend, a family member, or a partner—anybody, really. With FP, we begin to fall down the well in emotional anchoring as it pertains to the disorder.

Because, ultimately, a FP is either the strongest, or the only, emotional anchor an individual with BPD has. (For the sake of this essay, I will replace FP with primary/prime emotional anchor going forth, to be more consistent in word choice.) And the anchoring of this person is generally not intended. It just happens, where there’s a strike of intrigue, and everything follows thereafter.

The moment I anchor a person, it is a stark change from the indifference/apathy I display to I want to spend all my time with you, and I will literally die for you without a second thought. I will remember everything you value better than I remember my own, and I will present those nice things to you, at every opportunity. Tell me your favorite color once, and I will remember it for decades to come. Tell me to break my nose, and I may very well do it on the spot.

Which. Yes. Is intense.

Understanding the disorder behind it, however, allows me to take the precautions to…warn people beforehand. And to tell them upfront, if ever I am encroaching on boundaries, just say knock it the fuck off, Volt. In exchange…, I don’t take it personally. Because, uh, yeah. I can get intense. I understand. I may feel a type of way in the moment where boundaries are made, but that’s the BPD talking in my ear.

But also, I know I value someone being upfront with me more than a passive rejection. Frustration is what sets me off—the not knowing why—, not the rejection in itself. Because if I don’t know why, that’s how I interpret things as abandonment.

I have been rejected many times in life by people I’ve deemed emotional anchors. And it stung. A lot. Far beyond what I could ever articulate, but if I had to try, they are wounds carved to the bone, or with one, where my heart was quite utterly eviscerated.

There’s a deeper conversation there, with an anchor changing before my eyes. And, yes, it’s ultimately this which the essay will discuss in great detail. Through Violet.

Yet, before that, emotional anchorage is one of the few things that borderline has the chance to gift a person, because it’s not all bad. If you’re like me—where everything is null, and blurry, and static—, having a person suddenly there to awaken my body to speak, sharpen the world, and bring chaos inside my head… It’s a lot. It’s demonstrably a devastating thing, but in a very raw and beautiful way.

Demiromanticism, no doubt, is a reflection of how I express BPD. So to realize my demi ass has feelings, whenever it happens, is nice. …it also means I then have to determine whether it’s that, or a crush. And there is a difference between genuine feelings and a crush, and yeah, I prefer one over the other.

But. (And this can be platonic or romantic.) Having someone be that anchor grounds me, and while the relationship will have turbulence—because the boat I sail is on a river I can’t build canals for—, there brings such a confusing clarity to the world. I have a purpose where I didn’t think I did before.

It’s a high. A borderline addiction.

To not a thing, not a habit, but a person.

When it’s healthy, it’s everything, and I can brave all storms. When it’s not, it’s obsession and mania, it’s my boat trapped in a whirlpool with the anchor at the center of it all; I may break away, violently, or I will sink, and it will be the death of me.

…and when there’s no anchor there at all, I and my boat are to the whim of the river—because there are no canals, I have to rely on my boat to guide me and find an anchor. This can be where people turn to destructive behaviors. Substance abuse. Eating disorders. Everything alike.

Why though?

Why is it this way? Why do people like me sink their teeth and set anchorage like this?

This is where identity creeps its way back.

Because though anybody can develop emotional attachments, to the point of anchorage, BPD again does this to an absolute extreme. My personal anecdote may speak to it without debate. Understanding how identity gets itself involved further speaks to that extreme. BPD isn’t necessarily about the traits themselves, right? So rather, it’s how they manifest, and fester, and the mechanisms behind it all.

With identity, it hinges on what you find comfortable, and what you don’t. It’s guided by your feelings on things, and your comprehensive response thereafter. Passions turn into aspirations. Self-perception feeds into expression. And on and on.

So, if someone does not have a stable sense of self, there is a disturbance in identity. There’s no coherence to the person. Few consistencies, if any at all.

The identity is as stable as your regulation of emotions allow, and if it’s dysregulated, so will your identity.

A broken sense of self fractures a person. So we scour for stability. We do so in people. But with that broken sense, it’s easier to just swap out characteristics and emulate the environment, should there be a promise of stability. When this happens, it can be recognized as masking—because, debatably, it is—, but it can also go so far that people confuse this borderline trait with something like DID.

To those none the wiser, yeah, it might as well be DID. Because, like…, they just change so quickly. And if it’s a matter of mirroring different people, it can also imply that the BPD encourages the person to alter their personality depending on who they’re with at the time. Which. Yes. Has the capacity to resemble switching between split personalities from an observer’s perspective.

However. I have outlined (in quite the broad stroke) what DID is: a split in identities, in order to protect and shield the individual from further trauma. It’s dissociative in nature, where the distinct, established personalities will operate the individual at different times—given the nuances which come with DID.

BPD does come with dissociation as well—my personal experience with how I live day to day is indicative of, for simplicity, derealization and depersonalization. However, it’s not a split. What’s happening is this one identity does not have a stable, set personality. With the incapability to regulate emotions, it indicates a level of alexithymia. So how are we supposed to understand what we want, and don’t want, in everything from interests to moral standing? Things that a personality is grown from?

This copycat behavior is in itself a mechanism that BPD deploys. It’s kinda masking, not to purely to hide from and integrate into social norms, but also to find a sense of self through a very, very desperate act of scavenging.

In BPD, the best candidates to copy are the people who make us feel good—get a high from—, and that we want to be around, and whom we fixate upon—to a manic point: 

Those emotional anchors.

As we go back to Violet, keep this in mind. Again, no, there’s no feasible way to remark for certain what her relationship with identity is like, so the implications that emotional anchoring has on identity can’t really be applied. But the intensity—the level of fixation—can.

Because Violet struggles in her bonds with other people. There’s an idealization present to those bonds, and a devaluation. Both this good and bad, the highs and lows, are via anchorages.

So we’ll start with Minnie.

[Emotional Anchorage: An Obsessive Good Memory]

“Sophie was a good friend. And Minnie… Uh… We were close, me and her.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Dorm]

When we meet Violet, amongst her introductions, Clementine learns about the twins from the two who still tend to their graves—Violet, and Tennessee. Not long after, there’s a card game, and not long after that, Violet finds Clementine and A.J in their dorm.

The one which was home to the twins.

“Huh. I see you’re, um…, settling in.” “Yeah. Is that okay?” “Sure. I guess. I always liked this room. Sophie had, like, paintings and shit on the walls. Lots of color. And Minerva…, she was really musical. [. . .] She had the most amazing voice. Real bluesy. [. . .] That was a long time ago. After they… Afterwards, Brody and Tenn took down all the paintings. And that was the end of it. I shouldn’t have even brought it up. It’s not a good memory. Guess I just lost my train of thought.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Dorm]

The way she speaks of Minnie, there’s an adoration, and a nostalgia made bitter by the perceived tragedy.

Of course, those twins (…okay, well—) aren’t dead, they were traded. So even though Violet has yet to see Minnie, she is now a presence to her mind that isn’t nearly as bitter. She focuses on getting the school prepared for a fight, alongside Clementine, but through it all, yeah, Minnie is still there.

And when looking at the stars with Clementine, if Clementine remains quiet for the fish constellation, Violet comments,

“Bright, pretty, good with other people. Always moving, tons of energy. Sounds like anyone we know? The energy one is easy. Good with people, not so much. [. . .] Y’know, it… Well, maybe this is weird to bring up, but it reminds me of Minnie.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Belltower]

Minnie is a big part of her, despite their time and distance from each other. They grew up together. They got closer.

Another thing:

Violet never says girlfriend.

The only time where it’s “proclaimed” by the season that Minnie and Violet were girlfriends is through Clementine, where whenever A.J sees the carving in the fishing cabin’s wall, she can say,

“It means they were a couple. [. . .] Violet was Minnie’s girlfriend.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

Is it fair to assume that? Yeah. That’s…what carving a heart or potato with initials is supposed to symbolize.

But like.

Let’s be for real. What the ✨fuck✨ does Clementine know? Sure, she’s somehow not concussed after hauling ass in the sky, with a car. But she doesn’t know these people. Point blank.

We don’t know when this heart was carved. Just that it’s V + M (suggesting Violet did it, given the order), it’s out of the way from the school and in the fishing cabin, and it’s just shy from a bed (and alcohol).

Again, Violet herself never says girlfriend.

The heart could’ve been carved with Minnie there with her. Or, Violet was deep in mourning, and decided to brand the cabin—likely because it holds a significant memory.

…and Imma be honest, the cabin has a bed, and it is covered in bottles. Everywhere on the table. Some scattered around. So I will give the benefit of the doubt. Considering the…subtext around the fishing cabin, doing some quick math with my gamer instincts, yeah, if you leave youth (troubled or otherwise) alone, you might get Lord of the Flies, or…exploration. I guess.

It is clear that there was something. There is validity to “[w]e were close, me and her.”

The question then becomes why the ambiguity? Had TFS been made in a different time, and James didn’t have a boyfriend, and Violet and Clementine couldn’t be a couple, yes, it would’ve been Telltale beating around the bush.

Except even in this moment, Clementine outright says girlfriend in reference to a sapphic dynamic.

Because TFS was not made in a different time, James did have a boyfriend, and Violet and Clementine can kiss and hold hands.

The ambiguity indicates something else. That ambiguity is heightened the more Violet talks about Minnie pre-Broken Toys (saved Violet route). Because she speaks so fondly of her, with almost this conviction.

Yet…she still does not say girlfriend.

This is textbook. Given the essay, and what I’ve already exhausted over, it shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it is quite plain:

What Clementine stumbles upon isn’t a mourning over a lover; it’s instead, at its core, a lasting idealization.

With BPD, idealization is as follows:

“[A] way of coping with anxiety in which an object or person of ambivalence is viewed as perfect, or as having exaggerated positive qualities.” [Verywell Mind | Idealization and Devaluation in BPD]

This tracks.

Violet speaks so fondly of Minerva, with almost this conviction, yet she does not say girlfriend. Ever. Because the conviction is the intimacy, but Violet is a pragmatic individual. Though there’s idealization present, referring to Minnie as her girlfriend (for whatever reason) is too far for even her mental state.

Like she mourned Minnie for a year. She gushed about her to Clementine every chance she got. So…why not say it?

With this all established, TFS then allows us to witness how idealization in borderline often corrodes into devaluation—the inverse of idealization, its absolute antithesis.

“Used when a person characterizes themselves, an object, or another person as completely flawed, worthless, or as having exaggerated negative qualities [. . .] because there is often no middle ground for a person with BPD. Feeling challenged, threatened, or disappointed can quickly cause them to devalue the people they formally idealized. Rather than cope with the stress of ambivalence, devaluing functions to minimize the anxiety caused by ambiguity.” [Verywell Mind | Idealization and Devaluation in BPD]

This corrosion has a name. It is splitting.

Like with the previous definitions, I will allow my resource to explain this concept, because of everything this essay has to offer, it is this that the everything hinges on.

“Splitting involves an inability to hold two opposing thoughts, beliefs, or feelings. People who have BPD tend to view others in all-or-nothing [. . .] terms. “This self-protective defense mechanism aims to help people with BPD protect themselves from getting hurt in relationships. By labeling people as ‘good,’ they are able to engage in relationships despite the emotional risks. If they feel threatened, they can then quickly discard the individual or the relationship by labeling them as ‘bad.’ “Like most defense mechanisms, someone with BPD may not be aware that they are engaging devaluation and idealization. Splitting is a subconscious way to protect themselves from perceived stress[, and] reflects the challenges associated with maintain an integrated view of the good and bad in a person under stress. Some researchers suggest that some of the difficulty is rooted in the way the brain, particularly the amygdala and prefrontal lobe, activates in these experiences for people with BPD.” [Verywell Mind | Idealization and Devaluation in BPD]

…again, this essay has to break away from Violet and TFS to provide an insight, a discussion, of what this means for BPD.

I will start by clarifying that splitting from one end to the other is a bitch to deal with. The catch is not every person with BPD is incapable of reading the world beyond black-and-white. I’m one who can, …when I’m not in the midst of an episode. Day to day, I’m apathetic/indifferent—take your pick—, and because of that, I don’t give enough of a shit to really fixate on what is “good” and what is “bad” to me. I take everything as they go.

Because I really, really do not give a flying fuck.

The moment there is any seed of emotional attachment, or anchorage, it changes things. For me, it’s generally that I really adore this person, but they did something that hurt, and it confused me, so I shut down and close myself off. Namely so that I can have the time and space to breathe and process. Because I feel a lot for these people. I’ve gone over how intense that feeling is. And the last thing I want to do is hurt them.

So the moment I get confused, it boils into frustration, but frustration means ire with me. And that’s terrifying, because I don’t know what I can and will do if I’m backed into a corner. Because I know my brain shuts itself off.

The other thing to this as well is…it’s not always such a violent shift between idealization and devaluation. It really depends on how confused I am, the person, and then the time and distance laid between me and them. If there’s minimal distance between me and them, and minimal time between then and now, then yes, it will be explosive. If, say, a year has passed, and I have not seen this person within that time, then the splitting will look very different—largely because I don’t perceive it as an immediate danger, so my brain never shuts off, and I can process in the moment with reason. There’s still significant emotions there, of course, and given it’s still splitting, I do have that shift between the extremes. Difference is,I am able to regulate myself better.

Take note of this nuance, because it is absolutely present in Violet.

And we resume her relationship with Minnie, where we witness the corrosion from idealization, inching towards its antithesis. The process is best explored if Violet is saved, where it doesn’t taken an age, nor a day. It takes mere morning hours.

When spying upon the boat to get their bearings, and formulate a plan, they find Minnie chopping wood. Or, Clementine does, pulls a knife on her, before Violet intervenes. They embrace. Clementine has opinions off to the side. 

Then.

They talk. And Minnie… Um. Well. If Delta was inspired by the New Frontier, Minnie would’ve had a fat branding right on her forehead.

Immediately, it becomes evident that Minerva has no interest in going back to the school. Her loyalty lies with the Delta. And given the prompt, she will have this to say:

[Violet’s in charge.] “Really? The Violet I knew could barely stand to talk to people, let alone play class president. You’re the one who convinced the school to fight back. From where I’m standing, that puts you in charge. Your ‘leadership’ is going to get my little brother killed.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Forest]

Huh.

Not only does what she say about Violet directly contradict what Clementine sees from her, Minnie is also blatant in steamrolling right through the testament, and tells Clementine that no, you’re the leader, and you’re bad at it because you are a threat to my brother.

It’s a little jarring. Because, one, ouch. That’s mean. Mitch died because he ran into a knife, and it was not Clementine’s.

But two, what?! Violet, whose first line to Clementine is snark about her driving, could barely stand to talk to people? Violet. Who stood up to Marlon, cleaver at hand? The one who Louis says (given the other route) will do just that to any threat?

Our Violet, who Clementine gets to know. The one who immediately took the role after Marlon because nobody else did? Despite the fact that, yes, she realizes there’s no promise that the schoolkids will actually listen?

Violet…is openly sardonic, is she not? Does she not confront people with a weapon?

It’s a little jarring, then it’s…dissonant the more you pick it apart. Because what is Minnie talking about? 

I will say, for sure, Violet changed within that year apart. But not to the degree that Minnie implies to us. We have Louis’ words for Violet, and then Violet herself—constantly brings up protecting the twins. And she’s shown she will. Violet will shoot Lilly if told. And Violet, after Marlon’s death, brandishes her cleaver to shield Clementine and A.J from the other schoolkids.

Maybe part of the change was that she vowed to herself that she’d do better after losing the twins. Wouldn’t be surprised.

…but Minnie didn’t like killing walkers, though. Which implies that, yes, Violet probably filled a protector role for her, in regards to the dead.

It’s baffling. I can go on and on and on.

Just as Violet did, between seeing Minnie after so long, and finding Clementine in her dorm.

“The thing is, seeing Minnie… I feel like it should’ve scared me. But it didn’t. The person we ran into in the woods, that wasn’t Minnie. Not really. The way she sounded, and acted… The way she talked about Sophie, and Lilly… I’m…confused, I guess.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

She voices the same sentiment.

But upon various dialogue prompts, the corrosion inches its way to Violet:

[She’s one of them now.] “It sucks, but…I don’t know what else I expected.” [It’s not Minnie’s fault.] “I never said it was. But it doesn’t change anything.” [We can save Minnie.] “You saw how she reacted when Lilly showed up. Those are her people now. And we are not.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

I do think it’s interesting that, even if Clementine says to Violet that Minnie could be saved, she says otherwise. Because Violet is pragmatic. Minerva coming back from the Delta is just not realistic.

So through time and distance, and the wake-up call in the woods, Violet expresses an acceptance of this. The fact that Minnie won’t come back. It’s not quite splitting, because…this isn’t a true devaluation here; it’s the idealization ebbing away.

“Minnie…, the real Minnie…, she’s gone. She’s been gone this whole time, and I…have to stop mourning her. I won’t let her take you or A.J. Or anyone else I care about.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

And she admits it to Clementine aloud. Promises her that she, and A.J, along with everyone else, will be protected from the Delta—from Minnie, if need be.

Not only that, if Violet is romanced, she makes a request:

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to try with someone I cared about. And I never have. [. . .] Have you ever danced with anyone before?” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

I’ve always taken this line to signal how nervous, and how new Violet is to this kind of relationship. Because it is new to her. This is the first time where her feelings were reciprocated. She always wanted to try dancing with someone, but for whatever reason, never had with Minnie. And she’s nervous because…she wants it to be reciprocated, and Violet here is gaging a reaction, testing the waters.

In writing this essay, another thought occurred:

This is Violet moving on.

She’s nervous because there is a lot of weight to this request. She’s gaging what Clementine says, because Violet is invested now. All-in. 100%.

It’s not about Minerva—doesn’t even outright say that she never had a dance with Minnie.

Because by this point, through this dance, Violet’s realized just how unreciprocated her feelings were, because now, she has the chance to dance with someone who does reciprocate. And not just in the dance. Clementine’s loyalty extends further than that.

Another detail that I noticed is perpetuated throughout every interaction with Minnie is who she always prioritizes, and how it contrasts Clementine. With Clementine, of course A.J is first priority, and Violet understands that. And she goes out of her way to help with him. Conversely, Clementine helps with Tenn, and the school, and the other Ericson kids. All of which are who Violet also prioritizes.

Meanwhile, the same can’t be said for the other side of that contrast. Because it’s always what about Sophie and Minnie? from Violet, and never what about Tenn and Violet? from Minerva. It’s only ever Tennessee for her.

With the initial encounter, yes. She wouldn’t be asking about Violet because… Violet’s right there. She’s talking to her. However, we overhear Minnie talking to Dorian, asking to have Tenn join her. Not Violet. Then, further into the night, where suddenly she’s singing her own boss music and a red bar just takes up the whole screen, Minnie goes out of her way to claim Tenn.

And then, for good measure, axe Clementine.

But not because of Violet. Clementine gets axed regardless of who she saves, because Minnie…is far, far more pissed that Clementine put Tennessee in danger than anyone else. Including Violet.

The Delta changed Minerva. Yes.

Yet, Lilly never was able to remove her loyalty to her people. Her people being Tenn.

It’s telling, how (in)significant Violet was to her because all I read is…, it is nowhere close to the significance Minnie had on Violet. Because Minnie had other priorities.

She just happened to be Violet’s primary emotional anchor. And with that comes everything Violet could feasibly offer a person.

Here’s the thing to understand with this essay, and what I’m getting at with Minnie and Violet’s past relationship:

Violet anchoring Minnie is not Minnie’s fault. It’s not Violet’s either; a kid isn’t going to understand why they’re feeling a certain type of way, but when it feels nice, they will follow. Especially when the adults responsible for troubled youth are just…gone.

But what this does bring to light is a nesting place for borderline’s stigma.

Emotional anchors, splitting between idealization and devaluation—these concepts are the source for much of the fear against people with BPD. When gathering articles to reference at the end, some articles I pull from r/BPD on Reddit because having resources that are from people with experience asking and answering questions is incredibly valuable. Many discussions in r/BPD related to this (exchange primary emotional anchor with FP) are frustrating. For myself to read, because several are people not with BPD venting, but, I imagine it was frustrating to type out because…they’re venting for a reason.

Depending on the discussion, however, what is said is ignorant to all of what I know of my disorder. I know where it comes from. I know that the emotions behind all of what I do with anchorage are genuine. But then there’s people who vent, or there’s others who prompt a question because they are nervous that their friend (with BPD) is not genuine.

Of course, I can’t promise how other people with BPD are like. BPD is dependent on the personality, and if you have a shit personality. Um. Yeah. You’re not a fun person to be around. Sorry?

Not really, but, you know.

Stigma aside, it is true. I understand the insecurities, and the need to vent. Being someone’s anchor because of borderline is a lot of fucking pressure, and truth be told, it’s like that because…what if you just can’t reciprocate the intensity? After that honeymoon phase, people without the underlying disorder tend to get exhausted emotionally, meanwhile…, there is no cease from the other.

So people tend to draw away. They either do so quietly, in attempt to not hurt feelings, or, they’ll be direct and antagonize because of they stress they’re under. Either way, if the condition has gone untreated, the confusion this brings will then ignite the individual’s borderline. This is where you get insecurities born within the relationship, which the person can then go further and self-sabotage because there is no regulating themselves. You get constant bombardment whenever they feel neglected. They’re overbearing. You feel that their claws are dug deep, and it’s far deeper than you could’ve ever imagined.

Because there’s an anchorage.

If this is what happened, and Minnie entertained Violet, but never reciprocated the magnitude of devotion Violet brings with her… I can’t blame the girl. And given that Minnie was a troubled youth just as much as Violet was, she had her fair share of issues.

Because frankly, I don’t care if she was brainwashed or what, Minnie still killed her twin sister. You know, the one that has been in the same situations, the same environments, throughout Minnie’s life, yet when she saw the Delta, Sophie did not fold. Sophie actively fought against the Delta, whereas Minnie…complied.

Even before they were caught on the raft that Sophie planned to steal.

“One of the girls saw that this was a place worth fighting for, and her tears dried. But the other twin, she could never forget her old home. She rejected every gift, every opportunity. Stirred up trouble every chance she got. She convinced her sister to help her steal a raft and leave on the river. Of course, they didn't get far. What happened then, Minerva?” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]

This Parable of Twins is, of course, by Lilly’s word, and yes, she did brainwash Minnie. So naturally, there will be an element here where the details are lost. I buy that Minnie did accept her place in the Delta where Sophie never did, but I don’t really believe that it was just because she saw it was a place worth fighting for.

The reality of Minerva is she’s a very conflicted person, and she’s passive by nature. She’s a good head taller than Violet, yet, when Violet talks about her (and Sophie), it’s always about protecting her. Because Minnie didn’t like killing walkers.

I also wonder if the reason why she’s so passive is because Sophie…might’ve been the one that got her and Tenn into trouble right with her, if she was more combative. As for the confliction, Minerva may have been caught in between—because there’s a combative twin, and then there’s a younger brother to protect, one who’s passive to a fault.

It’s this confliction and passiveness that has Minnie primed for manipulation. She will seek stability through, well, passive means. With the Delta, do as they say.

…and with Violet, it’s let the girl have her infatuation, maybe entertain it, but don’t cross too far into romantic territory because the girl’s a little too intense.

(Of course, Minnie is also the one who was practically dead herself while leading a herd by voice alone, to kill her brother and maybe do a little slashing. So like, she is just as intense, just…in less of a loyal kind of way, and more in fucking unhinged way. Because she also might’ve been the one to instill Tenn’s beliefs.)

Once it’s revealed what happened to Sophie, Violet snaps. She yells at Minerva.

But even still, there’s a slip of that anchorage:

“Who are you?! Fuck survival! Look at what you’re doing! Minnie, please, I just want to talk to you for a second! I’m sorry we never searched for you, for Sophie… I’m sorry we trusted that fucker, Marlon. If I ever thought there was a chance—” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

Following this, time ticks away with a bomb in a boiler, so Clementine lunges for an escape—to get A.J back to her side. And Minnie tries to stop her.

With a knife near-identical to Jane’s in S2. And it manages to gouge a near-identical scar in Clementine’s sternum. A stark parallel to S2’s ending. Except, Violet doesn’t hesitate. The moment she is out of the cell, she disappears into the backdrop, then an arrow finds its place in Minerva’s shoulder not long thereafter.

She does stay at her side, for when the schoolkids leave. Perhaps for closure, if the previous dialogue gives any indication.

Because even though Violet shot Minnie, moved on from her with a dance, and realized that she wasn’t going to return, that anchor is still there. Minnie was, after all, still a significant part of her, and that…doesn’t really ever just go away. The idealization may have drained, but the feelings themselves do remain.

We then look to another Violet, who was taken rather than saved.

“At least here I have Minnie… [. . .] Don’t act like you know her. She tried to escape. Her and Sophie. They said if I fight back, they’d kill Minnie. Or one of you. All you’ve done is get us hurt or killed. If you fuck this up worse, I’ll stop you myself. And don’t think I won’t. I’m not losing her again, or anyone else.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]

And another aspect of BPD, and anchorage, becomes clear:

Borderline primes people for manipulation, much in the same way that a passive and conflicted nature primed Minnie.

There’s a flipside to emotional anchoring in BPD, and it has everything to do with how the disorder forces people to become reliant on their anchors. People who cannot discern nor regulate their own emotions, and people with a bleak, instable sense of identity.

Which is a problem because there are people who’re able to take a person’s emotions, and weaponize them as a puppeteer. They manipulate through any means necessary.

Most, in an effort to avoid being manipulated themselves, try to hide their emotions and keep them out of reach. They suppress them, because suppressing your emotions is how you get the most control, and nobody else.

Right?

Coming from experience, do not do this. Suppressing your emotions is the last thing you want to do.

Especially if you want to avoid getting yourself manipulated.

I felt that I had to suppress not just as a child, but before that, because I was in a fucked situation. And it did this to me.I have no control. Life is a writhing storm at sea, and I just fucking hope I can find an anchor within the storm’s eye—but I know there’ll never be a calm to this storm.

And the wrong people know this. The ones who prey and manipulate to abuse the loyalty I am so desperate to offer, and can pull it from me with ease, should idealization blind me from the warning signs.

When Violet is saved, she sees through Minnie quickly. Because it’s in how Minnie talks. And it’s weird, because Violet also includes how she talked about Sophie, when the most Minnie said was “she died protecting the Delta. A hero” once prompted by Violet’s concern. That shouldn’t have raised alarm, yet…something about it did. To Violet.

So she’s able to let go. Violet still holds the memory of Minnie quite dear to her heart—the one in her head—, but after this, it was more about closure, not bringing her back. And all it took was that one interaction.

But here, back to a Violet taken away, it takes longer. She’s not told what actually happened to Sophie; instead, both Minerva and Lilly feed into a broken trust with Clementine, and condemns Violet back to the girl who sat with Grandma’s body rocking behind her.

Her loyalty blinds her to what Minnie has devolved into, so she goes and tries to stop the bomb, save the boat, and secure a future with her because Minnie is all she knows and trusts.

Yet.

It’s broken when Violet does. Because Violet has her face marred by the bomb. She’s left to defend herself—blindly—as she clambers out of the water with a walker snagged at the leg. She asks for Minnie at first, is led by Louis, and then…it becomes clear what happened when they hear gunshots, clearing away the walkers.

Minnie. Is left. Unscathed.

Well, okay. She does, like, panic and stuff, and then gets bit. So, that explosion had been her death sentence.

But Minnie is not burned. Not like Violet.

Which…implies something. However it happened, Violet was the one closest to the bomb, and Violet was further down the beach, towards the boat, whereas when Clementine, A.J and Louis reach her, Minnie is away, towards the woodland. Getting her ass bit. A bunch.

She either got off the boat at a different (earlier) time, or, she just…abandoned Violet. To defend the last of the boat and her crew. And, probably, to look for Tenn.

Leaving Violet to realize something, and as she struggles to see the world, she begins to try and apologize. To Clementine. Who didn’t lie to her about the fucking bomb on the boat, and given that, it also kinda explains why Clementine didn’t take her sweet time consoling Violet from her episode because. Um. The bomb. 

Whatever it was that happened, it’s enough to rattle Violet to reason. And to snap her out of it.

Within one interaction. (…explosion.)

It’s…the little things like this—the ones that go unsaid—, which indicate Minnie’s sense of priorities, and how even when Violet actively worked to help save the boat, those priorities never were Violet. Before this, she manipulated and lied to her, and (via the alternative path) she never…danced with Violet, despite Minnie being the musical twin. Instead, Violet never danced, but she does sing now. 

Which again has me wonder, was it Minnie entertaining Violet, and/or, if the subtext found in the fishing cabin does indicate this, was it never romantic like how Violet wanted? Just physical?

I’m kinda losing my mind over here?!

There was always an imbalance. Violet always prioritized Minnie, and her sister, and her brother. She prioritized the latter two because of Minnie, and then prioritized Tenn after the sisters were traded off. Prioritized Minnie’s interests—singing, and took it on herself—, and left her own—like the dancing—to…wane in self-doubt. 

And then…, we have Minnie who killed her twin, and then went after Tenn to also kill him. The killing part is, well, the brainwashing and trauma, and stuff, but point being… Violet is still not in the equation. She’s an afterthought to Minnie.

This isn’t to say that Violet and Minnie’s relationship was downright toxic, or abusive, or anything along those lines. All we have is Violet’s word. But given Violet clearly glorified Minnie to herself, her word is unreliable.

What this is all to say is…, it was no mistake on Telltale’s part to have Violet physically blind, or then speak about how she had been blinded figuratively—before reality set in. Down one route, this was done by having the wool pulled from her eyes; down the other, it was the blinding in itself that brought her clarity.

It’s what I mean when I say that Violet’s unbridled loyalty is also her bane. She establishes strong and intense emotional anchors, to the point where should that anchor be lost, she will refuse to let go. And not because she wants to trap herself to that anchor, but because that’s…how BPD is. Attachments like this are really hard to shake off. But also, Violet didn’t know who else to turn to. 

There’s Tenn, sure, but she’s his protector, not the other way around. There’s some of the others—Mitch, Willy, Ruby, Aasim—who we don’t get enough time to really see how Violet is with them. Marlon she tolerates, but there’s a clear strain between them.

Louis— God, there’s Louis, and he’s the one that she is vehement about getting back—indicating that he is yet another anchor for her. Thing is, he was also Marlon’s best friend, and they are…opposites. A lot of conflict comes from that.

…this essay really doesn’t have much to say with Louis and Violet. In part because, frankly, I didn’t really know where I could put him with the points I strive to make. There is absolutely space for him, yet, another thing:

Their words for each other, when the other is taken, are enough. Louis and Violet say everything themselves.

I did give commentary to the dialogue quotes, but it was sparse for this precise reason. I don’t need to get into how quietly powerful their friendship is. Louis is the one who introduces Violet by name. He’s the one that promises Clementine that it’s just her way, because he knows her. If blinded, he’s also the one that she relies on to guide her. And despite Marlon, and perhaps despite even Clementine given the different routes, there is never a malice between them.

Which I adore TFS for doing, because it would’ve been easy to have them be rivals and fight over each other. Especially for Clementine.

But that’s also juvenile, and while those storylines have their place, it is not here.

Never has. Never will.

So there’s Louis. He’s an anchor. Yet, because he is the one grounded anchor Violet has of the schoolkids, not fazed by idealization nor devaluation… That is their dichotomy. It is unique of all other relationships Violet has before Clementine—after Clementine as well, should he be the one saved.

We have Brody. Who does represent a point of devaluation for Violet. The lowest to a volatile relationship.

[Emotional Anchorage: Walking Triggers]

Truth be told, in this most recent endeavor to write Violet’s deconstruction, Brody was who reignited the compulsion. Because there is a deep-seated complexity to what happened between her and Violet, and why it happened. …only for me to find yet another post somewhere that was made by a glanced judgement.

Its criticism wasn’t in any way toxic, which was nice because this fandom…has a mean streak. But it did harken back to borderline’s stigma regardless.

Devaluation is a very ugly mark on someone with BPD. Worse than idealization, in the eyes of many. It in itself is toxic,and this coping mechanism is one of the reasons why BPD a disorder with the stigma it portrays. There’s a dysfunction in the order within our behavior.

That dysfunction, and the subsequent behavior, provokes a defensive ignorance.

Violet is wrong to do this. This is an antagonistic trait of hers, and Brody gets the brunt of it. She had to live with this for a year.

However, making blanket assumptions is reductive, especially in a discussion where it’s about understanding the how and why. There’s a reason why Violet devalues Brody. The path to how it happened in the first place is actually quite apparent. If you know how to read the signs, you can see this happen a mile away. So through understanding the how and why, it’s easier to 1) avoid it entirely, and 2) navigate devaluation if/when it does transpire.

Both Brody and Violet together make one mistake, and the fix is straightforward. Not easy, but straightforward.

Before that, though, we first shall establish a few things.

For one, Violet is…a lot. Don’t let her apathetic demeanor fool you. Just look to the previous section—that alone is enough to prove otherwise.

Along with the apathy, Violet is sardonic. She’s aloof to people when she doesn’t have strong attachments, but, she likewise shows to be pragmatic and reasonable. Which like, same. I wear belts and layer my jackets with vests too.

…and I also know what this kind of character implies: Violet is a little bully. She absolutely has the capacity to be cruel.This is also confirmed later, where at Ruby’s hootenanny, there’s mention of an Erin with braces that Violet would make fun of. (Probably because braces are hard to take off; they are a little goofy in an apocalypse, but also…really unfortunate the more it puts stress on the mouth and dental structure.) Violet then comments that she didn’t know why she did.

I wear belts and layer my jackets too; upon reflection, I did the same thing as a kid. So I have some insight to this which may explain the why here. Given how Violet speaks of this schoolkid, I’m willing to bet that Erin wasn’t someone who Violet had strong emotions for, one way or the other. She likely was pretty indifferent to Erin.

So, if that is true, Violet being a bully here comes from a place of 1) being apathetic, and not reading social cues like she should’ve, and/or 2) Erin was an outlet, but not a personal one. 

Snide comments, and other slighted behaviors like this, they do not register. 

Nothing clicks up here, behind my eyes. The comments are too brief to. So where this lashing out is coming from, it happens so swiftly that, by the time it leaves the mouth, I don’t know where it came from. There’s not much feeling to it. It was an impulse. So I just continue on my way, and never consider why.

In this way, there’s no malicious intent, it’s just cold. But outwardly, cruel.

A lot of times, to me, it was just play. 

This is how a play with you. I make fun of you; you make fun of me. If you get hurt by it? Well. That sucks. Anyway—

Which, yes, is toxic, and I’ve realized, and I’m an adult now and I…don’t do that. Kind of. Social cues are a thing now, and I’ve gotten myself more aware of people. But I still do like poking fun, with the full expectation that it’s dished back.

Granted, I don’t know just how much of this applies to Violet. She has her insecurities, and is nervous when bringing herself to the table. And I am definitely not that—it’s not a confidence; I don’t care enough to be confident, I just do my thing.

But. This does establish a pattern with Violet, and with BPD, the disorder reflects the personality. There are common traits to BPD, but the expression of those traits varies depending on the person. For someone like Violet, who is already rather cold, this means any trait of BPD which stems from a cold demeanor will be present, and elevated. To borderline’s extreme.

Or, because Violet already can be cold to people, where devaluation is concerned, her personality makes it ten times worse. It doesn’t end. She makes comments—except, now, because there is significant emotion behind the comments (to Brody), it is to sting. It is cruel.

But…, it’s also complicated.

The bond between Brody and Violet is first made to be antagonistic, and Violet’s the one who perpetuates. Unlike the night before, where she with Clementine had a nice banter going in the dorm (if a tad guarded), Violet on the way to the cabin is hostile. Her words aren’t aggressive, but they’re instead dismissive at best, scathing at worst.

Brody does push back a little, and tries to brush it off, but it’s quite plain on her face that this does get to her.

In the cabin and away from Violet, Brody gives the context. It’s not just the words themselves hurt, it’s the fact that there’s a history there.

“Hey…, about Vi… I’m sorry she’s being a little mean. It’s my fault. [. . .] I was there when those walkers killed Sophie and Minnie. They were really close with Vi, and…I think she blames me for what happened to them. I mean, how do you even apologize for something that fucked up? I don’t know. Maybe I deserve it.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

Violet is hurt. Brody’s guilty.

Then, there’s a second, damning piece of history that explains why Brody, of all the schoolkids, gives the most insight to Violet’s mental health, and why this is happening.

“We all used to be friends. Guess I kinda just missed that.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

In the same way where it was textbook idealization for Minnie, this is textbook devaluation.

It’s made complicated because they were friends—good ones, considering they’ve been stuck in the same place since the outbreak—, but now there’s a negative connotation. That being the twins.

And remember, devaluation is an avoidant mechanism. Ambivalence is confusing, and that agitates a borderline personality.

Brody can then explain more, depending on the prompted dialogue:

[She’s…intense.] “She’s always been a little bit like that. But after the twins died, she really closed up.” [It wasn’t your fault.] “Still, I was the one that had to break the news to her. And ever since I did, she’s become distant.” [You should talk to her.] “Yeah, right. I tried, I have. It just never seems like the right time.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

Once again, Violet is distant where she wasn’t before.

But we also get a further confirmation that Brody is the one with the negative connotation, and it’s because she was the one who had to tell her. …which in itself is an interesting choice of words, but we can assume Marlon pressured her once the conspiracy is revealed.

Then another confirmation, to the fact that opening a conversation has not been feasible.

Turn to Violet, and she first says this:

“God. Sometimes she just gets on my last nerve, you know? [. . .] I mean, it’s— It’s not like I hate her… I just… ‘I wish we could all go on a road trip together.’ God, she’s so…ugh. You know? [. . .] I don’t know what the problem is between us. With Brody…, I don’t know why it’s like this. Why is it so weird? I can never relax around her. It just keeps getting worse.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

All of this is telling. Violet is very animated here, both in how she says it, her shifting tone, and what she’s saying. First it’s a comment. Second it’s admission. Then there’s that sardonic tongue, an ask to gage whether or not Clementine understands, before it all breaks and she goes back to admission.

The last couple lines say something crucial to know when understanding the dynamic here. And if a player is impatient with dialogue, they will miss these.

I can never relax around her. It just keeps getting worse.

So Brody is a walking trigger.

Within the bounds of splitting to devaluation, this happens when an emotional anchor develops a level of ambivalence, but because anchors do not just go, the anchorage is instead insecure, rather than the source of stability once relied upon.

Yes. Brody is another of Violet’s anchors—just not the primary one.

And what it means to be a walking trigger is…devastating. Not just for Brody, but for Violet as well. She doesn’t have the support Brody gives her anymore. Can’t trust it. Because every time Brody walks in the same room, Violet cannot relax. She is agitated.

Don’t take this to mean in a figurative way.

It is literal.

Triggers rise from people an emotional response. In BPD, this often means that the brain will shut its reasoning off, and prioritize this “survival” instinct. Fight-or-flight.

So when Violet says, I can never relax around her, this isn’t a oh I’m nervous, I don’t know what to do. This is I cannot function when she’s in the same room as me. Maybe she’s hypervigilant around Brody. To the point where Violet cannot stand Brody anywhere near her…

So she sabotages. She’s cruel to Brody in the comments she makes. She does not allow Brody to get close, because it is too much. Rather than a calm, reasonable state of mind, Violet feels things. A cold pit in her stomach. A dwelling ache in her chest, or a knot in her throat. Can’t focus on what she’s doing—Brody’s there.

And the easiest way to stop it is to push Brody away.

And, and, initially, blame the girl.

[Because you blame her.] “Well, that’s what I used to think. I just keep thinking that things might have ended differently if I was there. Maybe I could’ve protected Soph. And Minnie…” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

There’s a confliction here. Violet did blame Brody, until she realized it wasn’t that. Instead, she blamed herself.

It’s the following prompt, however, that gives the best clarity to Brody and Violet. The prompt,

[Because she never said sorry.] 

where Violet tells Clementine exactly what the trigger is—because by this point, a year later, she’s figured out how to articulate what it is:

[Violet] “She tell you that?” [Clementine] “More or less. She wants to talk about it, you know.” [Violet] “I just… I feel guilty about the whole thing.” [Clementine] “Why?” [Violet] “I was supposed to be out with the twins that day. I wanted to work in the greenhouse, so I asked Brody to cover for me. But then… I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I… I wanted to talk to Brody, to tell her I didn’t blame her for what happened. But every time I tried, I was reminded of who we lost. It was easier to just not talk about it.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

If BPD isn’t a lonely experience, or a humiliating one, it can be a guilty life to live.

Violet expresses why losing the twins hurt as much as it did: there was never closure, and she blamed herself. Hence why, earlier, I suspected that seeking closure was what kept Violet at Minnie’s side after shooting her.

She was finally saying that goodbye, regardless of how the interaction itself went.

But it’s what she says about Brody.

Violet wants to talk. She has wanted to. But Brody’s a walking trigger. Every. Single. Time that Violet tried to talk, the same turbulence arose. In BPD, without that regulation, it is unbelievably difficult to talk when…your body’s actively flipping the fuck out.

A cold pit in her stomach. A dwelling ache in her chest, or a knot in her throat. Can’t focus on what she’s doing.

Of course she found it easier to just not talk about it. That is an instinct ingrained by borderline.

BPD is a lonely experience every time you lose an anchor this way. The disorder is humiliating because you do not want people to see you like this, when you’re in the midst of an episode, and you have no fucking control over your body, so you yourself are flipping the fuck out.

And it’s guilty. Because when you’re in Violet’s position, where you know the reason why, you know what you want to do, but your body works against you at every turn…

It devastates a person.

Because it is your fault. You did this yourself. Reap what you sow. You’ve done it again, it’s humiliating, and you are very, very alone because you just cannot stop burning bridges.

…in the apocalypse, being chained to a boarding school does not help. There is no way to give the time and space someone like Violet needs to think, and to process, and to let those emotions relax. Brody kicks up those emotions whenever she’s around, and the dust just never settles.

Violet trapped herself in a cycle. By the hour, or by the day, for a year, it would’ve been a ceaseless agony.

One that did scar over. Violet probably got used to it, and found a routine to the snide comments. It wasn’t like Brody was leaving anytime soon.

Until she does, and she suffers a disorientating last few moments.

I’d like to think they made amends and had a full conversation. I don’t know, however. But, at least Violet does take the first step when walking from the cabin, and she entertains Brody’s fantasies about a road trip, and that she would’ve had her sights on the Grand Canyon.

Because the one mistake they made was they never talked. It wasn’t going to be an easy thing, but it is that straightforward. So when they did, or began to, the devaluation began to ebb away.

Then, a tragic irony.

Brody’s guilt was never just I’m not Minnie, so she hates me, and it’s my fault. Rather, Brody’s guilt was warranted, and quite honestly, yeah. She should’ve be guilty, because it’s I watched as my leader gave this girl’s world away, and did nothing, lied to her, to her face, for a year.

Violet didn’t know this at the time. So for her, Brody was a point of devaluation because it’s her mental health actively jeopardizing things, not the truth and circumstance. The deception, in the conversation of that mental health, instead plays itself like salt to a wound, and then a tragic irony once Brody was murdered for it.

Because Brody knew they had to tell people. If the path to mending their relationship was encouraged, then it could be read that it gave her the inch to confront Marlon. If otherwise, Brody wanted to tell everyone because she needed to, despite what turmoil the truth would’ve caused Violet.

By the time Violet does know, and there’s a funeral, she says this about Brody:

“Brody, she was… She was real sweet. She had big dreams. And we all knew they wouldn’t come true, but we didn’t care. And we didn’t care because when she was talking, whatever she said seemed possible. [. . .] I don’t know if she found the place she dreamed about, but I’m gonna miss her.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Courtyard]

There’s forgiveness. With Brody died that devaluation.

Not a moment thereafter, however,

“Marlon was… I can’t. Not for Marlon. After what he did to the twins and Brody, I—”  [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Courtyard]

The cycle continues.

Now with Marlon.

If Violet devalued Brody, she absolutely vilified Marlon. Because not only was it about the twins, there’s also Brody.

So of course she didn’t give him any peace after the fact. Why would she? Marlon had his own complexities, yes, but those complexities hurt. They brought another ambivalence.

As the essay rattles from the schoolkids, we’ll discuss another relationship now. A new, fresh one. Clementine, through who we see all of it—the emotional anchorage, the idealization, and devaluation. The splitting between. How intense Violet can be, and how volatile.

We have Clementine, who is given the chance to witness what Louis means for this wallflower, and that she grows on you (he promises so).

[VIOLENTINE: The Ship, and its Anchorage]

Platonic or romanced—the difference doesn’t matter in this essay. The shift of context between friend and more than that is just that: a shift in context. Distinguishing the two will have its moment, but it is hardly integral to the fact of the matter:

Violet anchored Clementine, and she did it swiftly. (In record time, dare I say.)

In regards to the arguments against romancing Violet, there’s a lot of people who look to Minnie, then back to Violet, and point to Clementine’s “girlfriend” dialogue. “Violet’s not over Minnie,” is a common one, right alongside, “Clementine’s just a rebound.”

Now. I’ve spent 5.5k words tearing those arguments to shreds in one section, and I still have with me another few things to say about Minnie and Violet’s relationship up my sleeve. In light of Clementine and Violet’s relationship.

Because even though I do buy that they were closer than friends arguably would be, they weren’t girlfriends. It’s why Violet was insecure within their relationship, and why that insecurity devolved into a strong case of idealization. Violet genuinely did love Minnie. Her bond with the twin will honestly forever be there, but that bond wasn’t unconditional. The conditions were at the cost of Violet’s mental health.

Then there’s the rebounding, and I will use this as a jumping off point regardless of relational status.

Rebound relationships are defined by a partner still with a previous relationship’s baggage. They’re not done healing. They haven’t quite let go. It gets in the way for committed relationships where the expectation is that both are in it 100%, and that person just…can’t. Because they’re still fixated on the last partner.

…which yes, does sound like Violet. Cuz it kinda, sorta, frankly is.

However. For one thing, this dynamic doesn’t just apply to a Violet route opted for romance. The rebound applies to a platonic dynamic, in part because I don’t frankly believe Minnie was a true girlfriend, and in part because idealization is not specific to partners. Especially in what we see in TFS, Violet needed to let go of Minnie regardless.

Then there’s the fact that being a rebound isn’t always bad. To rebound, which is where the term “rebound relationship” derives from, means for something/someone to bounce back. Or, it can mean a kind of backfire. Both uses of the word can be applied to relationships like this, which, yes, is why they’re fickle, and why people do their best to avoid.

Here’s the thing: Violet needed a new relationship to pull her out of the old one. Because Clementine is a catalyst for Violet, and she was anchored so quickly because whether Violet herself realized, she did want to move on. She couldn’t, but through Clementine, she got the chance.

And I do confidently say that she did want to, because by one interaction in the woods, Violet is disillusioned from Minerva immediately. She’s snapped out of what image she had of her, and is the one that remains realistic where Clementine can offer supporting words—along the lines of we can get her back.

It’s why Brody, through the cabin’s conversation, observes the same.

“We all used to be friends. Guess I kinda just missed that. But when you showed up… I don’t know, I just haven’t seen her warm up to someone in a long time.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

I find it interesting that Brody picks up on Violet taking to Clementine so quickly, and is able to read enough into this to try and see if it’s enough of a push for Violet to start healing. She’s right, it is enough, and Violet does take a first step in mending their relationship, and breaking away from the devaluation that was arguably heightened by her idealization of Minnie.

…granted, it’s dependent on player choice. There are Violets running around out there having fished with Clementine, but never did reconcile with Brody.

In any case, I am going to argue against Minnie being Violet’s ex because 1) who the fuck cares, I’m not concerned over purity over here, and 2) it’s likely they weren’t exes at all.

However, I won’t fight against this being a rebound. It is. But, Violet’s arc is about learning how to let the fuck go, she has a problem with letting go, so of course the relationship would be a rebound by proxy. A healthy rebound, at that.

By the time she is forced to let go of Clementine, after two newcomers are voted out, her attachment is made quite plain the moment Clementine is in danger within— What, five minutes, and Clementine is at gunpoint?

Regardless, Violet is there, bow at hand, with Louis behind her. She is ready to shoot, and it is no bluff. Violet will if prompted. Or, she will run should Clementine prioritize getting the two out of it.

Because Clementine’s already anchored. Violet trusts her to make the call, and she will follow without hesitation. Later on, after a weary night with A.J shot, then a morning of crawling back for medicine, Violet calls for Clementine to talk in the office. And in there, the anchorage is confirmed further:

“What happened out in the woods… I saw they had you pinned, and I… Shit, I got so crazy. “I know you think I didn’t do enough for you and A.J, but when I saw you were in danger, I had to do something.” / “When I heard you call for help, I didn’t even think.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Office]

The second line is dependent on whether or not Clementine blamed Violet before, as her and Louis walked the exiled to…exile. And stuff.

But, her account as to why she ran right for Clementine, and pulled an arrow on Lilly says everything I got so crazy, I didn’t even think, I had to do something. Clementine roused a trigger.

This time, in a very good way. Well, as good as the circumstances. In any case, this does count as a trigger because it’s inciting an emotional response, and given Violet’s wording, a fight-or-flight. (I realize triggers are specific for negatives; for the sake of brevity, I don’t care. I still say it counts.) It’s the reason why, before, when I detailed how I personally get with my anchors, I do similar things. No, not literally pull an arrow on someone, but I act on impulse without care, because I just want to satisfy their needs to the absolute fullest. It’s genuine, but it’s also triggering—under a positive connotation.

After this, of course, we push into Violet leading the school as they prep for an attack, with Clementine right alongside her. Whatever happens during this time is unknown, just that the school built-up the walls, laid their defenses, and focused on instruments to help, such as traps and explosives. Shortly after the time-skip, of course, we get the belltower sequence.

Starting with an inquiry:

“I know you came back for medicine, for A.J, but after that, you could’ve just left. Avoided all the bullshit with the raiders. Why didn’t you? Sorry, I know that puts you on the spot. You don’t have to answer. We’ve all got our reasons.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Belltower]

Violet asks something that has likely been on her mind for a while, but then… Not backtracks, but she does relinquish the pressure for that answer.

As their time at the belltower continues, it’s clear where the question came from.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to just…talk so much. It’s just, I’ve watched people leave before. Family, friends. They never come back. But you did. And now I can’t imagine what it would be like if you weren’t here. Um. Shit, that sounds so much dumber when I say it out loud. You know what I mean.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Belltower]

Violet’s hesitancy to speak her mind, be vulnerable, is interesting, particularly because it’s about doing so too much. It’s a very specific one, with ambiguous implications. This could be an anxiety she put on herself, or, this was something that she took after a mention that she was talking too much, getting too personal, one way or another. Then there’s also another thing, where it sounds dumber than she intended. As though when speaking her mind, Violet has an idea of what to say, but she doesn’t know quite how to articulate it.

This is a really good line of dialogue, so that latter insecurity is just that: an insecurity.

Nevertheless, this speaks volumes because it’s the first verbal admittance to an issue with abandonment. All the adults left her life, and never returned. Those include her parents, who never tried to get back to the school. Her grandfather died, so not his fault, but her grandmother shot herself right behind Violet. Which is abandonment, and really fucked to do. The teachers of Ericson’s…

Then fellow students. Most probably died, including Brody. And the twins were taken away.

Abandonment is a huge thing.

So we turn to the route where Violet is taken. And it’s not good. Violet reacts as predictably as this essay has outlined.

[Clementine] “Vi? What happened? Are you okay? Violet, talk to me… We’re here to take you home.” [Violet] “I looked for you. When they grabbed me, I saw…you let them take me. I’m just supposed to forget that because you’re here now?” [Violet, if platonic] “Some fucking friend you are.” [Violet, if romanced] “Some fucking feelings you had for me.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]

Here we have now a fresh faultline within her and Clementine’s relationship. It brings ambivalence. Upon seeing Clementine, she’s plunged into an episode.

And Violet splits. Her image of Clementine is distorted, so she falls back to the same pattern she did with Brody, and she is hostile.

[Clementine] “What’s wrong with you, Vi? Come on, let’s get the hell out of here.” [Violet] “No, Clem. I’m done. This whole situation is so fucked! At least here I have Minnie…” [Clementine] “You mean the Minnie that betrayed us?” [Violet] “Don’t act like you know her. She tried to escape. Her and Sophie. They said if I fight back, they’d kill Minnie. Or one of you. All you’ve done is get us hurt or killed. If you fuck this up worse, I’ll stop you myself. And don’t think I won’t. I’m not losing her again, or anyone else.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]

We also have Violet manipulated on top of that, led instead by Lilly and Minnie’s word, not Clementine. Because BPD primes people to manipulation, especially in times when they’re at their most vulnerable. But, throughout these interactions, we do see Clementine attempt to console her, and talk.

Violet, however, is not open to. She is not in the right state of mind. This is a BPD episode, so Clementine is not able to get through to her here. Violet does not trust her—too much ambivalence. Mitch’s death is fresh on her mind, she’s been lied to by Minnie about what happened to Sophie, and with that lie, she was told that more people would die if they did not listen.

And of course, the more time is spent, Clementine starts to get frantic as everything escalates because there’s a fucking bomb ticking away in the deck down below. So there comes about an urgency, and she can’t spend that valuable time consoling Violet.

So she starts chipping away at the door. 

“What the fuck are you doing?! You’re gonna get us all killed!” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]

And Violet does precisely what she said she would do, and she attempts to stop Clementine herself. Because there’s Minnie again, but she also doesn’t want anyone else to die either.

Lucky for Clementine, she is stronger, and she is able to overpower Violet within a minute. However, in trying to get the cells unlatched, then to find her way to A.J, she herself is overpowered by Minerva. The urgency and stress associated backs Clementine to a corner. She still doesn’t want to see Violet hurt, so, she explains,

[Clementine] “We planted a bomb on the boat!” [Violet] “Fuck you, there’s a bomb! Mitch is dead! You just… Fucking go!” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]

…and again, Violet does not trust her. Mitch’s death is still fresh on her mind. Everything that Lilly and Minnie fed to her is still present.

Then, the bomb goes, and it takes Violet’s sight with it. Even on the beach, she asks for Minnie, amidst confusion because, somewhere down the line, they got separated. Louis has to be the one to support her. By this point, and some beats after, it feels like this is another Brody. Like there’s no turning back, not until a long, long year where Clementine would be in the same shoes.

Minnie makes herself known, though. She’s off in the woodland, with her people. 

And that is when this Violet has the wool pulled from her blinded eyes, because she realizes what happened.

The moment is brief. It’s very easy to miss. Yet, the attempts Clementine gave on that boat to console her, before the urgency really began to set in, was not fruitless.

Violet tries to apologize:

“Clementine? The stuff I said on the boat, in the cell, I, uh…” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | Beach] 

It’s not the right time for it. The schoolkids need to get off that beach, but this brief moment is huge.

The thing about episodes is, yes, in the moment, the individual is not consolable. There’s no reasoning with someone who is shut down. However, the attempts to try and console, and/or any verbal promises to leave the door open for when they’ve calmed down, the effort can be recognized and appreciated.

Once Violet snaps out of it, that’s precisely what it was. She understands that Clementine was never trying to hurt her, nor did she come to her disingenuous. Clementine was there to bring her back, because the situation was exactly as Violet herself said—fucked.

But still… Clementine was there to bring her back. 

Either way, Clementine proved herself to Violet, because down this route, she left twice, and came back both times.

Of course, the night does not end there. Clementine loses a leg. Another schoolkid is gone.

So through the weeks thereafter, Violet gave herself the time, and then, she tries again with the apology:

[Violet] “I wanted to wait ‘til you were up and about, but how I behaved on the boat… It was really unfair. My head was so messed up—by Lilly, and… And Minnie. I was so wrapped up in my own shit…” [Clementine] “It’s okay. You went through hell in that boat, and I let that happen.” [Clementine, if platonic] “I’m just glad we got you out of there.” [Clementine, if romanced] “I’m just glad I got you back. I was so worried I’d lost you.” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | School]

In this apology, Violet articulates the position she was in, and admits the kind of influence Minnie was to her—not a good one. And in turn, Clementine acknowledges her. She doesn’t demean Violet for what she did. On top of that, she expresses how she’s just happy that Violet is there in the moment.

This route is bittersweet. We have the beginning, where Violet is guarded, then she warms up to Clementine, finds an anchoring point, and acts upon a fierce loyalty. Which then is hurt when Clementine chooses to save Louis instead. The time on the boat is very bitter because…the truth about borderline is, yeah no, it does not care who the person is to the mentally ill. The disorder is a disorder for a reason. It will hurt, and it will put a strain and test a relationship.

Then you just have the big fuck you axe where Minnie…effectively was the one who managed to wound Clementine, have her get bit, and then lose the leg. Which isn’t really how an eye for an eye goes, but that’s what this route goes with.

But then…, it’s sweet. Because Clementine did the right things, with what stress she was under.

She tried to talk to Violet, and in doing so, she left a door open for Violet to crawl back through when the time was ready. It was sooner rather than later for her, since Minnie… Whatever. However, it’s an apocalypse; a boat was just blown the fuck up. So while it was the time for Violet, it was not the time for literally anyone else. Ergo, a second attempt, to which there was resolve.

Clementine and Violet did not make the same mistake that Brody and Violet did.

And that’s what saves the relationship.

Now, let’s waltz all the way back and save Violet, just to show what Clementine and her do right to build a healthy connection, whereas her and Minnie went wrong. To do this, taking a brief visit to the romantic will help in dissecting an evolution found as the episodes progress.

After the bits of dialogue in the beginning of this section, Clementine can choose to confess her feelings for Violet. It can be solidified by a kiss, or a question for a relationship, or…a meek silence, to which Violet is able to read and feel the same. Clementine can also express confusion, in that she needs the time, but express the interest all the same.

There’s a sweet moment here, and with the kiss, it can also be a touch awkward because…

Okay, they kind of flounder. Violet more so. Which is interesting to note, because Violet “supposedly” was in a relationship before. Sure, the moment on its own doesn’t mean an experienced person wouldn’t be any less awkward, but with the following steps in their relationship, it does support the suspicion this essay has in that she never had a reciprocated, romantic relationship with Minnie.

The moment where Violet asks Clementine to dance, and is nervous to do so, is one of those steps in the relationship:

“When you told me you have feelings for me, I was shocked. Then I started thinking. There’s something I’ve always wanted to try with someone I cared about. And I never have. [. . .] Have you ever danced with anyone before? [. . .] Do you…wanna? Just us. No one else around. I mean, I know it’s kind of weird, but it’s something I’ve always wanted to try.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

It’s a step in way of romance (Clementine even remarks after how they’re getting better), but it’s also a step in Violet’s confidence in being vulnerable with someone. She’s still clearly anxious here. Violet still has some of that self-deprecation, and it comes back if Clementine rejects the offer because the idea was stupid, or something along those lines.

But she still does ask. And it’s a big ask, because this is important to Violet. So if Clementine reciprocates the dance, it’s yet another sweet moment, and it builds the confidence within for this relationship further.

Before the night, Violet can tell Clementine how she got to Ericson’s. Then, through the night itself, she backs Clementine every step of the way. Shoots Minnie. Escapes with the schoolkids, only to come back and find her with Tenn and A.J, safe and sound.

During their walk, Violet opens up again. This time, there is none of that self-deprecation, and Violet even gets choked up—but she’s not really ashamed for it, she just continues and says her piece.

“While we were looking for you guys, and I… I thought you might be…gone for good…, um, shit. I was trying to figure out what I’d do if you were gone, and I realized how goddamn stupid I was. About Minnie. For a whole fucking year. I was so wrapped up in losing her and Sophie, I pushed away everyone who tried to care about me. Marlon, Brody, Louis. Even you and A.J. I tried my damnedest not to care about either of you. And I still couldn’t tell you why.” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | Forest]

She admits everything. Is so very open to Clementine, and tells her what is on her mind. There’s Minnie. There’s what she regrets.

[You were afraid] “I was a goddamn coward. I’m not a coward anymore.” [I’ve done the same thing.] “And then you wonder why you fight so hard to stay alive. I don’t wonder anymore.” [You cared about me.] (Platonic) “I didn’t expect to find a friend like you, not ever again. But I’m really glad I did.” / (Romantic) “Yeah, I did. Way more than I meant to. I’m still kind of amazed we found each other, you know?” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | Forest]

By this point in the story, Violet has undergone her arc.

She is a changed person because of Clementine’s influence, and she sees what she either didn’t see before, or did but had forgotten. Through a rebound, because Violet just needed a second chance to redeem herself.

Now…, she didn’t expect to find a friend like Clementine ever again? It’s interesting that Violet indicates Clementine was a second chance with the platonic route, not the romantic. Is this her quietly admitting that Minnie was never beyond a friend, actually? Or is this in reference to Brody and Sophie instead?

I dunno. Just found that interesting, since she could have said an equivalent for the romantic dialogue. In any case…

There is something so profound with how this relationship contrasts the ones which came before. As a friend or partner, Clementine never gets to the point of Minnie’s idealization, nor Brody’s devaluation. Both are antithetical to each other because they balance on the same scale—that being insecurity. Violet cared for Minnie and Brody deeply, and those emotions are genuine.

However. 

Minnie was put on a pedestal because there were faultlines to that relationship which Violet did not want to face. Brody, instead, was degraded because rather than faults, it was easier to ignore the good sides to Brody. And the good sides were a really, really sweet girl who dreamed of a better life—something that Violet could never see for herself after the twins.

Then there’s Clementine.

Even at their worst moment, where Violet’s trust in Clementine waned, she still did trust her. Clementine told her there was a bomb. Violet snapped because Mitch was the one who knew explosives, and he was dead. And yet, she got herself blinded because she knew Clementine wasn’t lying to her. She trusted her enough to know…

Well yeah. There’s a bomb.

Beyond that, however, Violet decides to do some arts and crafts, even though she says they’re stupid. Or Violet’ll ask for a dance that she’s desperately yearned for. She’ll talk to Clementine, a lot, even if she didn’t mean to do it “so much.”

Clementine as an anchor never truly corrodes. It’s tested down one of the routes, yet by the end of it, the relationship is maintained.

…there’s a final note which taps into this.

We come back again to identity one last time. For a brief anecdote—nestled within the shadows of what exhaustion this essay has gone over with Minnie and Brody, and now Clementine—, but an important one. Violet’s sense of identity will remain to be untold because we don’t have that perspective. She never talks about herself like that, so there’s no true insight for Clementine to gather.

Yet there are scant traces of identity diffusion, or an incoherent identity, ceaselessly disturbed by external influences.

This calls back to a copycat nature where borderline personalities will imitate in order to find stability. Ambitions, beliefs, interests—these all go right along with it, because they very well can change, and do so radically. Impulsions in way of severe life choices are made on the foundation this nature provides.

And that foundation is not strong.

There is no way to truly understand and deconstruct Violet’s sense of identity, yet, her behavior and choices made throughout the season can give us something to chew on.

Between the two routes, Violet is…a hair shy from being an entirely different person. The Violet Clementine brings onto the boat is not the same as the Violet she meets there. By contrast, Louis remains consistent; bring him on the boat, and he acts as expected—same with when we find him…without a tongue.

One is Clementine’s Violet. The other is Minerva’s Violet.

In both routes, Violet’s impulsion changes her life’s trajectory. She either shoots Minnie, or, she goes after the bomb and blinds herself. In one route, she’s outspoken, combative to the Delta, and fiercely loyal to the school; in the other, she does behave like how Minnie described her—never could talk to people, never to be class president. The Violet in that second route is withdrawn and quiet…

But she does confront Clementine.

She mimics Minerva’s newfound bellicosity that she dawned from the Delta, and it’s pitted against Clementine by following both her and Lilly’s word.

Going back to the first episode, where Brody tells Clementine that Violet withdrew herself from everyone, a lot of that was depression. Violet also actively told herself to push everyone away (…except Tenn, a remnant of the twins). However, there is a read here that she withdrew herself because there was no one left for Violet to mirror. She reverted herself back to the girl who sat in front of the television, with her grandmother’s fresh corpse just behind her.

Not to say that Violet doesn’t have a personality on her own. No, she still does. Having a weak sense of identity doesn’t automatically mean that there’s no identity at all. It can just mean the self-perception of identity is weak, but given that it is a self-perception, what is Violet going to draw from if she doesn’t…know how to read herself?

So Clementine meets Violet in the midst of this. She’s sarcastic and grates for a minute about the car. She keeps up a wall between her and Clementine. But by the end of the episode, and the start of the second, here Violet is cleaver at hand, about to lead the school.

Marlon scathes when she stands toe-to-toe. Talks about her being difficult again—but that in itself is ambiguous, because does this mean she’s gone toe-to-toe before, or does this mean Violet has a tendency to be inconsistent? And was that night another inconsistency?

But then… Louis. He admires the fact that Violet is like his white knight. He relies on her to protect him, because he knows that there is no doubt—she will.

Then being a leader. That comes as a surprise to presumably everyone. There’s a few points of dialogue that suggest it, others that blatantly say it, and then more few beats where we see the contention between Violet’s leadership and the schoolkids.

There’s conflict here. Violet is inconsistent in who she wants to be.

And it’s just that, isn’t it?

The TWDG community has long since decided that Violet’s arc is about letting go of Minnie (for those who see past the “rebound” thing), and self-discovery. Which is still true, but through the lens of BPD, there’s another layer to this. It’s about learning to let go despite disorder. And then, it’s learning what she wants from people, and who she wants to emulate, again, despite disorder.

What kind of person does Violet want to be?

And this is distinct from Louis, because with Louis, it is also a self-discovery. He is care-free, live in the moment, to a detriment. To be quite frank, the only reason why he got that far into the apocalypse was because he relied on his community. Not because he couldn’t contribute, but because he has his fair share of self-depreciation.

But there is no question. He knows who he is, and he knows the kind of man he wants to be. It’s why Louis does talk about his sense of self as much as he does.

Whereas Violet really doesn’t, perhaps because she can’t. All of what she confines in Clementine is the fact that things get overwhelming, and she gets confused. Quite frequently. But also, her relationships. Everything external for her, because… Again, she struggles to articulate what’s going on internally, because of that confusion. It takes time for that articulation to be feasible.

Violet has a patchwork identity. She’s kept traits of others—such as the singing. Granted, everybody does this. However, there’s her own within patchwork, but those have gone largely unexplored in the past.

Then here’s Clementine, the catalyst to this arc.

Which begs the question, why? What about Clementine has this impact on Violet?

Something about her draws Violet in. 

At first, yeah. Clementine’s new. There’s an air of mystery around a girl who totals a car at Ericson’s front lawn, with a kid in tow. But that mystery alone doesn’t equate to a cleaver pulled, guarding the new people from the rest—her own people.

The answer is rather simple: Violet is mirroring Clementine, so all there is to do is look at that reflection. And we find a leader. We find someone who is compassionate, and does everything to fight for their own. Actually fight. Tooth-and-nail. Someone who does whatever it takes to survive, even if that means rubbing the good ol’ walker jelly, or, taking risks to secure a bag of food.

Clementine’s compassion for people is evident once she wakes up, and she has A.J by her side. Her skills in leadership, her drive to fight, to survive—those are all made very clear at the train station, with both Louis and Violet following her lead.

So Violet mimicked. She found the same traits within herself, then elevated them. Brought them to the surface.

As the relationship continues to build—platonic or romantic—, Violet finds reciprocation. She’s not just emulating what Clementine would like to see. After all, she was sat in the headmaster’s chair while Clementine and A.J were still exiled. That indicates how Violet found, if not a comfort, a consolation in that part of herself.

The reciprocation continues whenever Clementine responds to her, and she validates Violet, she shows interest in what Violet says, and what Violet wants to do. Violet can ramble on and on as long as she wants, and Clementine would still listen. Violet (if romanced) can ask for a dance, and Clementine would oblige. Either way, Violet gives Clementine a pin. Clementine puts it on.

It's that compassion, and it cascades authenticity off Clementine to the people she surrounds herself with. She’s also someone who feels strongly. This character is a very empathetic person. Throughout S1, Clementine was perceptive of the people around her, and she cared. Deeply so. S2, the same thing, even if her morality began to grey. The start to closing herself off to protect herself was present. S3 as well, especially in her drive to find A.J once she learned he was still alive, out there somewhere.

Throughout the seasons, there are also plenty of moments where her empathy shows. Clementine does genuinely feel what the people around her express. Like with Louis, when his tongue is cut. You can hear in her voice how pained she is, regardless of the relationship itself. She’s pained because Louis is.

And given what she’s lived through on top of that? Clementine would absolutely put 100% in a relationship, enough to match someone like Violet.

There is another reason to this why, and the thought struck me when I was reminded of an easter egg during Violet and Clementine’s scene up on the belltower. A constellation, which Clementine can draw for herself, and he’ll wink right back at her:

Kenny.

This connection is an interesting one to make for a scene with Violet. It’s cheeky first and foremost. 

Regardless, there’s a parallel drawn here. Violet and Kenny are very similar, in that…Kenny likely had BPD. TWDGhas two seasons, then a couple flashbacks, where we can read it so. That man was volatile himself. Fiercely loyal, but could absolutely flip on a dime if his perception of the people around did not align with what he desired—it’s why he’s so fickle with Lee, to the point the gameplay reflects it, and then Clementine as well, because this behavior was the ultimate antagonist. His spiral down mental health escalated, and escalated, and escalated.

And he’s guilty. Tells Clementine that to leave him, or to shoot him, is the right choice to make.

But should the two survive together, with dreams of driving down to Florida, we find that he…is okay. He’s stable. His anchorage with Clementine and A.J is strong, without ambivalence. In this storyline, she sees that with people like him, sticking around through the bullshit can be worth the trouble.

Of course, it’s also a testament whether or not it is worth it. Some people, including myself, left Kenny in S2. Because the turmoil through the season was just that significant.

He genuinely cares, but like my mom, Kenny still hurts. Especially in S2. Because despite himself, he just could never seem to get past what he felt, and his impulses.

Clementine’s relationship with Kenny varies across different choices made, and the interpretations thereof. My personal interpretation of Kenny will contrast wildly to another. And that’s okay.

But whatever the interpretation is, and the choices made, Clementine has experience with people like Violet. She’s lived through the type of behavior conditions BPD and alike bring. She knows how to navigate them, and find healthy grounds.

Clementine keeps an open line of communication with Violet. Expresses interest, and accepts what Violet herself has to offer. But she also has her boundaries. For one, A.J. He is her priority. Two, when Violet fights her, Clementine fights back because it’s not okay—do not lay a hand on me. Now, whether or not she would’ve fought like she did if there was no bomb, and A.J was still in the cell…

I don’t know. I assume it would’ve been one of those major choices of the game. Either talk her down, or fight.

…similar to what Lee has with Kenny, up in the attic after the house in Savannah is swarmed, or on the train before that.

Bringing Kenny into the conversation is…funny, in a way. At least to me. I write all this, because TWDG secured its place in my heart by being the very thing I needed through a really, really bad year where my mental health (BPD) reared its ugly head. TWDG as a whole, but S2 especially. I realize why so many people have issues with the season, and I get it. It’s only natural for that to happen when every season has its distinctive personality—not everyone will gel with its voice. That, and it does have its fair share of flaws.

But if it was not for S2, I would not be in the fandom. Because that season was 2019 boiled down to the pure chaos I inadvertently put myself through, and it did so by having me play a character who when she was taken seriously, she just could not do it right, then…, when she wasn’t, it was out of neglect, where the adults put themselves first. Every. Time. And…one of those adults was a blunt reflection of it all.

Up until the final moment. The breaking point.

It’s how I felt inside my head. And still do, sometimes. When I’m stuck inside a season rooted in instability—a winter—, things just keep happening, and there is no end, even though I try to maintain the fantasy of peace in those slow moments. But…there’s just no end. There’s only escalation.

It was something I needed to experience in isolation, where I understood that it’s just a game, and it’s within the scope of 7.5 hours.

Swiftly thereafter, I started writing. Because again, it’s what I’ve always done. So AYDF came to be, where Clementine’s an alcoholic, but not because she’s legitimately an alcoholic in the gameplay. I get she’s not; my Clementine is an alcoholic because…it’s an obscure remark of borderline, and an exploration wherein I thought to use an entirely different disorder to express such a thing. In part because I’d yet to really (re)consider BPD (it wasn’t until some time later that I understood), but also…I’m a storyteller. Having alcoholism represent BPD is interesting.

It’s all why I adore TWDG, and my Clementine, and ADYF. Together, they’re an anchor of mine.

Clementine and Violet’s relationship included, because I did not expect to find Violet. I knew about their relationship before playing—heard it whilst I did light research on which games to buy. But I didn’t expect to find a character who…also emulates what S2 did for me. Just, in a more matured light than who I was in 2019. Also didn’t expect the relationship to provide growth for my Clementine in regards to these personalities, because mine did absolutely struggle the first time—with Kenny, and the devastating choice she made.

Cuz like.

Oops. A.J’s still alive. Um. Whelp.

(…for context—because I know the assumption—, no, Jane was not there. I left S2 with both her and Kenny dead. Clementine just shot the last adult who could’ve helped A.J.)

To see the chances where Clementine is the person Violet needed—to treat her well—, and take those chances, I didn’t expect to find Violentine as this embodiment of a healthy relationship despite borderline. It’s not perfect—obviously it’s not—, but all things considered, it is healthy by the end, no matter the route.

It’s regardless of whether or not Violet actually has BPD. She’s not diagnosed, and I don’t intend to have her be diagnosed. But at the same time…, this essay kinda makes it clear that Violet is a textbook example anyway. A good one to me.

And a good one to A.J.

[A.J, & Serving an Example]

Throughout this essay, the priority has been clarifying BPD, and unveiling what it feels like. A mechanism that may lead to the disorder, then the mechanisms that the disorder itself deploys. How it effects the person, in their identity or, most notably with Violet, relationships.

And the way Violet articulates herself, through the several dialogue lines within this post, it is evident that she’s aware. There’s a self-deprecation to it, but, Violet knows her issues and what it does, whether or not she knows its name—BPD, or something else entirely. Given the ambiguity that the game allows, it is still left unsaid.

But that’s the first thing: she does talk about it. Violet knows herself well enough to.

Not only that, she demonstrates a responsibility in her disorder.

With this essay, there hasn’t been much in the way of responsibility. Because it isn’t until A.J enters the discussion do we truly see this come to light.

I will be the first to say that, while I can sympathize with other people of the diagnosis—even empathize—, I am rather critical when it comes to being responsible of our actions. From knowing a trigger but being around it anyway, to refusing to communicate when a hand reaches out—there’s issues I take. Because there are things that needs to be done with BPD, and those are not it.

The fact of the matter is, sorry, it fucking sucks. But also, it is your disorder, as it is mine. It isn’t your fault that it happened, but it did, and you’re kinda just stuck living with it. It’s not the responsibility of anyone else to fix and manage every aspect of BPD.

Finding people like Clementine, or a support system like the schoolkids, will do wonders because, yes, they can help. But Clementine, and the schoolkids, also have their fair share of shit. To expect them to drop everything is unfair, the same way that being expected to just drop your BPD for someone else’s sake is unfair. 

It’s a give and take. There will be a ceaseless line of dialogue in the name of boundaries, and clarification, and everything in between.

So we return to Violet’s apology to Clementine.

“I wanted to wait ‘til you were up and about, but how I behaved on the boat… It was really unfair. My head was so messed up—by Lilly, and… And Minnie. I was so wrapped up in my own shit…” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | School]

She doesn’t excuse it. Violet gives reason—and that reason is, more or less, she was not in a right mind—, and she articulates what position she was in, but there is no excuse.

Because the difference between an excuse, and an apology, is that one is done with the intention to be forgiven, the other is done with the intention to resolve—the forgiveness is a hope, not the reward.

Being able to do such a thing, unprompted, speaks volumes to Violet’s maturity, and her understanding of her own mental health. For people with BPD, more often than not, it’s easier to blame someone else because…looking inward, and realizing you royally fucked up again is not easy. Or, it’s easier to use apologies to seek a reward—like forgiveness—, and to indulge in a brief gratification that may ensure a person stays.

Well, okay. The same can really be said for everyone. BPD, however, does has its way in amplification.

Nevertheless, A.J is able to witness this moment, take it in. It’s a lesson in itself.

But given Violet is saved, and Louis is mute, there is another moment which not only speaks volumes, but it serves to A.J clarity.

After the last meal shared in the game series, and Violet with Clementine deliberates over a caravan, A.J can ask Violet one thing:

“Aren’t you still mad I killed Tenn?” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | School]

It’s a fresh wound for her. The pain of it is laid clear across Violet’s face. However, in response,

“The thing you said on the bridge…, that he was messing up all the time. It wasn’t something new, you know. Tenn got himself or other people into trouble all the time, long before you guys got here. He was always so lost. He lived in a world that just…isn’t there, you know? And that’s why I tried to look after him. But when I was pulling him away from the walkers, and Minnie, I could also see…he just wasn’t there anymore.” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | School]

Or, it’s complicated, but she understands why. Violet is able to acknowledge where A.J comes from. She does, and she sets aside her emotions. There is no corrosion here. Violet doesn’t devalue A.J for this, even though the gravity of his choice would’ve provided a validity. A warped and intense validity, but one all the same.

They trade more words, and amongst them, Violet asks a damning question, and A.J accepts:

[A.J] “So you’re mad, but sad.” [Violet] “Can I be that for a while?” [A.J] “Yeah, it’s okay.” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | School]

A.J acknowledges her. She asks for further acknowledgement—the time to heal.

And he understands, and he allows her the room.

…the thing about Violet and A.J, in contrast to Louis and A.J, is that A.J looks up to these characters for very different reasons. Louis is a great guy. I want A.J to be like him, or better yet, a matured version of Louis. He’s charming, charismatic, good-natured, and through the game, we do see that he begins to donate an effort to do better.

Really, it’s not a mystery as to why A.J grew attached so quickly.

Violet, meanwhile, is confusing. She’s not that great with people, is instead a bit of a pill to swallow, and with her trauma comes a volatility.

Sure, she was the one who stood-up for Clementine and A.J when Louis didn’t, but in playing this season, I’ve always gotten the implication that A.J—at least initially—does have a preference for Louis. And I say implication because it’s never said outright, but there are some dialogues and reactions of his that had me wonder. I also don’t mean he doesn’t like Violet, no, but more that he doesn’t necessarily understand what Clementine sees in her.

At least, that isn’t until time passes, and more is spent with Violet, does she start to grow on him as well.

Louis models a more…digestible person. He has his problems, but they are easy to explain and understand. He was a spoiled brat. He sabotaged a marriage over something so very petty. And now, where his upbringing still rears its head through his immature work ethic, he struggles with deep insecurities.

There is a complexity here. One that does deserve its own essay, though I’m not really the right person for that. (Here’s an essay, by @stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale. Pretty good. And they gots a lot of essays like it. …but also, again, sorry for tagging; I know this is absurdly long. Lol.)

Violet, meanwhile, comes with a confusion because her issues are so steeped in stigma. Which is to be expected in conditions like BPD, where…yeah, there’s the chance she will lash out, do things she doesn’t mean, because a switch was flipped.

Where Louis is someone that A.J would like to aspire to, Violet seem to stand as a figure A.J can grow to appreciate. Having her as a model gives A.J the chance to understand that with people like Violet, you give them space and time. Work with them, and if they are genuine people, they will prove themselves worth the effort.

It does take effort, however, and the time spent with them.

And if there is no effort given, and no time spent…

Yeah. Violet will be that wallflower.

[Conclusion]

There’s nothing else this essay really has to say at its core. BPD is a very, very confusing disorder. Both internally, and externally. Stigma doesn’t help. It is, after all, a huge reason why I wrote this.

Because the stigma is quite honestly the worst thing about BPD. In many resources—whether they’re linked below, or you find them on your own—, you’ll find that a BPD diagnosis often comes with others right along with it. Addictions, eating disorders, depression…

To those who don’t know better (or maybe they do), that’s just…natural. It’s how it is.

But I remember going to my family, telling them that there is something wrong, only…to be assured otherwise. Not for my sake, but for theirs. Because BPD isn’t greatly understood, and when it is, realizing that none of them got to save me from my mother in time has its way in denial. What my mother did wasn’t right, however, I could’ve ended up like her. 

Just not through those initial traumas.

Rather, I could’ve, had I made the same mistakes she did with the silent traumas thereafter—decades, now, where the people around me refuse to acknowledge my words, and listen to me, because I know the look in the eye, and I sometimes find it in the mirror. Those initial traumas may have been the first lashing, but it’s the time after which seals BPD within a person. Because the condition goes unchecked. It ferments. People tell you one thing, but you feel another, and as a child, you decide to trust their word, not your own body. Which breaks you. Gets to a point where there’s no real return, because people like me weren’t allowed to learn otherwise.

Understanding what happened to me was a very lonely experience, despite the sheer amount of people I had around me.

…and it hurts, somewhere deep in the recesses of my alexithymia, that my abuse never came from people who hated me. My mother didn’t, not in those initial years. None of my family did, in the decades into adulthood. But still, they hurt. The abuse came from the people I least want to admit, in ways that media would deem too boring for our idled attention spans.

I proclaimed that BPD is when a mechanism deploys, and the cost means a sacrifice of one integral function. It is still true—the mechanism, alongside the personality, and that specific initial trauma will influence how that BPD is expressed.

Yet, Borderline Personality Disorder happens when a mechanism deploys at a great cost, and that sacrifice is never restored. It is the neglect of the individual’s emotional turmoil after catastrophe that does it, where the same mechanism festers until it is there to stay as an ugly, depraved scar.

It is the disorder where a person was never allowed to heal, despite the mind and body screaming that they need to.

So when I hear BPD and the diagnoses alongside, I hear yet another time where someone likely knew there was something wrong, but they chose to find stability by other means, because it wasn’t found in the people around. Addictions bring those dopamine hits that BPD elevates. Eating disorders, where maybe…they can find something about themselves to control. Because there is none day to day, nor in relationships. And depression? Honestly, it speaks for itself; if a person manages to find themselves with a tumultuous anchor, or no anchor at all, it’s easy to slip into.

Or, if the diagnoses are born conditions, like ADHD or autism, or others, like schizophrenia, those speak to a concern where those conditions were left unchecked, and they festered as BPD, they were what predisposed it…

Yet, when I hear a story like Violet’s, it is a true reassurance.

Sure she’s not diagnosed. But still. The game doesn’t hide anything. It doesn’t “assure” the player that Violet isn’t this type of person, that she isn’t literally sick in the head.

TFS shows her issues quite plainly. And it’s because it does, and refuses to lie to make anyone feel better, does the game promise something that is so, so desperately yearned for in those with borderline.

It’s acknowledgement.

To tell someone that, yes, you’re not confused that you feel confused amid a chaos. You are. But there are ways to work with it, and around it. You can, actually, have strong relationships with people, and in those like Clementine, even if/when you fail, they will stay, because they understand.

To tell someone all of that is a first step towards understanding BPD, a disorder so shrouded because of stigma, and little else.

And so you have a character who still has her struggles with it, but she has a support system, and she’s taught herself enough to manage—did it well, considering the circumstances. She was left to her own devices. Sure, she had her grandparents to escape from home, but…, well. Yeah. After her grandma, Violet was then sent straight to the boarding school. The apocalypse struck. The adults left. And though her community still cherishes her, Violet…was designated as their wallflower.

So it’s funny, to have found this character this way, because Louis was right.

Violet does grow on you. If you let her, anyway. She can be suffocating.

Anyway. Hope you enjoyed.

Volt out.

Volt's Library (my writing) Clem Comic Essay #1 (canon stuff) Clem Comic Essay #2 (language)

Links: to start your own research

BPD (General) | 1 ; 2 ; 3 (4 types); 4 (quiet BPD)

BPD (Stigma) | 1 ; 2 ; 3 ; 4 ; 5 (r/BPD)

BPD (Anchors/FP) | 1 ; 2 ; 3 ; 4 (r/BPD)

BPD vs Bipolar | 1 ; 2 ; 3 (comorbid BPD & Bipolar)

BPD (Identity Disturbance) | 1 ; 2 ; 3 ; 4 (r/BPD)

BPD (in Relationships) | 1 ; 2 ; 3

[nathaslosthershit]

A Much Needed Interview (OP81)

(Part 2 of Teen Dad) Summary: After the shock of Oscar revealing himself to be a former teen dad, he joins an interview in the hopes of clearing everything up and limiting the overwhelming amount of questions he has been getting.

“Oscar, it is nice of you to sit down with us. I know it has been an interesting few weeks for you and your family. How are you guys all doing?” The interviewer asks.

‘Yeah, y’know, I had expected to one day have to open up about it all, but I never thought I’d have to do it the way I did. It has been fine, obviously my kids are young enough to not be impacted because they aren’t on social media, but it has been strange for my fiancée who is now getting hundreds of requests on her private account. I have sort of decided to take a break from social media because the response has been overwhelming and like none before. Mostly positive but I think a few people have gotten the wrong idea so I was hoping to clear everything up.” Oscar rambled. He was more nervous about this interview than any he had done before.

“Of course. Why don’t we start at the beginning, how did you and your fiancée meet?”

“We actually met at one of my races. She went to support one of her close friend’s brothers. After the race that I sadly didn’t do too well in, I saw her with her friend and I was kinda frozen in my spot, immediately head over heels. Sadly, it seems like everyone but her noticed. I was too scared to do anything so I just watched her leave. I think I sulked for days, totally regretting my decision to do nothing. A totally heartbroken 16 year old. I looked for her every single race until she finally came back a few months later.”

“Oh please tell me you finally got the confidence to shoot your shot.”

“Nope! I just stared at her and stuttered when she caught me looking then ran off. I then had an amazing race, I think part of me was just trying to make up for the embarrassment and luckily it seems my car got the memo. After the race she came up to me and asked for my number.” God, he was blushing profusely at the memory. He knew he would be getting slack for this for a very long time. 

“Such a story! The young Oscar Piastri was no ladies’ man.”

“He was absolutely not. Soon after we started dating.” Oscar awkwardly laughed, sensing what was about to come up.

“And then kids came shortly after?” The interviewer asked with care in his voice, certainly able to sense Oscar’s change in attitude.

“Yeah. Uh, obviously not planned. I don’t think many people plan to become parent’s at 18. It was a shock… I didn’t handle it the best at first, something I think I will always regret. She was scared and while so was I, I should have been more supportive. I was embarrassed for a while. Felt like a total idiot. I didn’t tell anyone outside of my family and made them swear to secrecy. I also began to isolate myself from friends because I couldn’t bring myself to tell them but also felt terrible lying. A few months in I finally snapped myself out of it and began to focus on all the wonderfulness that was to come. I loved her more than anything and I would be lying if I said I hadn’t already imagined a life together in great detail. By the time we found out it was twins, a boy and a girl, I was ecstatic.”

“Well mate, I don’t blame you for your feelings. I definitely would have been a terrible father at 18 so I salute you.” The interviewer joked.

“Honestly, I had the same thought for a while, even when I was excited to have kids. I had so many doubts about it, I mean how could I not? But when it came down to it, I couldn’t afford to be anything less than a great father. Of course I had my moments, and still do years later, but I wouldn’t be able to let myself be anything less than I am. If you love your kids enough, you find a way.”

“How did having kids so young impact your career? Obviously it didn’t hurt it too much considering you are in your second year driving in Formula 1.”

“Well, I decided I wouldn’t advertise my situation unless a team was very serious about me. Prema knew, Alpine did too and of course McLaren does. All were welcoming and accommodating, as much as they could be. I don’t think I would have gone with any of them if they weren’t cool with it though. I realized the minute my kids were born I would give it all up for them, which scared the hell out of me.”

“That is admirable. All these years later you are still with their mother, correct?”

“Yes! I asked her to marry me over break. Everyone close to us had been confused as to why it took so long but we had discussed marriage together many times and made the decision that because our relationship moved so fast with having kids so young, we would wait a bit. I mean, we are still young but I honestly couldn’t wait any longer. She is everything to me and the most wonderful mother my kids could have.”

“Have your kids been around the paddock yet? I assume they are old enough to understand what you do.”

“They have been to the factory and come with me to meetings when we haven’t had a sitter for them. Luckily, they are both very well behaved in public, they also really like watching the races on tv and have somewhat of an understanding of what I do. They don’t believe I actually drive the car though.” Oscar rumbled. Trying to convince his twins that yes, their father actually does drive the cars they see going super fast, has been an ongoing issue. They seem to believe he is tricking them but have no problem believing Uncle Logan and Uncle Lando drive the cars. It has definitely humbled him immensely.

“Well you will have to fix that soon huh? Will they be attending races in the future?”

“I am trying to work that out with my fiancée actually. They are almost four so we don’t want them traveling too far, I also don’t believe they will be able to be entertained solely by the race the entire time so we have a lot to deal with. But I think seeing them on the paddock supporting me will be one of the best moments of my life. I selfishly can’t wait for them to come.”

The interview wrapped up shortly after that. Getting to reminisce on the start of his relationship and how far they have come and how many wonderful things are in the future put Oscar in a deliriously happy mood. He couldn’t wait to get home to his family. 

Walking through the door, he was immediately welcomed to the sound of toddler meltdowns. Fully entering the house, he saw his very tired fiancée rubbing her face as she tried to calm her babies down. Clearly this had been going on for a while.

Despite how upset she looked, she immediately perked up at seeing Oscar had returned. But that immediately went away as she remembered the screaming kids and how messy the house and herself were.

“Sorry honey, I know you are probably so tired after the interview and meetings earlier and these two missed their nap so they are so cranky and I just-” He cut her off with a kiss. Once he pulled away she looked at him, perplexed. A kiss from Oscar was never unwelcome but it was the last thing she expected at that moment.

“Hey, look at me.” He said as he put a hand on her cheek. “I love you and our little family so much and you never, ever have to apologize for something as trivial as this. Why don’t you go get in the bath and relax a little and I will try to wrangle these two, okay?” 

In her eyes, Oscar had never been hotter than he was now. Now it was her turn to surprise him with a kiss, even more passionate than the first. They would have continued if it hadn’t been for more screaming from their two kids.

Still, Oscar wouldn’t change a thing.

[worldlxvlys]

Hi honey can you do a text with Matt like he likes the reader and the reader likes him but they are to scared to confess and they make really sexual and suggestive comments and jokes to each other ✌🏼 I love you 💋 Matt is kinda subby and like touches himself to her messages imagining it’s real

Love you,🥰

I have a lot of ideas so just let me know if you need any 💋

texts w/ bsf! matt (part 2)

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: smuttttt, hand job, masturbation, fantasizing

a/n: pls don’t ever stop giving me ideas this ate

previous part !

want me to help ?

any sense of self-control that i had completely left my body when i saw the sentence.

i read it over again and again, trying to figure out whether she was joking or not.

as i let my mind wander, i began to palm myself through my boxers lightly.

i thought about her face, how pretty it would look scrunched up in pleasure, while she chased her orgasm.

suddenly, i felt my phone vibrate in my hand, bringing me back to reality while i began to read the text messages.

i’d spit on the tip and watch you squirm while it dripped down.

“fuck” i sighed out, rubbing myself through the thin material as i imagined her staring up at me, her hands massaging my thighs.

my hips jerked up into the air at the thought, almost as if i could feel her teasing touches.

part of me felt guilty, imagining my best friend’s face inches away from my dick.

but if she didn’t want me to, why would she send a text like that? when we’ve flirted in the past, it was usually all jokes.

but this felt different. maybe it was the morning wood and horny state that i woke up in causing me to misjudge her intentions, or maybe she was teasing me on purpose.

either way, i had no plans of stopping myself from basking in the moment.

besides, if i have my boxers on i’m not technically touching myself to the thought of her…..right ?

i’d give you a few good pumps, squeezing the base and twisting my hand around you.

god, what was she doing ?

i began to apply more pressure to my crotch, pushing and rubbing more and more aggressively.

she was driving me crazy, it’s almost as though she wanted me to drive over to her and fuck the living shit out of her.

and with that thought, i found my mind wandering off again.

i imagined the way she’d scream my name, the way her ass would jiggle while i fucked her from behind while her legs trembled.

then i’d swirl my tongue around the tip teasingly before taking you into my mouth.

she just loved to tease me. i wonder how she’d feel if the roles were reversed.

what would she do if i rubbed my dick against her thighs ? or her stomach ? each time, managing to just miss her pussy ?

would she be a moaning mess under me, whining and crying for me to do something ?

maybe she’d grab my hand, forcing me to pump myself a few times before finally pushing into her.

i’d take every inch of you, deep throating your cock.

i was so lost in my own world, i hadn’t even realized how close i was until i was bucking my hips up into my hand, with quick gasps and curse words flying out of my mouth.

“fuck, fuck, fuck” i whispered out as my hands flew around the sheets, desperately trying to find something to hold onto.

i let out a cry of her name as i came inside of my boxers, forming a wet spot on the light-colored material.

i took in a deep breath, attempting to calm myself when i got another message.

wouldn’t stop until you begged me to.

i’d let you cum all over my face while your legs shook and your body twitched.

i quickly pulled my boxers down, throwing them haphazardly across the room.

my hand immediately flew to my dick, spreading the remains of my orgasm around, making me let out a small whine.

i began to pump myself quickly, imagining how pretty she’d look while thick spurts of my seed flew onto her face.

my eyes were scrunched up, toes curling inward while i pushed through the overwhelming amount of pleasure building inside of me.

soft whimpers fell from my mouth, as the wet sounds of my hand sliding around my dick filled the room.

my head flew back as my phone fell from my hand and onto the bed.

i imagined her on top of me, bracing herself with her hands on my knees as she rode me.

“you wanted me so bad? getting off on my text messages like a little slut? sit there and take it”

“i can’t, it’s too much” i cried out, fisting the sheets as tears pricked at the corner of my eyes.

“you can and you will. take it”

i shook my head vigorously, taking my bottom lip between my teeth. “i can’t-” i started.

she’d loop her fingers into my hair, yanking my head towards her chest.

taking the hint, i’d bring my mouth to one of her tits swirling my tongue around her nipple.

i was ripped out of my fantasy quickly, as my hips began to stutter.

i let out an embarrassingly loud whine as my load spilled out of me, covering my abs and thighs.

my body trembled, muscles contracting and relaxing as the aftershocks ran through me.

“holy shit” i whispered as the reality of the situation hit me.

i just jerked off to my best friend’s text messages.

and that was the hardest i’d ever came before.

i fucked up.

🦋🦋🦋🦋

yayyy double update bc i love you <333

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @nicksmainbitch @meg-sturniolo @yamamasjumpercables @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @luverboychris

[misshugs]

Is this what you wanted to see? || Colby Brock x Reader

You thought it was just going to be another funny, intriguing investigation with the guys, but things went south real quick. Whatever was in this hotel, didn't like you.

warnings: gore/blood, cursing, violent paranormal activity, reader getting attacked by ghosts, seeing shit that's not there (aka, being a bit of a medium), angst?

a/n: the story is fictional, therefore, the place/video that I based the story from, is not real.

word count: 2k

[u n e d i t e d]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

"What's up guys! It's Sam and Colby. Today, we're standing right infront of one of the most haunted hotels in America..." Colby began.

The frame of my body visible to the camera as they continued their intro. I threw a tiny wave when they called out my name to the camera.

At this point I'm so used to all of this that Colby doesn't even need to ask if I'm okay with it anymore, although he still does, which I love about him.

We've been dating for months now and I swear that I'm just falling deeper in love every day. I didn't even notice myself staring lovingly at him throughout their intro to the point they had to shake me out of it.

"You good?" Nate asked, I looked up at him and nodded.

"Yeah, yeah, just zoned out for a little bit, my bad." I smiled at him and he nodded.

"Just making sure."

"You guys ready?" Sam asked, looking at us.

"Yessir!" Nate responded.

"As I'll ever be." I added.

"We'll see you guys inside." Colby said back to the camera and turned it off. He looked back at us and smiled. "So, shall we?"

"We shall." I responded, laughing slightly as I got closer to him and walked inside with them. While they weren't looking, I felt a short kiss on my cheek coming from him, which just made me smile wider.

God, I love him.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

While we were all walking through a corridor, I looked back and saw an employee with a tray of food. He saw me and I nodded with a smile at him as a kind gesture. He smiled and nodded back. I looked back at the boys, only to slightly look back for a second and then completely looking back in shock.

There was no one there. It would've been impossible for someone to run and hide in that short amount of time.

Was it my imagination or did that really just happen? It seemed too real to be true.

"Co..Colby." I softly said, as my feet were unable to move after the thought of having seen something so real, yet not being there.

"Yeah?" He looked back, so did the other two. "You okay? What happened?" He got closer and looked at my face then back to the corridor, trying to see what I was looking at.

"I... there was someone here. An employee... with... a tray. I looked at him, even greeted him for a second and when I looked back he was... gone."

"No fucking way." Sam said.

"Are you serious?? You're telling me you just saw a full-on person then it disappeared?" Nate asked, shocked.

"I guess, yeah?"

"Oh, this is gonna be a good night." Sam put the camera on my face. "One of us already saw something unexplainable, wish that would've been me." He laughed.

"Next thing we know you begin to levitate brother." Colby laughed back.

I laughed as well, trying to brush away the thought of genuinely seeing a ghost.

All night, I've ended up having this eerie feeling of someone just watching us, but there was no one around. I tried to hide my uneasiness but Colby saw through me right away.

Every time he noticed, he began to flirt with me, making me feel good the best way he knows how. "You know we can just leave if you're too uncomfortable, baby." He kissed my forehead, putting his arms on my shoulders.

"Don't worry about it, I'm good. If I couldn't handle it, I would tell you right away."

"You better." He chuckled and kissed me, making all of my stress go away for a moment.

I can't lie, it did make me feel better, but somehow it just made things worse. I started seeing figures at the corners of my eyes, movements around me where nobody was walking around, even feeling touched a few times around my shoulders, hands and even ass. It felt weird, it made my anxiety grow by the minute, but somehow, it felt safe because of Colby.

And so, we ended the tour of the place and thought about trying to get some activity at around 3 in the morning. Meaning, we had nothing else to do. I was already tired enough, feeling as if the energy in my body has been drained to its core. I believed that it was solely because of the much walking and anxiety that was rising constantly.

Although the others planned on staying awake until the hour came, I told them I will try and get some sleep. And so, they would wake me up when the time comes.

Lying in the bed, I didn't stay up for long until my eyelids were closed and my brain just shut down. Usually, I'm quite the light sleeper, but this time I was knocked out.

Until I felt it.

I felt some hands on my legs. Honestly, I wasn't conscious enough to know if it was in my dreams or in real life. It turns out, it was real. And it wasn't Colby, or anyone else. But I felt it, tight on my leg. I couldn't even think right before I felt a pull and suddenly I was on the floor.

I could feel a sharp pain on my head as it was the first thing that touched the floor. I quickly woke up, shaken up by the sudden act. I whined in pain as the other seemingly stood up from their places and looked at me, possibly concerned, believing I might've just moved and fallen off the bed.

Before they even got closer, I got pulled back. This time, being completely awake, I yelled out, looking back at whatever force was holding my legs, one to see nothing at all.

And it was at that point when I felt genuine fear. I tried my hardest to hold onto the floor or anything really, but to no avail. Tears filling my tired eyes as I tried to focus my vision to the things around me. Next thing I knew I was thrown onto the wall, my back throbbing with pain as I felt a huge headache from the mild concussion I probably had after all of this.

To this point, everyone was frightened. Fear made them almost unable to walk, talk even. I could see them, their scared faces, trying to do something but there was this tension that made them... stop in place. Like this pressure, this force that was throwing me around like a ragdoll. They couldn't help me, it seemed.

At least in my point of view.

Unbeknownst to me, they were actually trying to set themselves free from this invisible pressure. Trying to move, but feeling like they've had a ton of weight on top of them that they couldn't escape from.

As I fell to the floor, I tried to gain back my breathing. Shaking on the floor, I looked up and saw Colby screaming my name while being set free from the pressure, running towards me. I looked at him with hope in my eyes, trying to pull my arm up to hold him, only to feel myself getting pulled again. This time, thrown towards the couch.

Although the direct hit to the couch didn't feel as bad, I had enough force to fall back behind the couch and to the floor. Since I tried to hold myself with the couch, unfortunately, it leaned back on itself and fell on top of me. Just the cherry on top.

I whined in pain, unable to move, stuck underneath the couch with bruises all over my body and the wet feeling of warm liquid on my back and the top of my head, wishing it would've only been sweat.

My vision was blurry.

My senses were all fucked up.

It all happened so quick that I don't think even they would've reacted in time even if they were able to move freely.

With my eyes closed, I could feel the pressure from the couch lift from my chest and a pair of arms holding me tightly.

"Oh my fucking god. Oh shit. Fuck. We need to get the fuck out of here." I heard Colby desperately scream. As I opened my eyes, I could see his teary ones. Holding me onto his arms, his eyes filled with guilt and fear. "Are you okay? Fuck..."

"Hurts..." I was able to whisper out those words, shaking and I feel myself coughing onto my hand. Looking back at the now blood-drenched hand, the pain began to intensify. My vision kept on failing, only able to see blobs of colors here and there.

Colby held me on his arms and pulled me up from the floor, which made me whimper in pain, feeling my back getting even more wet by the moment.

"Shit. Her back is bleeding... Fuck." I could hear Sam's shaky voice as I tried to gain back my breath, trying to calm myself down as I heard the rapidly increasing heartbeat of Colby.

Somehow, it made me feel okay. Being by his side, the rush of everything around almost seemed softer, calmer. I could no longer listen to everything that was going on.

Muffled sounds were the only thing that could pass through.

Yelling.

Moving.

A tight squeeze.

I felt numb. For a moment, at least.

My name.

I heard my name and suddenly, I was conscious again. I blinked a few times and looked up at the desperate Colby. "Please... tell me you're okay... fuck..." His tears probably blurring his eyesight.

A glimpse of strength came back to me and I was able to touch his cheek with my hand. He quickly looked down at me. "I'm fine... I'm fine..."

"Right after we walk out of the room..." Nate pointed out, holding all of their stuff in their hands.

"We need to get the fuck out of here and get her to a hospital." Sam said, walking quickly with the others. I was confused, seemingly forgetting for a brief moment about how I was brutally assaulted by a ghost.

"Hospital? Why are we going to a hos..." As I was talking, I realized why they were hurriedly walking away. I felt the pain all over again. I groaned at the feeling, shaking on Colby's arms.

"You'll be okay, you're going to be fine. Don't move. Deep breaths, baby." Colby tried to calm me down, his shaky breath giving away his anxiety.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

My back was all bruised up. I had some unknown hand marks on my legs, where I was pulled from. Some scratches tinted my back red when I got into the ER, as well as a few bumps in my head that gave me a red face.

The memories of what happened were blurry, yet so vivid.

And the only thing keeping me conscious was him. I could see it in his face, he felt guilty. Guilty for something that wasn't even his fault.

"Shouldn't have let you go with us... we should've stopped when you began to see so many things... I'm so stupid." He whispered under his breath.

"Hey, hey. Look at me." I said. He reluctantly looked up and into my eyes. I smiled. "It wasn't your fault. Nothing about this could've been predicted, alright? Don't blame yourself." He smiled slightly, only to sigh.

"Yeah, but..." I interrupted him.

"No buts. I'm fine. I'm still here, with you. Right?" I responded, softly while holding his hand. "No need to feel guilty, no need to be sorry. You just have to promise me a good time when I get out of here, yeah? And a good meal." I smiled. "Food here kinda taste like shit." He chuckled, making me smile even more. "That's the face I like to see."

"I love you, so much." He said, holding my hand up to his lips and leaving a soft kiss on them, making my cheeks flutter by the site of his sensitive side.

"I love you too. Now, do that again, but closer to my face."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

it's been a while since i've written something like this, and honestly i just remembered how fun and angsty it is to write about getting literally beaten up by a ghost lmao

hope you liked it, requests are appreciated!

-nikkõ

[ragingbookdragon]

Life becomes a bit simpler after her chat with Price; the others definitely notice as she’s not calling Ghost “sir” consistently, and she’s also not avoiding him like the plague. It’s almost upsetting for both Gaz and Soap, mainly because it gave them something to tease Ghost about—it was hilarious watching the way his jaw would clench when they did so. She may not be avoiding Ghost like usual, but she doesn’t go out of her way to directly engage him either. She’s calm, cool, collected when he speaks to her, even smiles at him from time to time, like she used to.

It’s her eyes that unnerves Ghost though.

She knows. And he knows she knows because his skin crawls when he recognizes the look in them. He used to hate it when he saw that. Saw it in every soldier, every superior, every civilian’s gaze when they whispered in the halls about him. But where theirs held pity, hers shine with understanding. With grace. With welcoming.

It makes his stomach churn uncomfortably and weight like lead settle in his bones.

***

Ghost has a routine when he can’t sleep. Usually wakes up at one, drinks a cup of decaffeinated tea, and goes back to sleep by three. No one else is usually awake during those hours except routine security and he trudges into the kitchen, intent to make himself a cup in his tired state, when he stops at the entrance, eyes widening when he sees her sitting there with a steaming cup of tea in front of her, and a bottle of whiskey.

She looks up at the intrusion and smiles tiredly at him. “Hiya LT. Funny meeting you here.”

“It’s one A.M.” he mutters. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Can’t sleep,” she replies, looking back at her tea.

Ghost takes a step into the kitchen, goes to the kettle when his eyes fall on the table again, and he realizes she has two cups of tea ready.

“You’re a piss poor liar,” he says under his breath, abandoning the kettle as he pulls out the chair and plops down beside her. “You makin’ hotty toddy’s?”

“Those don’t have tea in them,” she answers, but pours a decent amount of whiskey in his teacup. “But yes, I am.”

He hums, lifts the mask above his upper lip and takes a sip. “Not bad,” he cuts himself off with a cough and she purses her lips, trying not to laugh at him. “Not bad,” he wheezes, eyes watering, but he feels something light in his chest when he sees her smile.

It’s a comfortable silence they find themselves sitting in, drinking tea and staring at the board on the wall across the room in front of them. It’s Soap’s turn on dishes for the week. He’ll probably try to smooch his way out of it—he hates washing dishes. He’ll most likely ask her to switch duties with him; he’ll probably win.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you the other day.”

She blinks and looks over at him, but his eyes are still on the board, moving like he’s reading. “It’s…it’s okay, LT.”

“No,” he answers back immediately. “No, it wasn’t. And I shouldn’t have done it. I should’ve acted like an adult and instead I acted like a ten-year-old.”

A laugh passes her lips and he looks over at her curiously; she shakes her head. Price said something like that.” Her eyes meet his. “I’m sorry I’m always up your ass. I know it can be annoying.”

Ghost shrugs. “I’m used to annoying.” He catches the way her expression pinches and he corrects, “You’re not annoying, you’re just…”

“A lot?”

“Will you let me try and dig myself out of this hole, please?”

She smiles and reaches over, patting his leg. “I know what you mean. I’ll try to not be it.”

Ghost blinks and looks at her hand then back at her. “I miss it, y’know? You being…you.”

“Really?”

He nods. “It’s too quiet around the base. I realize how much your laughter makes us all feel when I don’t hear it.” He sips his tea.

She stirs the spoon in hers. “…Price told me about your family.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

He shrugs. “I figured he’d said something.” He nudges her in the side. “Gave you a talking to, didn’t he?”

“You’re one to talk,” she retorts, and he grins for a moment before he lets out a sigh.

“My old man was a drunk arsehole.”

“LT, you don’t—”

“No, I do,” he interrupts and leans back, staring at the ceiling. “He was a complete cunt. Beat me and my mum and brother. Tommy was a drug addict, started stealin’ from mum.” Something flickers in his expression. Cold. Old hatred. “I beat the shit outta my old man. Kicked him out for good. Got Tommy into rehab.” His tone eases somewhat. “Things got better. Tommy married Beth, had Joseph. Things were good.” Ghost’s eyes take on a sadness, an ache, a wound that has never seemed to really heal, just scab over. “Things were good,” he murmurs.

“And then…”

He inhales and exhales, swallows, tries to speak, until all he can say is, “I don’t like talkin’ ‘bout Mexico.”

She lays her hand on his. “You don’t have to.”

“I got vengeance for the blood that was spilled from my family.” He inhales and exhales again, closing his eyes for a moment. “…I’m claustrophobic. An’ I hate being around people. I hate bein’ in a room where I don’t know the exits. I hate gettin’ new people ‘cause I’m afraid to trust ‘em.” When she gives him a funny look from the last statement, he adds, “The people you know can hurt you the worst.”

“LT, I would never betray you.”

“Don’t ever say you won’t until you’re in a—”

“Simon, I would never betray you,” she repeats firmly, gazing at him intently. “I would rather die than betray any of the people on this team.”

He searches her gaze for some kind of lie before he turns his head back to the wall. “I’m afraid to let more people in ‘cause I’ve already lost so much of myself from it. I don’t know how much more I can take losin’.”

She goes quiet for a moment, thinks on his words, then counters, “I’d rather lose the people I care about than never know what it was like to love them in the first place.” She can see the way the man beneath Ghost aches to wish he could still be that man. “I’d rather lose you as my friend than never know what it was like to know the man beneath the mask.”

“I’m not a good man to know,” he murmurs, and she scoffs lightly.

“That’s your prerogative.”

“It’s the right one.”

She turns in her chair, her knees brushing against the outside of his thigh as she affirms, “Whether or not you think you are, you are my friend, and I am a better person for knowing you.”

“Puffin,” he mutters. “You gotta aim higher, love.”

“Or you can let me in.” She watches the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I’m not going anywhere. You can either accept that and be my friend, or you can reject it and ignore me forever, but I’ll still be here.”

Ghost‘s face pinches and he gripes, “You’re a pain in my arse, you know that, don’t you?” Her smile is bright as he sits straight again and leans against his arm, her head on his shoulder.

After a moment, she whispers, “LT, do you think…do you think in a different life we’d be better people? Happier?”

He tears his gaze from the wall to look down at her and he thinks for a moment, then nods. “Yeah, pet, I think we’d be better.” He shifts his arm, wraps it around the back of her chair and adds, “But I think you and me are doing just fine in this one.”

[unbearableblog]

My Christmas gift for you.

Messages (Carmen Berzatto x reader)

Summary Carmy’s actions towards the reader might eventually lead to consequences.

Word count ~2,8k

Warnings 18+, No use of Y/N (there is rarely a name but it’s just for aesthetics, you are welcome to insert your own name), action set in S2 so possible spoilers, cursing, angst, relationship problems, possible mentions of smut

A/N God this took a lot from me! Legit flew to Copenhagen haha. I am very grateful to each and every one of you who read, liked, commented or reposted and supported this! I would never think that this would happen. I hope you’re not going to crucify me over the plot. Thank you so much for waiting!

Merry Christmas everyone!

Chapter 1 (the one with departure, Denmark, and desserts)

Things were a little different at the Beef lately.

“Richie, shut the fuck up!”

“You first, child!”

Well, maybe not so different. But they certainly were different with you. Amongst the neverending screaming, cursing, and fighting, you somehow survived getting shot at, losing the power, dealing with the IRS, and everything else that constantly went wrong with this cursed place. The amount of experience you had in this short amount of time has topped anything you've done before. You couldn't catch your breath. But that's what you do for the ones you love, right?

It's been some time since you started helping Carmen with the Beef - serving the customers on a particularly busy day, calming down Carmen, sometimes giving Richie a pep talk when he needed to keep his shit together. But mostly you just chatted with Sydney and sat in the kitchen, doing your college assignments while watching Carmen work. You could never get tired of it - he looked so professional and smart. It was his element. Well, when everything was going well.

The entire time, you were there, talking to Carmen as he prepped for the day, giving him a smile and getting one back, just watching him go on about his day and move so swiftly like a well-oiled machine. Seeing him in an apron drove you wild. You'd have to stop yourself from going up to him and touching his god-given curls or rubbing his back through his white T-shirt (but more often you failed to do so). Most of the days you patiently waited to go home and show him everything that was on your mind all day.

One time he caught you staring, mind far away from the Beef. His voice brought you back.

“Are you thinking about my fingers again?” He said while putting his arms at his hips, almost offended.

You bit your lip and looked at him with a guilty smile.

His hand went up to brush through his curls.

“You’re not gonna get any work done if you keep thinking about that. And with the way you look at me, can say the same thing about myself.”

You whine and playfully pout, not wanting to keep studying.

“Come on, princess,” he comes closer to you and whispers in your ear so that his whole voice goes through your body and his lips brush your ear “And when we get home you can tell me all about it while you sit on my ‘pretty’ cock”

Sometimes he would explain what he was doing or why things weren't going the way they were supposed to, sometimes you would share something you found fascinating in your assignment. He would always listen, even if he didn't fully understand, but you knew he was trying to. It made you feel so special - you got the whole attention of this hot 3 Michelin star chef, covered in tattoos and buff, but he looked at you with such care and softness. His muscular arms touched and wrapped around you with strong tenderness and appreciation. Sometimes you saw the same attention to the details in the food he was making - he really cared.

Everything changed after the Beef closed down.

Carmen was a little taken aback when you told him you were going to Copenhagen with Marcus. You were at the restaurant, like any other day, figuring out a thousand things that were wrong before the opening, when you heard Denmark being mentioned amongst the guys.

“Someone's going to Denmark?” you asked, turning around on your chair.

“Marcus is,” Carmen brushed off, and continued having his conversation with him.

“Wait, to Copenhagen? Why?” you felt ignored.

“Uhh, to learn everything about desserts,” Marcus answered. Carmen didn't even look in your direction.

“When? Why didn't you tell me?” you sounded excited because you were, but your heart felt like it was placed into an iron cage. Carmen knew how much that city meant to you, and to not even mention that your friend was going there felt neglectful. But maybe you were overreacting - he was probably busy, he doesn't have to tell you everything, and it surely wasn't for long anyway.

Berzatto shrugged his shoulders. “Why? It's just for some time.”

“I was actually thinking about going there too. I haven't seen my sister in a while. Maybe we could fly together? I know everything there,” you were ready to help Marcus as a bonus. You really appreciated him as a friend, and returning the favor for all those delicious pastries he made at your request would be terrific. You could also use a fucking break from Chiberia.

“For real? That would be awesome!” Marcus exclaimed with his arms, his smile releasing your heart from its prison.

“Uhh… yeah-yeah, sure, I guess,” Carmen squinted his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “I- uhhh, have to go out for a minute. Umm,” he swallowed “-meet that rep for me, yeah?”

An entire work shift of flying has gone by the time you started seeing the bronze-roofed houses sprinkled like decorations on a Red Velvet cake. You made Marcus promise you not to judge the country by its airport, as it usually was surprisingly dirty. Nevertheless, there were hints of what life there was like - a burst of energy, culture, and flavour. You walked what seemed like forever through the endless white halls with blue sections, wondering how many times Carmen had been here and whether you ever crossed paths. You kind of wished he was there. Your excitement rubbed off on your friend - Marcus was beaming with happiness, anticipating your time there. He knew it was going to be life-changing.

The moment you went outside felt like you could breathe again. The weight of The Beef, Carmen, stress, problems problems problems dropped off, was left behind, and never got on the plane. Your chest wasn't encircled by snakes that only pushed until you suffocated. Your mind was clear.

You helped Marcus settle in his awesome boat, and after reading the owner's note to "keep the water in Coco's bowl", searched for the cat for like 20 minutes. Unfortunately, your efforts were fruitless.

Marcus only let you go back alone because you assured him of your safety (you gave him a speech about how it wasn't like Chicago) and experience. Still, he made you text him when you got to your sister's. The two of you were always trying to make your relationship work, but the distance didn't make it easy. That did not mean that you were going to give up - you were used to making a lot of effort for the people you love. She was ecstatic and grateful to see her little sister. The rest of the evening was spent eating, sharing your lives, and talking about your mysterious boyfriend.

“I don’t know, he’s just so… distant. He always leaves somewhere, does god knows what when he knows we don’t have much time! Sometimes it feels like I care about the restaurant more than him. Which is so weird because he was so into it before! He planned the whole thing! And I am so fucking stressed from it all! I never even wanted to work in a restaurant but I was there for him!” you expressed your pain very loudly.

“Have you thought of… breaking up with him?”

You exhale and almost completely give up mentally.

“I don’t know… it feels like we don’t have much of a relationship at all anymore. We don’t go out, all the time is spent on the opening. I swear sometimes I’m there just for our friends and his sister, I can’t just leave them without help while he’s wandering somewhere”.

You couldn’t sleep because being in bed without Carmy by your side felt plain wrong. You were also jetlagged which meant that the peaceful world of Morpheus was avoiding you like a plague. The same thing happened to Marcus, so you both were just texting about what you were doing.

“idk, i gave up and went to get some tea” you typed, a warm mug in your hand as you cozied up on the couch with a blanket.

“yeah, same shit here. bout time to get ready anyway”

Your whole house was asleep, and probably would be so for a while. It was too dark to go out for your liking. Boredom kind of crept in.

“what is it exactly u're gonna do there?”

“uhhh i wish i knew. make some things from the pics i showed u i guess”

“can i watch?” Was it too much of a request? Who even knows if you'll be allowed there?

“yeah i think so. i'd love to not have to do this alone”

You smile, finish your tea, and get up to find some clothes.

You finally reached the place and were met by a tall man in an apron. He introduced himself as Luca, and you heard a very sultry voice softened by an accent. You wondered where he was from.

“I'm Chef Marcus. That's Liv. Is it cool if she just hangs around and watches me?”

“Hi,” you smile at him.

“Hello. You could also join in. What kind of a chef are you?”

“Oh I'm not, I'm -”

“Well, with the amount of time Liv spends in our kitchen listening to every word of the CDC, I'd say she might as well be a chef by now,” Marcus only half-jokes. You give him a look anyway.

Luca prepared everything and soon he and Marcus were working. You were sitting on the other side of the table, able to see everything. Only now you were starting to notice how strong he was, you have to be, you thought, if you stay on your feet all day. His arms were also covered in tattoos that didn't seem to make sense, like Carmy's.

“So who are you?” Luca's question doesn't sound rude, just curious.

“I'm his boss' girlfriend,” you nod as you speak.

“Wow,” he seems to be thinking something, but maybe it's just him being focused on putting the peanuts on dessert, “What are you doing here?”

“Uhh, visiting my sister? It was time and I thought Marcus here could use someone to show him around. As for here, I was really jetlagged and bored.”

Luca was amazing. The way he coached Marcus even when he made mistakes was consistently calm, stern, and leading. Not once did any of you feel berated or hear his voice go louder, all you knew was to just try again. His entire presence excreted stability and equilibrium.

After an extensive lesson, it was Marcus' turn to try. All of you leaned closer to the dessert in hopes of seeing more. You held your breath as you watched Marcus carefully place a tiny piece in the clockwise direction of the dessert when in the blurred background of your vision you felt something change. Instinctively, you looked up from the dish, and your eyes met the gaze of your friend's teacher. There he was, almost lying on the table, looking at you. As if he wasn't busy right now. As if the dessert didn't matter. Hypnotized. “Got it!” Marcus smiled and stood straight up. “Great job, chef,” Luca switched back to Marcus.

Suddenly a firework of spice embraced you in its scent, making your head go round from the all-encompassing desire to taste it.

“Oh my god, are those cinnamon buns?” you had to put your hands on the counter to keep yourself up. “Yeah,” Luca stood straight. “You like them?” “They smell amazing!” you could swear you saw a quick prideful smile brush Luca's lips.

“They are her favourite. And she's very specific about'em too,” Marcus threw you under the bus.

Luca seems interested. “In what way?”

“I'm not, okay? I just believe that cinnamon buns should have a lot of sugar and cinnamon, or else they're just buns. There was this place near the park, and the pastry they sold was like 90% dough. I didn't like that at all” you defend yourself, and Marcus scoffs, having heard you rant about it many times at The Beef.

“Abomination,” Luca shakes his head.

“Exactly! I love it when there is so much sugar that it's oozing out, that's how it'd supposed to be.”

Your lighthearted banter somehow led to Luca opening up and talking about his life and experience. He also shared a couple of stories about determination, his acceptance of not being the best, and some of his failures. Soon all of you were joking around and laughing at your pasts. You felt your heart warm up to him and thought that leaving the house was a good idea.

Marcus stepped outside to check on his mom. He called her sitter as often as he could, and every time you hoped that everything would be alright. Luca was silently doing his work, kneading some dough. It was a demanding process, but so meditative, and you couldn't help but float away watching his big hands grab and squeeze the smooth dough, throwing it back onto the table occasionally, his long fingers dug into it, leaving an impression. “So where is he now?” you ask. “Who?” “The chef who was better than you. Where is he now?” you wondered if Carmen knew him or told you about him. “Well, you tell me. Apparently, opening up a new restaurant,” the chef said, as he threw a careless nod in your direction. Huh? Your heart drops. What? You let out a nervous scoff. “You're saying it was… Carmen??” Your question was met with a simple nod as he kept working. “Carmen Berzatto, the chef that was better than you at everything?” you almost spell out. Luca just takes his eyes off the dough and watches your reaction. He is also confused. “God, he really is the best?” the question sounds more like an exhale. “People keep saying it, but I guess I didn't realize” you sit down, defeated, and stare off. Your mind keeps pacing - what happened to Carmen? How did he go from being the best to being a yelling mess of chaos? Why is someone who looked up to him so calm and collected but still successful? Why can't he be like that? “You sound surprised. What, he doesn't feel like it?” He asks while kneading the dough, this time slower and a little softer. You look at him, then shake your head away and look down. You want to tell him everything about the way Carmen treats you, and how different that is from what your beginning used to be, how he doesn't appreciate you even though you spent so much time in and on The Beef, and how unfair that is, and have his deep voice tell you the answer, but you can't. That would be weird. Luca notices your hesitation. “You know, when we worked together, he would often be… difficult,” there is a pause after he says it because he is reading your face, trying to understand if he's walking on thin ice. He isn't, so he continues. “Partly why I didn't become better than him was because he wouldn't let me.” “Yeah, he shared something like that.” His brows went a little higher, and his grip on the dough hardened and stayed there. “My point is, being with a person like that can't be easy. Man, we only worked together and I already wanted to smother him, can't imagine being in a bloody relationship,” his smile makes you laugh and for a second you forget every bad thing in the world.

Later that day you wanted to call Carmen. “Carm, you free?” You wished to tell him everything - how much you loved the city, how nice his friend was, the fun you were having, and how good this was for you. Kinda wanted to beat his ass for being so mean to Luca too. “not rn, Liv, busy”

Of course.

“Olivia! Come here!” your sister screamed to get your attention. You noticed she was standing at the door, talking to somebody, so you got up and approached her. “What's up?” you asked. She closed the door and turned to you, holding something in her hands. “It's a gift from your boyfriend,” she said in a teasing tone, and you could swear that the last time you saw her that giddy was in high school. “What? How do you know?” A drop of hope celebrated its birth in your chest. “The delivery guy said it's from a chef,” the last word she playfully stretched out, so it came out a little funny, like Tina says it. You couldn't believe it. There it was, a white box carefully tied with a red ribbon. Finally Carmen realised how distracted he was and decided to apologize. Obviously, you were gone, so he missed you. Your heart filled with warmth and you smiled to yourself - you knew things would get better. You take the hefty precious gift from your sister's hands, sit on the couch, and open it with anticipation. Inside, 9 breathtaking gourmet cinnamon rolls with caramelized sugar barely fitting, leaking out of the mouthwatering, well-kneaded dough. And a note.

"You deserve all the best in the world - Luca"

I hope you enjoyed it! Part 2 might come quicker if you comment how you liked it

Snippet from the next chapters

🏷️ Tagged everyone in the comments! If you want to be excluded, just let me know♥️ @carma-fanficaddict @eternallyvenus @sia2raw @helloheyhihowdyheya @soursopsista @m1dnightsnackz @custarrds

Dividers by @saradika

[monster-slxt]

You are an exorcist that specializes in exorcising demons.

Currently, you are investigating a small town that's had an unusual amount demonic activity.

You questioned the towns people, however, most seem unwilling to even mention the stranger going ons in their town and simply avoid your questions before quickly walking away.

Lucky for you though, you manage to overhear a few of the towns folk gossiping with each other.

Apparently, for the last few months, a terrifying creature has been roaming the streets seemingly search for something. What it is looking for no one wants to know...

Even more terrifying was that anyone foolish enough to still be out at night would go missing. Only to be found the next morning unconscious with their clothes in tatters.

You then visit the local church to see if the priest if he knows anything.

The priest is surprisingly welcoming of you. Quickly leading you inside and even offering some refreshments.

You explain why your here and ask if priest may know of anything. But the priest sadly shakes his head.

With a sigh, you get up to leave, but are quickly stopped by the priest. He says that it is too dangerous to go out this late and that you should stay in the church with him at least until sunrise.

Deciding it's probably a good idea, you agree.

That night as you sleep in the bed given to you, the priest silently creeps into the room. He stares down with glowing red eyes at your sleeping form.

He so desperately wanted to crawl on top of you and rip that teasingly thin layer of clothing from your oh so tempting body and fuck you until your moans like a bitch in heat.

But ah, he can't. Not yet at least. It simply wasn't the right moment.

It ironic really, before he would have condemn such lecherous thoughts. Back then he was a devout servant of God. A truly holy man.

But that was before he got possessed by the demon. Before his mind and soul were beyond redemption.

Now he was nothing more than a monster that indulges into his own sin.

For the past few months his demon had been searching for a mate, but has had no luck.

None of the humans he found were right. Sure they were decent fucks, but they broke way too easily and left him unsatisfied.

Then you appeared.

The moment he saw you, he knew you were perfect. A single whiff of your scent was enough to have the demon in him purring.

Oh he couldn't wait to see you round with his offspring! All in good time, love~

Kissing you on the mouth anon this is so good-

Of course, in the morning the priest would offer up the bed for as long as I needed to rid the town of its demonic influence. And of course I'd suspect nothing from a holy man. The next few days would go on much the same, getting nowhere with the locals during the day and sleeping in the church at night. The priest taking every opportunity to leer at me while I sleep, weakening my defense slowly with his unholy magic. At least The townsfolk seemed to ease up a bit with the lack of recent attacks.

It was only when I'd finally gotten frustrated with getting nowhere and decided to go out at night myself that I'd catch a glimpse of anything demonic. A huge hulking beast unlike anything I'd seen in all my years as an exorcist with a goats head and huge bat wings. The most I'd ever dealt with was a tiny imp. So I panicked.

All I could think to do in the moment was run for the church, the beast lazily keeping pace. It was clear as it followed me onto the holy ground that there was nothing I could possibly do. The sudden hint of arousal mixed into the fear the beast could smell of me finally became too much to bear- lunging forwards and easily catching me in its claws.

"I've waited so long for this" a rumbling deep yet somehow familiar voice purrs in my ear as long claws shred my clothes like butter. My attempts to flee were quickly stopped by an ungodly long tongue licking down my neck and a sudden weight on my stomach.

Risking a glance I felt faint. The demons cock was so huge there was no possible way it could fit inside me. Though he seemed intent on trying, pulling back and lining up with my cunt.

Without warning half the huge rod slammed inside of me, the stretch unimaginable. He wasted no time in pulling out and jackhammering back in, each thrust forcing more and more of his demonic cock in me. It was only then that I dimly became away of the familiarity in the demons voice; the priest. He moaned how I would be such a good broodmare, taking his corruption so well.

All night he fucked me, never once slowing down. Pumping me full of his demonic seed over and over again until sun rise. Leaving me with my stomach huge and swollen with cum, no doubt already knocked up, to go get ready for Sunday mass.

Nine months later I'm showing a group of church woman my engagement ring, stomach round and tight with twins. How lucky I was, the ladies cooed, that the priest was willing to marry me pregnant with an exes child. Not many men would, but he was just so good and holy.

If only they knew they knew they were praying with the father of the hellspawn kicking in my stomach

[mosaickiwi]

(sorry for any mistakes, English is not my native language) Hello, I hope you are doing well! Can I ask you for a drabble about the wedding day of an emotional MC who burst into tears because she thought that this day would never come and REDACTED, but without the “lavish ceremony” (lots of guests, wedding suits, huge celebration, etc.) (please forgive me, I hope I was able to express myself clearly, thank you very much and have a nice day!) ฅ'ω'ฅ

!!!

By law I must post wedding fic on Valentine's Day!!!

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

~Wedding Day~

You nervously toyed with the ring in your palm, heart racing so hard it hurt. It was still difficult to believe what was happening. This was happening.

It was the same golden ring your partner had worn since you first met him. There wasn't a moment you ever saw them without it as he changed from a shy, stuttering mess in a cardigan to the clingy, dark-haired brat of a man you fell in love with more and more each day. Although the amount of rings they wore had grown.

That fateful day on the playground was something you couldn't even remember, and from what your companion told, you didn't want to. The second try was a far better memory for the both of you anyway. You were the one who proposed that time, catching them by complete surprise with the confidence you never usually had to ask anything of him. But you managed to do it.

And now you were the one who would put a ring on their finger.

“We haven't even started the vows,” [REDACTED] quietly said, pulling you from your thoughts. “Y'can’t be cryin’ just yet, Angel.”

“Am I crying?” The words came out hoarse from your already tightening throat. You hadn't realized. Sure enough, hot tears were streaming down your face as he gently wiped at them with his thumb. 

You tried to calm down, gazing up at him to distract yourself. Their voice had the same familiarly teasing tone it always did, but you could tell from the soft quiver to his lower lip that he was holding back his own tears.

“Yeah, it’s—” He let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, then hurriedly pushed his dark hair out of his reddening eyes. You wanted to tease him back about it, but you knew if you tried to speak again the tears would come flooding even worse. Another few moments passed as you both tried to collect yourselves.

Surprisingly, it took him a little longer. The tears on your cheeks had long fell and dried while he stood in front of you, eyes shrouded behind their bangs.

But after one more unsteady breath, he seemed to find his way again and look at you. “Are you ready?” they asked, a shakiness to their hands as he reached for the dangling chain around your neck—the necklace he’d given to you months ago once he’d found the courage to say yes to your proposal.

With your anxious nod of approval, he continued. Cool fingertips brushed at your collarbone, finding the silver clasp at the back of your neck and releasing it with a faint clicking of metal. The necklace fell loosely in his hands as he pulled it away. The golden ring easily slid from the chain and he rolled it in his fingers for a long moment, staring at it silently.

They were noticeably calmer this time, with a trembling smile that reached their eyes as he took your left hand and repeated himself. 

“Ready?”

[percyluvr]

Hi love your writing. I was wondering if you can do a percy jackson x reader inspired by talk by hozier, basically just about what percy would do for the reader

percy jackson x reader summary: just some drabbles about little things percy does for you that show how much he cares about you wc: 745

I. bringing you breakfast in bed

Today started off as it typically did, you and percy were already breaking camp rules by having you sleep in his cabin. Something was different today, though. you woke up to the feeling of emptiness beside you. Percy's side of the bed, or at least the part of the bed he was sleeping on before he got up, was still warm, meaning that he must've just gotten out of bed, maybe to go to the bathroom or something.

You decided to just go back to sleep and wait for him to come back to bed, but he never did. Instead, you awoke to him softly poking you awake, a tray of food in his hands.

"Hey baby, I woke up and you were still asleep, so I figured, why not get you breakfast and bring it to you?"

You rubbed your tired eyes, smiling at him. "Percy, thank you so much. You're way too good to me."

II. peeling your orange for you

You were sat at the Poseidon table at lunch, picking at your food as you waited for Percy. You watched as the other campers happily talked and ate their food, as you wondered where Percy was.

A few minutes passed, and you finally saw your boyfriend walking up to the table with an insane amount of food on his plate.

"Percy, babe, why do you have so much food? I get you're a growing boy, but damn, that could feed a family of 5," you joked.

"Oh, yeah! I wanted to share with you. I got a bunch of stuff you like, and I managed to get us extra desert," he replied happily.

"Aw, Percy, thank you so much," you said, giving him a kiss on the cheek, which he frowned at and pointed to his lips, silently asking for a real kiss, to which you obliged.

Now that Percy was finally here, you could start eating. You started to peel your orange, but Percy snatched it out of your hand.

"I know you hate the smell of oranges on your hands, let me peel it," he told you when he saw the confused look on your face.

III. making you matching bracelets

Today you were supervising the bracelet making activities at camp, and Percy couldn't be happier. Even when you weren't the one leading the activity, it was still one of his favorites, but now he got to see you and make cute bracelets for you.

You went about leading the activity, showing everyone how to make a bracelet before sending everyone off to do their own thing. After teaching them, you began walking around, assisting those who were struggling. when you reached Percy, you knew you wouldn't have to help him because you knew how much fun he had during this activity. You knew because after every time he does it, he can't stop talking about how much fun it is and how cute his bracelet turned out. It always brought a smile to your face to see him having so much fun.

"Hey, Perce, whatcha making?" you ask, lovingly staring over his shoulder at the bracelet he was putting together.

"Just another bracelet for my mom, but look! I made one for you too, and it matches the one I made for myself last time," he says, grinning like a little kid that just got a new toy.

IIII. comforting you after a nightmare

As a demigod, it was normal for you to have insane nightmares, but this was different. It had nothing to do with prophecies, gods, or monsters. It had to do with Percy, or the lack of his presence. You found yourself searching the camp frantically, just for a camper to tell you that Percy had been dead for years, which prompted you to wake up in tears.

You tried to be as quiet as you could, but Percy still woke up. It was like he had a sixth sense for this type of stuff.

"Sugar, what's wrong?" he asked, eyebrows furrowing.

"I'm sorry for waking you, I just, I had a nightmare," you sobbed.

"Yeah? We don't have to talk about it, but whatever it was, it isn't real. Remember that, okay?" He pulled you close and kissed your forehead gently.

"I know, Perce, but you were dead," you sobbed into his chest.

"Hey hey, I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere, okay?" he comforted, rubbing your back soothingly.

a/n: i hope i did your request right, i wasn't exactly sure how to go about it but i hope i did it justice !

[literaila]

verity what would you think about writing another peter x reader in which peter becomes a photographer and has to take pictures of reader and he develops a thing for her and he thinks that reader just flirts with him for fun and he's totally okay with that because he's a fool for her but after teasing peter and messing with him for a good amount of time she asks him out ? maybe inspired by "suck it and see" by arctic monkeys? thank you !!

chemistry

tasm!peter x fem!reader

a/n: the science jokes are real with this one

*

peter needed to get over himself. that much was clear.

honestly, he had the ability to rip out his eyes and throw them down the garbage disposal, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that he might have to. just to get some sanity back.

it wasn’t really his fault he was staring at you. no, it wasn’t his fault at all.

he was getting paid to stare at you. you had hired him to do this. to take pictures of you when you looked like this—partially glowing from the light, wearing a devious smile like you might be trying to crack his lens—and not get called a pervert for it.

his movements were automatic now. he’d done this enough—admired strangers and tried to pull the best out of them—but it was never quite like this. with every click of a button, and the perfectly adjusted flash, peter felt himself getting a bit hazy.

it would be his luck to faint while taking pictures of a pretty girl.

a pretty girl who’s head was tilted at him, eyes questioning, because she’d just said something and he was too busy scolding himself to notice

get yourself together.

“hmm?” peter asked, moving a step closer to you. “sorry i missed it.”

you smile like he’s said something funny. “should i try something else?” you say, “i’m not used to posing.”

“you’re doing great. you’re a natural.”

maybe a little too great. you blink at him, eyes darting away and sigh. even then, if peter took a photo, he’s sure it would come out perfectly. he probably wouldn’t need to edit any of these, even.

but he also probably would. just to stare at you some more.

“well, you’re the expert.”

but peter frowns. “are you feeling uncomfortable?”

“just—“ you shake your head. “will you tell me a joke, or something? i feel… awkward. i have no idea what i’m doing.”

“tell you a joke?” peter repeats, slightly amused.

“or just talk to me. anything.”

“sure,” he says, easily, nodding his head a bit too much. maybe it’s because you sort of whispered it, and peter sort of felt it on every single on of his nerve endings. “i, um,” he raises his brows. “i think i just forgot every joke i’ve ever heard.”

you laugh with your head tilted back and he snaps a shot. “just tell me about you, then.”

“me?”

“yes, peter parker, the photographer… and? part time comedian? full time alcoholic? father of six?”

peter frowns. “how old do you think i am?“

“old enough to be a professional photographer.”

“i don’t know if i would call myself a professional…” he winces, smiling a bit and feeling embarrassed for himself. flushed and completely ashamed because he’s usually better at this.

he can calm a clients nerves in five minutes. he can make people laugh and get the candid shot that he knows they’re looking for. he can turn an awkward social interaction into getting drinks after a shoot.

but there’s something about you and your smile, and the easy way you talk, like the words just fall out of your mouth and into place.

“i saw your prints,” you correct, shaking your head at him, “why do you think i hired you?”

“free eye candy?”

and then you actually laugh, chest releasing, and peter watches as your eyes squint at him like you’ve finally realized who you’re talking to.

it’s second nature when he presses the button.

“oh, yeah. i just googled ‘hottest male photographer in queens’ and yours was the first that came up.”

“i knew that ad would pay off eventually.”

“really, though. i’ve only got you for another twenty minutes so you’ve gotta tell me something good.”

peter frowns and moves to your left, changing the zoom on his camera and dimming the light. “i didn’t know you were paying for a gossip session.”

“okay, so you don’t like to talk about yourself. what else?”

he catches you as you adjust your hair, the light shining on the side of your face, gleaming off of you like something out of a sci-fi film.

peter shakes his head—his head is feeling a bit off. “um… i want to get a cat.”

you smile, completely darling and enough to knock a breath out of his chest. “i’ll add caring to the list. why haven’t you?”

“well, my apartment doesn’t really allow it…” he pauses for a moment playing with some settings. the two of you are dancing in circles, like a pendulum, when you move, he moves. “and also i’m not sure that i’d remember to feed it.”

“most animals make sure you remember. when i was a kid my dog would jump on whoever was closest when it was time for dinner.”

peter almost winces, and then catches himself. “i also think i’d poison it with my energy. it’d forget how to move its tail.”

“well, i’ve been around you for almost an hour and a half now and i can safely say that i still have control over all of my limbs.”

“good to know…” peter mutters while frowning at his screen. there’s nothing wrong with his camera, or with you, just with his hands. and his heart.

“everything okay?”

he shakes his head, then nods, clearing his throat. “yeah—yeah. i’m just messing with the settings.”

“are you getting anything good? useable?”

“they’re all good,” he says—to himself and out loud like a complete idiot. and then he looks up, awkwardly laughing. “like i said, you’re a natural.”

“even if you’re lying,” you tease, undeterred by his awkwardness, “i’m sure you’ll fix it all before i see.”

“i’m not lying, but yeah.”

when you smile, he smiles back.

“okay,” you say, moving. “what else? got any friends or family? any plans after this?”

“which question am i supposed to answer?”

“all of them, peter.”

he chuckles. “it’s mostly just me and my aunt. and a couple of long lost cousins. as for friends, i’ve kept in touch with some people from college. oh, and me and the john down the street who makes me a sandwich everyday are close.”

you lift your head, revealing the skin of your neck and jaw to peter. and a fetish he didn’t know he had. “and after this?”

“i’ll probably just go home and edit these, actually.”

“it’s friday.”

he shrugs. squinting at you before the next shot. he’s not even really looking.

“nothing fun?” you ask him. “surely you’ll be sick of my face after this.”

“that’d be hard.”

he watches a sheepish smile reveal itself on your face before it’s gone. you look away. “you’re young, peter. you should be having fun.”

“what are you doing after this?” peter asks, as a challenge.

your brows lift. “this seems like a line.”

he laughs. “not like that.”

you shrug and blink when the flash goes off. “i’ll figure out something. are there any good bars nearby?”

peter pauses, dropping his camera. “are we back to the alcoholic thing.”

“no,” you laugh, “we’re way past that. i just think that your flash is giving me a bit of an adrenaline rush. i could use a calm me down.”

“you okay?”

“i’m kidding, peter. keep going, you’re almost a free man.”

so he does.

you continue to prod him with personal questions, attacking him with your smile and your unsurprisingly sharp wit. you throw his words right back to him, and peter knows, in his deepest of thoughts, that he’s going to be hearing your voice later on.

that when he’s looking back on these pictures, he’s going to see a timeline of your allure, and of his own demise.

he’s already loving and dreading it.

he finishes up by making you laugh from your nose, loud and unprecedented, and so genuinely rewarding that peter has to refrain from clapping himself on the back.

you smile at him as you slip on your jacket, still talking to him, acting too smooth to be just polite.

peter also has to refrain himself from trying to shake your head as he walks you to the door. he tries not to stare any longer, knowing what kind of night he has in store.

“when should i be seeing the pictures?” you ask him, lingering when you finally get to the door.

“sometime next week. i’ll email you a preview with a few different editing styles that you can pick from and then i’ll finish the album.”

“email?”

he scoffs, opening the door for you. “i’ll have you know that not everyone is as young and hip as you. do you know how many grandparents want photos with their family?”

“it just doesn’t seem like you, peter. i’d thought you’d train a carrier pigeon.”

he shakes his head at you, trying to hide his smile.

“but, seriously, thank you so much,” you say to him, voice full and easy, and honest. he can feel your heart and smell your perfume. “i know i’m a lot. especially when i’m nervous.”

“i’m just glad you didn’t ask me about my social security number.”

you reflectively smack yourself on the forehead. “i knew i forgot something.”

peter laughs, letting you slip past him trying to avoid your touch. he doesn’t, and if benjamin franklin was there, he might’ve discovered a whole different type of electricity.

“i’ll talk to you soon,” peter says, and your close enough that it’s almost a whisper. “just let me know if there’s any issues with the pictures, or you have any questions. you’ve got my number.”

“i do.”

his body feels physically repelled from inside the studio, but he forces himself to take a step in anyway. “have a good weekend.”

“you too.”

and then you turn to go, and peter can’t help but stare. he hopes that the tint on the shop windows is enough to keep you from noticing.

but before he can close the door—and mind that it took him an outrageously stupid amount of time—you’re turning back around.

“wait, peter,” you say, voice breathless and jagged. like peters hands as they rush to push open the door again.

it’s embarrassing how quickly he manages to do it.

“yes?”

you smile, like you know exactly what he’s thinking. peter will have that smile branded into his brain.

“do you wanna come with me to get that drink?” you ask him, softly, and wide, with a smile that bursts blood vessels.

peter really needs to get over himself.

*

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

Video Star (Request)

Travis is a star on the field, but is he just as good as your music video love interest?

Words: 1,672

Warnings: implied smut, language, DNI if under 18

“Ok, last thing to go over. We need you to choose the love interest for your music video.” Your manager handed you a piece of paper with a list of names on it. “These are all of the people who have availability over the next couple of months. We tried to pick people from different areas; athletes, a couple of models, even a musician in the mix.” You were getting ready to shoot the music video for your new song “Woman” off of your sophomore album. “Are we still going with the club scene? We need someone who can actually dance, I don’t want a repeat of last year.” Your manager nodded in agreement, jotting down notes furiously. You had chosen a model for one of your other music videos last year, and while he was extremely attractive and photogenic, he couldn’t dance worth shit and it showed on camera. You still cringe at the YouTube comments till this day.

You scanned the list, and no one caught your eye until you got to Travis Kelce. “Wait, Travis said yes? Isn’t he dating someone?” Your manager pulled up something on her phone, flipping it so you could read the headline. “Travis Kelce breaks up with longtime girlfriend Kayla Nicole.” You shrugged. You had met Travis a couple of times through work commitments, and you were a fan of his, so he seemed like the best bet. “Ok, Kelce will work. I want to meet with him before we shoot. Make sure the chemistry is there.” You handed the paper back to your manager who immediately got Travis’ team on the phone to set up a meeting.

Between your hectic schedule and Travis’ football games, you didn’t get a chance to meet up for a couple of weeks. Finally, Travis was going to be in New York for a game against the Jets and had a day off where you could grab lunch together. You rarely traveled with more than person at one time, your manager usually tagging along to your business meetings, but you asked her not to come this time because you didn’t want this to feel like work. You and Travis were going to get very “intimate” in this music video and while it was all for show, you needed it to be convincing. If the chemistry wasn’t there, no amount of editing was going to make it a good music video. You watched from the restaurant window as Travis stepped out of a taxi across the street and hustled over to the restaurant. You were surprised that he didn’t arrive with an entourage of people, and definitely expect him to take a taxi to meet you. You looked down at what you were wearing, a simple black sweater and jeans. Travis was dressed to the nines in a full suit. Forgoing the tie, a bit of his chest hair peaked out of the slightly unbuttoned white-collar shirt he was wearing. Fuck, you were going to seem like you weren’t taking this seriously at all.

He waved at you from the hostess stand and you blushed, his perfect smile making you weak in the knees. When he arrived at the table, you stood up to give him a side hug, taking in his clean cologne scent. He shrugged his suit jacket off and settled into his seat as you fixed your sweater. “Sorry I’m a few minutes late. I don’t know how to get around New York at all.”  You giggled, reassuring him with a smile. “Don’t worry about it, I just got here myself.” You opened your menu, perusing the options. You looked up after a few minutes and saw that Travis was staring at you. “Something wrong? I tried to pick a place that had a variety of options. My manager was telling me that I can be a food snob.” You were rambling, your cheeks heating up as Travis just smiled as you talked. Nothing is wrong with the restaurant. You just look really good tonight. Just admiring what’s in front of me.” The restaurant must have moved to the surface of the sun because you were burning up. “Wow, does that work on girls usually?” Travis threw his head back with a laugh. “No, but you looked so tense, I had to lighten the mood.” He shook his shoulders which made you chuckle.

Dinner quickly turned into a back and forth of stories and jokes. You were quickly building feelings for Travis, and who could blame you. He was funny, humble, and completely professional. He never made you feel uncomfortable or tried to hit on you, which was rarely the case with professional athletes.

“So, tell me what I have to do. I’m all yours.” You squeezed your thighs together at that remark, thoughts of every way you could take advantage of his generosity. “Um,” you took a sip of your drink, “we’re working with one of my favorite producers. The song is called “Woman”, it’s all about wanting to be the woman your man needs and basically seducing him through different scenes. I do want to warn you though, there is a scene where we’ll need you to dance.” You grimaced after telling Travis the concept, thinking he was going to want to back out, but he just sat there taking in the concept. “I for sure thought the dancing thing would throw you off.” “You obviously haven’t seen my touchdown celebrations. I’ve got hips that would make a salsa dancer jealous.”

When the day of the shoot arrived, you were more nervous than you thought you’d be. Your mind had been on that dinner ever since, and you had been texting back with Travis, mostly about work and the video, but he so effortlessly slid in flirty comments that gave you butterflies. You were falling for him but weren’t sure if he had similar feelings or was just a natural flirt. You decided to brush it off so you could have a successful shoot.

Travis arrived early to the set, and after you both got done with hair and makeup, you headed to the first scene, the sensual bedroom shot. You begged the producer to shoot this one first in case it went terribly, making the rest of the day would be a waste. You were both standing in the set, white robes covering your scantily clad body. You were in a leather bikini ensemble while Travis was shirtless with jeans on. “I’ve never been in a music video before.” Travis rubbed his hands together as the make-up artist took off his robe and did some quick makeup touch ups on his chest. You dropped your robe to reveal your outfit, and it took everything in Travis not to drool on the spot. You were used to wearing ridiculous outfits for music videos and performances, but you could definitely feel Travis’ eyes on you as he watched you get onto the bed.

“Alright Travis, for this scene, we’re looking for heat and passion, like the two of you haven’t seen each other for months and the sexual tension is about to erupt.” The director guided Travis through the scene. You gave Travis a funny face, mouthing that the director was a little crazy, which made him laugh. The director queued the music, which began blaring through the speakers. Travis was a natural, climbing over you, ghosting kisses over your body as he made his way up to your lips. You tried to find a place to put your hands that seemed natural, ending up hooking your fingers in the belt loops of his jeans. You hoped that Travis couldn’t feel how fast your heart was beating. You locked lips and for a second, you couldn’t hear anything but the breaths between the two of you. You pulled away, bringing yourself back to reality as the director yelled cut. You struggled to get up, the leather of your shorts slipping against the silk sheets on the bed. Your knee accidently brushed against Travis as you rolled over, and you could feel a growing bulge in his jeans.

He immediately noticed and his eyes were extremely apologetic. You grabbed his arm and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Dave, can we take a 15-minute break? I have to go pee and I have to be cut out of these shorts.” The director nodded before announcing to the crew. The short break would give Travis a chance to “collect” himself, and he hustled out of the room after a quiet thank you towards you. You looked for Travis and found him in his dressing room, head in his hands as he sat in front of the mirror. You gave a courteous knock on the door and peaked your head in. “Hey, can I come in?” You took his silence as approval. You sat at the chair next to his, not sure what to say. Travis broke the silence. “No question about our chemistry now, huh?” you laughed, glad he was able to see the humor in the situation. “I don’t think there was ever a question, but a girl always loves a bit of reassurance.”

You both sat in a comfortable silence before you heard a knock on the door calling you back to set. “The director said he got what he needed for the bedroom shot so we don’t have to shoot that scene anymore”, you reassured Travis. “No way. I need to redeem myself, I can be better.” You patted his shoulder. “This isn’t football, no need to redeem yourself, they’ll cut the scenes together, make it look amazing.” You began walking out of the room when Travis stopped you. “At least let me make it up to you. Show you my bedroom skills in private.” You turned back to him, rolling your eyes with a smile. “Is that your way of asking me on a date?” “Technically we went on a date two weeks ago, so this is me asking you on a second date.”

[milaisreading]

Limited amount!!

🌱🩷: here is something for thr Crossdresser!Yn AU. I have been so depressed ever since I saw the leaks for the new JJK chapter... this is kind of helping me to get my mind off of it. Hope u like it🩷

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. In the story the boys will be using he/him when addressing Yn. Requests for this series are open.

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura ⚽️

"Are you...are you sure about this?" Anri asked the striker in front of her while Ego sat on his chair, eating his noodles.

"I think it's for the best, Teieri-san. To not waste money on manufacturing something that won't sell well." (Y/n) argued, confused as to why the older woman was so reluctant with agreeing. After all, the JFU would probably embrace the idea of saving money.

"Yeah, but... just 15? (Y/n), you know you do have fans-"

"I think that's for the best. I definitely don't have Isagi or Rin's popularity,  so I don't think my figurine will sell well. Please spare me this humiliation, Teieri-san, Ego-san. " (Y/n) explained as she held the prototype of her figurine that Anri gave her. It was nothing special, just a smaller version of her smiling in the Blue Lock uniform. There was a short silence as the striker looked at the two for a moment, hoping they will do her this one favor.

"I can't just-"

"Fine." Ego interrupted Anri, both now looking at the man.

"You did prove to be a great player and so far hid your identity very well. So we will grant you this one wish." Ego said as he finished his food. (Y/n) looked at him in shock for a moment, but then smiled and bowed.

"Thank you. Thank you, Ego-san." She kept repeating to the man, who just nodded his head. Anri looked nervously between the duo, wondering how all of this will end up.

"It's so weird seeing merch of myself." (Y/n) mumbled to herself as she walked to the bedroom she shared with Isagi, Rin, and Bachira. She chuckled a little, already knowing she will be greeted by Rin doing his usual yoga, and Isagi and Bachira messing around. And sure enough, when she opened the door she saw just that. Bachira and Isagi were telling jokes while Rin tried to hide his irritation while doing his normal yoga routine.

"(Y/n)! Where were you?! I need my hug buddy!" Bachira exclaimed as he saw the girl enter their room and lunged at her.

"Bachira, wait!" She shrieked as the boy ran to and engulfed her into a hug, nearly causing the girl to fall down. The girl stumbled back, but thankfully grabbed onto a wall to not injure himself or something.

'Bachira might not look like much, but God is he strong.'

"Hey, Bachira, could you maybe let go of me?" (Y/n) asked nervously.

"Nope~" The bicolored boy sang out, causing her the sigh and pat him on his back a few times. Meanwhile, Rin and Isagi were sending death glares at Bachira's back. Both were mad that he was the one to hug (Y/n) first, but also for causing her to nearly fall down.

"Bachira, let go of him." Isagi spoke up finally and went to grab Bachira's shirt, pulling the boy away from (Y/n).

"Hey!" The boy protested.

(Y/n) internally thanked Isagi for giving her the free space back.

"I will hug you later, Bachira. I am just really tired right now." She spoke up, trying to stop their argument, but neither was listening.

Rin, on the other hand, was staring at the trio in anger. Not only were they causing him a ruckus, but (Y/n) also said she will hug Bachira later.

'That mediocre player really doesn't deserve it.' He rolled his eyes, but then they landed on a small item on the floor. One he never saw before in his life.

Rin walked over and picked it up, only to discover that it was a small figurine of (Y/n).

When Bachira hugged her, she ended up losing her grip on the item, and neither her or the other two noticed it.

'What is this? And why does it look like (Y/n)?' Rin wondered, tapping the smiling figurines cheek.

'I basically touched his face now.' Rin thought with a blush, then looked over at the trio.

"Lukewarm, (Y/n)." He cleared his throat as the trio looked at him.

"Yes?" She asked as the other two sent Rin a glare for calling her a lukewarm.

"What is this?" He asked while showing them the figurine. Isagi and Bachira's eyes widened when they saw the item.

'A mini (Y/n)!' Bachira thought with stars in his eyes.

'So adorable!' Isagi's face turned redder.

"Oh... the JFU wants to test a first merch launch, and they picked me for it. It's just a prototype of what it will look like." (Y/n) explained, walking over to Rin and taking it our of his hand.

"Merch?! Of you?!" Bachira asked in excitement.

"Yeah... it's launching in two weeks." (Y/n) shrugged her shoulders, walking over to her shelf to put the item on it.

"So we- I mean, your fans will have the chance to own a mini you?!" Isagi asked with a huge smile and blush as (Y/n) turned to look at him.

"Basically."

Rin kept quiet as he stared at the figurine with wide eyes, also excited over these news.

'I will definitely buy one.' The three thought in determination.

"Tho, I was honored to be the first one, it would have been better if they picked a more popular player. I don't think mine will sell well, so I asked them to make only 15 of these." (Y/n) finished explaining, and the last part definitely left them deflated. 'ONLY 15?! How can I get one even?!' Bachira thought, already panicking that be won't be able to get his hands on one of the figurines.

'(Y/n), why would you do that?! How will I get my hands on one, when I have to fight against both your fangirls and the other players?!' Isagi gulped as anxiety took over his body.

'This lukewarm needs to work on his confidence, now I will have to start a blood bath.' Rin groaned.

"A-are you 3 alright?" (Y/n)'s worried voice interrupted their thoughts, and all 3 quickly nodded their heads.

"Of course we are!"

"Only 15?!" Reo and Barou exclaimed in disbelief as the trio explained the whole story from last night.

"What sort of confidence does he even have? Nagi, Reo, this is your fault." Otoya grumbled, earning side-glares from the two.

"How is this our fault? We didn't do anything." Nagi protested.

"Exactly that!" Yukimiya said, fixing his glasses.

"If you were good friends to (Y/n), you would have noticed he was in distress with his self-worth. Now, with me he would have not had these issues. I would have told (Y/n) everyday how wonderful and talented he is." The model said proudly, earning a scowl from Reo.

"Please shut up, show off. You are just mad (Y/n) doesn't like you."

"But Yukimiya does have a point." Karasu chimed in, glaring at Reo.

"Didn't you two basically abandon him during the 1st selection? Even during the 2nd one, Nagi, you basically acted like he didn't exist."

Barou pointed it out, which irritated the duo.

"You know nothing." Nagi said, glaring at the red-eyed boy.

"This is not the point now." Aryu clapped his hands, causing the rest to look at him.

"Aryu is right, we should focus on what's important." Kunigami added in.

"And that is, how do we get one of those figurines when there is only 15?"

The room fell silent as neither really knew how to answer that.

"Maybe we could try convincing (Y/n) that he should go for more figurines? Isagi, Barou, you two are the closest to him. Maybe you should try it." Kurona suggested as everyone looked at the duo. Both of them looked at each other, and then shook their heads.

"I don't think we should do that. It's his decision and I don't want him to feel bad about it." Isagi answered, Barou for the first time agreeing with something.

"Yeah... forcing him or convincing him will do us all more harm than good." Hiori added in.

"Well then, it's every man for himself. I will get my hand on one of those figurines." Karasu declared with a smirk.

"Not if I do first!" Bachira challenged back.

"Logically thinking, it's more likely that only one of us gets one... (Y/n) has many fans, so we are not competing just among each other anymore." Niko reminded them.

"Well, then I will be the one to get it." Rin said after a short pause, causing the rest to look at him weirdly.

"Now, why would you be the to get it?!" Otoya questioned.

"Because, I am the best one in this facility, therefore I deserve it more."

"Just because you are the best one, doesn't mean you deserve a figurine, Rin-chan~" Bachira said cheerfully.

"What?" Rin asked, irritated by the boy's remark.

"Bachira is right, if anything, someone who is close to (Y/n) should get the figurine. And that someone is me!" Chigiri finally spoke up, shocking everyone.

"What?! How are you the closest one with him?" Yukimiya remarked.

"We both braid each other's hair and talk for hours about the most random things-"

"So do I with (Y/n)." Aryu chimed in, which caused Chigiri to glare at him instead.

"Shut it. (Y/n) and I have spent so many hours training, we are the closest." Otoya added in, which drew Tokimitsu and Kunigami's attention.

"H-He does the same thing with me! Wh-which means I am pretty close with him, too!" Tokimitsu exclaimed.

"He is always there to help me with his skills, and even trains with me in the gym." Kunigami chimed in, causing a whole separate argument between them.

"This is ridiculous!" Reo sighed loudly, then pointed at himself and Nagi.

"Nagi and u have known (Y/n) for way longer than any of you have. We know everything there is to know about him."

This caused Barou and Isagi to roll their eyes.

"Yeah, and he trust us the most. He would be probably more happy for us to have a figurine than you guys-"

"Nagi, you and Reo literally turned your backs on him back in the beginning of this project. You have no leg to stand on." Isagi interrupted the albino, which made the duo tense up a little.

"And we apologized! He would vouch for us now!" Reo added in.

"None of you really deserve the figurine." Barou finally spoke up.

"(Y/n) and I have been partners since the beginning, we are the closest here. Especially after all the late night trainings." The king explained.

"But, you forget that (Y/n) has been chasing after me the whole time. Even during the 3rd selection, he always asked to train with me." Isagi added in proudly, drawing Rin's attention on him.

"Oh please. (Y/n) is probably too nice to tell you that you got boring. Why would the literal #2 of this facility go and seek out your assistance. I am the perfect choice. We especially got close during the 2nd selection when we would have dinner together after practice." The younger Itoshi explained, obviously mad that Isagi reminded him that (Y/n) always chased after him, never after Rin. The #1 player in Blue Lock.

"This is stupid. (Y/n) and I are obviously closer, our humor and passion to become better obviously bonds us the best." Karasu snorted.

"Karasu, no offense, but it's obvious that (Y/n) and I are closer. After all, he would come to talk to me about fashion choices."

As they argued, Hiori, who was standing next to Niko, spoke up as well.

"Now, I would be worthy of the doll too. After all, (Y/n) and I share similar homes, and we talk for hours about different video games."

"(Y/n) likes talking to me a out different sea animals. Even helps me with my braid sometimes. It's very nice of him." Kurona added in with a slight blush.

"Well, (Y/n) and I share a love for anime and manga. We would sometimes go to the monitor room and watch different animes on our phones. We even fell asleep there a few times." Niko admitted.

"So you are the reason he sometimes isn't in bed?!" Bachira yelled with a menacing smile.

"Niko, do you know how many nights I couldn't cuddle up to him while he slept?!"

"Bachira, that's weird!"

"What even-"

Hiori and Kurona said, staring at the bicolored boy. While everyone wad busy arguing, Gagamaru blinked at them a few times before walking out of the dining hall, an idea already brewing in his brain.

"Hmmm..."

2 weeks had passed, and the day of the merch launch finally happened. All the boys were anxiously waiting on their phones for the orders to start. They were all determined to get one of the figurines. They were so adorable, and captured the beauty of the striker perfectly. And finally, when the minute of the launch arrived, they quickly went to click on the 'order' option, only for them to be met with the most soul crushing sign.

'Sold out!' Read in big, red letters as if to mock the boys about their fail.

They expected something like this to happen, but it hurt the same.

Right now, they were all in the dining hall again, all depressed over losing the opportunity to get the (Y/n) figurine.

"I hate today." Reo said, resting his head on the table.

"I agree." Karasu and a few others nodded their heads as the door opened.

"Huh? Are you guys alright?" (Y/n)'s voice caused them to jump up and look at her.

"F-fine!" Isagi spoke up.

"We are great, just tired. And you? You seem pretty happy?" Karasu spoke up, noticing how less tense she was now.

"Oh? Ego-san just told me that the figurines of me sold out today, and they will do a relaunch in a month."

"Relaunch?! How many will it be this time?" Bachira asked as all eyes were on her.

"I don't know... maybe like 300 to 500, based on what Ego-san said." (Y/n)'s explanation caused them to sigh in relief a little. Finally they will have the chance to own one of those figurines.

"By the way, here, Gagamaru. As promised!" (Y/n) said, walking over to the goalkeeper, putting the prototype of her figurine on the table. The boy nodded quickly and slid his dinner to her as she sat across from him.

"Uhm... why are you giving Gagamaru that figurine?" Chigiri wondered.

"Oh? He promised to give me his dinner for a month in exchange for the figurine. His dinner happens to be my favorite dish!" (Y/n) explained cheerfully and went back to eating. She didn't register to cold looks and deathly glares Gagamaru was getting, but the boy didn't care. He just sat on his chair, smiling fondly at the figurine.

'Bastard!'

'That should have been me!!'

The group thought over and over, now hoping that the relaunch will happen as soon as possible.

[multific]

Offering

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend and you break up before a mission.

Somehow, you knew, you could see it in his eyes.

Somehow, you knew, you could see it in his eyes.

It was your biggest fear and it became true.

He no longer loved you.

You should have noticed the signs, you should have seen it all coming.

Now that you recall, his touches were extremely different, he barely kissed you or even talked with you.

He didn't love you anymore and it shattered you.

Instead of letting him ramble on with this 'it's not you, it's me' bullshit, you simply stood up and left.

You had a mission in a couple of days anyway.

Taskforce 141 knew that their precious little flower had issues.

From the moment they saw you, they knew something was off.

Thankfully, during the mission, you were able to take your mind off of your ex.

Barely even thinking, you moved on instinct.

Currently, you were with Ghost, waiting for backup before heading into another fight.

Your target was inside a mansion and you two needed some backup before heading in.

"I didn't want to mention this, but I can see it is bothering you. Something happened, Daisy?"

You looked up into his eyes, it was weird to see him trying to be so professional while still calling you by your code name.

"I broke up with my boyfriend. We didn't exactly talk about it but I could see in his eyes he didn't love me anymore. So... yeah."

"He is a dumbass. You deserve a real man."

His honesty made you turn and look at him. You could only smile as he refused to meet your eyes. He knew he overshared. He should have just said 'sorry' and moved on, but he fucked up.

"A real man sounds about right. You know anyone?" he didn't say a word only shook his head, no. "That's sad. I was hoping you were offering," you smirked. "But oh well... Maybe Johnny would be open..."

"No." his reply came way too quickly. There was a couple minutes of silence between the two of you.

"Backup in 10 LT." came Johnny's voice over the radio.

"Copy." Ghost replied.

"You told me many times to leave him because he is not good enough for me. And here I am... I guess I'm more disappointed in myself for trying to believe that it could be real." you said as you let out a sigh.

"You did nothing wrong. He is an idiot."

"A gone idiot." you finished before the chopper arrived. Giving Ghost a smile.

You weren't sure if you were only imagining things.

You swore you could see something in his eyes, something soft and caring.

---

The mission was finished. The information had been obtained.

And you were only the lovely new owner of a shot wound on your arm.

The wound was now all bandaged up and you were ready to head back for some rest.

Ghost closely followed you as you were heading to your room.

"Y/N..." his voice came from behind you as you smiled and turned to face him. You two spent a good amount of time looking at one another before he spoke up again, his voice low.

"Maybe, I am offering." this made your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"A-are you?" your previous confidence seem to have died down as he took a couple of steps closer to you, eyes never leaving yours.

"I am." he said as his thumb came up to your bottom lip.

You two just stared at one another he moved you into your room as he kicked the door closed.

Using the darkness in the room to his advantage, his face was bare as he placed his lips on yours.

You didn't need to be told twice, you pulled him to the bed without another question or without breaking the kiss.

---

You woke up the next morning to a dull pain in your lower region and a hand on your waist.

Suddenly the reality of the situation hit you like a cold shower.

You had sex with your Lieutenant.

And it was amazing.

You were sure the two of you went on for hours and many rounds. He was an amazing lover, a giver but he also knew how and what to take from you.

You lost count of how many orgasms he gave you but you can recall that he always made your legs shake.

You enjoyed the night.

It was a good distraction from your fucked up life.

But now, that it was morning, you knew, this will all come to an end.

You felt him slightly move behind you as his breath hit your neck.

"I can hear you thinking, Daisy." using your code-name possibly wasn't the best idea he ever had.

You felt distanced from him again.

"You are overthinking." he said again and you wanted to laugh but couldn't. "This doesn't have to be any more than a night if you don't want it to be. I am now offering something more."

"You are not a relationship kind of guy, Simon."

"I could be." his reply came so fast, he made you believe it.

"So what? A secret relationship where you could come to my room and always have to look behind you trying to see if someone was looking?"

"I wanted you for long enough. I feel like I would agree to any conditions." this made you turn and look at him, searching his eyes for a lie which you never found.

You were doomed.

---

And now, you were fucked.

With a dislocated shoulder, a huge gash on your leg, you could barely stand.

Thank God you were sitting.

Sitting and bleeding out.

You let out a long sigh before you hit the radio.

"Guys, I'm not in good shape. My shoulder is fucked, I am bleeding rapidly. I managed to hide in a shop down the street but I feel like they will find me any moment. I'm running low on amo and-"

"Where are you? I'll get you." Simon's voice came over the radio.

"In the perfume store at the back, hiding behind the counter." you replied.

"Stay there, I'm almost there. Gaz, get the chopper. Johnny, how's he mission?"

"Almost got the maps, LT."

"Meet us at the meeting point Johnny." You soon heard the radio get silent as the door to the store opened, you tried to peak. "Y/N?"

"Here." you replied as Simon arrived by your side with a first aid kit.

"What happened?"

"Turned out, I can take guys like you not only in bed." you smirked but Simon didn't find it so funny. "I dislocated my shoulder and he cut my leg." you said with a more serious tone as he grabbed your leg and put a bandage on it, stopping the bleeding.

"I can put your shoulder back." he said and you knew, this is going to hurt.

When he grabbed your arm, you prepared for the worst.

It was a terrible feeling, feeling your shoulder pop right back as you let out a groan.

"Good girl." he said and if you weren't in such a pain, you for sure would have made a dirty comment.

Soon, the chopper arrived and after having a showdown with a couple guys, you were on your way back to the base.

At that point, you lost consciousness. The blood loss caught up to you.

"Daisy?" Johnny asked and you let out a noise. "Just making sure you are all good." he replied. "You made Lt rather worried today." Soap smirked as you let out another groan. Simon looked at Johnny with an angry expression.

"Let her sleep." he said as Johnny put two of his hands up in defence.

"Sorry, Lt." Simon moved to sit next to you, holding your hand, checking your pulse. "I always had a feeling you would be a protective kind of boyfriend." you opened your eyes to that, looking at Johnny. "What? You thought your room is sound proof?! Also, it's so clear that you two are dating. I'm just said you didn't tell me."

"Or me!" replied Gaz with a huff.

"How did you know?" asked Ghost.

"As I said the room is not sound proof and as quiet as you two are, we could hear the noises still. And you are not that sneaky, Lt."

"A big guy like you was basically a beacon walking into her room." said Gaz.

Simon let out a groan.

"Captain also knows. He knew before us actually. I believe he knew even before you two. He always said you two make a good team and it was only a matter of time." Gaz explained and you let out a shaky breath, squeezing Simon's hand.

"I told you to be quiet." he turned to you as you snapped your eyes at him.

"Quiet?! QUIET?! How the fuck am I supposed to be quiet?"

"You have so many pillows, you should have used one!"

"Well, excuse me! Mr 'Let me hear ya Doll'!" Both Johnny and Kyle laughed. "Are you guys... really okay with this? With me and Simon?" you asked with a rather shaky breath.

"Of course! More than okay actually. I always said that Lt needed some lovin'. Captain asked us to see if it will affect the missions. And it did, but in a good way." Johnny nodded as soon you would arrive back to base.

"Thank you." you and Simon said in unison as you landed.

Nurses barged in to get you to the medbay as soon as possible.

Simon could only watch as you were taken away.

Johnny and Kyle both patted him on the back before leaving.

Price arrived soon after.

Simon was sitting in the medbay, waiting to be let in so he could see you. This is when the captain sat down next to him.

"You two could have told us."

"We were afraid we would be separated or discharged."

"I would never do that. Sure the others don't have to know, but as a team, we are responsible for each other." Simon nodded at Price.

"Thank you."

"There is nothing to thank. Let's have a drink once she is better." Just as John said that, a nurse came to inform that Simon could go in.

He sat down in the chair next to you, holding your hand.

You two really thought you were secretive enough.

But you were okay with the others knowing. At least in front of them, you didn't have to pretend anymore.

Simon leaned over to give you a kiss on the forehead.

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​   @manduse​   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[stxramr]

I love Scaramouche

(NSFW BELOW THE CUT)

I love Scaramouche its genuinely so fucking insane.When I first saw that man I wanted him to break my legs and ruin me raw.I wanted him to degrade me and make me cry,laugh at my tears as soon as he noticed only to go harder and faster.

His attitude made him even better tbh.His high ego and pride,bro I wouldn't hesitate to get on my knees to suck him off if I ever saw him.

Like idfk if it's made out of wood or something ILL MAKE IT WORK.I will literally force it in me and he'll have me shaking and crying for hours I swear.

He could make me disabled for weeks then not give a fuck about me and I'd still be thankful.

He could use me as his personal cum dump and hide me in his basement I would not mind it one bit.As long as I am stuffed full and ALL my holes are oozing with his sticky white residue I am game.

Ngl I'd get myself all dolled up for him when he's away so when he's back he could release all his pent up anger and fuck me for how long he wants to,we could go on for all of eternity if he wanted.

He's so fucking hot tbh.He's fine in all his forms I dont even wanna get into detail about that.

I also want to smash him when he's wanderer.Especially before he got his past memories back like bro was so fucking cute I bet he whimpered and begged.

Also his ult??like step on me pls.He could edge me for hours just by stepping on me.It would be weird but I'd still be begging for him.

He looks like the kind of guy who'd be mean and bossy with a female significant other but would be all hooked and submissive if his significant other was a male.

He looked rideable and peggable at the same time its so fucking insane.Like if it were railing a woman he's be groaning and grunting,but if he was the one getting railed he'd be crying and whimpering.

I wouldn't mind if he made me his personal sex slave.Like a little dog he'd drag around to show off and then fuck senseless once he gets home.

Like pls,he could fill me with any type of liquid from him.Whether it be cum,piss,blood,whatever as long as he's in me I could not possibly care.

He could fill me with his cum if he even has that,he could impregnate me everyday and night.

And if he doesn't want kids of him own I'd get abortions any time possible and I might as well find a way to make myself infertile so he could fuck me without a care for any consequences what so ever.

Also the idea of him always being so neglectful and always ignoring his significant other when he's busy with his duties??hello??

I would ride his foot until he's pity me enough to actually give me sexual attention.And if I have to cream on his foot for him to finally put the papers down then SO I WILL.

Im gonna add more to this because this man is fucking everything.His personality,his attitude,Istfg he could break my legs and pound me for DAYS and I would complain

Also the hat stays ON during sex so while he's thrusting the only sound you could comprehend is the jingle sound of the thingies of his hat

Okay but like semi public sex with scara in a fatui tent while all the other agents are sleeping and he just muffles your moaning with a rag like yes pls

He could slap me multiple times,beat me up,make me pass out just to fuck me and I would let him.He could leave me all bruised and bloody filled with cum somewhere in teyvat and I'd still be thankful.

Ok but a threesome with childe and scara??like childe bending me over behind me while scara is muffling my cries and moans??

Imagine all the jealous cicin mages and female fatui agents because scara's scent is so strong and the marks on your neck are so visible no amount of concealer could hide them.

Scara could step on me,abuse me,degrade me,hurt me all he wants as long as I get fucked in the end its okay

When I finally got him on his first rerun I was so happy.Like as soon as he came on screen I did too tbh

HE'S SO PRETTY IT HURTS TO LOOK AT HIM I LITERALLY SPENT DAYS ON GENSHIN STARING AT HIS DESIGN AND LISTENING TO HIS VOICE LINES

Wanderer would probably do it in the forest if his significant other got too needy

[idesofrevolution]

Never Enough

I wanted so badly to be like him. I’d stare at him from afar every day I commuted home from work. He was tall, he was stacked, he was dark, he was fuckin perfect. Each time I saw those arms, twice the size of my head, I had to stifle til the little moan I knew would escape my lips. I didn’t know his name, I didn’t know anything about him except he must have lived nearby, since he was jogging nearly every day down the main strip. No shirt, beadlets of sweat glistening on that ebony skin, trailing down a set of washboard abs into a soaked pair of black shorts.

He was everything I knew I could never be. Surely a couple roid rages helped him along the way, but there’s something to be said about genetics. He had the genes I wouldn’t ever have. So I would sit there like creepy voyeurist every day and drool over this sweaty lug of a man I’d never met but so heavily admired.

I couldn’t tell you what the catalyst was for my google search that day. Maybe it was the fact I was bored out of my mind at work, or maybe that angst just kept compiling subconsciously until I finally did something about it. Either way, I found myself seeing what could be done about the way I looked, about who I was. A few pages down the line, well past 20 or so, I saw one result which piqued my curiosity.

“MelaSculpt” was the product. The little snippet of description on the search page described a fitness supplement for black men. I didn’t really think as I clicked the page that I would find anything of use to myself. After all, a black man I am not- but male is male right? And health supplements aren’t discriminative to my knowledge. The page for some company named VitaCorp opened quickly, and the page did take me back a bit. A studly mocha skinned man smirked back at me, flexing his vascular biceps while shoving a small orange pill into the foreground.

“MelaSculpt is the newest addition to VitaCorp’s growing list of nutritional supplements, which is aimed at improving the wellness and physique of men of color. Specially balanced for peak performance and quick results, this supplement will help YOU get the body of your dreams.” I scrolled past the ingredients list and disclaimers, much more interested in seeing the before and after photos of previous clients. The results were staggering. One man was easily 300 pounds overweight in his before picture, and after one treatment he was cut, lean, and healthy. Another was the opposite: gangly and paper thin before, ripped and bulked after. I kept swiping the pictures, before realizing the gallery was almost 200 photos. Before I could stop myself I had already purchased the bottle.

The rest of the day went by as normal, the draining, soul sucking grind of a day working had made me forget entirely that I had bought the supplements. So imagine my surprise upon arriving home when I saw a nondescript black package in my mailbox with a bright orange VitaCorp logo on it. It wasn’t possible! I looked, the company was out of Australia, I wasn’t even close. Unless they had a fulfillment center here in town, this couldn’t be it. Though, sure enough, as I ripped the plastic open, the matte black bottle rolled out into the palm of my hand.

I booked it inside, immediately rushing to my bathroom to examine the contents further. The futuristic font glistened the MelaSculpt name, teasing me as I ripped the plastic ring off the cap and twisted it open. The inside was full of cotton, and after pulling out what seemed like an inordinate amount of it, I saw two large orange pills in the bottom of the bottle. For a moment I was beyond pissed. What kind of rip off scheme did I buy into this time? I grabbed the package, shaking it upside down, hoping for a set of written instructions or a receipt. Luckily, a small card labeled “USER GUIDE” toppled onto the cold tile floor. I picked it up and began to read.

“Thank you for your purchase! We sincerely hope your experience with MelaSculpt enhances your life in every way you might hope. To begin your journey, take a test amount of a 1/4 pill to ascertain tolerance. Do not exceed 2 pills per person in totality.

WARNING: MelaSculpt is designed for use in men of color only. Side effects may include…”

I tossed the card aside, eager to get started. The orange pill glistened in my palm, presegmented into four doses. I broke off the first portion and swallowed it, washing it down with water from the tap. I stood a front the mirror, preparing myself to say goodbye to this corporeal prison and hello to a hunky Adonis like the jogger. It didn’t take long.

It had been merely second before I doubled over. I could hear the bubbling and groaning of my stomach, feeling it gurgle and pulsate. Immediately, I was convinced I was poisoned. Some random website I had found on Google supplied me Arsenic or Ricin… and I was dumb enough to take it. The first burp escaped my mouth, and I could feel instant relief. I stumbled into the bedroom, leaning on the dresser before actually looking down at my midriff. Beneath my shirt, which once was ill fitting and awkward, my stomach seemed to strain against the fabric. I ripped the shirt from my torso, buttons flying off it.

Beneath that cheap polyester were six little bumps vaguely protruding from my former gut. Another belch, and my swollen love handles seemed to collapse in on themselves. I was shocked, no, thrilled to see my waistline shift and bulk as two cumgutters started to balloon out. That was all fine and good, until my head began to spin. Yet another belch. I grasped onto the dresser, trying desperately to balance myself. But just as the world began to warp and blur, I thought I saw the slightest pinpricks of dark skin begin to cascade down my fingertips before it all went black.

I woke up on the ground. My head throbbed with a migraine straight from hell, rubbing my pulsating temples. Light streamed through the blinds, it was the next day for certain. As my throbbing eyes finally began to adjust, the world around me became clearer. Immediately, I saw them. Toes. My toes. BLACK toes. I wriggled my big toe, just to make sure they were in fact mine, before looking down at my hands. They were a dark ebony, tattoos sprinkled on my wrists and up my thick forearms. I scrambled to my feet and looked in the mirror.

What met my gaze were two meaty pecs, cobblestone abs, arms the size of a cantaloupe… a snaking bulge creeping further and further down my shorts. I hadn’t even looked at my face, I was too scared to look. No, scared wasn’t the right word, it was the mounting anticipation of just who I now was. I looked up, and my breath was taken away. My hair was a wild jumble of black curly locks radiating out into an afro. My chiseled jawline had a light stubble, the only two places on my entire body where I had hair. Every single inch of this sculpted, godlike body was smooth, chiseled, and powerful.

Taking a breath, the light scent of sweat emanated from my pits and feet. Just one whiff gave me a head rush as if I’d taken a hit of poppers. I panicked in the moment, refusing to believe this was who I now was. I pulled and prodded my face as if I were wearing a mask, but alas, this was my face. This was real. And a devilish smirk crept onto my face.

————

That was seven months ago. Truthfully, I’d adjusted pretty naturally into being Jabari. After a day or two of no showing at work, when the boss called the apartment I just explained I was the new tenant. I have no idea what happened to the guy before me. I was Jabari Jefferson, I’d just moved to town from Baltimore and was looking for a gig in personal training. The landlord just kinda accepted I was the new tenant, as long as the rent was paid she didn’t really care.

I started to get more comfortable going out in my new body, appreciating the winks and stares of those who passed. That kind of admiration changes a guy, you start to kind of believe it. I found my own new style, I found a gym to work at down the street from the house. I hit up the bars and happily took home any sexy adult I could find. They couldn’t get enough of that subtle, salty funk which seemed to linger around me; that testosterone laden musk which, admittedly got me and my 9 inch cock off after nearly every session on the basketball court. I made a name for myself around the neighborhood for being “that guy.” The one everyone wanted to be, the guy I always dreamed I’d become. That however, leads us to todays events.

The sun was beaming down on me, as I contently shot some hoops before I hit up my date at a bar down the street. The energy I felt every single day. It was so strong and powerful. That virility, that libido, that strength… it was addictive. I plopped down onto the bench, prying my size 13 LeBron 19’s from my damp, socked foot. Taking a not so guilty whiff of that sharp, satisfying scent of a damn good game, just as I did after every hoop sesh. I tossed the sneakers into the bag and pulled out my slides, only for something to roll right out of the bag as I did.

I looked down at my wet feet on the pavement to see the black bottle of MelaSculpt had fallen out of my bag. Truthfully, I’d forgotten where I put it months ago: out of sight, out of mind. But as I looked down at it, that little nagging voice in the back of my head began to pick at me. Those feelings I felt that day, that euphoric rush. The power of my flexing muscles, the taste of my sweat, the touch of my skin… it all came back to me at once.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. That sensation, that lust for power and strength more than ever before is as enticing as it sounds even now. I opened my eyes, and delicately grabbed the bottle. The pill and 3/4 rattled around the bottom of the black container, teasing me even further. I looked down at my glistening muscles, slick with sweat, and imagined just how much more I wanted. It wasn’t enough to be sexy and strong, I had to be the strongest. I had to be the one.

In that moment of irrevocable weakness, I twisted the cap off and swallowed the remainder of the pill I’d used the first time. I didn’t remember the instructions, I didn’t remember the warnings, I remembered that feeling. It was the only thing in my mind as a triple dose made its way down my throat. Just as the first time, I doubled over on the bench, my stomach rumbling audibly to even passersby. I groaned and let out a cacophonous belch, one that even surprised myself. My chest ballooned out almost comically as a cartoon. Veins bulged prominently out of my thinning skin as my necklace burst from the base of my throat, too fragile for the force of my widening neck.

I scampered and stumbled blindly into the locker room, fortunately empty at the time. I let out another cavernous burp, which echoed throughout the room. My thighs bubbled outward in grotesque disproportion to the rest of my musculature. I crawled on the floor toward a shower stall, making it in before just as the time before the world began to spin. I got one final glimpse of my biceps contort and spasm before it all went dark.

I awoke in that shower stall in agony. Every muscle felt stiff and stone like in the cramped stall. I couldn’t even fit my entire body in the stall, my feet stuck out from beneath the door. The smell, it was strong. I enjoyed that savory, delectable scent of masculine musk before, but this was different. The only word I could describe it with is pungent. Like high quality Gorgonzola, and it was pouring out of every crevice of my body. I pushed the stall door open, which nearly came off from the force of my strength.

Getting to my feet, I crept slowly toward the sink, feeling every contraction of every muscle, thinly veiled behind my hairless skin. I got to the mirror. I had tripled in size. Muscles bulged from every direction, built far past the natural threshold I even knew existed. My dreads had all but fallen off, leaving a buzzed hair which exposed veins protruding from even my own scalp. I could feel my heart pumping every single beat, and the blood flowing across my entire body. The power was incomprehensible, it was incredible. It was… far too much for me. I scrambled back to my bag, tossing my favorite sneakers across the room, never to fit my rank size 17 feet ever again.

The bottle seemed tiny in my massive hand, I strained to see the instructions printed on the card I’d left inside. The only thing I could make out was the final words at the bottom of the paper: “Effects permanent. Use with caution.” My heart skipped a beat, I looked at myself in the mirror, a roid-inflated version of the Jabari I had built, nurtured, valued, loved… this wasn’t me. It felt wrong. I looked down at my phone desperately trying to look up the VitaCorp webpage to no avail. I screamed and punched the wall, my fist going straight through the tile and plaster.

My breathing labored, heavy, and hard, I looked down at the bottle again, chucking it into the bin. I looked at myself in the mirror, accepting there in that moment that Jabari was gone. This walking muscle was who I now was. I now had to concoct an entirely new persona yet again. But the only thing I could think of, was how much I wanted what I had lost.