#then 26 and see where my life takes me. At least I'm still here

[thornedswan]

My birthday isn't until March, but I am oddly looking forward to being 24

[rafesfavgirl]

with a broken heart — r. cameron

part 1. something a little more lighthearted to make up for breaking y'alls hearts :)

series: every few lifetimes

❝ i was grinning like i'm winning  i was hitting my marks 'cause i can do it with a broken heart ❞

pairing: ex-bf!rafe x fem!reader

context: after getting your heart broken, you pack your bags and leave the obx, only to come face to face with rafe again, eight years later.

words: 2.4k+

warnings: rafe and reader are aged up (26/27), old flames, FLUFF

"now remember, this client's a big prospect," your boss says as you follow him out of the office car and into the building you were scoping out today. "i guarantee if you can close this deal, you'll be well on your way to becoming the next junior partner."

"hank, are you serious?" you stop in your tracks and he looks at you. 

when you first left the outer banks for new york, you went to nyu without a clue on what you wanted to do with the rest of your life. somewhere along the way, you graduated magna cum laude and pursued law school at columbia. your first year, hank took you on as an intern, and by the time you graduated, you had a job lined up for you at one of the biggest real estate agencies in the world. and though you knew how well you did your job, becoming junior partner as a second-year associate was way beyond where you thought you'd be—it was nothing short of a dream come true.

"don't think what you've done for this company has been lost on me, y/n," he tells you. "you're an asset. i knew it since that first summer i took you on as an intern."

a smile comes across your lips. "well, i can't disappoint," you say. "let's close this fucking deal."

"that's what i like to hear, come on," he continues leading you through the building, until the two of you reached a tall guy with a buzzcut wearing a navy blue suit scoping out the place.

"mr. cameron," you don't miss the familiar name when you and your boss stop behind him, your breath hitching when the guy turns around to greet you both. "this is-"

"y/n," your name rolls off rafe's tongue the same way it always did, your heart beating so hard you feared it'd jump out of your chest.

hank's eyes shift between the two of you, as he shakes rafe's hand. "you two know each other?"

"yeah," rafe nods, his eyes set on you—he couldn't believe that you were actually standing in front of him. a part of him thought that when you left the obx he'd never see you again. "we uh— we went to high school together."

"well that's wonderful," hank smiles. "no need for the awkward introduction then."

except— it was awkward. you didn't just go to high school together. you fell in love in high school. and two months before you chose to go to nyu, rafe broke your heart.

"y/n here will be the one walking you through the contract, and hopefully setting you up with one of our best architects," hank explains to him, while you continue trying to process the fact that he was actually here.

what were the odds that he was the client you needed to win over in order to make junior partner? 

—

"so, does that all sound good to you?" you finish going over the contract for the building and look at rafe.

the two of you hovered over a table in the empty space that you'd spread out all the documents on.

"yeah, y/n, it all sounds great." the smile he throws your way makes your stomach turn in the worst way—making you realize that the piece of your heart that never stopped beating for him still existed. "where do i sign?"

"uh— right here," you pick up your pen to draw x's on all the lines he had to sign on, before holding it out to him.

he takes it from you, and you watch as he leans over to sign on each and everyone of them, your eyes trailing over how well his suit fit him.

he must hit the gym at least four times a week, you thought. he's grown quite a bit since you last saw him.

"there you go," rafe hands the pen back out to you, and you take it from him with a smile.

"thank you," you say. "you won't regret it."

"oh, i know," he nods, eyes scanning over your face. "i'd never regret anything that involves you."

you feel the heat rise on your cheeks, but you keep it professional, gathering the files on the table back into your folder. "well then, i'll leave you with the contacts of our architects and if you have any further questions, you can reach out to hank or any of the other executives."

"yeah, okay," he replies, hiding his disappointment in the fact that you didn't tell him to contact you with any questions he may have.

"it was a pleasure doing business with you, mr. cameron," you hold out a hand to him for a handshake and he stares at it for a second, before reluctantly placing his hand in yours.

"it sure was," he smiles. "but you know you can just call me rafe, don't you?"

"this is how i address all my clients," you tell him. "it's just the professional thing to do."

"yeah, yeah, i get it," he nods. "guess i'm just not used to it coming from you."

you crack a smile at his somewhat nervous stance—you weren't used to seeing him this way. "it was nice to see you again, rafe. good luck with everything."

"yeah," he grins. "you too."

you turn to walk away, while rafe stays back, scratching the back of his head in contemplation before calling out to you. "hey y/n?"

"yeah?" you ask, stopping to look at him again.

"you got any plans tonight?"

"rafe, i-"

"oh, come on," he cuts you off, slowly closing the distance between you two. "there's no reason we can't be friends, right?"

wrong—there were many reasons. one being that you spent years piecing yourself back together after he decided to give up on you. 

"let's catch up," he persists, his blue eyes locking with yours. "get a drink with me tonight."

despite your head screaming no, you agree. "one drink," you say, causing a smile to spread across his face. "ten o'clock. meet me at the bar on fifth."

—

the second you walk into the bar, rafe rises from his stool at the counter and waves you over. he had gotten there 30 minutes early to make sure you weren't left waiting for him—you'd done enough of that.

"hey," he seems nervous when you reach him, wiping his hands on his slacks before reluctantly wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

you resist the urge to giggle—it was kinda entertaining to see this six-foot-two tall man get nervous around you—and briefly return his hug.

"have you been here long?" you ask, taking off your jacket and taking a seat in the empty stool beside him.

"nah, just about five minutes or so," he lies, shrugging and giving you a lopsided smile, as the bartender walks up to greet you both.

"anything i can get you?" she asks, eyes lingering on rafe for a little longer than you.

"just a glass of whiskey for me," rafe tells her. "neat."

"and i'll just have a glass of pinot noir," you say, when the girl turns to look at you. "thank you."

"and you can just put it on this," rafe reaches into his back pocket for his wallet, and you cut in. "rafe, you don't have to-"

"nonsense," he shakes his head at you and slides his black amex across to the bartender. "i invited you out. it's on me."

the bartender picks up his card, and gives him a smile. "rafe cameron. i'll remember that."

subtly, rafe rolls his eyes and you hold back a snicker. "please don't."

the bartender huffs as her eyes shifts between the two of you, but walks away without another word to get your drinks and charge rafe's card.

you kink a brow at him. "you get bartenders flirting with you a lot?"

"i guess it happens every now and then," he shrugs.

"it's definitely the buzz," you tell him, as a different bartender brings over your drinks and hands rafe back his card.

"thank you," he briefly acknowledges him, before turning his attention back on you, an amused smile on his face. "you think?"

"yeah," you nod, bringing your wine glass up to take a sip. "it makes you look older— more mature. it suits you."

he cracks a smile, a small chuckle slipping out from between his lips. "and being a lawyer suits you."

"you really think so?"

"yeah," he nodded, taking a sip of his whiskey. "you looked so cute all dressed up in your little suit," those words make the heat rise on your cheeks, and you hide it with your wine glass. "i've never seen you more in your element. what made you choose law?"

"well…" you trail off, wondering whether or not you should tell him the truth. oh, fuck it. "after we broke up, i found out got into nyu. i was so… mad and hurt over you ending it that i packed my bags and i left, without looking back. during the summers, i stayed here and worked internships with the school just so i'd have an excuse not to go home."

he listened intently, a look of indifference falling across his features. a part of him was hurt at hearing that he'd broken your heart so badly you felt the need to leave, but the other part was proud. you really did that. figured your shit out and made a life for yourself—just like he always knew you would.

"after my second year, i worked an internship with a property management company in brooklyn. we scoped out places all around the city, and i don't know… i kinda just fell in love with it. seeing how happy people got when we'd found them the right apartment or the right space for them to start their business just made me feel really good. so i declared real estate as my major junior year and decided on law school," you continued.

"doll, that's amazing," he smiled, blue eyes twinkling. "which law school did you go to?"

"columbia," you reply, his eyes only widening in amazement. no words could describe the amount of pride in his chest right now. "but enough about me. what about you?"

"oh— uh…" he started and set his whiskey down on the bar. "after you left, i went to rehab. went in and out of that place for about two or three years… i mean, you knew how bad it was— wasn't easy."

you frown upon hearing his struggles with rehab and relapsing, but nod along as he continues.

"been clean for about four years now though," he shrugs, as if it wasn't some big accomplishment.

"rafe, that's amazing," you tell him, setting your glass down on the bar. "good for you."

"i had to," he nodded. "not only for me, but for dad, too. he was starting to talk business and expanding the company, and i just… i couldn't let him down. especially not after i let you down."

you glance down, no longer being able to meet his eyes. you knew that your past together had to come up at one point, you just weren't ready for it. mainly because even after all this time, there was still that little piece of your heart that never stopped belonging to him. it would always be his. "rafe…"

"i hope i'm not being too forward when i ask you this but…" his hand reaches out to touch yours, and you look up at him. "are you seeing anyone?"

"no, i'm not," you shake your head. "after we broke up, i didn't really date much. and even when i did, nothing ever really stuck."

that was enough to have a smile crack across his his, eyes brighter than you'd seen them in a really long time. "guess that makes two of us."

"guess so," you shrug, thoughts running through your mind a hundred times a minute as you try to find a way to change the subject. you weren't ready for where this conversation was about to go. at least, not yet. "but, uh— tell me about cameron development, how's that going?"

he chuckles at your eagerness to change the subject, as you sipped on your wine, but goes with it. he'd break you down again. eventually.

—

after finishing your drinks at the bar, rafe offered to walk you home since your apartment was only about a block or two away, assuring you that he'd just get a cab back to his hotel afterward.

and while a part of you screamed at you to say no, that little piece of your heart that still beat for him won over, and you agreed.

"well, this is me," you say, stopping in front of your apartment complex and looking at him. "it was really nice to see you, rafe."

"so that's it?" he asks, catching you off guard. "this just ends here?"

he takes a step towards you, making your heart pitter-patter, as his eyes scanned your face.

"rafe-"

"don't you ever wonder…" he cuts you off, his gaze lingering on your lips for just a moment before his eyes shifted to meet yours. "what we could've been? what we could be?"

"i-"

"i know i fucked shit up with you, a'ight?" he said, hand coming up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

the gesture threatens to make your eyes flutter close at the feeling of his familiar touch, but you keep your composure.

"i was young and i was stupid, and i thought you deserved better," he continued. "but y/n, there isn't a day that has gone by in the last eight years that you haven't crossed my mind. i think about you all the time, just hoping for the day you'd finally come back to the banks."

your breath hitches at his confession, that tiny piece of your heart that held onto him, growing three sizes.

"i know i don't deserve a second chance, i know that," he told you. "but i'm not the guy i was back in high school. i'm clean now, and i've turned my life around. i can be that guy for you now. the one you needed me to be all those years ago."

"okay," you whisper.

"what?" he musn't have heard you right.

"i'd be lying to myself if i said i haven't thought about you either, rafe," you say.

a small chuckle falls from his lips, which spread into a smile. "seriously?"

you nod. "come pick me up at seven tomorrow. let's give it a chance."

part 3 coming soon!!

i'm rooting for them tbh

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

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[bellshazes]

dreaming up a syllabus for an imaginary course on metanarratives about gameplay, which i think would go something like:

unit 1: who do you think you are i am - auto-documentary & games

Vlogs and the Hyperreal, Folding Ideas

The Slow Death of Let's Play Videos, Meraki (to ~10:00)

World Record Progression: Mike Tyson, Summoning Salt

ROBLOX_OOF.mp3, hbomberguy

Life as a Bokoblin: A Zelda Nature Documentary, Monster Maze

optional: Braindump on the History of Let's Plays, slowbeef

unit 2: what like it's hard? - intro to challenge narratives

Chapter 26: Games as Narrative Play: Two Structures for Narrative Play, Rules of Play

A different kind of challenge run: Minimalist 100% (BOTW), Wolf Link

Surviving 100 Days on Just Dirt, Mogswamp

Can You Beat DARK SOULS III with Only Firebombs, the Backlogs

Is it Possible to Beat Super Mario 3D World while permanently crouching?, Ceave Gaming

The Pacifist Challenge - Beating Hollow Knight Without Collecting Soul [CHALLENGE] - Sample

optional: How to 100% Snowpeak Ruins in under 15 minutes, bewildebeest

unit 3: nelly you don't understand, i AM the narrative - form and function

The Future of Writing about Games, Jacob Geller

Can You Beat GRIME Without Weapons?, the Backlogs

Mushroom Kingdom Championships, Ceave Gaming

My Life as a Barber in Hitman 2, MinMax (Leo Vader)

MyHouse.WAD - Inside Doom's Most Terrifying Mod, PowerPak

optional: Mega Microvideos, Matthewmatosis

the theme and structure is mostly intended to introduce at least one critical or historically contextual work followed by examples of the type of narrative in question.

in unit 1, this is the idea of "How do people talk about their own experiences in the context of YouTube and playing video games?" across three rather different kinds of documentaries. unit 2 is intended to take that lens of who is telling what tale and dial in on challenge running, where i first noticed the way some videos turn the story of overcoming a challenge into its own narrative that is distinct from but related to the narrative events of the game itself. unit 3 circles back to the bigger picture with a variety of examples that, to me, are maximally metanarrative, the emergent story of the player-narrator now functionally replacing the game's embedded narrative.

bonus unit: broken narratives

Glitch & the Grotesque at the MLA, Sylvia Korman

Watching time loop movies to escape my time loop, Leo Vader

The Stanley Parable, Dark Souls, and Intended Play, Folding Ideas

Breaking Madden, Jon Bois

The TRUTH about the Pizzaplex in FNAF: Security Breach, AstralSpiff

this one is highly underdeveloped, but i'd love to work out something more robust building on randomizer challenges that produce intentionally bizarre, semi-ironic "lore," and bois-esque endeavors to break games so hard the story itself crumbles. but that's really out of scope so i'm just including the links to things i couldn't bear to get rid of. more rambling abt the challenge runs I chose under the cut.

Challenge runs represent one of the most obvious places to start, due to being extremely plentiful and having a hook that makes a "here's how I did X thing in Y video game" format almost unavoidable. Minimalist 100% is an underrated and sweet straightforward example that I mostly include as a baseline for reporting-out style narrative; here are the facts, here's what happened, this is the thing that it is. Mogswamp's 100 Days on Just Dirt is similar in style, but the physical measuring of days is a delightful and, more importantly, external narrative device.

Now oriented, we get a taste of Ceave Gaming's narrative approach to Mario challenges with the no-crouching run, and while we still aren't at the degree of player-characters being constructed for the narrative's sake, the spirited belief in crouching sets the stage for other rhetoric in more extreme cases we'll see later.

The Backlogs' entire body of work qualifies here, but GRIME is the strongest inspiration for putting this list together. I include the DS3 firebombs run because what was initially a factual description of how his wife's use of firebombs inspired him to play differently in the original DS1 firebombs run has developed into full-blown multi-game narrative arc with the Firebomb Goddess (his wife, who also voices the character) compelling his in-game character to achieve his destined quest. Grime takes that even further,

In-Game Documentaries

I include Life as a Bokoblin mostly as a contrast to My Life as a Barber - there is a level of fictionalization and roleplay involved in the Zelda in-game documentary that highlights exactly what I want to single out when I am talking about metanarrative, the story about a story.

[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

[thesirencult]

Astrological Predictions I Wrote Down Last Year Which Are Still Relevant- and will continue to be!

Note: I'm not here to spread fear and anxiety. Bad aspects do not exist. Our lives and the way the Art Of Astrology is expressed in our reality is a mix of different colours and vibrations. These predictions have been made with my own personal way of interpretation so please don't ask how I came up with some things. Don't drive yourself crazy trying to see the "mechanics" and "practical details" behind the predictions, simply read them and see if intuitively you vibe with them. Keep in mind these are written in a "personal notes" style so it is a tiny bit chaotic!

A year ago I did not post any content about astrology and tarot online, at least at this scale. Posting these personal observations is not a way fro me to "toot-my-own-horn". I'm actually quite skeptical about Astrology's capacity to "predict" but right now, looking at those notes it is apparent that most of those things have already manifested or are beginning to take form in our physical reality.

Enjoy and let me know what your thoughts are about what's coming.

2023 MAJOR ASPECTS

Pluto In Aquarius (23/3/2023, 3 months and then again in 2024): 20 year cycle, society, tech, consciousness, innovation on STEROIDS, last time 795,819, 1781 -> discovery of uranus, islamic/arab domination in north africa, fall and rise of dynasties in europe (foundations of europe as we know it now, al-Khwarizmi founded the field of algebra

Saturn In Pisces (7/3/2023, 26 february, may 2 2026): structuring the "unstructureable"

Jupiter In Taurus (16/5/2023-25/5/2024): wisdom of nature, stay ready/still, green

17/7/2023 -> N.Node in Aries/S.Node in Libra: love-war, Ares-Aphrodite, war between the feminine and the masculine. Fall of red pill and radical feminism, individual vs parrtnership.

Where Jupiter goes, Saturn follows. Dune, The Hermit energy. In the past few years with Jupiter in Pisces and Aries disillusionment was IN! Fights through screens (Aries), were just another day. Saturn clears the way after Jupiter's orgy. Dreams NEED a practical use (note from now : we have this whole hustling culture thing of set goals and be practical, we are basically trying to give structure to our dreams and create a step by step path to our vision). Example: astrology, NFTs and crypto, drugs, manifestation, art -> how are they contributing to our society and the betterment of it? Dissolving-then Forming-> identifying, dreaming-act/plan -> success. Only through the loss of individual power we realize we are nothing without a link to the rest of "life". Submitting to something greater/ fear (misty) of something destroying us or confronting external life. Sacrifice/Servitude. Who are you when stripped away from the world? (prison): stripped off the matrix/network, inner contemplation, power to serve to experience unity, science+spirituality meeting. loneliness + isolation = going deeper within,monk mode. developing a conscious ego. Information utilized/weaponized to help/guide the masses. Increasing consciousness and broadening the mind. We are realizing we are experiencing the "shadow" not the "idea" (Plato/Jung/archetypes)/Antigone-> divine law / human law/ loss of faith and search dor a new framework of values. Discipline in meditation, yoga driven towards God. Fight between atheism+spiritualism/nihilism+purpose. Turning inside because you lost faith, there you will find God and meaning. The form has outlived its usefulness -> conflict with the status quo and law. No church in the wild/godless. Saturn's death by Jupiter (taurus = structure).

Transformation of rules, social norms, ideas of humanity and how we use science+technology to manifest those ideas. Social + technological REVOLUTION. Renaissance. Turning to humanitarian, liberal arts/spreading knowledge-teaching. Astronomical discoveries, vaccines/antibiotics(shortages?), innovations in trade, change in the way religions and churches are structured as well as other organizations. More open. Blockchain. "Anonymity" but transparency. 48 laws of power, the prince. philosophy-> utilitarian/kant/pure reason. "how to maximize happiness for the majority. streamlined techniques. Pluto in Aquarius will bring the desire to reform. After 2044 these changes will be established. Everything will be brought to the surface. going deep and facing demons. PROMETHEUS MYTH , FIRE -> DARK SIDE OF TECH (note: AI). decentralised internet, open sourcing, energy. YOU CAN'T REACH GOD THROUGH TECHNOLOGY/CAN YOU? Grid failures+extreme weather. Internet cables connecting countries -> separation from WEB -> Who are we? power over...= domination / power with...= networks Pluto -> Πλούτος, abundance but can turn to greed -> eruption -> realizations. Society = individuals -> change= self change!

Society is going to turn its hopes, wishes , knowledge, resources and tech powers towards abundance and sustainability. Physical environment = abundance. I'm seeing a rise in holistic+cyclical approaches, natural medicine and art expression close to natural processes. Expect movement from big cities to the countryside and creation of luxury reatreats/hotels close to nature-sustainable.

source:thesirencult

[taylorswiftstylequestions]

Hi Sarah. I am feeling very unwell right now. I have always wanted to be childfree. For a while it felt like that meant no partner either and the pressure from my own mother has also always felt very suffocating. In recent years she has even taken to calling me brainwashed which feels like a knife in my heart and a complete disregard for my own identity and wants. I am 26 now and still don't want children and I met a partner who initially seemed not to want them either, but everytime we see a child now he says "don't you want one someday?" and it feels as if he is slowly trying to change my mind so one day I will. I love him so much, but this is taking such a toll on me. It makes me question if I should just compromise and have a kid in my thirties or leave someone who ticks off every box except that one? Did you ever face pressures like this? Does your mother respect you instead of treating it as an attack on her or making you feel that something is terribly wrong with you? Have you and your partner always been on the same page about it or was there ever a period of confusion like this? I understand if this is all too personal to answer explicitly, but I just felt compelled to ask you since you always have some beautiful insight and helping words for us (and you shine so bright).

Hi friend! Thinking of you - this is such a heavy thing to have weighing on your brain. It's a big and immensely personal life decision - it's a lot to figure out on your own and between yourself and your partner let alone all the added weight of the opinions other people in your life might have on this choice.

My husband (🥰🥰🥰) and I have always gratefully been aligned on our choice about what we want to do as a family and it was something established early on when we were dating. We also still do regular check ins (it comes up intermittently as some of our friends make the choice to have children and we gather to celebrate these additions to their/our lives or have their littles around as part of group events and dinners) even now. "It's so fun watching XYZ grow up - but I'm still confident in our decision to not have one of our own. Are you still sure?" / "Instead of kids, I'm really excited to adopt more cats with you" / "I like the life we've built with us and Allistor as a family. Are you still happy with that?"

My parents inquire about our choice every time I see them and my mom in particular doesn't accept my response about our choice. Despite having consistently given the same answer for at least 6 years - I imagine she still thinks I'm going to change my mind. I anticipate navigating our relationship in the next few years especially to be difficult and emotional.

All that said, there's a lot of nuance and highly personal feelings in this decision. People are absolutely allowed to change their minds about kids. People are absolutely allowed to be resolute and sure in their opinions (yes or no). One partner may be on the fence and the other may be so sure one way or the other and through personal discussions and conversations, you make a compromised choice based on what's right for the two of you. Regardless of where you land, you deserve the freedom to make the choice that you want to make and to be with a partner who respects and aligns with that choice (can confirm it is 100% possible) - and the intricacies of finding that alignment can be validating or devastating depending on where you each land.

I'm sorry I can't be more helpful for you but I recognize and feel you on how immensely difficult this is. I wish you transparent, respectful and open conversations with your partner on this. I'm here for you!

[neverwalka1one]

Magnus Protocol 27

Yes I skipped making one of these for 26, it was a week and a half and mostly it consisted of me going 'plz stop poking the Spiral Lady she might eat you' at Celia, so.

Kidnapping/consumption, there is no way that classification can mean good things, nope.

Sam just kind of... sucks at grunt work. Like. I know he never meant to do a busywork type of job, this was a fallback, but... look. If Lena wasn't bound and determined to Not Have To Hire More People, Sam would be out on his ass in a week. You don't get that sassy with an overbearing manager and not eat asphalt. Sam, that's a clue, take it, please, omg.

Lena is tidying away Colin's files. Can someone get us proof of life on Colin?

$10 says Lena's planning on feeding Sam to one of the externals.

Oh Gwen, living down to middle manager tropes are we?

Hi Augustus, horrible to hear you, what ye olde times horror do you have for us you utter psychopath?

Strong alchemy vibes, gotta love it

So the institute is instituting (Magnussing?) by committee, I think I'm seeing why the Institute didn't overpower this world.

.... this is Jonah Magnus. THIS IS JONAH MAGNUS HI JONAH YOU ASS WHERE DID YOU PUT JON AND MARTIN

The eeeeeeeeeeeeeeye [snork] dude, stahp.

... uh. That coach ate a dude.

Hey Magnus. Magnus. Go get et by a coach.

Boyle! I got that reference. And Boyle is from the same time as Newton, so like... what, is this a committee you get to join because you inherited a seat? What, my daddy's rich and in this secret society I am too? .... actually nm that's pretty on point.

So if Boyle and Newton are from late 1600's (ish), and these letters are from nearly 200 years later... were there earlier Magnuses? It sounds like the institute is being named after him personally, so if there were, why is he so special? If there weren't, how did he get into the >200 year old rich boy's club? Why is it still a committee? Or was Newton more part of what the government bit is, that wipes Institute-esque things off the map when they get too powerful? Halp.

Jonah Magnus magnussing over here feeding his colleague to a coach with very little to no remorse I applaud Archibald (who tragically does not appear to be a real person) for spending his last moments cussing out Jonah Magnus.

Jonah has figured out about the Fears. Smirke's coming up next, isn't he? Oh no.

'Do you ever get weird emails' '[deadpan] I'm openly trans on the internet.' Read her to filth, Alice. Get her ass.

'We're not doing this now.' Doing whaaaat, Gwen? Sorta hate-flirting? Approaching romance sidelong like it might bite? C'mon, you were having fun.

Nooooooooo not the breakrooooooooooooooooooom FINE I'll break out the transcripts.

'What was that?' 'That was sex, Sam.' OOF. Sam, my shrimp king, never let Alice know Celia said that, even in jest, she'll roast you forever. Also 'pretty decent' sex? Damned by faint praise much? Or is this one of those 'if I vaguely praise it it was awesome, but if I'm very enthusiastic I think it was trash' British things?

Trevor Herbert is the MP????? That hobo-ass vampire slayer? Oh god, at least he'll get on with Lady Mowbrey.

Nope, still hung up on TREVOR being an elected official, I can't, help.

Whoop, Celia is spooked by the Archivist, what, you didn't clue in... ohhhh. oh no. She didn't hear the story last week. With the eyes. hahaha oh no.

Oh sure Celia, you just 'happen' to find the Hilltop Road property, just coinkidink, yup, just got a 'feeling' about it, yah-huh. If there are spiders there I'm going to be yelling so loud.

[broiderie]

Lost Princessa: Meet the Reaper 26

Well don't kill me. Here's part 26. It's a bit of lead up.

Personal note - I'm now on some serious heart medication due to reoccurring heart issues, so I'm a little foggy. Things may be a bit slower than they used to be even though I hoped to stick to my previous posting of about a chapter a week. That's not working out very well. It's taking me longer to get my ideas on paper and then even longer to get them typed. Please be patient with me.

Warnings: cursing (maybe), show level casual illegal activity, Angel being a menace.

Also - don't steal my shit. This is the only place this is posted.

Taza, Hank, Megan and Rex quickly joined the rest of the club inside. “Morning, Poquito, Hank, Taza. You look like you’re going somewhere important,” Bishop greeted them as he claimed a morning hug from Megan. “What’s the plan today?”

Hank smiled ruefully. “Ask la princessa. She’s the one that’s insistent about it.”

Megan, who had moved on to giving Marcus his morning greeting, shot him a look over her good shoulder.

“Really now, Bebita? What’s he mean?” Marcus asked, looking down at her as he hugged her close. 

Megan sighed. “We’re going to see the doctor in Santa Madre for an x-ray. I want this sling off so I can have my life back.”

Creeper frowned from the bar stool where he was perched. “Didn’t the rez doctor say no?”

Megan grimaced. “He said not quite, but that was with the plaster cast. The soft cast and the immobilizing sling mean it’s been resting more than it had been. Some progress has to have been made.”

Bishop nodded and sat down at one of the tables with a cup of coffee. “How’s the pain?”

“Honestly - so much better. I haven’t had so much as an aspirin and it just feels achey and stiff,” she assured him.

“How achey?” Bishop asked again.

“More than a post workout ache but less than a set dislocated shoulder ache. I honestly think I’d be fine without the sling for the most part. I can always put it back on if it hurts.” She shrugged her good shoulder.

There was a collective wince from the elders at her description.

“What the hell, Shorty. How’d you know what a dislocated shoulder feels like, huh?” Angel asked, giving her a skeptical look.

“Angel - I rode in rodeos. Not a rider I know who hasn’t dislocated at least one shoulder once. In my event - that was the price of a mistake,” she smiled. “And a small price to pay rather than a broken leg or back.”

“Shit, Ma. And you did that shit for fun?” Coco added, puffing on his cigarette. 

“Well, the money was nice too.”

“Holy shit. No wonder you didn’t freak out about the pain.” Coco ashed the cigarette in his hand. “Y’all need someone to ride along?”

“Nah. Thanks, Coco. We’re good, I think. Just a quick run for an x-ray,” Hank assured him as he settled into a chair across the table from Taza.

“Besides- like Creep said - the rez doc didn’t think she was healed enough yet. Good possibility it’s still too early but la princessa is impatient,” Taza said with a grin in Megan’s direction. SHe stuck her tongue out at him.

“Well, we have Angel and EZ doing the Adelita meet today. They’re going South anyway. Might as well go along with you so they don’t have to walk from the desert,” Bishop said. He turned to look at EZ where he was polishing glasses. “Prospect, you better do your memory shit. Poquito could only arrange for the two of you. We’ll hold Templo tonight so everyone gets read in at once.”

EZ nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“And don’t fuck it up,” Hank added.

Taza agreed. “You two fuck up  this gun deal… Neither of you can afford it. The club can’t afford it.”

Both brothers nodded solemnly. 

It wasn’t even an hour laters that they met at the dress warehouse hatch. By now they had this to a science. EZ carried Rex. The ladder was difficult for Megan on handed, so Hank went first so he could catch her if she slipped. Taza stayed at the top guiding her down as far as he could maintain his balance. 

The tunnel itself wasn’t too bad. The terrain was a bit rough, but nothing Megan couldn’t handle with the help of the lights and either Taza or Hank’s guiding hand on her good arm. 

THe hatch on the other end, however, was the bane of her existence. The ladder was built for much taller men so the rungs were further apart and roughly built. They weren’t evenly spaced either. When they reached it Megan sighed. She had slipped every time at this end.

“What’s wrong, Princessa?” EZ asked. “Need a break?” He handed her a bottle of water from the backpack he was carrying. 

Megan shot him a rueful smile and sipped it. “More like an elevator. I hate this ladder.”

Taza grimaced. “We’ll get a new one soon, Chica. Just gotta deal until then.”

Angel eyed the ladder. “Bet me and the boyscout could get you up it easier.”

Hank frowned a bit and tugged Megan to rest against his chest a moment. “What do you mean, Angel?”

“We got Creep up it pretty easy when he needed the doc. Megan’s a lot smaller.” Angel shrugged. “Same way we used to get shit into the attic for Pops.”

EZ broke into a wide grin. “You might be right.”

Taza shrugged a bit as he glanced at Megan. “What do you say, Chica? Want to let them try it?”

Megan eyed the hated ladder, before turning to eye the brothers. “Promise not to drop me?”

Angel gave a sardonic laugh. “And risk getting shot? We won’t drop you, Shorty.”

“Alright then. How’re we doing this?” she asked.

Angel grinned. “Taza, you and EZ go first. Once you’re up, EZ lays on the floor to lift la princessa with Taza to anchor him. Megan gets on my shoulder an’ EZ pulls her out. Simple. Reyes Brothers Elevator.”

Hank chuckled and shook his head, amazed at the simplicity of it. “I’ll help steady you, mi amore. This way you don’t risk falling like yesterday.” The day before, Megan had been lucky Hank was behind her for the ladder. He’d had to catch her twice.

Just like Angel outlined, Taza and EZ went first with EZ carrying Rex. Taza paid the toll while the prospect laid down and hung his top half through the hatch. Taza anchored his legs as Hank helped Angel get Megan onto his shoulders and steadied her as he stood. Then EZ locked his arm and pulled Megan up until Taza could help her out of the hatch. In the end, EZ was breathing a little heavy, but the near disaster of the day before had been averted. Angel and Hank then climbed up to join them. 

“Thanks Angel and EZ. That was much easier on my end,” Megan said, smiling at the brothers. 

Angel gave a slightly cocky grin. “Anything for la princessa de los Mayas, right Prospect?”

EZ laughed a little and straightened his kutte. “Right.”

Once they reached the town, Angel and EZ dropped them off at the storefront where the doctor kept an office upstairs and headed out to the coordinates Luisa had sent to the burner phone in Angel’s pocket. 

“Alright, Chica. Let’s go get this x-ray and find out how you’re doing. After, we can go find something to do until Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum get back,” Taza said with a grin.

Hank led the way up the narrow stairs and paused at the top to smile back at Megan. “You ready, mi amore?”

Megan smiled a little nervously. “You’ll stay with me?”

“Of course, Princessa.” He chuckled a little. “We’d have to anyway - Doc doesn’t speak English.”

Inside, Taza spoke with a man quietly in Spanish as Megan leaned into Hank’s side. The conversation wasn’t very long before the man smiled at Megan and waved her forward. 

Megan turned to look at Taza. 

“He just wants to take the sling off and feel for the break before he x-rays you, Chica,” Taza assured her. 

Hank guided her forward and worked the sling straps on her back to release them. Once the sling was off, he sat her on the narrow wooden table while holding her good hand.

The doctor approached with his hands held calmingly out in front of him. He gently pressed along her collarbone. He looked at Hank and asked something. 

“Mi reina, he wants to know if it hurts when he touches it,” Hank translated. 

“No. It’s a little achey, but that’s just the stiffness I think,” Megan said. 

The doctor nodded as Taza translated what was said. He gestured for Hank to step away from Megan and rolled a camera looking machine in front of her before holding a metal panel behind her shoulder. Megan fought the urge to giggle as she realized that the x-ray machine was a portable vet tool. 

The doctor took the shots that he needed before indicating that he’d be back in a moment. 

As soon as he was out of the room, Megan lost the battle with her giggles. Both men grinned at her. 

“What’s so funny, Chica?” Taza asked, amused at her reaction to this doctor. He had expected nerves or even some defiance like he’d seen the other times doctors had looked at her. 

“Papa, he’s not a doctor, is he? He’s a vet,” Megan bit her lip to stifle her laugh.

Hank burst out laughing while Taza stared at her for a moment before joining in. 

“How’d you know, Princessa?” Hank asked as he moved to support her still splinted arm through her laughing fit.

“The x-ray machine gave it away. And he wasn’t exactly concerned that he couldn’t talk to me directly. Plus - he came at me like I was going to cow kick him if he surprised me.”

Taza laughed again. “You’re right. He’s a farm vet. We didn’t want to scare you with him not being a ‘real’ doctor, so we just didn’t say anything.”

Megan smiled mischievously. “Well - for future reference - I’d much rather the vet than the hospital any day.”

An hour or so later they were walking down the narrow steps to the street level again with Megan’s sling tucked into a bag. The doctor had given the go ahead to remove the sling as long as she wasn’t using her arm too much and there wasn’t a lot of pain. He’s also provided Hank with a refill of the ibuprofen - just in case.

Once on the street, they decided to head to a small restaurant down the street to wait for the Reyes brothers and have lunch. 

Taza ordered for them at the counter while Hank and Megan found a table in a spot where they could see the door. Megan kept rolling her right shoulder until Hank gently rubbed his hand down her spine and across her shoulders. “Are you alright, mi reina?” he asked her as he did it. 

Megan gave a soft groan of relief as Hank rubbed. Hank chuckled at the noise as she answered. “I’m fine. Just stiff.” She paused, arching her back into his rubbing hand. “That feels so good.”

Hank laughed again and scooted his chair back from the table. “Come ‘ere, Princessa. Let me help.” He tugged her to sit in his lap facing him and leaned her forward against his chest so he could gently rub the knots from her back that the sling caused. 

Megan melted against him as the firm pressure released her muscles even through her kutte and holster. 

Hank grinned as Taza came to the table with two trays of food and drinks. His smile assured Taza that nothing was seriously wrong. 

Taza placed the trays on the table and took his seat across from her. “Everything alright?” he asked quietly. 

Megan nodded from where her face was buried in between Hank’s neck and shoulder but made  no move to get up. She let out another quiet moan that only Hank could hear as he hit a particularly nice spot. 

Hank chuckled again and tried not to think about it too much. He liked that noise. He met Taza’s eyes. “Yeah. She’s just stiff and her back muscles are in knots from the sling. 

Taza laughed a little. “So that’s why she’s practically purring.” 

Hank grinned. He tilted his chin to kiss Megan’s hair. “Your papa brought lunch. You ready to eat?” he asked her. 

Megan whined a little, but nodded before lifting her head. Hank helped her to settle back into her chair with a laugh. “A hot shower when we get home will help, mi amore.”f

As they ate, they made plans for the rest of the day. They had Templo when they got back to discuss the deal with the L.O. but after that no plans had been made. 

“Well, your tíos and I need to meet after Templo to do some book work, so I’ll be tied up for the night. What are your plans, Chica?” Taza asked as he discreetly added more rice to Megan’s plate while she was distracted. 

“Don’t know. I need to let Riz know to put me back on the schedule since the sling is off, but I also know that he’s already got this week’s schedule posted. I looked this morning,” Megan said as she ate the taco she'd fixed from the communal plates Taza had ordered them. “Will you be in meetings too, Hank?”

Hank sipped his soda and shook his head. “Nah. All my book stuff is done for the next two weeks.” He leaned back in his chair and slid his arm along the back of Megan’s. “Now that your sling’s off - would you want to do something tonight?”

Megan’s eyes sparkled. “Like a date?”

Hank laughed. “Yes. Like an actual date, mi princessa. Nothing too fancy, but a date.”

Megan bounced a little in her chair. “Yes!”

Taza grinned at her enthusiasm. “There we go. I’ll be home late too, so don’t wait up for me.”

“Would you keep Rex for the night?” Hank asked, petting the big dog’s ears under the table. “I thought we might take the bike.”

Megan lit up further “Really?”

“If your papa doesn’t mind.”

Megan turned to him with her big, brown eyes pleading.

“Yes. I’ll keep the pooch - if you promise to stay with Hank, Chica. I like you having him as an extra line of defense when you’re out, so you have to promise not to do anything stupid,” Taza stipulated. 

“I promise, Papa.”

“Alright then. You two will have date night while the pooch and I work late.”

Hank’s burner beeped from his kutte pocket. He pulled it out and checked it without removing his arm from Megan’s chair. “Angel and the Prospect are back in town.”

“Perfect timing. Let’s go home.”

They met the brothers back where they’d split up. Angel quickly abandoned the driver's seat to Taza and Megan got shotgun with Hank behind her. 

At the hatch, this time Taza went first followed by Megan. It was much easier without the sling. She managed to slip once, but caught herself. Once they were at the bottom, EZ frowned at the ladder. “That thing really does need fixed. La Princessa shouldn’t have to struggle with it every time. Especially since she’s going to be dealing with this trip a lot as the armorer,” he said.

“Glad you volunteer, Prospect,” Hank agreed. “You can start on it tomorrow.”

Megan giggled a little as she caught her breath in the close confines of the tunnel but petting Rex.

“You good, Shorty? Didn’t bust nothin’ when you slipped, did ya?” Angel asked.

Megan stuck her tongue out at him. “I’m fine. Just missed a rung.”

“Alright. Just checkin’. No harm in that,” Angel grinned a bit. “Hey Boyscout - maybe you need to use that big brain of yours to figure out a lift, huh? That way la princessa doesn’t break a nail.”

Megan smacked Angel in the chest with the back of her good hand and laughed. “You suck, Angel.”

“That’s why the women love me.”

Megan wrinkled her nose. “Eeewwww. TMI.”

Angel cracked up. “You asked for it.”

Taza shook his head with an exasperated chuckle and shoved Angel forward along the tunnel. “Get going before you scar my daughter for life.”

They made their way back to the Northern hatch where they all climbed out into the dress warehouse with EZ helping to lift Rex through the door. They were all a little dusty, but none the worse for wear.

Back at the clubhouse, Megan proudly walked in without her sling to find Bishop and Marcus relaxing at a table with a few beers.

“Well look at you, Poquito. Doctor freed you?” Bishop asked, standing to claim a hug.

Megan stepped into his embrace with a smile. “Still gotta wear the soft cast and be easy with it, but he cleared me to lose the sling.”

“Good. That’ll make dance lessons easier,” Marcus said as he got his own hug,

“Among other things,” Megan agreed. 

“Is everyone here?” Hank asked.

“Waiting on Riz. He went to help Vickie with something,” Bishop said, taking his seat back.

Taza and Hank joined them as Angel split off to the bar where Coco and Gilly were waiting. EZ went to fetch drinks automatically as Hank pulled Megan onto his knee. 

“He needs to hurry up. La Princessa and her caballero have a date tonight,” Taza said, accepting the beer from EZ.

Marcus grinned. “Finally going to take Poquito somewhere, Tranq?”

Hank grinned. “That’s the plan if nothing fucking it up this time.”

Bishop looked over his shoulder at where Angel was sipping on his own beer. “We’ll be fine for one night, brother. Take Poquito out tonight. If shit hits the fan - it can wait until tomorrow for you.” He grinned. “Now, that being said - you have planning to do. So get to it. Poquito - did the doctor say when the soft cast can come off?”

Hank chuckled and pressed a kiss to the place where Megan’s neck met her shoulder before sliding out from in under her. He watched as Megan settled into his seat and got distracted by her tío’s question before slipping out to the front porch. 

Megan smiled at Bishop. “Tío, why’re you asking me? You know very well the doctor doesn’t speak English.”

Bishop laughed and nodded. “You’re right. You’re right. So what did your papa tell you he said?”

“Still another three weeks or so - as long as I don’t do anything stupid. I kind of think Papa added that part on though,” Megan teased.

Taza laughed. “I paraphrased. That’s all Chica.”

They chatted amicably for a bit before Angel came over to ask to speak to Bishop and Taza alone for a minute in Templo. That left Megan with Marcus.

“Have you heard anything from Tía Diana and Tessa?” Megan asked. “I haven’t heard much since they left.”

Marcus sat forward at the table to smile at her. He leaned his forearms there and smiled. “Yeah. I heard from them at about lunch time. They’re probably still on the road though. Tessa doesn’t have much patience for car rides, so Diana will stop often to let her stretch.” He fiddled with his beer bottle a bit. “I talked to your tía about the move. She agrees that it’s probably best for everyone if I pause my patch for a bit.”

Megan reached across the table to squeeze his fingers. “And you? What do you think?”

He squeezed back before meeting her eyes. “I think she’s right. It makes the most sense, Bebita.”

“Then why the hesitation?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know who I am without this kutte, Poquito. I’ve been wearing it so long it’s practically my skin at this point.” He sighed. “I’m struggling with letting go.”

“I understand. It’s like leaving rodeo was for me.” She fiddled with his signet ring, “But Tío, you aren’t leaving for good. It’s just like recon.”

He chuckled. “You’re right. We’ll make the call at the Templo after this one. I want to be sure the gun deal is solid first. Besides - this way nothing is on Hank’s mind tonight except you. Finally getting a real date night, huh? You gonna let him show out?”

Megan laughed and sat back. “You mean I could stop him?”

“Good point.”

Bishop and Taza returned with very serious faces. Megan sat up straight in alarm. “Papa? Everything alright?”

“Sí, Chica. Angel just had some information for us.” He pressed a reassuring kiss to the top of her head before resuming his seat. “Your tío is going to take care of it before Templo.”

Bishop nodded and gathered Gilly and Creeper before riding out. 

“Anything I need to know, Hermano?” Marcus asked.

Taza shook his head. “Nah. Charter issue.”

Marcus nodded. 

When Bishop and the others returned, Bishop’s face was like a thundercloud and Riz was with them. Hank followed them in from the front porch too. Bishop didn’t even have to say anything. He just grabbed the whiskey bottle and a glass and headed for Templo. Everyone followed.

taglist:

@jemmakates

@msjava1972

@drabbles-mc

@delightfulheroshoeflap

@iamthegraham

@oureternalbond

@camelia35

@anaeve

@tallrock35

If you would like to be added to the taglist - please let me know.

[aurasoulhikari]

Zexal Month Week 5 Day 26: R is for Ruins

@zexalmonth So this will be staring my OC Manami who is Shark's girlfriend, wife in the past life, practically his soulmate at the rate I'm going so please enjoy.

Manami walked down the long halls of the castle looking around and sighed. She had been here for two weeks and still was not used to her new home. And she had no one to speak with given Merag was doing her prayers and Nasch was out training with his knight Durbe. She stopped thinking of her husband-to-be. To say she had been against this arranged marriage was the understatement of the century. Upon hearing from her father that he and Princess Merag of the United Lands of the Poseidon Ocean had arranged for her to marry the King, Merag's twin brother, Manami had been livid. She had no desire for marriage wanting to focus on her own kingdom as the only heir to the throne but her father had begged her to at least meet her betrothed and get to know him before making any rash decisions. She knew her father was only worried for her having lost his wife in child labor and nearly losing his daughter due to complications Manami was her father's pride and joy and simply wanted her happiness. So despite her reluctance she came to meet Nasch. While she had known ahead of time she was still surprised of how the King of such a prosperous nation was in fact the same age as her and despite is rough disposition he had treated her kindly and with respect even as far as to apologize for his sister's mischief (Ignoring the obvious glare Merag gave her brother). And despite wondering his sister's thinking (again the glare) Nasch wanted to get to know Manami in a proper courtship and to her own shock she agreed without thinking.

Manami sighed, rubbing her temple as she walked again. She had no idea why she actually accepted but she can't say she regretted it. During the two weeks of her stay here Nasch truly took the time to get to know her not as the crowned princess of her kingdom but simply Manami. And as much as she wished to deny it she too was enjoying getting to know Nasch and spending time with him. She could truly see herself falling for him. But was she ready for the commitment of marriage and the responsibilities of being his queen? Compared to her own kingdom, the United Lands were an established kingdom that far exceeded her own which meant more work and duties. And while she wasn't one to run away from such things she couldn't help but feel small in comparison.

'Am I worthy enough to stand by his side?' She wondered to herself with a sigh.

"Manami." Manami jumped quickly, turning to see Nasch walking to her, making her flush and quickly bow.

"Sire do forgive me I thought you were training with Sir Durbe." She apologized.

"Manami, I told you before to just call me Nasch." He said instead, taking her hand to make her stand straight. "You are after all my betrothed."

"Y-yes of course do forgive me." She flushed more. He watched her for a moment before he smiled and properly took her hand.

"Come." He said.

"E-Eh?" She blinked and gasped to have him pull her along. She quickly matched her step to his following him, while still holding his hand wondering where they were going. Finally she saw that they were walking to the gardens and gasped to see a table with a beautiful meal laid out as they stopped.

"What's all this?" She blinked surprised.

"Ive been kept busy with so many meetings that I haven't had time to speak with you." He admitted. "This is my way of apology."

"Oh Nasch..." She spoke speechless.

"Come while it's fresh." He said, leading her to the table. She nodded, following him he pulled out her chair making her flush more as she took a seat and he did the same. The two began eating and talked for a while. As Manami took a bite of her fish Nasch set his utensils down.

"Manami I want to ask you something and I want you to be honest." He said.

"Of course." She nodded surprised.

"I want your opinion of our engagement." He said, to her surprise. "Do you see a future for our marriage?"

She was stunned by his question and couldn't help but ask.

"What about you?" She asked. "Do you see a future?"

"I do." He answered firmly, much to her surprise. "I know you didn’t realize this but I’ve heard from my men how you've been getting to know the soldiers and servants here. How you listen to their concerns and issues and help to find solutions for them in any way you can."

Manami flushed bright pink not realizing he had known. Back in her castle due to her early weakness she had to stay within the castle walls should she ever collapse. So she had become quite close with all the castle servants, handmaidens, even the soldiers and other workers. So upon her arrival here she made it a point to do the same here while Nasch and Merag were busy. She never guessed either of them had noticed or realized it. He smiled upon her blush.

"No need to be embarrassed, I'm actually quite glad you care about the people as much as I do." He said. She looked at him as he stared across the garden.

"I was crowned young after my parents passing, so I felt I had to do right by the people for their sake." He admitted. "I don’t regret my choices getting me where I am today and I do it all again."

She blinked stunned by the firm conviction and strength in his eyes yet at the same time she could see the heavy burden that was placed on his shoulders that he carried for the people. Taking a breath she reached to take his hands in hers much to his surprise.

"I do not know what the future holds for us. It's ever changing like the ocean waves we live by." She admitted, but held a firm gaze. "But you have my word that I will help you guide the people and protect them just as you have done and continue to do so. So please rely on me to help you hold the weight."

He looked stunned for a moment before he gave a grateful smile holding her hands firmly.

"Thank you."

             Manami opened her eyes feeling sunlight before sitting up with a yawn. Then blinked, feeling something around her waist. She looked down and smiled fondly at Shark still fast asleep with an arm wrapped firmly around her waist. To this day she still didn’t know how she got to be so darn LUCKY to be here and now with her beloved, her flipping soulmate if she was being honest with herself, and was grateful to Yuma and Astral every day for giving her and her king this chance in life. He grunted opening bleary blue eyes and looked up at her making her giggle and stroke his hair.

"Morning my king." She smiled. He smiled fondly leaning to her touch.

"Morning my queen." He spoke softly.

[modern-day-bard]

Worth The Feeling

Content Warning: 18+

This story includes explicit smut, intimidation, and an age gap relationship (MC is 26, Javi is in his 40s). Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 9

There have been several days where I didn't want to go to work. Sometimes the actors you have to interact with behave like toddlers, sometimes you have cramps or you just wish you could have another few hours of sleep, especially after a night shoot. And, as I'm learning now, sometimes you simply don't want to see the man you're giving up every single day. I've tortured myself, wondering if it would be better to not see him at all, but even that sounds painful. I've been sure to make myself scarce anytime there is a scene with Emma, but thankfully most of the remaining scenes between the two of them will be shot in Italy.

As much as I'm dreading the plane ride, Italy now seems like a small blessing. Whenever we are shooting anywhere but a lot and a soundstage, there seems to be a lot more movement for all of the production assistants. We will usually have to run errands in other parts of town, or move things from location to location. Ergo, we won't necessarily be there when the talent are doing their thing. I'm crossing my fingers that Italy is no exception. And luckily, I only have two more days until we leave.

The photos came out a day after Javi and I last spoke, proving Jonah's theory. Luckily for me, they didn't identify who I was. They called me Javi's "Mystery Dinner Guest," but luckily it seemed as though there were no pictures of the front of my face. I was still walking on eggshells, wondering if they did have my information, and were just sitting on it until a more opportune time. However, since Javi and I have called it off, there wasn't a whole lot more they could add to the story. Unless they found out where I worked. But it's been a week, and I haven't heard anything. No one said anything on set, other than Lana of course, but she knew about the photos before they leaked of course. As I originally speculated, everyone was too busy to bother reading gossip magazines or check that side of Twitter. Or maybe they would just never assume I would be on the cover of a tabloid to begin with.

Javi and I have stolen a few glances here and there, but unlike before, we don't linger. Any gaze that has been caught by the other is immediately dismissed. He hasn't asked me to come to his trailer again, though every time Dwayne radio's me, my heart still skips a beat. I'm sure eventually I won't be expecting him to say that Gutierrez needs an escort, or food delivered, or wants to say fuck it to the whole career issue and just see each other anyway. But at least for now, I can't help but hope whenever my walkie jumps to life.

Dwayne had just called me, giving me another glimmer of hope, only to let me know that I was needed in wardrobe. Not surprising, or at least it shouldn't be. I had gently encouraged Barb, or bribed more like, to tell said supervisor that she needed a ton of PA help before we left to shoot on location. Not exactly a lie, but it probably wouldn't have happened without me supplying her morning coffee for the past week. I scurried to wardrobe as quickly as I could. Most days I've been able to get here before the talent arrived. Or at least, one of the talent. That gave me a solid four hours before I ran the chance of bumping into him.

"Good morning!" I sing, bursting into the wardrobe trailer.

"Hm." Barb mumbles, extending her hand out for her coffee cup without looking up from her clipboard. She takes a long swig before she can humor me with a glance.

"Thank you for calling me in. How can I help?"

"All the racks over there need labels and the corresponding photo with the actor attached to it. Then we need to prep them in boxes to ship to Italy." Barb already sounds exhausted.

"Sounds like a lot of work," I say excitedly. "It might take me all day."

"That smile of yours is creeping me out. Knock it off."

I wave her away, "Shut up and drink your coffee."

Barb obeys with a quiet, "Harumph."

I get to work, starting with Emma's outfits. Unfortunately, she doesn't have all that many since she is only shooting a few scenes in Italy. Next is the older cowboy guy, who I now learn is called Jack Wyatt. I've definitely heard that name before, even though I'm not much of an old western fan. He has several more, so it takes me about an hour to finish up his. I then decide that I should pack up Emma and Jack's stuff before I get to Javi's wardrobe. It's definitely more efficient that way. And in no way has to do with me avoiding pictures of him, and the possibility of his magnificent scent being left behind on the clothes.

A couple hours later, most of the stuff is packed, and I have to get started on Javi's. Barb has been in and out, attending to other wardrobe needs across the lot. I figure while she's gone would be a good time to rip off the bandaid. All and all, it's not as hard as I thought. I'm trying to level with myself. I probably only feel so strongly because it's been a long time since John, and he was my most serious relationship. It doesn't have to mean that I had some real connection with Javi. I get through at least half of his costumes, repeating that notion to myself over and over, until I feel like I could believe it.

But then I get to the photo of him that must have been taken right before he blocked the intimate scene with me. There's a photo with him in his robe and one in just his boxers, which is technically the costume for that scene. And I look at it a little too long. He's smiling, and even throwing a peace sign to the camera. Most actors in these situations act like they're taking a mugshot. His expression is so sweet, and knowing how he can also turn those eyes so dark and passionate makes my limbs feel weak.

"He's a pretty one, ain't he?"

I leap at least a foot in the air, spinning to see Barb re-entering the trailer.

"Shit, Barb. How do you move so quietly?"

Barb winks at me, clearly more awake since the last time I saw her.

"He asks about you, you know." She places her bag on one of the chairs before walking over to look at the photo with me.

"Um, really? That's odd. What does he ask?" I start to package up the corresponding pair of shoes into a shipping box, trying not to sound too interested.

Barb shrugs out of the corner of my eye. "He wanted to know where you were from."

My heart sinks. That had to be before our date, and before the whole photo fiasco.

"Ahh." I just nod and continue my work, taking way too long to label the return address.

"Yesterday he was asking how long I had worked with you. He also wanted to know what plane the crew was on, and if you and I were flying together."

Yesterday?

Don't get too hopeful, Ava. He was making conversation.

"Well he seems like a pretty decent dude. Do you want me to put these– OW!" My question is cut off by Barb whacking my arm with her nearby clipboard.

"What was that for?" I half-laugh, but I'm honestly a little worried she'll do it again. Apparently what Barb lacks in speed she makes up for in strength.

"How stupid do you think I am, child?"

"You're a genius, everyone knows that." I put my palms up in defense, just in case.

"A genius with Twitter." She stares at me, waiting for something to sink in. It doesn't.

"I'm guessing you don't have Twitter, or Instagram, otherwise you may have caught on by now."

My eyes grow wide. She's seen the pictures. Barb, of all people, pushing at least eighty years old. If she's seen them, surely anyone on set might have seen them already too.

"Not only did you not tell me, but you've been hiding here for a week. It's been useful, don't get me wrong. But you could've told me." Her voice isn't as aggressive as it was before.

"It was just dinner," I say weakly.

"Nothing about the way he was looking at you in that picture makes me believe it was just dinner." She raises a brow over her pink-rimmed glasses.

"How did you know it was me?"

"Well, I wasn't certain until that reaction if I'm being honest. But I noticed the two of you having lunch one day, and I figured I'd seen the back of your head enough times over the years."

I suck in a shaky breath before I reply.

"I can't lose my job, Barb," A lump starts to form in my throat.

Barb looks confused, placing her clipboard down and putting her hand on my upper arm.

"Lose your job? Honey, not that many people saw the photos. I searched him up yesterday after his questions. I could feel there was something funny, it was the way he said it. Anyway, I only saw one picture and it had about four thousand likes. And it was posted about a week ago. I figured no face, no real story."

I take a deep breath as she talks.

"Ava, you know Lloyd wouldn't give a shit. Dwayne might, I don't know him as well, but he sees how hard you work and he's too busy to really do anything about it. We're only on this project for another couple of months, and it's not like directors don't date stars all the time and vice versa. Plus, they didn't even get one of you two kissing. It's not that bad, honestly."

"He told you we kissed?" I almost shout.

"No," her comforting smile turns sly, "You just did."

"Barbara Stoll, you manipulative witch."

"Don't you full-name me, you liar." She whacks me again, lighter this time. "Just be careful and don't let someone else make choices for you."

"Well, it's over anyway. We didn't want to risk either of our careers." I try to turn back to work, feeling a little relieved, but still wanting out of this conversation.

"And that may be smart. But you want my advice? Go have fun. Be young. Take a risk. You spend all of your time here or on your studies. You need to live a little, kid." She pats me on the back, "Anyway, I'm taking a smoke break. Stop ogling the man and pack up his shit."

Barb leaves just as silently as she entered, and I try to process what she said.

I thank my lucky stars that my dramatic ass had decided to delete all of my socials when I dropped everything and moved to California. I didn't want John or Chloe to see what I was up to, and part of me felt a sense of relief not needing to think about what to post. Eventually, I was too busy with work and school to think about it anyway. I remind myself that this was a blessing, but it wasn't a solution to the problem. A couple of innocent dinner photos didn't have a significant impact, that much I figured. I had tried to reason that with Javi initially. But at the end of the day, anything other than an innocent dinner picture could jeopardize my career, especially in Javi's eyes. And he at least was convinced we needed to, how did he put it? Come up with an arrangement? Either way, I didn't want to harm his career either, and whatever Javi might have felt about me, it certainly didn't outweigh his supposed concern for my future.

It simply wasn't worth it to him.

I slap a return address sticker on the box with Javi's costume, adorable photo included, and take out my phone.

- - -

"Tequila!" Mia screams next to me, nearly shattering my eardrum.

"Mia, ow!" I gesture to my ear.

"What? I need to give this guy some encouragement," she waves a wobbly arm toward the small stage in the corner of the bar. "That takes guts."

"Who chooses Tequila as their karaoke song?" Lana asks quietly, though there is no way that guy could hear us from over here. The karaoke bar is loud, with speakers in practically every spare space. And even if there weren't, that man is clearly too drunk to give a damn. He is swaying in a way that has nothing to do with the music.

"A funny one." Mia wiggles her eyebrows at her girlfriend, who rolls her eyes in return.

Taking Barb's advice, I asked Lana and Mia to get a drink with me after work. It was time for me to live a little. Plus, with our flight coming up so soon, and my feelings being as complicated as they were, I figured a drink wouldn't hurt.

That is, until I remembered how Mia and Lana do a casual night of drinks. We had three pitchers at our table. "One for each!" Mia had squealed.

Regardless, I was actually having a good time. Maybe not as good as Mia, but I was at least a few glasses in and starting to feel the effects. I had told Lana and Mia what Barb had said as soon as we got here, before making them promise not to let me talk about it, or him, again for the rest of the night. Lana was surprised, saying that even in her active Star Wars fanbase, she hadn't seen the pictures online. When we first got to the bar, she did some digging on Twitter and did eventually find them, but she said other than a few pissed off superfans in the replies, nothing had really taken off. I guess people weren't sure if there was even something to fume over, because you couldn't tell if there was actually anything going on between Javi and Little Black Dress. That makes two of us.

"Maybe we should invite him over!" Mia clasps her hands together.

"Who?" I was a little lost in my thoughts, especially now that they've been blurred with sangria.

"Tequila guy! You like funny guys, don't you Ava?" Mia nods her head rapidly, answering her own question before I can.

I turn to look at the stage again, where the man was finally putting the mic back on the stand. He was a little older than us, and not exactly unattractive, he just wasn't...

"Hey!" Mia called over to him.

"Oh god, Mia..." I put my face in my hands. Lana patted a reassuring hand on my shoulder, but when I peaked up, she was smiling encouragingly at the man from the stage. He was already stumbling over to our table.

"Evening, ladies," The man had a surprisingly thick southern accent. I'm almost surprised he didn't tip an imaginary cowboy hat.

"Evening, handsome." Mia mimics his accent and I pray that he has a sense of humor about it. He smiles brightly, and I wonder if Mia is drunk enough to sell that accent as hers, and if he is drunk enough to believe it. "Mighty fine karaoke work if I do say so myself."

Lana giggles into her palm. Mia is definitely laying the accent on a little too thick.

"Thank you, madam. I would offer to buy you girls a drink but..." he trails off, staring at our table that is littered in cups and pitchers.

"Well, let us offer you one." Lana picks up one of the cups and fills it with some of her sangria, "Cheers." We all clink glasses, and I chug mine to avoid talking to him.

"What's your name?" Lana asks.

"Jacob," he has to half-shout over the group of women who are now covering Shania Twain on stage. "Nice to meet you...?" he trails off again.

"Oh I'm Lana," she shakes his hand before indicating around the table, "that's my girlfriend Mia, and this is our single friend Ava." She winks at me, and I want to spill some of her pitcher in her lap. I shoot her a look that indicates something of the sort.

"Hi," I smile politely at Jacob. This isn't the first time Mia and Lana have tried to set me up. Lana occasionally even does it on set with lighting crew or new PAs, but I usually just ignore it. She had sort of given up that endeavor for the past year, but maybe now with Javi she thinks I'm ready for it. At this point in the night, the only thing I'm ready for is my bed.

"I'm their single, and very tired friend. I'm sorry but I'm just about to call it a night." I hope my tone is apologetic enough. Lana and Mia groan in unison.

"It's only..." Mia checks her phone, "Holy shit it's almost one in the morning."

"Damn, do you three always go out this late?"

Please just let it die, Jacob. "No, I mean I would love to but they both work in film. It's rare that they aren't too tired or working super late."

"Mia don't you have to get to work by four or five a.m. every day?" I reprimand her. Even if I didn't know her schedule, I know that I see my barista as early as five o'clock most days. Her cafe can't be much different.

"Yeah but I would still stay out late!" She takes another sip of her drink.

"So you work in film, huh?" Jacob leans down a little.

"I, uh, yes. I'm a production assistant. And we're actually leaving tomorrow night, so again I should really get going." I shoot Lana another look, and she takes the hint this time.

"One last picture before we go! Get in, Jacob." Lana whips out her phone. I'll take any segway I can to get this show on the road. Lana angles her phone, getting all of us in, including Jacob. Mia presses a kiss to Lana's cheek, and right before Lana snaps the picture, Jacob leans down further and presses a kiss to my cheek as well. It only happened for a second, but I practically fall off my stool trying to pull away from it as quickly as possible.

"Okay, I'm definitely going now." I feel irritation starting to brew in my chest. I barely talked to the guy and he thought that would be a cool thing to try?

"Lana, text me when you get to the airport tomorrow." I say, grabbing my purse.

"Will do. Don't worry about it, okay? I'll be there with you." Lana reaches out and squeezes my hand. I give her and Mia a quick hug before darting towards the door, not wanting to think about the plane ride until I absolutely have to.

"It was nice to meet you Anna!" Jacob calls out over the music.

"It's Ava," I mutter as the door swings shut behind me.

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

[pinkorchidsinspring]

Reasons why Midnights is a breakup album:

This gives off echoes of pain, She was hurt so bad that she did this masterpiece.

What if I told you none of it was accidental?

Cornelia being so near and dear to Taylor and karlie's relationship. What happened that Taylor felt like Karlie wasn't even trying to maintain a relationship anymore?

"I didn't know if you'd care if I come back"

"This is me trying, at least I'm trying"

I definitely don't think this song was written recently. It goes along perfectly with the Evermore & Folklore sad girlie era of being broken up with.

It goes along with obviously the this is me trying type of songs on both albums. The songs that show a partner that's hard to please:

In relation to: You're Losing Me / A Break Up Song Evidence Cornelia Street / The Apartment Midnights

The 1: "And if you wanted me, you really should've showed"

Exile: "I can see you standing, honey, With his arms around your body, Laughin', but the joke's not funny at all, And it took you five whole minutes, To pack us up and leave me with it, Holdin' all this love out here in the hall"

My Tears Ricochet: "We gather here, we line up, Weepin' in a sunlit room, and, If I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes too, Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe, All the hell you gave me?, 'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you"

Mirrorball: "I'm still trying everything to get you laughing at me, I'm still a believer but I don't know why, I've never been a natural, All I do is try, try, try, I'm still on that trapeze, I'm still trying everything, To keep you looking at me"

August: “Cause you weren't mine to lose"

Illicit affairs: “Look at this idiotic fool that you made me, You taught me a secret language, I can't speak with anyone else, And you know damn well, For you, I would ruin myself, A million little times"

Mad woman: "Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy, What about that?, And when you say I seem angry, I get more angry"

Betty: "I think it's 'cause of me"

Peace: "No, I could never give you peace".

Hoax: "Stood on the cliffside, Screaming, 'Give me a reason’, Your faithless love's the only hoax, I believe in"

The lakes: "Is it romantic how all my elogies, euloaize me?”

Willow: "I'm begging for you to take my hand, Wreck my plans... Life was a willow and it bent right to your wind, Head on the pillow, I could feel you sneaking in"

Champagne problems: "You're not sure which is worse, Because I dropped your hand while dancing, Left you out there standing, Crestfallen on the landing"

Tolerate it is a break up song, but it's more Red relationships than now.

Happiness: "But now I'm right down in it, all the years I've given, Is just shit we're dividin' up, Showed you all of my hiding spots, I was dancing when the music stopped, And in the disbelief, I can't face reinvention"

Coney Island: “Break my soul in two looking for you, But you're right here, If I can't relate to you anymore, Then who am I related to?"

Closure: "Guilty, Guilty, reaching out across the sea, That you put between you and me"

Right Where You Left Me: "Break-ups happen everyday, you don't have to lose it, She's still 23 inside her fantasy"

If Taylor lived in her Cornelia street home -like it was publicized- in 2016, and even though she was 27 by December 13th, for most of the duration of time she stayed in her Cornelia st apt, she was 26, and Karlie is 3 years younger than her. She would've been 23.

Inside her fantasy.

You're Losing Me -in its entirety- was either written before or after Midnights. However, this doesn't change that Taylor literally gave us a whole break up album hidden behind a quick follow up of false bravado/soft love in nearly every song.

I mean truly compare the Midnights album and some of her past albums to the lyrics of You’re Losing Me (aka a break up song)

Lover

Folklore

Evermore

Midnights

You’re Losing Me

How long could we be a sad song I think I've seen this film before and I didn't like the ending -Exile

I gave you all my best mes When no one is around, my dear You'll find me on my tallest tiptoes, Spinning in my highest heels, love, Shining just for you -Mirrorball

my endless empathy I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best, but the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me -Peace I blew things out of proportion, now you're blue, Put you in jail for something you didn't do, I pinned your hands behind your back, oh, Thought I had reason to attack, but no -Afterglow

And all I did was bleed I look through the windows of this love, Even though we boarded them up, Chandelier's still flickering here, 'Cause I can't pretend it's ok when it's not, No, it's not, It's death by a thousand cuts, Trying to find a part of me that you didn't touch, My body, my love, my trust, But it wasn't enough -Death By A Thousand Cuts

I tried to be the bravest soldier, Fighting in only your army, frontlines My knuckles were bruised like violets, Sucker punching walls, cursed you as I sleep-talked, Spineless in my tomb of silence, Tore your banners down, took the battle underground, And maybe it was ego swinging, Maybe it was her, Flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur -The Great War (1/21)

I'm the best thing at this party When I walk in the room, I can still make the whole place shimmer -Bejeweled (2/21)

And I wouldn't marry me either Sometimes you just don't know the answer, 'Til someone's on their knees and asks you, "She would've made such a lovely bride, What a shame she's fucked in the head, " -Champagne Problems He was sunshine, I was midnight rain, He wanted it comfortable, I wanted that pain, He wanted a bride, I was making my own name, Chasing that fame -Midnight Rain (3/21)

Who only wanted you to see her I made you my temple, my mural, my sky, Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life -Tolerate It

Do something, babe, say something, Lose something, babe, risk something I'm begging for you to take my hand, Wreck my plans -Willow

Reasons why the rest of midnights is a break up album:

1. Lavender Haze: All they keep askin' me, Is if I'm gonna be your bride And I wouldn't marry me either.

2. Maroon: The mark you saw on my collarbone, the rust that grew between telephones, The lips I used to call home, so scarlet, it was maroon

3. Anti-Hero: I should not be left to my own devices, They come with prices and vices, I end up in crisis (tale as old as time), I wake up screaming from dreaming, One day I'll watch as you're leaving, 'Cause you got tired of my scheming, (For the last time)

4. Snow On The Beach: Life is emotionally abusive, And time can't stop me quite like you did, And my flight was awful, thanks for asking, I'm unglued, thanks to you

5. You're On Your Own, Kid: I waited ages to see you there, I search the party of better bodies, Just to learn that you never cared

6. Midnight Rain ✅

7. Question...?: Then what did you do?, Did you leave her house in the middle of the night? Oh, Did you wish you'd put up more of a fight, oh, When she said it was too much?, Do you wish you could still touch her?, It's just a question

8. Vigilante Shit: Draw the cat eye, sharp enough to kill a man, You did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them, Sometimes I wonder which one will be your last lie … I don't start it but I can tell you how it ends, Don't get sad, get even, So on the weekends, I don't dress for friends, Lately I've been dressing for revenge

9. Bejeweled ✅

10. Labyrinth: It only hurts this much right now, Was what I was thinking the whole time, Breathe in, breathe through, Breathe deep, breathe out, I'll be getting over you my whole life

11. Karma: You're talking shit for the hell of it, Addicted to betrayal, but you're relevant, You're terrified to look down, 'Cause if you dare, you'll see the glare, Of everyone you burned just to get there

12. Sweet Nothing: They said the end is coming, Everyone's up to something

13. Mastermind: No one wanted to play with me as a little kid, So I've been scheming like a criminal ever since, To make them love me and make it seem effortless, This this the first time I've felt the need to confess, And I swear, I'm only cryptic and Machiavellian 'cause I care The rushed explanation of what Taylor does, is very telling of why she says this in an almost bitter/jaded way: I laid the groundwork and then saw a wide smirk, On your face, you knew the entire time, You knew that I'm a mastermind, And now you're mine, Yeah, all you did was smile, 'Cause I'm a mastermind

14. The Great War ✅

15. Bigger Than The Whole Sky: No words appear before me in the aftermath, Salt streams out my eyes and into my ears, Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness, 'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea

16. Paris: I want to brainwash you into loving me forever Implies that she believes no one could love her forever

17. High Infidelity: You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love, The slowest way is never loving them enough

18. Glitch: I think there's been a glitch, A brief interruption, a slight malfunction, I'd go back to wanting dudes who give nothing, I thought we had no chance, And that's romance, let's dance

19. Would've, Could've, Should've: But, Lord, you made me feel important, And then you tried to erase us

20. Dear Reader: Never take advice from someone who's falling apart

21. Hits Different: Oh, my, love is a lie, Shit my friends say to get me by, It hits different

[carciinogen]

At 6:26, me and my friend T were out on a walk. We love to go out on random night walks like that, and talk about things like psychology and astronomy. I believe we were talking about Doctor Who, or something similar until we got to the intersection of two roads. We didn't normally go that way, but then again, we always choose a different route, and this one was in the direction of another friend's house. Before I describe what we saw, I must clarify that me and T have never done drugs, and were not on any drugs other than normal prescriptions. I'm straight edge, and we often joke about how talking about the joys of life is our drug.

With that out of the way, what me and T saw when we looked up appeared to be a string of multicolored lights, huge and looking above us. It was gently revolving. I started at it, and said something like "No no no no no" while stepping away. T said something reassuring, like comparing this to a sci-fi plot, as she often views things as a story. I, on the other hand, kept my eyes fixed on the bright series of shapes for more than ten seconds. I remember it having a distinct contour, almost like a giant saucer spinning in the sky. It had dark dark shadows, and peircing multicolored lights. I am so glad I write, so I can attempt to properly describe what I saw as closely as I actually saw it.

After seeing this spinning caurosel-like shape in the sky, Remembering the rule that no one ever gets photos of the bizzare things they see, I immediately decided to take what I thought to be a clear photo of the event (pictured below),

Before urging T for us to go home. On the way home, I called my boyfriend, while he and T attempted to calm me down. I felt like my entire grip on reality had just been lost. While on call, T said they wanted to go back if I was alright with it. They later said they saw it dissapear behind the trees as we were walking away, and they wanted to see if it was still there so they could further examine it. While still having my boyfriend calling down, we walled back to where we were. I had a bit of a panic spiral, and we went back home. I told my dad, and he was like "oh it's no big deal". I continued to freak out, so T suggested we watched another episode of Doctor Who to calm me down. Halfway through an episode, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I brought it up, and they remembered we should probably describe what we saw.

Their recollection is on the left, mins is on the right. Note: the contour was not as strong as I depicted it, accidentally I added more lines than necessitary.

They added lines to show how it revolved. These are further drawings I did while watching the show. Left is the most accurate according to my memory.

I would normally remain skeptical, and I am trying to remain skeptical, but the fact we BOTH saw it in front of us can at least (mostly) disapprove it being a hallucination or trick of the eye. I just know that we at least saw SOMETHING. I have gotten so stressed out over this that I am physically tired, and have gotten a headache.

What I saw appeared to be impossible. I'm questioning a lot of things right now. It looked so big, so vast, and why was it here in the first place? Was it earth technology? I have no fucking clue and I am scared

God, I wish I wasn't an alien nerd so this sounded more believable.

Oh yeah, and the Starlink satellites are currently in Canada, nowhere near where I live.

Additional notes/corrections by T available in the comments on this post.

[texasdreamer01]

Getting to Know You Meme

Tagged by @spurious!

01) Are you currently in a serious relationship? Nah

02) What was your dream growing up? I liked a lot of things, but hadn't particularly settled on any idea

03) What talent do you wish you had? Baking

04) If someone bought you a drink what would it be? Hot chocolate with whipped cream

05) Favorite vegetable? ... Cabbage?

06) What was the last book you read? Oh, finished reading - that was a while ago, but currently I'm reading some diary from WWI off-and-on

07) What zodiac sign are you? Aquarius sun

08) Any Tattoos and/or Piercings? Just the ear piercings

09) Worst Habit? I don't even know what classifies as a bad habit uhhh I guess needing to write in the same ink colour for my notes?

10) What is your favorite sport? Archery

11) Do you have a Pessimistic or Optimistic attitude? I'm life will sort itself out, but it needs a few good kicks to start it - dunno if that's optimistic or pessimistic

12) Tell me one weird fact about you. ?? I'm on tumblr, what qualifies as weird, here?

13) Do you have any pets? Nope

14) Do you think clowns are cute or scary? I think it depends on the clown tbh

15) If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be? Nicer nails, I guess?

16) What color eyes do you have? Brown

17) Ever been arrested? Nope

18) Bottle or can soda? Bottle

19) If you won $10,000 today, what would you do with it? How much is left after taxes?

20) What's your favorite place to hang out at? home tbh

21) Do you believe in ghosts? I've lived in a lot of haunted places, so, yes, definitely

22) Favorite thing to do in your spare time? Reading, writing, listening to music

23) Do you swear a lot? Nnnnoooo?

24) Biggest pet peeve? People attributing one thing for another thing because they think doing so makes them look good/smart/moral/whatever

25) In one word, how would you describe yourself? ummmmmmmm. odd

26) Do you believe/appreciate romance? yes! i'm weird at it but i like it.

27) Favourite and least favourite food? Fave: bread, least fave: cauliflower

28) Do you believe in God? If god is real, I'm owed rent money

29) What makes you happy: Not being stressed

30) Currently listening/the last thing you listened to: Moonlight Sonata

31) Favourite place to spend time: i like! to be! at home!

32) Favourite lyric:

Sometimes before it gets better, the darkness gets bigger/ The person that you'd take a bullet for is behind the trigger/ Oh, we're fading fast, I miss missing you now and then

33) Recommend a film: The Wandering Earth 2

34) Recommend a book: The Modern Herbal Dispensatory: A Medicine-Making Guide by Thomas Easley & Steven Horne

35) Recommend a band, a song, or album: So Much (For) Stardust by Fall Out Boy

36) Recommend a TV show: Stargate SG-1

37) Where are you from, and do you still live there? Where have you lived? I've been all over the US, so no, don't live where I came from

38) Do you have any pets or animals in your life? How did you find/get them? Nope

39) What's the most unusual thing you've ever eaten? Whatever gets thrown into the pan right before I go grocery shopping.

40) How did you 'find' fandom? MySpace! I was actually recommended to check out FFN, and I poked around from there.

41) Make a list of 5 things that you see without getting up. Book, book, another book, hand sanitizer, lotion. Pens?

42) How do you style your hair? Pinned up.

No pressure tags: @pandora15, @ygodmyy20, @variablejabberwocky, @stinalotte, @strangelygleeful, @obscurefrost, @dedkake, and anyone else who wants to do this!

[spnhunter4life]

So Long Epilogue

Word Count: 3k

A/N: I thought about writing this a few weeks ago when I was still finishing up this story. I was so happy with the ending I had though, that I decided to leave it there. But I couldn't get this idea out of my head and decided I should at least try to write it down and see if I liked it as the new ending. I'm pretty happy with what I came up with, so here is the official final chapter of So Long.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Ages 25 and 26 November 1, 2005

“Stay here,” Dean told me. We’d broken into this apartment in the early hours of the morning and he had me positioned on the side of the doorway that would keep me out of sight.

“Is this really necessary?” I asked. 

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, an excited smile on his face. “Now stay here,” he repeated. He looked at me with a raised eyebrow, waiting for confirmation that I would cooperate. I sighed and rolled my eyes.

“Stay here. Got it.” He grinned and pressed a kiss to my cheek before leaving my side. He opened and closed a cupboard in the kitchen, louder than necessary. He wanted it to be heard. 

I watched from my hiding place as he moved through the dark apartment, nothing more than a silhouette outlined by the faint morning light shining through the curtains. Then I heard movement from the other room. Someone was coming to investigate.

I pulled back from where I’d been peeking around the corner, not wanting to be seen yet. I just listened and waited for my cue to come out. I heard the sounds of a fight, grunting and blows being traded.

Then all of a sudden someone came stumbling through the doorway I was standing beside, shoved through with considerable force. The fight continued, Dean’s opponent not noticing my presence. The fight lasted only a few more seconds before Dean was able to throw the larger man to the ground, pinning him down.

“Whoa, easy tiger!” Dean said.

I heard Sam panting on the floor, out of breath from the short fight.

“Dean?” The shock in his voice was almost comical. “You scared the crap out of me!” 

“That’s ‘cause you’re out of practice,” Dean informed him. Never one to take crap from his older brother, Sam took this as a challenge and immediately flipped Dean over so that now he was the one pinned to the floor.

“Or not,” Dean conceded. “Get off me.”

Sam stood and helped Dean to his feet.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asked incredulously.

“Well I was looking for a beer.”

“Dean. What are you doing here?” Sam repeated. 

That’s about enough of that, I thought. Dean was liable to sit and mess with Sam as long as he could get away with it. I was just as excited to see Sam as he was though, and I didn’t want to wait.

“You might show a little more excitement when the people who’ve known and loved you your whole life stop by to say hi,” I told him, stepping out of my dark corner.

“Jenna?” If he’d been shocked about Dean, he seemed even more shocked by my presence.

“Hey, Sammy,” I grinned. He took two large steps to reach my side and then wrapped me in a tight hug. The light turned on and I heard a female voice questioningly call out to Sam.

“Jess,” Sam answered. His arms loosened and I turned around to face the newcomer, one arm still wrapped around his waist. “Dean, Jenna. This is my girlfriend Jessica.”

She was beautiful. And if they were living together, Sam must be awfully serious about her.

“Your brother Dean?” Jessica asked. “And Jenna? The girl you said was basically your sister?”

“That’s us,” Dean said, stepping forward. “I’ve gotta tell ya, you are way out of my brother’s league.”

“Dean!” I hissed, smacking his arm.

Sam just laughed and gave me another quick hug before backing away to stand by his girlfriend.

“I can’t believe how tall you’ve gotten,” I said with a mix of pride and sadness as I looked up at him. Standing before me was undeniably a young man. He was no longer the boy he was the last time I’d seen him, when he’d only just started to be getting taller than me. “I never thought I’d see the day you were taller than Dean. Somehow, it just seems wrong.” I said.

“It is wrong. It should be illegal for a younger brother to be taller.” Dean agreed, moving closer to my side and putting his arm around me. Sam noted the gesture with a raised eyebrow.

“So what are you guys doing here?” He asked.

“Well we actually stopped by to ask you a favor,” Dean answered. Sam rolled his eyes, happy mood vanishing instantly.

“Look guys, I’m happy to see you, but-”

“I promise it’s an easy favor. And one that I really hope you’ll be happy to help with,” Dean interrupted. 

“Alright. What is it?” Sam asked a little warily.

“I was actually hoping you might agree to go to breakfast with us first,” I told him. “You know, just to catch up? It’s been so long since the three of us have been together.”

Sam looked at Jessica in question. She shrugged her shoulders, leaving the decision up to him.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah, breakfast sounds good.”

~~~~~

Twenty minutes later the three of us were seated in a booth at Denny’s. Jessica had stayed behind, not wanting to intrude on our time together. I appreciated it. I wouldn’t have said anything if she wanted to come with – and I would definitely want to get to know her one day – but I had really been looking forward to some time alone with my boys.

“Sorry about the drama this morning,” I apologized to Sam. “I tried to talk him out of it, but you know how he is.”

“Once he gets an idea in his head, there is no talking him out of out?” Sam said knowingly. “I remember.”

“Oh come on. Tell me that wasn’t fun,” Dean insisted. I was sitting on the inside of the booth with Dean on my left. Sam was across from us.

“It was not fun,” Sam said. “And if you ever try that again, I’ll break your nose.”

“Hey! No fighting,” I ordered. “You haven’t seen each other in four years, you’d think you could behave yourselves for one morning. Don’t spoil my time with you.”

“Sorry,” they said at the same time.

“So. Jessica. It seems serious with you two,” I prodded.

“Oh,” he said, seeming surprised by my choice of topic. He really shouldn’t have been. I’d always been interested in his life, his friends and girlfriends. “Uh, yeah. It is.”

“Yeah? How serious?” I asked.

“Pretty serious,” he said. He obviously wasn’t willing to say more on the subject. I never used to have to pry to get him to open up. It hurt a little. I know we’d been apart for a long time, but was it really so long that he couldn’t talk to me as freely as he used to?

I told myself it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to be allowed to just walk out of our lives again, whether he liked it or not. We’d get back to the level of closeness we’d had growing up. Sam cleared his throat.

“So what’s going on with you guys?” He asked. “How long have you been together?”

“Well that depends on what you mean by together,” Dean answered, trying his best to fight back a smug smile.

Sam perked up immediately, looking between the two of us expectantly. 

“We’ve been hunting together for about three and a half years,” Dean continued. “But it’s been a little over a year since we officially got together.”

He laced our fingers together and then lifted our joined hands onto the table, showing off the engagement ring sitting on my finger. Sam’s eyes zeroed in on it.

“Finally!” He cheered. “This is so great! I’m so happy for you guys!” 

He stood up and moved around the table to pull Dean into a congratulatory hug. They thumped each other on the back a couple of times before letting go and then Sam turned to me. He pulled me out of the booth and picked me up, spinning me around a couple of times. I hugged him tight and laughed. Dean watched us with the biggest smile I’d ever seen on his face.

We were attracting the attention of the whole restaurant, but we didn’t really care. It was pretty empty this early anyway, and who cared what they thought? Next to the day Dean proposed to me and the day we finally got together, this was the happiest I’d ever been. Back with the two most important people in my life, celebrating being reunited as well as finally being able to tell Sam the good news.

Now that hugs were out of the way, we sat back down.

“When? How?” Sam asked excitedly. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this. And what the hell took you guys so long?”

“We were blind and stupid and let’s just leave it at that,” I said. There was no point dwelling on all the time we’d wasted. It was better to just focus on the here and now.

“Well I knew that,” Sam said. “It was more of a rhetorical question. But seriously, what happened for you to finally get together?”

I told Sam the story of the case that had brought us together. Dean chimed in every now and then with corrections or giving his side of things. Sam was still smiling from ear to ear when we finished.

“I knew this day would have to come eventually,” Sam said. “But at the same time, I was starting to wonder if it ever actually would. I’m so happy for you guys.”

“Happy enough that you would consider being my best man?” Dean asked. “Because that’s sort of the favor we came here to ask.”

“Really?” Sam asked, seeming genuinely shocked by the request.

“Well, yeah,” Dean said. “Who else would I ask?”

I mentally winced a little at his word choice.

“I know how that sounded,” I told Sam before he could be offended that Dean was apparently only asking because he had no other options. “But that’s not how he meant it. He meant you’re the only one he would want standing up there with him.”

Sam gave me an appreciative smile.

“I know what he meant. And I’d be honored to be your best man.”

~~~~~

Six Months Later

I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, trying to calm the nervous anticipation racing through my body. Any second now, that music would start playing and I would walk through the open doors into the church and the waiting arms of my soulmate.

“You ready for this?” Bobby asked me. The old hunter had cleaned up quite nicely for the occasion. He was escorting me down the aisle today, since my Dad wasn’t here to do it. I missed him terribly – and it never hurt more than times like this that he should have been here for – but I was grateful to Bobby for being here for me. I wasn’t certain, but I suspected I’d even seen him shed a tear when he saw me in my dress.

“I’m ready,” I told him. And it was the truest statement I’d ever spoken. I would never be more ready for anything than I was to marry Dean.

The music started and Bobby held his arm out for me. I slipped my arm through his, grabbing on to his forearm. He placed his free hand over top of mine. Then we stepped through the doors.

I took a quick scan of the room, noting the faces of our friends that had made it. There weren’t many people, only enough to fill the first pew. I was glad for each of them being here, though. We didn’t have a lot of people that were consistent parts of our lives. The ones here today were the ones that really mattered.

I looked up at the altar. Bailey, my friend from years ago, was up there with a huge smile on her face. She and I had kept in touch over the years, and she was still my closest friend. She and Dylan – who was sitting in the front row – had been over the moon for me when I told them things with me and Dean had finally worked out. I hadn’t hesitated to choose her as my maid of honor.

Sam was looking giddy up there too. He smiled widely at me as I made my way closer. In just a few minutes, he would be my brother in a much more real sense. We’d always considered each other family, but it was about to become official. His excitement mirrored my own, but to a much lesser degree I was certain. No matter how happy he was for us, his enthusiasm couldn’t possibly match that of the two people who had been through so much together and waited so long for each other.

Then my gaze fell on Dean, looking so unbelievably handsome in his suit. He was looking at me like I was the most important thing in the world. I wondered if I’d ever get used to the way I felt when he looked at me like that.

Bobby and I made it to the altar and he gave me a short hug before handing me off to Dean.

The ceremony was short and simple, and when the pastor pronounced us man and wife and told Dean he could kiss me, I felt so light and happy and free that I was almost surprised I didn’t just float away.

Afterwards, our small little group of ten people – a group that consisted of me and Dean, Sam and Jessica, Bailey and Dylan, John, Bobby, and Dean’s hunter friends Eric and Penny – all piled into our cars and drove out to Bobby’s to spend some time together before everyone had to go their separate ways again.

Everyone spread out around Bobby’s living room, bringing chairs in from the kitchen for more seating room. We spent a couple of hours talking, the strangers in the room getting to know each other and everyone trading stories about Dean and me. Sam and Jess had brought a couple bottles of champagne, so everyone was either sipping on a glass of that or – in the case of most of the hunters in the room – having a beer.

“Here’s to Dean and Jenna,” Bobby said, standing up and holding his beer in the air. “Two of the best people I know. I couldn’t be prouder of you and I hope your life together is long and happy.”

There was a clinking of glasses and then Sam stood up.

“To Dean and Jenna,” he said. “As the person who spent more time with the two of you than anyone else, let me just say what a relief it is to not have to pretend any more like there’s nothing more between you than friendship. I remember as a kid thinking there was something going on with you that I just couldn’t understand. The day I found out that you’re soulmates, it all made sense. I’ve never seen either of you so happy as you are when you’re together. 

“Dean, you always took care of me growing up and I never did a very good job of thanking you for it. So I’m saying it now. Thank you. You couldn’t have chosen a better partner in life if you tried. Make sure you let her take care of you every now and then.

“Jenna, you’ve been a part of my life for so long, that I can barely remember a time you weren’t there. I’ve always thought of you as a sister. And now you officially are. Welcome to the family. We’re so glad to have you.”

There was more clinking and a couple of people even clapped. I expected that to be the end of it. No one else was likely to make a speech. Then Dean surprised me by standing up.

“First of all, I want to thank all of you for coming. You’ve all had different views of me and Jenna over the years, but the one thing that was clear to everyone was just how much we needed each other.” There was mumbled agreement from several people in the room. “It means a lot to us that our closest friends and family could be here to celebrate with us.

“Jenna,” he continued, turning to me and grabbing my hand. “I can’t even begin to explain to you the impact you’ve had on my life. Getting to grow up with you and be your friend for so long has been the biggest privilege of my life. And I would consider myself the luckiest man in the world just to have experienced that much. But somehow I got even luckier still and I get to spend the rest of my life with you. 

“You understand me in ways that no one else does. You bring me more happiness than you could even begin to imagine. I know there will still be hard days. But those hard days never seem as hard with you by my side. 

“I love you so much. You are more important to me than anything else in the world. Life is too unpredictable for me to make promises about what the future will be like for us. But I can promise you that I’ll spend the rest of our days together loving you more than anyone else has ever loved another person. Even though I know you had no more choice in the matter than I did, I still want to thank you for being my soulmate.”

I stood up and threw my arms around his neck, pulling him down to my level for a kiss, ignoring the cheers, wolf whistles, and applause from our friends and family.

“Thank you for being my soulmate,” I told him. “I’m really the one who got the good end of the deal here. And I promise to spend the rest of our lives showing you how grateful I am to be yours.”

Tags: (let me know if you want to be added or removed) @123passwort @buckybarnes-1917 @chicken-nuggs-and-cozy-hugs @globetrotter28

[dankovskaya]

hiiiiii this is such a silly question but as the premiere kory enjoyer do u have recommended kory readings? i've only read her in some of her team comics (like ntt and outsiders etc) but i was wondering if she had any standout issues. i trust ur opinion most of all

HI ELLAAAA. I know this isn't exactly what you asked for but just for future reference @/princesskoriandr made the definitive Kory reading list right here.

I'm linking this because you are not going to like my answer to this which is that upwards of 90% of the Kory writing worth reading and taking at all seriously happened in NTT 😭 Like I hate to say it but even with all the issues of racism and misogyny irt her character as written by Wolfman, you're basically always losing SOME degree of nuance or interiority (or just overall interest in exploring her as a character) with essentially any other writer.

It's also been too long since I read any of it for me to remember individual issue numbers off of the top of my head 💀 BUT on a quick skim of that reading list (and assuming you've read at least the very beginning of NTT), I will recommend:

NTT v1: #16, #22-25 + Annual 1 (this arc introduces Komand'r and just expands their lore + that of Tamaran, the greater Vega system, etc), #26 (this is like the aftermath + when Dick and Kory officially start dating I believe)

Tales of the NTT v1 #4 (BIIIIIIG Kory backstory lore dump. Very important.)

NTT v2: #6 (This is the beginning of an arc I don't really remember and don't really care about. Just scroll through the issue until you see Kory wearing the "WE LOVE GAR" shirt and then read everything she says bc I love that scene LMAO), #13-19 (this is the dreaded Kory political marriage arc where Dick loses his nasty mind and he is hella racist to her basically the whole time but you do learn a lot about Tamaran and Kory's family etc. Funnily enough this segues directly into tiny Jason's temporary stint on the team cause everyone was having a mental breakdown.), #22-23 (extension + conclusion of that arc), #39 (literally just koryraven yuri. literally.)

Teen Titans Spotlight: #1-2 (Kory has a journey of self discovery after stumbling upon Apartheid South Africa. You could not make this shit up.), #19 (this is an event tie in but it's also like 100% A Day In The Life of Kory <3)

I'm going to recommend from New Titans very sparingly and with caveats as this is when they started running out of ideas and eventually did a backflip into the garbage disposal but: #71 (Titans Hunt arc is not fucking important but I recommend the first issue purely for reflections on dickkory), #97-109 (I KNOW this is big but bear with me. This is dickkory falling apart to marriage to falling apart again era + koryraven yuri part 2. Literally just skim everything until you see Kory. The actual wedding issue is #100 and after Demon Raven crashes it Kory gets like, possessed/impregnated by a piece of her soul or something and you see the psychological repercussions of that in the background of the succeeding issues until she blasts off in 108, and then 109 is KYNASF'RR. The issue that singlehandedly justifies the existence of New Titans for me. If nothing else read that one. You can keep reading/skimming until #114 if you want but not super necessary it gets. Weird. Basically Kory and Dick just mutually separately realize their relationship is inhibiting their growth as people 😭 #114 is their official breakup issue. Or it would be if Kory didn't stand him up when they were supposed to talk about it on account of not really wanting to see him LMAO.), and #127-130 is one of those arcs that is just confusing to read if you haven't been following everything going on with all the characters involved Lmfao BUT it's another Kory/Tamaran arc and the one where Tamaran goes the way of Alderaan so. Relevant. Raven is still inside Kory also during this time LMAO.

I would NOT recommend reading Titans 99 for any character other than Garth Lmfao BUT #47-50 of that book is an arc centered on her that's like... passable.

She's in Teen Titans v3 as a mentor character but I find that book horribly fucking boring so I haven't read most of it but the popular panels of her tending a garden of Tamaranean plants is from #7

Convergence: New Teen Titans #1&2 is good and also basically functions as a recap of why dickkory did not work out even though in this universe ironically it does. Lmfao

Other than that.... yeah. She's in Outsiders and Titans v2 but the sad fact of the matter is that if Kory isn't on the lineup of a team book, she's relegated to essentially a cameo character, and if shes on a team book that isn't from the NTT era, she's unavoidably going to be mischaracterized, sidelined, flattened, possibly character assassinated, or just generally not prioritized for storylines and character development or treated as a nuanced and multidimensional character.

[grumpygreenwitch]

The Witches and Wizards Job 1-2

More writing! More fanfiction! This one combines two of my loves, the Leverage TV series and The Dresden Files books. It is, as usual for my fanfiction, written at speed, spell-checked only casually. However, this time continuity is a Very Important Thing, so I'm crossing my fingers. Also, since the Dresden writing style is so different from my own, I had someone speed-beta that section solely to check that the 'voice' was right.

The events here take place during Leverage's Season 4, a little after the Hot Potato Job. And at some point before Book 10 of The Dresden Files, but definitely after Book 5. Other than that the timeline's kind of scrungly.

In any case, it's no yet finished, so I don't know how long it's gonna go. It will update once a week here, but it's also up on AO3, where it will update much faster, if you don't wanna wait. Commentary is always appreciated, as would be a cuppa tea.

AO3 Link

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Remember: Tumblr has no algorythm. Reblogs give me life.

1-2 + 3-4 + 5-6 + 7-8 + 9-10-11 + 12-13-14 + 15-16 + 17-18-19 + 20-21-22 + 23-24-25 + 26-27-28 + 29-30 + 31-32-33 + 34-35-36 + 37-38 + 39-40-41-42-43

ONE

Nate was fighting a one-man battle that he was very much afraid he was losing.

Boston and its surroundings spoke so very loudly of his childhood and younger years. Of times and memories he wanted very hard to forget. He would have pretended they didn't exist if he'd not been in the habit of being punctiliously honest with himself; he'd spend enough years letting a bottle lie to him.

But the truth was, he'd never hated Boston. It was home. The Common greeted him with familiar sights no matter what the season. He could go anywhere, look up, and know where he was by the sight of a familiar landmark, either the good ol' Pru, the timeless Triangle or the brand new Zakim bridge. He had fond, if mosquito-laden, memories of summers spent listening to either Shakespeare in the Park or sneaking into games at Fenway.

That love was coming back to him, no matter how he fought. He'd have to move soon or he might not be able to move at all, not without bleeding once again.

And yet, on that late summer afternoon, with a chilly sea breeze blowing in from Revere to warn the city that autumn was on its way, he lingered before the Eliot Hotel, and felt comfortable in the sights and sounds of a modern metropolis both like and unlike that of his childhood. He even fancied feeling the thrum of the Green Line trains just under his feet, even though he knew that was unlikely in the extreme. Traffic on Newbury blew past him, at its lowest ebb at the moment.

Nate had a meeting. He didn't like the meeting, he didn't like that he'd been asked to come like an errand boy to someone else's beck and call. At the pub he knew every nook, every cranny, every escape route, every weapon. Here, he knew he was at a disadvantage; worse, he couldn't tell how much of one.

But the name on the invitation had trumped all of that.

He trotted up the steps to the gracious hotel and offered the doorman the invitation. The man in his dapper uniform took it and smiled. "Ah, mister Ford." He opened the door for Nate. "You are expected."

"I'm sure I am," Nate muttered, but he still managed to offer a polite thank you. He was himself, as he always was, curling hair slightly rumpled, suit a little too loose here and there where it could have been better tucked in. He looked like a petty businessman who thought too much of himself and wouldn't see a con until it bit him in the arse.

It was a very good facade, and he only surrendered it for meeting clients.

A pert young lady in the hotel's uniform led him to the door attaching the nearby restaurant to the hotel. She held the door open for him with a bright smile.

And she closed and locked it between them.

The place was dark, the chairs up, shades lowered over the windows. The hours on the door proclaimed that it wouldn't be open for another hour, at least. Nate pursed his lips minutely.

"Hello?" he called out into the gloom.

"Mister Ford," a heavily accented voice replied. "Please excuse me, I am… surprised that you came."

"Well, you've got me curious if nothing else, mister Fedorov," Nate explained mildly, advancing in the dark. At the bar he met a man, a little taller than him, dressed in an custom-tailored three-piece charcoal suit with a very plain gold silk tie. The clothes did an exceptional job of hiding the heavy muscle across the man's shoulders, over his chest and along his arms, as well as the bulge of a gun in an underarm holster. Nate wouldn't have known either was there if he'd not expected they would be.

He had blue eyes and dark, curly hair cut and tousled artfully, and he smelled faintly of a very expensive aftershave only to be purchased in Vladivostok. Freshly shaven, his face was full of sharp, predatory angles. He didn't offer his hand, as if he knew Nate wouldn't take it. Instead he poured two cups from a nearby teapot, and the scent of the tea, heady and strong, filled the space between them. There was a laptop and a slim pile of folders behind the teapot.

Nate had run an extensive background on the man and turned up nothing he didn't already know. Vanya Fedorov was the Chief Financial Officer of a small but profitable cybersecurity start-up with offices in Cambridge, US and Cambridge, UK. He was halfway through his third decade of life, a Vladivostok native, he spoke seven languages fluently, and was a geology hobbyist. He was also third-in-line for the command chain of the Eastern Seaboard Russian mafia, after a meteoric rise to power that had him at loggerheads with his own father, the actual man in charge. He was being watched very closely by the real powers back in the Motherland because his uncle, the second-in-command, had all but tapped him already as the heir of preference. He was ruthless, intelligent, driven, ambitious, and his code of morals, if he actually had any, was known only to him. He was, to sum it up, the sort of man Leverage Inc. took down, not the sort they took on as a client.

And yet, here Nate was, having been summoned by a plea for help from, if not the last man on his list, someone pretty damn close to the bottom. He took the cup with a murmured thanks. "So, why am I here, mister Fedorov?" Before the man could speak, Nate lifted a hand. "Literally. Why."

"Vanya, please, mister Ford." When Nate's brows went up at the offered familiarity, the Russian sighed minutely. "A valid question. Believe me. It hurts that I have to come to an Irishman for help, particularly in this city. Particularly in this matter. But in truth, I am… out of my depth. We," he corrected pointedly, "are out of our depth." And with you and your people's reputation, I can only hope you won't be."

Nate sipped at the tea. "You've got my curiosity, and now you've got my attention. Still don't have my services, though."

Vanya snorted humorlessly, and dragged the laptop over. "Did you hear about the fire in Somerville? That fancy restaurant?"

"I don't think it wise for you to confess to any crimes to me, mister Fedorov," Nate pointed out mildly.

At that the Russian did seem amused, however briefly. "We did not do it, mister Ford. It was done to us." He opened the laptop and tapped a few commands before turning it over so Nate could see the screen, split into four separate camera feeds. Two belonged to the restaurant; the others were outside angles, likely from nearby businesses. "A very important member of the organization, a man in good standing, was throwing a private party, an anniversary celebration for his parents. A small thing, just family and friends."

"His friends, or the family's?"

"It was not business," Vanya persisted.

On the screen, Nate watched as one of the restaurant's cameras, aimed at the delivery area and partially covering the kitchen, was thrown into actinic brightness by a massive fireball. Plumes of black smoke quickly overtook the view of the other camera, at the front of the restaurant.

"You were, I am told, in the insurance business," the Russian said mildly. "You know what you are looking at."

"A firebomb." Nate was working hard at keeping a grimace off his face. No one needed a return to the bad old days where the crime syndicates of Boston fought more or less openly on the streets, not giving a damn who got caught in the crossfire.

Vanya's grin was sharp and thin. "I can smell your worry. Let me assure you, Ford. When I say this was not business, I mean it."

Nate couldn't hide his surprise at that. "It was not the Family?"

"It was none of the players," Vanya expanded, further catching him off-guard. "I have looked at them all. I suspected as much, but I had to do my job."

"You suspected. Why?"

"Because this is the latest in a string of attacks." Vanya slid the folders over to him, all but one. "They are not directed at our business. They are not even directed at one family within the business. But they are targeting us, all the same. Innocents are dying and we, I, cannot stop it happening. I am hoping you can."

Nate sucked in a deep breath as he flicked through the folders. A bridge collapse. An accidental lockdown and halon release in an art gallery. A train crash. The attacks, if that's truly what they were, were all over the place; it would be nearly impossible to find a signature, or any sort of commonality. Like the firebomb, they all looked like accidents.

Nate eyed the folder he hadn't been offered. "You have a suspect."

For the first time in their meeting Fedorov looked uncertain. "I have… something. In truth, I don't know what. Understand this, mister Ford. I like my other job. It is not just a thing on paper for me. I like security. I like technology. That job is the only reason I have found this one common thread binding all the incidents." He opened the last folder for Nate.

A dozen or so blurry pictures stared up at the mastermind. They were all of a woman, older, but that was all he could tell. Not one of the shots managed to catch her in more than broad strokes, as if the camera simply refused to focus. It was her, specifically - everyone else around her was perfectly clear, from the man helping her out of the train's wreckage to the two young teenagers escorting her away from some sort of flash flood.

"Who is she?" When Vanya didn't answer, Nate looked up to find the most profoundly uncomfortable look on the Russian's face. "Fedorov, who is she?"

Vanya shifted minutely. It might as well have been a shriek of alarm from a man in his position. Nate blinked. Waited.

"Baba Yaga."

"Excuse me?"

"I know what it sounds like."

"Really? Because it sounds like you're telling me a fairy did this."

"She's not a fairy. Grandmother is much more than that." Anger sharpened Vanya's accent. "She is a power, a dream, a nightmare. Something older than time." He blew out a sharp breath. "I am a rational man, mister Ford. I understand abstraction, I work in cybersecurity, after all. I do not know what to believe, but I must believe something, and I have nothing else." He stared at the pictures. "Unless you and your people find something else."

"We're not monster hunters, Fedorov."

"Then do not hunt a monster. Hunt me an explanation. Hunt me something that makes sense." The Russian tightened one hand into a fist. "Hunt me something I can stop, so innocents stop dying."

"An odd request from a Russian mob enforcer."

Vanya shrugged mildly. "I am a traditional man, mister Ford. I want a return to the old ways, when we offered real protection, not a pretense of it to extort money. When a man's word was worth something more than the bullets he carries or the pain his hands can inflict."

Nate stared at the pictures, at the videos. On the laptop's screen the first responders had finally arrived.

"What if it is Baba Yaga?" he asked, if only because Vanya had offered it as an option, forcing Nate to add it to the list of possibilities and to know what sort of contingencies Fedorov expected from him.

The Russian visibly paled but rallied swiftly, a half-smile curling up his mouth. "Then I guess we will do all we can to find out why she is angry at us, so we can correct the issue and beg her apologies." He let Nate mull on that. "Have I got your services, mister Ford?"

Nate played restlessly with a breath held in his mouth. There had to be a logical explanation, of course. Just because Fedorov hadn't found it didn't mean it wasn't there. But he couldn't readily see one.

What he did see was a man in a tremendously powerful position within the Boston underworld, interested in maintaining the fragile peace between the syndicates and willing to be in Nate's debt to achieve his goals. The latter alone was worth a lot.

He scooped up the folders. "I'll let you know," he said curtly, heading for the restaurant's front door. He paused with his hand on the knob. "Uh, this is a sushi bar, isn't it?"

"A Japanese restaurant, but they do serve excellent sushi."

"Why here? Why not one of your places?"

Vanya smiled wryly. "Because I no longer dare guarantee their safety, but I have yet to find someone willing to fuck with the Japanese."

TWO

"We're not monster hunters, Nate," Eliot said mildly as he nursed a beer and stared at the array of screens before him.

"I know, but -" Nate flapped his hand distractedly. "Just ignore the, ignore the monster angle, alright? We have someone, or a bunch of someones, who are responsible for fourteen so-called accidents. Someone who's doing such a flawless job that no one's caught up onto the fact that they aren't accidents."

"Flawless is right," Hardison pointed out, pulling up on one of the screens blueprints and reports. "Arson investigation, insurance investigations, police, Interpol, private security firms, they all ruled them accidents. But you put all their reports, all their data together, and some really nasty stuff starts taking shape."

"Ugh." Sophie groaned around her coffee cup. "So clever and instead of going after the actual bad guys they go after their wives, their kids, their parents. I thought that just wasn't done."

"It isn't," Eliot confirmed. "Few universal rules in organized crime, but that one's the second biggest: don't target innocents."

"What's the first?" Parker asked.

"Don't talk to the cops," Eliot, Sophie and Nate all replied at the same time.

The team crossed a look, equal parts surprise and amusement.

"I'm not even in organized crime and I know that one," Parker admitted.

"The point," Nate fought to herd the cats back together, "is that this is happening, it's affecting innocents, and it needs to stop. This isn't like one of our usual jobs, obviously, so I do have to ask: are we taking it?"

There was silence.

"I don't know, Nate, I don't like it," Eliot said at last. "Yeah, there were bystanders in at least half those places. There's no way there weren't a few innocent people on that train, or the nitrogen spill in Kuala Lumpur. But if the frigging Russian mob can't pin it down, someone else needs to step up and do the job, yes - I just can't see what the job actually is."

"There's nothing to steal," Parker protested.

"Nothing to hack," Hardison added. "All of these 'accidents' were mechanical in nature. Analog. Even the halon release was a faulty piece of equipment, not software failure. That alone is hinky as hell, halon tech isn't new but it's not old, either, but…" He threw his hands up helplessly.

"Nothing to con." Sophie shrugged gracefully. "Even this woman Fedorov thinks is Baba Yaga, who is she? A victim, the criminal, a bystander, the target?"

"I'd be happy with just being able to see her face," Nate muttered, staring at the collection of blurry pictures on one of the screens.

"I can do that much," Hardison perked up. When everyone's attention came to rest on him, he beamed at them. "Fourteen pictures, that's more than enough to create a composite." His hands flew over the keyboard, and on the screen the fourteen pictures began to spin sedately in orbit around a blank canvas that began to fill up with gradients of gray almost immediately. "She's probably using jamming tech."

"To look… to look blurry?" Eliot blinked at him. "That's only for the movies, isn't it?"

Hardison gave him such a look before returning his attention to the screen. "You know that quote from Clarke, 'Any sufficiently advanced technology is -'"

"'-indistinguishable from magic." Both Eliot and Hardison finished the quote together; Sophie, unseen to anyone but Nate, mouthed the words soundlessly and threw him a chipper little smile. "Yeah, but Hardison -"

"If you've got a smartphone you're carrying enough computing power in your pocket to out-compute anything that's twenty years old. For the record, that includes the first Playstation console and the second."

Eliot frowned, a hand automatically going to his pocket. "I thought you'd just souped up our phones."

"Well, I did that, too," Hardison admitted, typing more commands into his keyboard and staring at the increasingly refined composite on the screen. "Just didn't have to, in the case of some people." He looked meaningfully at Nate, who felt once again as if he had to defend himself from a crime he hadn't committed, or might not even be a crime altogether. "Do something with your phone, man."

"I make calls. I take pictures!" Nate protested.

Hardison rolled his eyes.

"It can play music," Sophie suggested mildly.

"So can the radio in my car," Nate grumbled.

"Nate, I am begging you. Hack something," Hardison pleaded. "Live a little." Before Nate could answer, the hacker stood up and straightened up. "Almost done -"

They all turned to look at the screen, so they were all facing it when it cracked from top to bottom with a sound like a grenade going off, showers of sparks flying in every direction. A massive puff of smoke belched out, and delicate circuitry began to drip out of the blackened guts of the screen, hissing as it struck the floor.

Cautiously, heads peeked up from behind wherever they'd ducked. A fire alarm was screeching shrilly. The loft reeked of molten electronic components. The screen had gone black. A piece of tempered glass fell off and shattered on the floor, making them all jump.

"Um," Hardison said in the silence.

"Hardison!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"It's your equipment!"

"And my equipment doesn't just blow up for no good reason!"

Eliot had no counter for that because he knew, they all knew, that it was true.

"She really is Baba Yaga," Parker breathed.

"Parker, no, just -" Nate pinched the bridge of his nose. "She's not real, alright? Baba Yaga's not real."

"Well, how do you know?" she challenged.

"Yeah, Nate, how do you know?" Sophie, ever willing to be the devil's advocate, echoed.

"I -!" He sighed in exasperation. "She's just not, alright? Can we please move on? Hardison, did you get the finished composite?"

"She's an evil Tooth Fairy, Parker," Eliot whispered to the thief.

"Not the finished one, but a few stages shy of it." Hardison printed out a single sheet of paper and began typing all over again. Somewhere in the guts of the building, heavy fans began to work. The fire alarm fell mercifully silent.

"The Tooth Fairy's not real, Eliot," Parker told him with great kindness, startling the hell out of the hitter.

Eliot sputtered for a moment. "How would you - you don't - how d'you know that?"

Parker had very vivid memories of being told to put her first tooth under her pillow, to have it exchanged for cold hard cash. She had equally vivid memories of feeling a hand sneaking up under her pillow and reacting to defend her property by snatching for a wrist, grabbing for a thumb, and twisting. Hard. "She's just not. It's just your parents." She charged over to where Nate was examining the printout. "I wanna see what Baba Yaga looks like."

"Parker, she's not -" Nate found the printout snatched out of his hands.

"Well, now we have to take the job," Sophie told him quietly. "Or she really will believe Baba Yaga's r-"

"Wait, this isn't Baba Yaga!" Parker protested, her tone betrayed. "This is just the old lady in the museum."

"The what?" Sophie asked blankly.

"In the where?" Nate added.

Hardison got a fire extinguisher.

"The old lady in the painting at the Isabella Gardner Museum," Parker explained.

"There's a painting of this woman at the Gardner Museum?" Nate demanded.

"Mm-hm."

"You went to a museum?" Sophie was stunned. "To actually look at the paintings, not to steal them?"

Parker nodded and beamed. "I have a lifetime membership."

"A… lifetime memb- how?"

"You know when someone stole all those paintings from them way back and they couldn't figure out who and they never recovered them?"

"That was you?"

"No, that was Astrid Somerset and her boyfriend -"

"Somerset, of the Arlington Somersets?" Nate asked, a little taken aback.

Unsurprisingly, he got a shrug and a vague noise in response; Parker didn't care about the woman's pedigree, only her technique. "Lousy thief. Horrible little snob," she growled, then beamed again. "So I stole back the one she hadn't sold yet and gave it back to the museum. And I've been working with them to improve security." Her smile turned mischievous. "You want me to get you in?"

Nate opened his mouth, thought better of it. "Hardison, you've got things here?"

Hardison and Eliot were taking down the neatly parted halves of the screen. The hitter looked nothing if not horrified when he pulled the heavy bit of tech away from the wall and overheated cables stretched gooeily after it like taffy.

"Yeah, we got this, man." Belatedly, as the other three walked away, Hardison called after them. "Nate, take pictures!"