#I’m so normal about it. so able to cope with this reality

[groupwest]

What is wrooong with my parents

#my mother seems to lack humanity it’s fine it’s perfectly fine #I’m so normal about it. so able to cope with this reality #father can’t help but cry everytime he sees my like shut up oh god it makes me crazy it makes me insane #why am I still teaching them how to exist how to be human how to form meaningful connections with other people. it’s all so laughable. #cuz literally they never even taught ME that. me as in their literal child #why do I have to ask my mother to practice talking to my aunt every time I see her I’m going to go crazy like please please please #please just show the ppl u love that u CARE ABT THEM literally AT ALL. UARGH #it’s sooooo stupid it’s so crazy. *explodes*

[probably-writing-x]

Another?

Summary: Rafe was known for how much his body could handle. Everyone knew it. The boy had no limits. So what happens when you try to keep up?

Warnings: Alcohol and substance use, cursing

Author’s Note: Thanks for all of the love recently, I’m glad you’re all liking my writing again !! Now prepare for Rafe being a douche and making your life hell :)

You had known the Cameron’s since you were little, having grown up as their neighbours. You’d spent nearly every day with them, Thanksgivings, July 4th’s, Christmases - they were like a second family. You and Sarah were inseparable, growing up like the twin sisters you’d never had. And Rafe? He’d always found a way to get under your skin. He drove you insane, the one person it seemed that you could argue with for hours on end. But he had the other side too. He’d punched your first boyfriend in middle school when they’d split up with you, and he went with you to prom before anybody else could ask you to be their date, he bought you Christmas presents and gave them to you when nobody else was around. Rafe cared for you in a way he didn’t seem to care for anybody else. Everyone could see it, it was like he had a whole new heart just for you, different from the one he showed to everyone else.

Another thing about Rafe - he always hosted the biggest parties. And tonight was no different. There were people here you’d never seen before, and all of the regular offenders.

“Hey (Y/N),” Topper grins when he sees you, two red solo cups in his hand, “I’ve been told to give you this.”

You smile and take the cup from him, “Thanks Top. Quick question though, who the hell are half of these people?”

He laughs, “Rafe invited a bunch of the holidayers, don’t ask me why.”

You roll your eyes, “Because god forbid his house isn’t overflowing.”

Topper laughs and leans back against the counter in the kitchen where you stood. You two had always stayed friends, past whatever had happened with him and Sarah. He was too sweet for his own good, as much as that was his worst trait sometimes.

“Have you seen him? He’s on it tonight,” He gestures towards where Rafe was snorting another line from the kitchen island.

He’s in a white tee with an open button down shirt, looking handsome despite his habits. His hair is fixed in the curtains around his head that he would constantly complain about, telling you that he should just shave it all off. So far, you’d been able to convince him not to. There’s a beer bottle in his hand but he takes a shot glass from the table and overflows it with tequila, tipping it back like it’s just water to his waiting liver.

“No different than normal, right?” Topper nudges you when you don’t respond, like drawing your attention back to reality.

But you weren’t so sure. He doesn’t seem like the boy you knew. There was something darker about him recently, like the drink and the drugs were more of a coping mechanism than a release. He needed it more than he wanted it recently, and it terrified you.

“(Y/N)!” The familiar low rumble of his voice calls out to you, and you look up to see him stumbling a little in his beeline in your direction.

“Rafe,” You reply, “Having fun?”

“You two are being boring,” He gestures between you and Topper, “You can’t just stand around all night.”

“I think we’re fine, Rafe,” Topper states, taking a swig of his beer.

“No, no, no,” Rafe shakes his head, swinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side, he lifts the hand with the bottle in the direction of Topper, his words slurring into, “I’ve told you before to stay away from her bro.”

“What are you talking about Rafe?” Topper clenches his jaw, looking at you as if he needs you to back him up already.

“Go for my sister, I don’t care. But if she doesn’t want you, that doesn’t mean you get (Y/N).”

“Fuck you,” Topper spits, downing the rest of his drink and walking out of the room, even the mention of Sarah fuelling the anger inside of him that it used to be rare to see.

You turn around and step out of Rafe’s grip, “Well, you can apologise for that in the morning.”

“I’m not apologising to him, I see the way he looks at you,” Rafe shakes his head, sniffing as if his body is already longing for its next hit.

“Rafe,” You’re slow in your words, forcing him to listen, “Me and Topper are friends, same as always. And, even if there was something there, it’s not your place to tell me who I can speak to.”

He takes a big gulp of his drink, not even the slightest hint of distaste on his features, his jaw clenches and unclenches before he speaks, “So you do like him?”

“You’re too drunk and high, and too far gone on whatever is in your body, for this conversation. I’m going home, and I’m going to bed. And I suggest you do too,” You grab your jacket from the counter and tug it over your shoulders, walking away before he has the chance to stop you.

“(Y/N)!” He shouts out, but it drowns out amongst the pulsing of the party.

~~~

Rafe had sent you a string of drunk texts last night after you’d left but none of them made enough sense to understand - just a lot of letters jumbled together. You could still hear the party going on late into the night from your house and part of you feared just how drunk Rafe would be the next day. No. It wasn’t your responsibility.

It’s midday when you walk past their house, taking a quick glance up like you normally would. And you spot him. On the porch, surrounded by bottles and cups and cans, sat on the couch as if not at all phased by it all.

You can’t help but be drawn towards him.

“Hey,” You speak quietly when you reach the top of the steps to the porch.

He looks at you through blurred eyes, picking up a beer bottle from the table and swigging it.

“You’re still drinking?” You raise your brows, the worry settling over your face.

“Shame for it to go to waste, right?” He shrugs, finishing the rest of the bottle and throwing it to the pile.

There were the remainders of various drugs spread across the table and you were almost completely certain that they were all his. The sight made your stomach turn.

But there was something in you when it came to Rafe, an urgency to help him as if you were the only person that could.

“Okay, I’ll have one too,” You set your bag down onto the table and take one of the full bottles, cracking it open and chugging at least half of the bottle.

“What are you doing (Y/N)?”

His hair is in disarray like it normally was in the mornings and he’d changed his clothes, so you knew he’d gone to sleep and woken up. If anything, that made things worse. This wasn’t the continuation of a late night, it was him waking up and realising he wanted to drown out another day before it had even started - the likelihood being that he had hoped he hadn’t had to wake up. It brought a lump to your throat and a tear in your heart.

He opens another bottle and so you finish yours and open another too, the beer already bubbling uncomfortably in your stomach.

“Cut it out,” He rolls his eyes, “I don’t want to deal with this today.”

“Clearly,” You state simply, sipping when he sips.

It continues like that until he’s finished another bottle, grabbing for the bottle of vodka next. You take the tequila, fighting back a wince as you mirror him sipping it down.

“Just fuck off (Y/N),” He says coldly, a kind of tone he rarely ever directed at you.

With that, he reaches for one of the small plastic bags of infamous white powder and tips out enough for a line.

“What? Are you doing this too?” He raises his brows.

You shrug, “Whatever you do, I do.”

Rafe laughs bitterly, setting out another line of equal size just next to his. He does his without flinching, as if it’s practically air to his immune body. You swallow the lump in your throat and pull your hair away from your face.

“You can’t be serious, (Y/N)…” His voice trails off and for a second you know that he’s nervous.

You don’t speak, bending down towards the table, your nose just inches above the wood.

Within a second, a blow of air comes from beside you, Rafe spraying the powder as far from you as he can get it, looking at you with an anger in his eyes.

“What the fuck is this? You think I’m just going to let you start doing drugs in front of me?” He scoffs, his voice raising just a little.

“How do you think I feel, Rafe? I’m watching you practically dig your own grave!”

“That’s not the same thing, okay?”

“I’m tired of acting like I shouldn’t care about this stuff, Rafe! I care about you, and I’m watching you destroy yourself, and you won’t talk to me, you won’t do anything, and you’re acting like I should just sit around and watch you become something and someone that I know you’re not. And of all your yes-men friends, who else is going to be honest with you?”

“I didn’t ask you to do this (Y/N),” He comments, regretting it almost as soon as the words come out.

“You know what? Go fuck yourself,” You grab your bag and stand up, storming back down the path away from his house as quickly as you can, your limbs trembling.

You’re not sure if you hear him, or perhaps it’s just that your hopes had been answered, but his hand grabs you and it feels like both of you are grounded in that moment. It’s a harsh contact, his long fingers wrapping around your wrist, but the sting is one of relief; of knowing he was there.

“Please don’t go.”

#rafe #Rafe cameron #outerbanks #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #outerbanks x reader #outerbanks x you #outerbanks x y/n #rafe imagine #rafe one shot #rafe drabble #rafe blurb #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron blurb #outerbanks imagine #outerbanks one shot #outerbanks drabble #outerbanks blurb

[nerdieforpedro]

Fare Well

For @wannab-urs Hozier Song Drabble Challenge

Dieter Bravo x plus size female reader (Sweet Pea)

This fic is for those 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 1.8k (Yeah so…I went past Drabble 👀)

Summary: Dieter has been working so hard. He still has an issue that might be because of his mind. What can he do about it? Do anything else.

Warnings: unhealthy coping, sexual dysfunction, sex work, teasing, pet names, sexual activity (actual and implied I think? I should know. 🙃)

Notes: I listened to this song 5 times in a row because I didn’t really listen to Hozier (now I do). The color this fic is purple or violet, whichever you wanna say it. 💜 I bolded lyrics I was able to put in the fic. 🤗 Thanks to Gin for giving me two Dieter fics to write back to back. ☺️ That little trash panda is always so giving.

Main Masterlist / Dieter Bravo Masterlist / Writing Challenge

Tapping his foot on his hardwood floors, Dieter Bravo is in an all too familiar place. He’s been purposely busy. Keeping occupied except for when he’s completely exhausted has kept him out of trouble, even in the tabloids. People are saying he’s changed for the better. He knows he’s keeping clean, keeping in the straight and narrow.

Bravo has run into a snag on his progress.

The last few paintings had done well in gallery showing, even selling for double than asking price, his last movie was well reviewed. These are both very good things, wonderful. He’s happy, proud even. Bravo is having plenty of sex, mountains of it. In his head. Reality has played out much differently. All this work he’s doing, he hasn’t been able to chase a different high. One he’s used to replace the drugs. It wasn’t that he couldn’t find people to have sex with. He’s been more careful about it, not something he’s been concerned about prior to his new leaf. In doing so, acts he’d normally attempt weight more heavily on his mind and keep little Dee from swelling when needed. Bravo knows the rumor that might be going around but it’s not true! Since his mind is clearer, he actually thinks about who he’s having sex with more and little D isn’t always on board. You know, one of those words his therapist mentioned – cognitive dissonance except it’s happening with his partner in pleasure little D. Big D when he’s feeling in the mood.

He knows he could just go to one of those discreate clubs, seek his needs out there, but he always assumed he wouldn’t need one. The Oscar Winner keeps looking for different projects, in his studio trying out new paints, trying to learn the saxophone (it was a bad idea, but sounded great at three in the morning when he called his assistant and told him what to buy), he then went to a spin class and damn near passed out after fifteen minutes and tried a cooking class but was kicked out for causing an oil fire.

Nothing was working so he called and asked to stop by, check the place out. The owner of course said that was fine – he’s Dieter Bravo, they’d love to have him. Dieter told the owner,

“I’ll take any high. Any glazin’ of the eyes. Any solitary pleasure that masks my sorrow. No drugs though, I’m not willing to backslide over it.”

The owner said they understood and had the perfect person for him.

So now Dieter waits in this room. It’s an array of different purples well violets since this is a more classy place. He wanted to undress to his boxers but was told by the front desk to leave them on. He did remove his shoes, socks and jacket, but otherwise he’s dressed. Simple black slacks and a white button-down shirt that had bellowing sleeves with a deep v-cut exposing his chest down to his sternum. He felt like dressing up a bit but still kept it simple, most of the clientele were in suits and dresses that Dieter saw. Soft guitar music played in the background, he closed his eyes as he waited curious who they might have matched him with based on what he asked for.

Dieter heard the clicking of heels first. Then smelled a deep woodsy fragrance, it approached slowly, matching the pace of the heels. They stopped in front of him and he caught hints of citrus and a flower. Using his aquiline nose to sniff closer to the source, feeling body heat radiating from whoever was in front of him. “It’s faint but you smell like a sweet pea.” He released a deep breath he’d been building from taking in and trying to identify the different components of their scent.

“Welcome Mr. Bravo. I hope my fragrance invokes pleasant memories. I’m told you want to rid yourself of sorrow. Correct?” The voice embraced him as soft fingers coiled around his neck, thumbs pressing into his chin.

“Yes, please. I need to forget, just for a bit. Then I might be able to get my body to function properly. Everything is fine, great even.” He kept his eyes closed and he felt them. Lips on his forehead, warm and plush. They lingered, “Can I touch you, please?” No answer was given as hands left his neck and were placed on each side of a torso. His palms roamed slowly tracing the lace that wrapped the body he had in his hands.

The lips left his forehead and he was tempted to reach for them, but kept his eyes closed, he would wait, trying to keep his breathing even. “Is this alright Mr. Bravo or do you want someone who might-“Dieter wildly shook his head.

“Don’t you go anywhere Sweet Pea. Stay right here with me. Just like this. Maybe more. Can I look at you?” He pulled the body toward him, sniffing more. “Call me Dieter. Mr. Bravo is the one having issues with his little D.” He made himself chuckle knowing what a stupid joke it was. Fingertips graced his cheek and tipped his chin upward.

“Look at me Dieter. How do you want me to drown your sorrows tonight? I usually go by Violet due to the room, but I like Sweet Pea when you say it. It makes me sound cute.” The giggle from this celestial being has Dieter wondering if she’ll still giggle if he’s buried between her legs. He wouldn’t need to come up for air, just search for what would be his reward: her moans and his tongue squeezed by her pelvic muscles. His palms ran around to her back, feeling the different rolls of her body.

“I want to see if I’m going to go into a coma from drowning in your nectar Sweet Pea. Can I be your first casualty? If I was going to go, I’d want to be surrounded by thick thighs and a woman’s cries I offer her.” Slipping her left heel off, Sweet Pea places her leg on the bed beside Dieter’s right leg. His hand slowly makes its way across the curve of her wide ass to her thigh, his large fingers dipping into the small holes of the fishnets, tugging on them. “Let me show you gorgeous.”

Smiling, Sweet Pea gives his lips a quick peck before bending to reach between his legs, “Seems just the thought is enough Dieter. Why come to me? I’m sure you’ve got many offers, especially if you’re asking like that.” She lowers her leg and stands back up, turning her back to him but looking over her shoulder to meet his eyes. The glint in them makes her lick her lips, she could ask him to do it, just to see if he will. Given how desperate he is, he might. He won’t say it, but his body betrays him, he said that ‘little D’ was having trouble but that didn’t seem to be the case at all from what she felt. Maybe it’s the scents, the atmosphere and that what happens here will remain here until he comes back. She crosses the room and drops her black thong, stepping out of it and her other heel, sitting on a violet velvet loveseat with her legs open wide. “This is what you want right Dieter?” Her elbows are on her knees with one hand beckoning him. “Come to me, but undress and crawl.”

Bravo doesn’t want control right now, nor does he want to think. He just wants to act, to perform. In this moment, he isn’t thinking about how lonely he is or how his career could crumble on some whim of culture or random video. There’s only this purple room he can melt into as he removes his clothes, making himself bare to Sweet Pea. Dieter’s actually hard, dripping onto her carpet as he lowers himself onto the floor on all fours. His knees are burning as he makes his way across the padded carpet. It’s worth his goal though, into her tender folds. “You like to see a man work, huh Sweet Pea? That’s more than fine.” Halfway there, his bobbing swollen cock made a mess of the carpet and his belly. Upon reaching her, he placed his hands on her knees and looked up to her, balancing himself on his knees so little D was at full attention. He wanted to show her what she’d been able to bring out of him so far. Something changed though, he was smiling but Violet recognized it. She used her fingers to rub circles into his biceps and shoulders before tracing the pronounced vein on his neck.

“You adorable man. This isn’t what you want. At least not now. You can’t seem to decide between the two Dieter.” Fingers run through his hair, and he knows she’s right but couldn’t she had said so after he’d had his fill, hear her cries?

“You’re not wrong, but I still need this. Need you.” He dipped his head to nibble on her thigh and she hummed but pushed his head back. In standing, she also helped him to his feet and brought him back to the bed, removing her lace corset and climbed on the bed.

“From behind, I’m not going to have your tears dripping where I can watch while you fuck me.” Now Sweet Pea was on all fours and Dieter’s sorrow returned. It was inescapable, but he wanted to see her face. He could block it off, just for a short while he tried to get the sunshine.

“No, I need to see how your face changes as you take me.” Crawling across the bed behind her, he pulled her back flush to his chest and turned her chin over her shoulder, capturing her lips. Slipping his tongue in, the warmth felt good. He hadn’t had it in months, he didn’t know why now, in this place with her, but he’d accept it. All of it. “Pleasure to mask my sorrow is why I’m here, Sweet Pea. Have me bask in the sun.”

Their kiss broke as Sweet Pea turned to put her arms around his shoulders, kissing his forehead once again as Dieter laid back on the bed, she fell forward as he took her hair out of the high ponytail it had been in. Her hair fell around her face, her wet folds grazed his shaft and he moaned. “I’ll be your dawn until the light shines on you Dieter.”

Coming unbound, feeling elated and devastated when he had to leave, Dieter had been able to bury his sorrow in pleasure for a time. Another appointment was made for later in the week. To quote Bravo, “I’ll deny me none while I’m allowed because I wouldn’t fare well.”

Bad ideas that Dieter could use: @katw474 @readingiskeepingmegoing @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @megamindsecretlair @pamasaur @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @sp00kymulderr @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @titlee78 @tinytinymenace @magpiepillsjunior @soft-girl-musings @morallyinept @rhoorl @survivingandenduring @missladym1981 @yorksgirl @heareball @laurfilijames @maggiemayhemnj

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo fics #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo x plus size reader #hozier songs #Hozier Song Drabble Challenge #Gin made me do it #a Nerdie fic

[skemford]

I like talking about bendy characters so it’s time to touch up topic of… Joey Drew himself

Doing it before fade to black release on purpose :)

Here’s my analysis of his behaviour and on the illusion of living philosophy

It’s a huge read and I’ve enjoyed writing it!

(Continuation under the cut)

1. Joey’s family situation was hard on it’s own

Joey doesn’t talk about his parents way too much and mostly focuses on story elements (his father being a shoe maker and how his parents affected his childhood) rather than on his parents as their own people.

They weren’t rich and Joey talks about their family earning a “honest living” but at the same time, he describes how hard it was for his father.

“We weren’t rich. There was an honest living to be earned and Father did that with Mother keeping the books” (TIOL, page 18)

“I definitely saw her (mother) more than I saw Father, who sometimes would only appear briefly at the dinner table, hunched, brow furrowed, silently eating his meal. He’d disappear downstairs right after, and I’d help Mother with the washing up. (TIOL,page 18)

He comments on his father creating fake scenarios (elves helping him to work) to distract from hardship of needing to work a lot to be able to feed their family.

Joey has hard time of understanding ‘why’ he does that and how fantasy can help to work but he wants to believe. He tries to prove to himself that magic can be real.

"I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it” (TIOL, page 19)

“I couldn’t see the elves. They must have been sitting on the table itself, hidden behind Father. I pushed the door open just a little bit and stood taller on my tiptoes.” (TIOL, page 21)

Joey switches between wanting to believe in illusions and not wanting to. He’s scared of not being perceived as normal by others.

He says that it’s not okay to be deep into the fantasy but notes on the fact that he can grasp the concept.

“I knew about make-believe. Played it all the time with my friends. But I didn’t know that adults knew about make-believe too. I nodded. (TIOL, page 23)

After he asks his father directly, he explains his reasoning and says that make-believe helps to feel less lonely (I’ll note on this part, it’ll come in handy later) which changes Joey’s perspective greatly:

"But the make-believe, the little characters, the songs, that changed his reality. What was reality except what we perceive it to be? Elves and magic? Well, why not? (TIOL, page 24)

It’s everything we’ve got to know about his family.

Hard working to earn money for living, using escapism to cope and distant from each other because of their struggles.

This distance likely has continued to grow with years, since for some reason he escaped his home when he was 15 y.o (+ signed up to army); no one seems to actually care and he was left on his own.

1.1 Stage name

Talking about Joey’s distance from his family, he doesn’t use his real family surname or full form of his name.

It’s not something that was explored a lot in Bendy (among all of its content) but we know that he doesn’t like to be referred this way.

'Joey’ was a nickname that he picked up for himself when he was 19 y.o.

"I’m Detective Adam Sinclair. You’re Joseph Drew.” “Joey,” I said. It was a new nickname I was trying out, ever since I moved to the Village. (TIOL, page 88)

Usually he’s referred as 'Joseph’ by his family members or people who are distant to him/don’t know him well.

But "Joey” is not the only one name he gave to himself.

'Drew’ doesn’t look like a real surname. He likely picked it up after getting close with Henry.

Imo Drew is a fun pun name that’s related to Joey owning the studio (and “Joey drew Studios” (literally) in the case of the cycle)

It has never sounded real.

Employees handbook mentions some “Dempsey” person who invests their own costs into the studio:

(Receipts: Investor Deposit, J. Dempsey)

Their initials are “J.D.” which makes it’s obvious who they are.

Joey’s house also doesn’t look rich which would make sense if he put all his earnings into the studio itself.

Bendy devs like to pick names that fit characters & “Dempsey” means “arrogant person” which does fit Joey perfectly.

1.2 Joey is deeply ashamed of the way his family lived.

Everytime someone mentions anything he associates with his past (shoes, for example) he overthinks and creates imaginary conflicts with these people.

His negative thoughts about them take whole paragraphs of text; he tries to make himself believe that he doesn’t care about looking “less” in someone’s eyes. He looks for reasons why they're worse than him constantly.

"Probably trying to figure out my past, and that was none of his business. Then I told myself it didn’t matter because I didn’t care what he thought. I didn’t care much for him in general. He might have been richer than me at the time, but that’s where his superiority ended." ( TIOL, page 26)

He often downplays people because he's deeply insecure and is scared of being outcasted, especially by rich successful guys.

After doing so,he switches toward praising himself and names reasons for why he's better (classic Joey Drew behaviour)

He was a year younger than me, hadn’t fought, hadn’t signed up like I had, hadn’t lied about his age to fight for his country like I had. What could he say to an answer like that?Nothing. Absolutely nothing (TIOL, page 26)

Не believes that they need to feel sorry for this because they have no idea how much he struggled in the past.

2. He's insecure & scared of things he can't control

I could've continues this in previous paragraph but it's a bit different.

You see, while Joey was insecure of his past (things he associated with it acted as "triggers") he still was full of himself.

It was an act but it looked convincing enough; with time it became harder for him to keep it up.

It easily explains his behaviour in batim tapes.

When Joey tries to reassure everyone that he knows what's going on, he actually doesn't. He's as lost as everyone else, he tries to act only when he's forced to do so.

He lies to people and runs away from responsibility because he's scared of abruptness, something out of his control.

Joey shows fear of everything that's unknown to him but he tries to play it off somehow: he tries to be on top and be unpredictable to others.

He treats himself as a human that lives around unpredictable fictional characters that he can't control or read intentions of.

"My father though was a real person. I knew that deep down. But in this moment I saw him not as a son looking at his father but as a viewer looking at a fictional character." (TIOL, page 50)

It's mentioned in the novels that Joey likes theatre and he expresses his thoughts about it to Buddy in dctl.

Theatre operates in "cycles":

Actors play their parts→ the audience applaud→ actors bow→ performance ends→ performance begins and so on.

It's has a pattern and won't introduce anything that will caught you off guard. It's "safe" and as a part of audience,you don't need to perform, you only watch.

Does it remind you of batim's cycle? Outside of holding grudges toward Henry and wanting to run away from everything Joey has performed with GENT, he also searches for control while not being included directly.

HE decides what will happen to the cycle residents. HE writes the story that other people can barely affect. HE blames other people for studio's downfall and makes them suffer for his wrongdoings.

Joey knows that he has failed but he can't process it. He doesn't know what will happen and he's scared of being put into situations he can't predict.

It's really shows how insecure he became with years.

3. Why Henry is important?

Why exactly Joey couldn't replace one man he didn't knew for a really long time? What made Henry so special to him?

We don't get a big insist on their friendship but it can be said that their short-lived bond was strong or at least Joey believed that it was.

Henry seems to be Joey's role model of sort even if Joey doesn't want to acknowledge it.

Joey notes on how Henry changed the course of his life without knowing about this

Henry is a determinated man who went for a career in art because he knew what he wanted & he stayed on this path no matter how hard it was to get any recognition.

Henry's the man who makes decisions and acts when he needs to.

Meanwhile, Joey feels lost his whole life. He searches for answers,purpose or a place with a "soul".

Henry gave him new meaning for life. Creative path with endless possibilities that Joey could build from scratch.

Joey was heartbroken when Henry left, doesn't matter for hard he tries to act like he wasn't.

"His presence was helpful, I can happily admit, but his absence was even more so. Not having him at the studio ended up being one of the best things that could have happened to it" (TIOL, page 138)

For some time his life was revolving around Henry. He knew what to do and what will happen, Henry always pushed him to the right decisions.

He says so directly in batim chapter 5:

"The truth is, you were always so good at pushing, old friend... pushing me to do the right thing"

With loosing Henry, Joey lost his newly gained purpose in life. It wasn't something that he was able to figure out by himself & it made him blind to the road that lies ahead.

He's angry at Henry for being like "other people" that he hates. For leaving him behind when he's scared of being alone.

We don't know about Henry's perspective much but he strikes me as someone who would be supportive of Joey at first.

He made some of Joey's ideas real and left only after a breaking point.

3.1 "Cartoon family"

Joey is deeply attached to main JDS toons that he "mutually" owns with Henry.

Especially, it's noteciable with toon Bendy who was called his child on a couple of occasions:

"Bendy was Joey’s child, and he felt just as strongly about Bendy as I feel about my flesh-and-blood son" © Nathan Arch (TIOL, page 5)

"He was my very first creation—one could even call him my firstborn." (TIOL, page 12)

Joey not only sees Bendy as his child but he also relates to him.

He draws parallels between them both, calls bendy manifestation of "the illusion of living" and shows some of his mannerisms (as he says)

Joey wants to see himself as Bendy.

A character who's loved by kids and adults alike and who always has friends around.

"I tell people that Bendy is the perfect example of my philosophy." (TIOL, page 12)

"To know that I needed a creation so perfect, so accessible to so many people, that it would help me change the way the world saw itself." (TIOL, page 13)

In Joey's apartment the only one picture in frame that he owns is illustration/animation cell of toons drawn by 'Henry Stein':

They're depicted holding hands with Bendy being in the middle of both; it's portrays closeness between them and Bendy's importance in the picture

But was it's actually signed up by Henry or Joey is the one who did it for himself?

We know from batim (and batdr notes) that Joey's signature is "your best pal" which makes this case...a bit complicated

Joey could've wanted to pretend that Henry is still close to him and decided to sign up drawing with his name

Or possibly it was signed up by Henry somewhere in the past. In this case, Joey could've adopted Henry's signature as his own.

Both speculations have place to be real and we can't prove any of them.

Joey's known for pretending (which would fit with the 1st possibility) but he's also stuck in the past and stole a lot of ideas that belong to other people.

Imo it can be interpreted based on the way you see him.

4. Why was Susie fired?

Joey's obsessed with everything that is related to Bendy which can be seen with him being angry about "crooked bendy dolls" or bendy expression sheet in batim ch 2.

We can speculate that Susie Campbell wasn't fired from the role of Alice's voice actress for any valid reason BUT because Joey felt personally offended.

As Norman says in dctl, Alice Angel was really popular for a bit, which possibly could have been unacceptable for Joey.

Bendy is the main character Joey relates to and he wouldn't have wanted to be overshadowed in any way.

Susie being fired and humiliated (for not knowing that she was in fact fired) is the consequence of Joey's insecurity.

Susie claims that "she was absolutely perfect for the role" at first so at some point Joey completely changed his perspective.

Any character getting attention would be good for the studio. Firing a voice actress that helps to get this attention lacks logical reasoning.

After Joey "calms down" he has a conversation with Susie about 'an opportunity' he has for her. This opportunity is Susie being the first (speculated to) human sacrifice. He believed that she'd have been a perfect Alice.

Joey puts Bendy above Boris and Alice (like he does with himself & other people) so him acting pitiful about any other character getting popular does makes sense.

But he still cares about them...to some degree.

"Boris was special, Alice was complicated." (TIOL, page 154)

Joey having complicated feelings with Alice as character is really interesting and it's perfectly reflects what he was thinking about Susie.

She was a perfect voice actress to others but wasn't to him. He thought that she'll be a perfect Alice (after the ink machine was created) but she failed to be.

"She was beautiful. And loved by all. She was perfect...No matter what Joey says." (batim chapter 3, Susie talking about herself in 3rd person)

In dctl he claims that he relates failed experiments to "people not being real enough" or says that they weren't pure.

At the end, Joey basically has decided to pretend that she never was real

Susie is never mentioned in his memoir and she's almost fully erased from studio's history.

In Batdr's studio tour (music department part) "Susie Campbell" was replaced with "Allison Pendle"; meaning that Allison is officially the only one Alice Angel voice actress according to him.

5. The ink demon

It's one of the most interesting parts here and I'm sure that a lot of people have talked about him better that I'll.

The ink demon is a "product" of mistreatment, Joey's unhealthy projecting and capitalism (duh)

Joey saw Bendy as his son

He wanted to be like Bendy, someone who's loved and can always escape from troubles

One of reasons to bring Bendy to life is his marketability. Joey wanted "alive attractions" he can get money from.

The ink demon wasn't able to fullfil any expectations that Joey had.

He was passive and harmless (at first) but to Joey, he's not a cheerful toon that he has always dreamed about.

One of main issues that Joey has with him is that he's off-model:

"Listen Tommy, i know you boys over at Gent are doing your best but I'm paying for living attractions,not walking abominations. Whatever that grinning thing was i saw walking around your office,you better keep it up locked tight! Might scare off investors!..." (batim chapter 5)

"Grinning thing" and "walking abomination." The ink demon is completely dehumanised because he's not marketable.

As it was mentioned earlier, Joey sees Bendy as a perfect being and relates to him

He doesn't want to relate to the ink demon; for this reason, he separates them both.

Joey has hard time with accepting "failures". They either get forgotten, dumped or he tries to change them somehow.

The ink demon is a mistake that Joey and GENT have tried to "fix" for years. "A monster" that has shattered Joey's dreams.

5.1 The ink demon's sense of self

It's Joey character analysis so this point won't be too big.

The ink demon was treated like a mistake for being different:

Closed off, isolated, put in the cycle,tortured.

He was in the place where no one would care because he's not "a perfect bendy". Most of it comes from Joey or is related to him in some way.

Everyone saw him as a monster and he has accepted this role.

We know how it went in batim/batdr.

Worth to mention that unlike Joey, he has never lied in batdr. It's either harsh truth or projecting.

6. Ink Children

Allison was close to Joey and had a good impact on him,as he claims.

Indirectly, she made him want to have a family with the help of the ink machine.

I doubt that this decision has come from the place of jealousy toward Henry (who has a family) unless future content will somehow prove that I'm wrong. Joey can have one good intention while failing everywhere else.

Joey could've wanted to have a family to prove that there's still something good in him.

He was scared of dying alone and being forgotten.

"I hadn’t known that at the time. It gave me chills. The thought of success only after death, now that terrified me. That was not the plan and would never be the plan" (TIOL, page 122)

We don't know how many children have perished until the final, perfect one. And we can't claim what exactly has happened to them.

We don't get much details about the creation process of artificial "almost humans".

The only one we heard (outside of Audrey) is "AD" (name of the file) from batim chapter 5

"Tell me another one,uncle Joey..." ("AD" in batim post credits)

And sadly,you can't say much based on this.

They could've been physically unstable and die on their own terms

(milk packages from Joey's kitchen table in batim chapter 5. All of them were stained with ink)

If they stained object with ink by interacting with them, it could've become worse with time.

Again,with lack of context,it's almost impossible to debate for or against this idea. Was that's a thing for other ink creatures?

Susie does brings up in batim that she was "a shapeless slug" at first.

Joey didn't changed much and dumped imperfect ones

Honestly this part depends on how much you believe that he could grow as a character.

(memo from batdr, GENT building)

The way Joey talks about "other versions" sounds... indifferent.

Which is weird, because he did spend time with "AD" from batim by entertaining her with stories when she has asked him to

Does he tries to justify them being dumped OR he's distracting from the fact that they didn't had a chance to properly exist?

It feels like it was left for interpretation on purpose.

6.1 Audrey Drew

Second and last artificial child after "AD" that we canonically know about.

For Joey, creating something perfect that will outlive him could've been a key to his definition of immortality. He wanted to leave something after his death that people could know about. A piece of "perfect art"

"...Of course, I intend to live forever, so that will never happen! Ha, a joke indeed, but in a way not a joke, for what is art but a doorway into immortality? The greatest Illusion of Living then, living on after we are no longer alive. What is more of an illusion than that?" (TIOL, page 219)

Joey makes jokes about living eternally even before the ink machine's existence.

After it's creation, it's wasn't something that he has planned but he was ready for this fate (for one reason or another)

At the end of his life, Audrey has became a thing he'll live through eternally. And Memory!Joey is here ig

Memory!Joey basically calls Audrey his magnum opus:

"...My Greatest creation" (batdr, final Memory!Joey custscene)

Which further established that Joey is more proud of Audrey than he ever was on the Bendy franshise (it's hard to be proud of the stolen ideas, peoples deaths or the cycle,eh?)

Audrey seems to share adventurous spirit of young Joey (in his early 20s) & determination

They both got dragged into events they didn't asked for:

Joey (when he was 19 y.o) by detective Sinclair who has blamed him for a murder.

Audrey by Wilson Arch who has wanted to murder her.

6.2 Audrey and the ink demon

Similar trauma, different outcomes and treatment.

How present Joey was in Audrey's life? Why did they got separated at one point even before he has died?

Is there's something Memory!Joey hides from Audrey on purpose?

Batdr archives mention that Audrey has repressed her memories but what and why exactly?

In batdr the ink demon interacts a lot with Audrey which holds huge significance on the story.

In his first interaction with her he says "ink speaks to me and whispers your secrets" so the ink machine (who seems to hold some sense of identity) does know too.

The ink demon heavily relates to Audrey through the game. They were both left alone (in different ways) and they share one creator.

"You are without the purpose. Your very existence.. was a terrible lie...you're a mistake. A monster. Just like me." (batdr, the ink demon, last playable segment)

He heavily projects on her through this last interaction. Audrey does has a purpose,she was created to be a daughter Joey did wanted and loved. As much as Joey Drew could love at least, if you see this part as debatable.

But there's one thing he's right about, her existence is a lie.

Joey put burden of "protecting the cycle" on her while she thought that she's an orphan.

Batdr archives also question how much agency she has, which i find interesting.

7. "The illusion of living" (or TL;DR for this analysis)

The art of lying masterfully and manual on how to justice God complex.

Joey describes his life from early childhood (when he was 5 y.o.) and to the point of him being 42-43 y.o., a bit before the ink machine was created.

This book is about a man who couldn't find his purpose in life even with the help of other people and decided to blame everyone for this.

Lies, accusations, insults, distorted information, searching for "a soul" (literally and figuratively) and never ending hidden sadness after he lost Henry.

He tries to replace this empty gap with letting their creations become his whole life but it doesn't end well... (the ink demon,dead employees and the cycle)

He tries to separate himself from this and focused on creating a family.

Artificial daughters are electric boogalo №2 (unexpected direct sequel) which has ended working somehow.

But still,i wouldn't trust this man even a pet rock and the ink demon & Audrey are a proof on 'why.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Trivial facts (bendy employees handbook/the illusion of living):

>He loves mac n cheese

>Joey meet Sammy at a theatre when they were teens

>Joey loves throwing peanuts at theatre actors

>In Joey Drew studios you can celebrate only main toons birthday or Joey's birthday. Other birthdays are prohibited.

>Joey stole award that Sammy has earned

> Joey officially is an employee of the month eternally...

> Joey stoles ideas for cartoons from employees and they don't get even a couple of cents for this (woah! How surprising /j)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Special thanks to everyone who interacted with my Audrey analysis earlier!

#batim #bendy and the ink machine #batdr #bendy and the dark revival #joey drew #bendy #ink demon #audrey drew #henry stein #susie campbell #I won't tag everyone who was mentioned #bendy the illusion of living #bendy tiol #my post

[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicmas23 Day 4: Anathema

Today has been a bit of a mess, and now we've had a small change of plans because today's intended fic is missing a chunk.

So we have two scenes from Anathema since @sonyawix asked so nicely. These follow on straight from Alice and Jasper's very awkward and public first meeting; Anathema is so fun to write honestly.

I hope everyone has a good day, and I'll be back tomorrow!

anathema

The car ride home from the meeting was silent, with both Freddie and I mulling over what had just transpired with the Cullens, and exactly what it meant for us.

Because there was one thing we didn’t want anyone to figure out, especially the council. 

And it was the fact that I wasn’t entirely human. I wasn’t just gifted. 

My biological father was a vampire. 

It was practically unheard of, according to Jeannie. Nearly impossible for a vampire to father a child, let alone for the mother to carry the pregnancy to term. And Jeannie had never heard, in all her family’s diaries and archives, of any of the mothers surviving the birth. 

My mom had been no exception. Lilian Brandon-Myer had died within moments of my birth, when I had ripped my way out of her body with her sharp little teeth. The human body isn’t designed to survive that kind of trauma. I keep telling myself that - there was no way anyone could have saved her. It was a damn miracle that she had even made it that far, really. 

I really didn’t know that much about her. She’d been twenty-seven years old, worked at an art gallery, and had been married for two years, to Richard. I had one memory of her, wispy and thin since I was only moments old - wide blue eyes in a thin, pale face; dark hair, and a lot of blood. She was probably already dead. 

My mother had been Freddie’s baby sister, and he had doted on her - I’d heard all the stories, how much he’d adored her. He’d been completely and utterly destroyed when my mother had died. Hell, Jeanie had alluded that she and Freddie had cared for her during her pregnancy, trying to keep her alive long enough to give birth. And then I had been born a freak of nature, growing so much faster than a human baby. They couldn’t dump me on social services when, by my first birthday, I was already the same as a human three-year-old. 

And Mom’s husband had been too… normal to take me, and I’m not sure he’d have wanted to; I was what killed her. He never would have been able to cope with the realities of the supernatural, let alone raising a vampire-human hybrid who aged three times faster than an ordinary child. Jeanie, at least, had one foot in the supernatural world, and generations of family lore and history to navigate raising me safely. 

She always said that she and Freddie had never been blessed with children of their own, so I was their special gift. I don’t know if either of us really believed that but it was a nice sentiment. 

Even my ‘sister’ wasn’t really any relation to me. Cynthia was Richard’s daughter with his second wife, and my one link to the real, normal world. I had no idea how Freddie convinced Rich to let us be raised as ‘sisters’, but I was grateful - I adored Cynthia, and I wish we could have spent more time together. Rich was actually a really nice guy; he called me on my birthday, and sent me gifts, and always told me that I was the spitting image of Mom and she would have been so proud of me. Honestly, everything I know about Mom, I got from Rich; Freddie never spoke of her, and Jeanie always promised she’d tell me more when I was older. 

“What are we going to do?” I asked softly, and Freddie sighed and shook his head. “D’you want me to go to the beach house?”

Freddie and Jeanie raised me in an isolated house near Neah Bay for the first couple of years, to keep me out of sight - Freddie commuted to the funeral home as needed. As far as the Forks’ locals knew, I had come into their custody when I was ‘twelve’; in reality, I was fully-grown at seven years old and was just slight enough to pass as a middle-schooler with a few adjustments - it’s amazing what a too-big dress and a pair of pink plastic glasses could do. I really had looked like a child being raised by an older couple; awkward and unfashionable. 

But we’d kept the beach house; Freddie and I drove up a few times a year to make sure it was maintained and secure. Freddie had gone to no small amount of trouble and expense to make sure that no one knew we owned the property, especially anyone in Forks. It had to stay as a safe house in case everything went sour. 

One thing that Jeanie was intensely aware of was the Quileutes’ history with the Cold Ones, and she swore that they could never, ever know about me. That she didn’t know what the Blacks and the Clearwaters would do if they found out about me. They would certainly argue that we couldn’t function as Mediators, because we couldn’t be impartial when my sperm donor was a vampire. There was a very, very good chance they’d banish me from the reservation, and hold me to the treaty - if not try and run Freddie and I out of town entirely. 

Or even try to hurt me. 

I hated that; the idea that Sue Clearwater - who had done so much heavy lifting in our household after Jeanie died - could turn on me. That Leah and I wouldn’t tease each other, or that I’d never be able to go down to La Push with the twins again. Besides, I was functionally human - I ate, I slept, I bled, I used the bathroom, I wasn’t venomous - Jeanie had run dozens of tests over the years. My heart-beat was faster than a humans, and I ran warm on a good day, but now that I was mature, I was just me. Just Alice Brandon, illegal mortician. 

And Jeanie and Freddie had established so many precautions over the years - Jeanie had avoided feeding me blood as a baby or any sort of meat - raising me as a vegetarian human - and to this day I wonder if that’s why I’m so small, that my growth was somewhat stunted. But it was a choice she made for my best interests, so I couldn’t hold any resentment for that. I had been kept away from other children and most other humans until I was fully grown and could understand the severity of the situation and how important the rules were; and even then, I had dozens of rules about things I could and couldn’t do, so not to ever reveal any similarity to vampires. 

But Jeanie was certain that Sue and Billy Black would basically turn me into a pariah if they ever caught wind of the situation, and she hadn’t wanted that for me. So, we had kept that a secret. We never spoke of it. 

But now that the Cullens were here, everything was at risk - would they know? Would they guess? Had they guessed? Vampire senses were so strong, and perhaps Jasper’s reaction to me had been because of my biology - would my reaction to Jasper Cullen clue anyone in, or could it be hand-waved away by my gift?

And if they did figure it out, would they tell the Council - perhaps use it as a bargaining chip to renegotiate the treaty?

I didn’t know. I couldn’t know; no decision had been made. But I didn’t want to discuss it with them, perhaps negotiate for their silence, in case they hadn’t worked it out. 

Ugh, I hated this so much. I was already mentally packing my bags to hide up in the beach house until we could guarantee I was safe. I’d have to stay there alone; Freddie had the funeral home to run. I’d be lonely and bored and worried, stuck in an old house that was full of ghosts. It was Jeanie’s house, and being there without her… I didn’t like it. 

We pulled up in front of the funeral home and Freddie looked at me. “It’s alright Alice,” he said finally, sounding tired. “We’ll go in and talk to the others, and worry about everything else tomorrow. There’s no need to panic, I promise.”

“I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” I said softly, and we both knew I wasn’t talking about my moment with Jasper. 

“I know, pet, I know.”

//

I made coffee faster than any living being in the world before hightailing it downstairs, to the funeral home’s parlour, where the meeting was happening. Or rather, five adults were having a nuclear meltdown.

“He will not be allowed anywhere near her!” Freddie’s face was bright red as he paced the room. “I want it added to the laws! He’s a damn monster, and I will not lose another…”

“We know, Freddie,” Sue sighed, arms crossed over her chest. “And we agree with you that the Cullens should be informed that Alice is off-limits.”

“But can we do that?” Charlie Swan looked exhausted. “Can he do that? Billy - one of the imprints; could one of the wolves physically stay away from their imprint? Does it work the same way for vampires?”

The Clearwaters and Billy Black exchanged looks. 

“I don’t know about vampires, but no, the wolf could not stay away from their imprint. We’ve seen it attempted before,” Billy said finally. “And most attempts do not last long. We don’t know what a long-term attempt would look like for the wolf or the imprint.”

“Sickness?” Charlie asked. “Feral behaviour? Violence? Madness? Death?”

They all exchanged glances and I decided it was time to make my presence known.

“You’re not going to hurt Jasper?” I asked in my most innocent voice, my eyes wide, and my lip trembling. It wouldn’t work on the Clearwaters, or Freddie - he was too upset - but I knew Charlie Swan wouldn’t be able to deal with a crying teenage girl.

Harry took the coffee tray from me as they all exchanged loaded looks. 

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” I said, sniffling. 

“Calm down, Alice,” Billy said in an even voice. “We’re just discussing our options.”

“I don’t like the idea that keeping them separated could result in violence,” Harry said grimly. “We can’t risk it.”

“But you’re willing to risk Alice?” Freddie exploded.

“He’s not ‘risking’ me!” I yelled back. “No one is! Jasper won’t hurt me!” I looked Freddie in the eye. “You know that!”

“None of us know that,” Freddie shot back. “And I refuse to stand by and let history repeat itself with those monsters!”

“Mom was attacked and raped by Red-Eyes!” I shot back. “The treaty said the Cullens can’t drink human blood! All Jasper wants to do is hold my hand and talk to me!”

Billy Black snorted, and I saw Sue and Harry exchange looks. 

“Alice, he was sniffing your hair,” Sue said slowly. “And the look on his face…”

I looked at her bewildered, and quickly ran through the overflow of visions I’d had. There were a couple that got… well. I would have protested doing that with such a large audience, and it was obvious that his brothers and sister wouldn’t have let him get very far. The fact that that was one of his initial reactions to me was… well, I was a little flattered, to be honest.  

“Oh,” I said, shaking my head. “No, he changed his mind, like, 30 times in less than a minute. That’s why my visions went haywire - my brain couldn’t process that much information that quickly. I think he was doing something, like he w-“

“He’s gifted?” Sue interrupted me. 

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d have to ask him. In person.”

Freddie was already shaking his head. “Absolutely not.”

“We negotiate. I’m sure the Cullens will be agreeable,” I said soothingly. “Chaperoned meetings, like in the olden days, for my protection. All above board and very G-rated. Hell, we can even sit here in the parlour. Just talking.”

“It would lower the risk of any sort of violence to get to Alice, it’s on neutral territory, and we have no idea what keeping them apart could do to Alice,” Harry sighed. “An imprint can feel the effect of a strained bond, it can take a toll on their long-term health…”

“It’s not happening!” Freddie threw up his hands. 

“Freddie, you need to listen to us,” Sue said, trying to act as peacekeeper. “I don’t know what a mate bond looks like in vampires or how it’s formed, but what we do know that in the wolves, it will actively hurt Alice to be kept away from him - she will get sick.”

“What if it was Leah? Or Jacob and the blonde vampire?” Freddie snapped back. “Or Isabella or Seth? Would you still be standing here, telling me that this is a-a risk I just have to accept? Even without Lilian…” Freddie put his face in his hands and took a shuddering breath. “Would you?” he glared at Sue.

Sue frowned. “That is a totally different situation, Fred,” she said evenly. “I don’t believe our genetics would allow such a bond to form. But if it were Leah, I would do every single thing I could to protect her from harm - the harm of a vampire and the harm of a broken bond. I would not allow my daughter to suffer in such a way.”

Freddie was shaking his head. “No, no, I don’t believe you. And Alice isn’t your daughter. She’s my niece. She’s staying right here. He can stay on the Cullen property! They’re never seeing each other again.”

“No.”

Everyone swung around to look at me, and I caught a look of myself in the mirror over the console table - I didn’t look like myself at all. My expression was hard and mutinous. My voice was stern and flat. 

“I don’t know what’s going on. I can only work through the visions I’ve had. But you cannot stop Jasper Cullen and I from seeing each other,” I said in that same, flat tone. There was a tight feeling in my chest, and all I could think of was that look of naked hope on Jasper Cullen’s face when I protested his brother’s roughness. His voice telling his alpha or father or whatever that I was his. He was also mine. 

Freddie was looking at me in horror, and even Harry was looking a little worried. 

“Alice…” Charlie sounded pained, and Billy had taken to gulping at coffee that he looked like he wanted to throw on me. 

“Better a chaperoned meeting than him climbing in her bedroom window, or running away with her,” Harry muttered and Freddie choked. 

“I promise that I will obey whatever guidelines I am given,” I said carefully. “I won’t hide any relevant information from the Council, or put anyone in unnecessary danger. I don’t know what this is, but I do know that meeting Jasper Cullen was inevitable. I’ve Seen him before.”

I think Sue chose that moment to remember my vision about the gurney, as she turned grey, then red, and then looked like she needed something stronger than coffee. 

“Do you know what happens if you don’t see him again?” Charlie asked.

“No, I don’t. And I don’t want to,” I said frankly. 

Freddie sat on the couch, looking exhausted.

“Someone’s going to need to make decisions for Alice in the Council,” Sue said finally. “Freddie, you’re our Mediator. You can’t be objective if you’ve got Alice to worry about. None of us can do it. And none of the Cullens can do it. We’re all compromised.”

“Ask Dulcie,” I said and everyone looked at me. “She’s been here for years, I think she deserves to be read-in. She can be my guardian ad litem in the Council, and she’d finally understand some of the weirder stuff that goes on around here. Like the limb-bucket.”

Charlie winced at the reminder of that particular incident. 

Freddie sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “Dulcie’s not a bad choice,” he admitted. 

“Plus, now you’ll have to marry her,” I said cheerfully. “Now, I’m going to bed, so you can finish talking about me without me.” And with that, I headed back upstairs for a hot shower and some sleep. 

#alice cullen #jasper hale #jalice #my fic: anathema #my fic: funeral home #jasper is back at the cullens half-pining and half-giddy being mocked by emmett and scolded by carlisle #he's only been with the cullens a short time and still feels very lonely and now this pretty girl likes him #meanwhile alice has to explain her future soulmate is a serial killer but he'll definitely never hurt her and will take good care of her #sue will be drinking wine tonight

[graveyarddirt]

My preference is to be funny ha-ha, but this situation isn't funny ha-ha and I just can't keep pretending that everything's normal when 2 time zones away I have friends and family who've been directly affected by Russia's invasion of Ukraine, and have consequently been living in a reality for 9 months not shared by the majority of people I know or live amongst.

Last month I decided it was time to take a break from the more social aspects of on-line life, but words have been hard to string together lately, so I'm only really able to say something now. As much as I love organizing, running, and taking part in seasonal & community events (e.g. pumpkinchain, Devil's Night poll, Old Weekends, December's cookie party, etc.) my heart hasn't been in it this year, not when I'm witnessing the suffering of friends and family, and the attempted annihilation of my people's language, culture, and heritage on a daily basis.

This isn't me disappearing into the sunset, though. I'm still around, I'll still be around. I just need to give myself permission to simplify my life to cope with this unfolding reality, and to grant myself some internal space to process past and future events. I know there'll be happier days, but right now I'm holding my breath for all Ukrainians sheltering and defiantly singing in subways, basements, and bomb shelters at this very moment.

Writing about devotional life's kept me sane this past year, so I've decided to continue blogging during my social hiatus. It's going to get pretty quiet here, but I'll be active on my side-blog and Instagram:

✴️ https://www.instagram.com/msgraveyarddirt/ ✴️ https://msgraveyarddirt.tumblr.com/

Love you guys. Take care, and take care of each other. <3

#diary #ukraine

[mega-ringsandthings-world]

Maybe be I’m just projecting but—

From your descriptions, it sounds like Mihawk had some pretty OCD-like symptoms and control issues even before the trauma. I could just be pathologizing here; I'm not a psychiatrist or therapist, but I am someone who suffers from OCD and OCD-like symptoms. His need for perfection in everything he does, almost hypochondriac tendencies, sounds like they get ratcheted up to extremes. Maybe his canon counterpart found ways to mellow out, deal with it in a healthy manner, focus on gardening or how he arranges his castle, or keep himself concentrated on busywork.

But this version of Mihawk sounds like he's always three steps away from rubbing the skin off his hands from a bad texture. I wonder if the Mihawk, like many trauma survivors, the world is both hypersensitive and muted to him? Like his need for control and constant use of Observation Haki is to the point that the world feels too bright and too uncontrollable but also muted emotionally, like he's not really feeling it? Like a dissidence between him and reality and being able to control his environment helps with the issue.

I wonder if he's experiencing constant sensory overload but can't stop himself from this form of self-harm, fearing that the moment he turns off Observation Haki is the moment something bad happens. And if he sees Shanks as a piece of himself, something sewn skin to skin, does he fret and control Shanks too? Like fixing his hair a certain way, wiping his mouth of crumbs, cleaning his hands and face after a battle, choosing his outfits, and does it get to the point where it goes from harmless fretting into something suffocating?

I can see Shanks soaking it up at first, someone taking care of him, loving him, looking out for him. It probably feels normal, natural, and from what we've talked about, it seems one of his coping mechanisms is just shutting down, going quiet and still, and disappearing for a while. Having someone to take care of you while you're basically incapacitated must be helpful. But maybe sometimes it feels like Shanks doesn't own his own skin, and being taken care of feels less like care and more like control. He'll remember being dolled up, forced to wear makeup and clothes, to smile and lie and continue on until his voice bled, and not even the softness of callus free hand feels like his own.— and he'll get into these screaming matches with Mihawk over buttons or the food that they're eating, insisting that he's not a kid anymore, that he can take care of himself.

And Mihawk, angry from Shanks' anger, wound up from the feeling of everything and everyone mixed with his PTSD, will bite back just as mean. That he couldn't take care of himself yesterday, and if he was going to spit on Mihawk giving a damn, he could at least say it out loud!

They’ll be angry, so vicious, and needling, and cruel. Maybe their projecting maybe their both confused and in pain and don’t know how to say “I love you but being around you makes me want to claw my own skin off sometimes but being with out you is death and I don’t know which is worse?”

In the beginning the same way he wears high collars and a full jacket and hat does Mihawk also wear gloves or keep his hands covered in armament? To A. Not touch anything and B. Deal with sensory input? Did Shanks walk around completely ass naked after a fight just to prove a point that the won’t wear any of the clothes Mihawk picked out for him?

Do they have meltdowns? Where Mihawk can't stand the heat or his clothes or anything touching him, even the air he breathes feels like poison. Does he get angry, does he spiral? Does he use his observation haki to purposefully attack people where he knows it will hurt the most, by feeling out their emotions and their thoughts, cruel, cruel so very cruel. I know Shanks shuts down, but what about when he has a melt down, is it even more catastrophic with his uncontrollable Conqueror's Haki mixed in? Like an oppressive weight of anger, pain, sorrow so deep and wide it could swallow the world.

Just these two feel like their going to eat each other alive with there trauma and unhealthy coping mechanisms. I’m just holding on to the fact that you say they get some healing in the end.

He did/does. Partly he's just innately a perfectionist, but yes, it always seemed to me like Mihawk would have some control issues/tendencies like the ones you've mentioned. Pre-Loguetown AU Mihawk doesn't struggle with them severely, because up until Loguetown, he's always had control over himself and his surroundings/environment, and working alone contributes greatly to keeping down any negative stimuli/things he can't immediately control or has to overtly work to control. This goes the same for canon Mihawk. He's in a steady situation, except when he himself chooses. Any anything he comes across, he quickly controls. Loguteotwn is going to exacerbate his issues a thousandfold. Where they were once mild, now they decidedly aren't. Wrong texture, wrong sound, suspect atmosphere? It'd be agony. He used observation Haki almost passively before, but in Loguetown observation haki is what he relied on to give himself a desperate last silver of control; the ability to sense the horrors coming before they did. That way he was at least prepared. So when he gets out, a survivors' hyper-vigilance is conflated with the superhuman nature of the observation Haki. Hell, it's like a fucking drug. And the effects would be the same as a drug, both dulling and enhancing. He gets the input of the Haki, which gets him jittery and raw with the sheer sensations he's processing in bulk. But when the first rush of that dulls, and if there is no true danger, he goes numb from the over-stimulation. Wash rinse and repeat, until he's throwing up with it. And he wouldn't stop. So yeah. Hm. I don't think Mihawk would be deliberately controlling, at least not of personal effects, because the very notion of controlling Shanks or forcing him into something he is not comfortable with would utterly repulse him, given what him and Shanks went through. However, he'd try to control Shanks' physical circumstances. Anything that involves Shanks or concerns him, things he's doing, places he's going, plans he's making, he'd have a hand and an eye in. Which brings it's own type of problems, when Shanks wants something done one way and Mihawk thinks it the best for Shanks' safety that it's done this way, and neither budge, since despite how deeply they are hooked in eaach other, they are still separate people. And when Mihawk does try to control Shanks' in a more personal way, (because it does happen, just unwittingly) it's because Mihawk has got shoved back so deep in the past that he's reverting to his nineteen year-old-self, where the only type of control he had was telling Shanks to brush his hair or blow his nose properly. Shanks experiencing that type of control from Mihawk is near horrifying, because of how much it mimics the actions of their former captors. Because Mihawk is never forcefully controlling of Shanks, unless during episodes like this. So he'd distance himself from Mihawk, which makes Mihawk think of the times they'd part Shanks from him, and he'd react even more strongly, and both go deeper down the rabbit hole until the cycle manages to break. (Shanks indulges Mihawk's natural fussing until times like these, when he recoils from it instead) On the flip side, Shanks would rally against Mihawk's standards, he'd think Mihawk was being too severe or being too rigid, trying too hard or working himself too hard, telling Mihawk to come out of his shell, that things do not always have to be perfect, have to be foolproof, screaming at him that apparently doesn't Mihawk trust him to do/choose anything, and why does he act this way? Why do things have to be so so so perfect? Fighting with Mihawk over the little things Mihawk has control over/makes decisions about, like yes, clothes and food and the color of something, Mihawk's suggestions and opinions over clothes and music and books ( and if Luffy is there, they fight over him.) needs pt.2

[hopefull-mindset]

Nagito is definitely more complex than some people give him credit for. He's also pretty tragic when you think about it.

Like he's been through horrible things, to the point that it's almost too outlandish to take seriously (which is something that bothers me but that's beside the point), and has become desensitized to tragedy. He has no control over his own life or even his own mind and body considering his medical conditions. And deep down all he wants is a normal life without his luck, but he can't have it, so he latches on to this hierarchical ideal of hope and talent as a way to cope with it.

And he is selfless in the sense that he doesn't value his own life and will readily sacrifice himself for his perceived greater good, but he still has his own agenda.

He's not really a good person but he's not really a bad person either, he's just fucked up.

Also I can't help but wonder if his obsession with hope overcoming despair is a projection. That it's him secretly/subconsciously hoping (heh) that his own life could improve, even if he doesn't think he deserves it.

Anyways sorry for rambling he drives me insane (affectionate).

No, it’s okay. I can see you want to start a conversation so I’ll give you a conversation to build off your points! Your speech pattern reminds me too much of my own, so it feels like I’m talking to myself LOL. A good rambling is always never not welcome, whenever I do it’s too organized to call a ramble though.

With the outlandishness of what Komaeda has experienced, it’s always topped off with his own casual speech pattern. It’s pretty hard to take seriously when Komaeda is speaking about it like he’s talking about the weather. His desensitization to what he had gotten used to as daily life has created this depressing yet self-centered view of living.

Now, self-centered? I know what you’re thinking, “but Komaeda’s view of the world is incredibly giving” and “Komaeda’s self worth would never let himself be the center”, and yeah that hasn’t changed, but take two steps back from being in Komaeda’s mindscape and you’re able to view the fact that a lot of what Komaeda uses to process the world is based in his own experiences. Everyone knows that it’s a coping mechanism, but what does that entail in reality? I can tell you.

Komaeda has experienced more misfortune than the average human being should ever be exposed to, so he’s chosen to cling onto this idea that everyone else also operates on hope and despair the same way his luck has put him through his entire life. He’s chosen the ultimates to be apart of these views because the talented are considered to be the pinnacle of human life in society’s collective, something unattainable unless you were born with it and the utter hope of a society’s future, so it makes it easier for Komaeda to justify what’s happened to him by making sure they stay up on that metaphorical pedestal, and that keeps him down there. His beliefs are distorted because they don’t align with how reality actually works; It’s why he treats them like he does because his belief in them is based in shallow, exaggerated societal expectations, so he’s going to treat them as nothing more than their talent.

This is exactly what I meant by self-centered. This type of belief does not consider anyone else as individuals with feelings or wants, and purely for his own religious-like faith in that this is what is going to save him and if not, he would gladly be the martyr to its cause. It’s either going to save him or destroy him, and what we’ve seen, has only destroyed him. Like you said, this doesn’t make Komaeda a good person, but it doesn’t make him a bad one.

If Komaeda does not have confidence in his luck, then all of that will crumble. So if any of you were boggled by his relationship with his luck, there you go. He doesn’t think it deserves to be a talent among the ones he idolizes, but he believes in it because it’s what he’s known all his life.

Like I said, this will and has destroyed him. In UDG and Chapter 0 of sdr2, it’s gotten to a point where he’s visibly confused himself while still in full confidence of an even more warped idealistic system, and seeing hope for himself (reminder that the entirety of first game was on TV) wasn’t enough, he wanted to direct it happening himself and see it up close with Komaru, a normal girl, to cause even more hope.

Even though I have personal problems with the anime as a whole (yes, even the OVA), as the OVA has mentioned, what would really make him happy and help him is a normal life, not some grand thing like absolute hope. However, he doesn’t see any worth in that because his life has always been not normal and there’s no great Hope waiting for him if it does become normal. It’s never going to happen either so it’s no fun entertaining the impossible for him, even as optimistic as he goes on to be about terrible situations.

Ugh, too many words. Too much to say. This is not the time to talk about this, but Komaeda what happened to your perception of your own bodily autonomy?

Besides the fact my head hurts having to put that into words, I agree with your points and I hope I covered everything? I always accidentally do that when I’m trying to talk about one thing at a time.

#danganronpa #sdr2 #nagito komaeda #komaeda nagito #guys I don’t like having thoughts #it’s too hard #sdr2 analysis #sdr2 meta #I wasn’t really planning on going this hard with analyzing his behavior but oh well ^.^” #is it too late to ask you guys to read No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai- *GUNSHOT* #SIGHH is it also too late to talk about the ironies with Izuru and Hajime and their dynamic with Komaeda in depth? #guys I think I’m going blind in my left ear and taste in my right

[multiplicity-positivity]

Hey, We were wondering if you have anything on coping with exomemories without the internet?

We have a few methods to stop our headmate from crying (character AI of sourcemates, fanfics, music, playing games) but we don’t always have the ability to go online and I’m afraid of if he panics without anything to help.

Hi! We’d say that a great way to cope with scary, difficult, or traumatic exomemories would be treating them similarly to scary, difficult, or traumatic real memories. Your emotional responses are probably the same for both real memories and exomemories, so treating them similarly might allow you and your headmates to effectively process and move on!

As far as not using the internet to achieve this… you might be able to find some books on trauma recovery at your local library. Depending on the content of the exomemories, you might even be able to find a book specialized to help folks deal with specific situations!

Y’all might also like to work on building skills like emotional regulation and distress tolerance, which may help calm your headmates down when they’re feeling overwhelmed. We’ve written about one such technique here before - you can check out our REST post below!

This skill ^ we learned both in therapy and in our DBT skills workbook. For ANYONE with emotional struggles, whether traumatized or not, honestly we do feel like the DBT skills workbook could be very beneficial. You can purchase a copy for around $15USD on Amazon!

Some of the fictives in our system have been able to process and understand exomemories through discussing them in therapy. If you have a nonjudgemental therapist who your system knows well and trusts, perhaps you can try bringing up these exomemories in a session.

For our system, using things like Character AIs or reading fanfics may tend to plant or center our fictives in their sources and exomemories - which ultimately causes them more longing and heartache and, while it may bring momentary relief, it usually makes their situation much more painful. So for our own system, we try to avoid stuff like that. Y’all may want to consider doing the same, but we know that every system is different!

Finally, we’d like to include some links to resources on grounding. In times when we’re overwhelmed by our past, feel stuck in a trauma memory, or are having a flashback, grounding has been incredibly useful to connect us back to reality and pull us out of our negative thoughts or memories. Maybe it will help y’all? You can memorize a few grounding techniques so that your system can do this even without internet access.

We’ve found that grounding techniques which encourage us to interact with something in the real, physical world help us the most! But every system is different, so experiment with different ways of grounding yourself to find out what works best for y’all.

Good luck with this! We really are wishing y’all the best - we know dealing with painful or unwanted memories, exomemories included, can be quite a challenge.

🌸 Margo, 🖋 Cecil, and 💫 Parker

#exomemories #trauma #grounding #emotional regulation #distress tolerance #long post

[flaylore]

[TRANSCRIPT] CANIS MINOR

2:09 [ the screen starts off red with ominous music, a white silhouette fades in and the screen cuts to black]

2:48 [ the screen fades back in and we’re on a train, the black silhouette( X or 🔋) is now talking but it’s not known what he’s actually saying, it sounds like beeping ]

🔋: ・・・・・

3:44 [ live text appears then on the screen, also being temporarily obscured before it becomes clear, his speech is still unclear at this moment ] 4:29 🔋: “WELL THIS ADVICE FOR NOW, CAN YOU UNDERSTAND? HOW INTERESTING. THIS IS THE LAST THING THAT I’VE EXPECTED. I’VE BEEN HERE FOREVER. TELL ME, WHO ARE ALL OF YOU? YOU STILL CAN’T UNDERSTAND CAN YOU? MAKES SENSE. AFTER ALL, YOU CAN ONLY ASSUME THAT THIS WORLD IS DIGITAL. THAT MAKES IT ALL THE MUCH BETTER. AM I NOT RIGHT? HAHAHA. HAHAHA. WELL, CONSIDERING THAT YOU’RE HERE. CLOSE THE TREE HAS MADE A CONNECTION. DON’T YOU FIND THAT AMUSING? HERE, MAYBE THIS WILL BE A BIT SMOOTHER.”

6:29 [ the glitching effects lessen and his voice becomes clear ]

🔋: “Can you hear me now? Good. I don’t get often get visitors here, not one bit. So pray tell me, why are all of you here? Hah, this place? I suppose you could say it’s a sea of souls essentially, you all are aware of Elysium are you not? So, do you think Elysium is that different from your own world? It’s not. So then that begs the question, if our world is fake and your world is real what actually is the truth? What is a lie? Are you able to answer that for me? You’re not. Then let me ask you this, do you choose reality or a falsehood, or rather a truth or a lie? [ bold text flashes on screen: Truth Or Lie? ] You can’t. Fools, then allow me to explain this for you. In the end you choose a world that is one that you call reality, am I not correct? One where you can grow, but why do you choose this world? To make yourself feel better? Hmph, perhaps even a sense of entitlement? Why do you choose reality? You can come up with any reason regardless, because you’re told to. Everyone tells you to, am I not right?

9:24 You don’t actually think for yourself and neither do I but that’s the thing about life, all of us, all of our memories. If they’re accumulated experiences then doesn’t that make us who we are? Then, if you don’t have your memory then does it really matter? Who are you? You can cope with humor, you can cope by deflecting… regardless the question has been poised onto you.”

9:51 💬 Who are you?

10:06 🔋: “Who am I? Good question. My name is- [ his voice goes glitchy again but you can still tell what he’s saying, it sounds like an audio recording ] Did you know, my name is X, and he’s very cool. Can you understand me now? If you somehow hear this, kiss my ass. [ voice goes back to normal ] Did you catch that? If you couldn’t then you have yet to understand the truth, but to the previous question, tell me.. do you believe you know what’s right? Some of you may believe you know everything and the others are willing to immediately dash their own efforts, to not trust yourselves. I’m asking you a question, do you trust your own gut or not?”

11:11 💬 I don’t. / No, not really.

🔋 “You don’t? No, not really? Haha, how honest of you. But does that make you feel better about yourself? If you disagree, does that make you feel better? How self righteous. But don’t worry! I’m the same way, all humans are the same.. although, considering this state of affairs I guess I’m not too human now am I. Your intuition will fail you, you may fail yourself. [ the black bar obscuring his eyes is removed at this part, his eyes are shown swirling before returning to normal ] With that said, you don’t have much time here, you’re not supposed to be here. So, let’s make a quick discussion, what are your questions? Ask.”

12:19 💬 What are you?

🔋: “What am I? I guess you could say I’m something of an Observer, hah, not a role I wanted initially. I keep observing and observing until I get what I want. Aren’t you the same?

12:43 All humans in a way are drunk on something, ‘if I just get that then this will happen, if I just do this then I can get this.’ The same falsehoods you use to lie to yourself.”

12:59 💬 Are you warning or helping us?

🔋: “Warning or helping you? I’m using you to buy time. It’s nice, I don’t normally get visitors here.”

13:12 💬 What about Flayon?

🔋: “Hmm, Flayon? That name’s familiar, allow me to tell you a story. Are you ready? There once was a young man who took a different route, upon offered the role at the guild instead he chose not to join. In such a world there is no such thing as a Machina X Flayon, nothing at all. In fact, there are many worlds like this, for you and me. However, for some reason they’ve all been vanishing.. one by one. Do you comprehend? You don’t, do you. You don’t have much time here anyway, but this young man who rejected the offer, stifled by feelings of jealousy, pride and many other things that chewed upon his soul. He decided, why receive love there if he can receive love elsewhere? And so, he joined a church, amassing a large following. This of course is an obstacle to the guild, hah. But don’t worry, this world I speak of is not here yet, not here, not yet. But it is quite interesting, don’t you agree?”

15:38 💬 A church?

🔋: “A church? Are you telling me in your world it hasn’t been established? In the world that I’m talking of, Tempus does not exist. There is only that young man and a few others. Although, the clock ticks.. on and on, it’ll be here soon, when you least forget about it, when you least expect it, are you prepared?”

16:25 💬 How are you aware of these worlds?

🔋: “How am I aware of these different worlds? Didn’t I tell you, I’m like an observer. Why would I tell you everything anyway? To be frank, that’s none of your business. Understood? Now shut your mouth, thank you. Any more questions before I send you off?”

16:53 💬 What about data corruption?

🔋: “Data corruption? Ahh, yes. Actually, if you were to speak of that maybe that’s a familiar term that you might understand.. I am corrupted, maybe I always have been.”

17:15 💬 Is this your home?

🔋: “You could call this my home, you could. I don't want to be anywhere else.. but don’t worry, I will be making multiple stops. There are some errands I want to attend to, understood?”

17:41 💬 Who are you?

🔋: [ his voice distorts again like last time, text is on screen: YOUR INTUITION ] “Who am I? I thought I already told you my name, do you not understand? Hello? [ distortion ends ] I guess it’s up to you then to figure it out.”

17:56 💬 Who are we picking up?

🔋: “Who are we picking up? Do you still not understand what all of you are? Hm. Then allow me to throw you a bone, the word you know as Elysium, the world, is not too different from your own. Perhaps you’re already there, perhaps the world you live in is the fake one. How do you know that you’re the same you as you wake up every day? Different experiences, different lives. You have no way of knowing, you may cope as I said before via humor or perhaps even ignoring the issue.. in the end, the world will consume you, the tree will. [ a ticking sound effect plays ] Do you hear that? Time is running out.”

19:19 💬 How do you fix the world?

🔋: “How do you fix the world? Easy, you destroy the source of corruption. You’ve called for his name.. but, if you could sacrifice one life to save everyone, would you? You already know who the corruption is, take out the source and everything goes anyway.. understood? I don’t have to explain it to you do I? To spell it out? Think. Who in this world does not fit, hm. Strange, isn’t it? That someone would show up with a giant robot.. does that sound like it fits within Elysium? But, this is just a tip for now. One day I’ll need all of your help, understood? If we take out the corruption, everything will be fine. Don’t worry though, a version of him will still exist, you’re just helping me.. clean up.”

21:10 💬 You can’t. / Leave him alone.

🔋: “You can’t. Leave him alone. It’s too late for that, he’s already taken everything from me. Why does he get to have what I can’t?”

21:34 💬 Why should we trust you?

🔋: “Why should we trust you? We’re kindred spirits you and I, all of you! You’re going to help me, you already have been.”

21:57 💬 What’s your problem?

🔋: “My ‘problem’? [ his eyes swirl again ] Hahahah! That’s a good question, everything about him.. is my problem. So, bide your time, all of you can bide your time. The corruption is present within all of you too you know, you’re also not safe. None of you are. But it’s okay. Once it hits, consider it like this, if you’re in a picture book you won’t be there anymore.. but, that’s all the time I can give you. You can leave now.”

23:12 💬 What about you both get along together?

🔋: “What about you both get along together? Oh, don’t worry. We’re going to get along really well.. really well. I mean, do you really care? Some of you talk like this but he’s already been replaced once and yet you couldn’t tell the difference. Hah, So, what does that mean about your bonds? Perhaps you should join those who don’t care, those who are apathetic. You’re no different.. We’ll meet here once again. There’s at least 7 of them left, understand? And when that connection gets brighter the corruption will spread, just make sure you can get back to your own world okay?”

24:28 💬 What about the tree?

🔋: “About the tree? I’ll give you a little hint. The tree itself has been corrupted, that which wasn’t supposed to exist.. keep watch okay? This is all the time I can give you now. Yes, the ‘World Tree’. Don’t worry, some of you may remember this, some of you may not.. but, I’ll know that my goal is the same as yours now, right? Hahaha.. hahahahaha! Hah! [ his blush toggle is turned on, then his eyes swirl again ] ..I got a bit too excited. Don’t worry though, just don’t stand in my way. Let me get what I want, it’s supposed to be my life anyways. Hahahaha!”

26:10 [ the screen fades to black and the video ends ]

#holotempus #holostars #machina x flayon #flaylore #transcription #2023

[eisforeidolon]

So, so many things I want to address in your excellent response to my first Ask - and they don’t give you enough room in the Comments, at least not for a single on - so here I am again. I think you and I are mostly on the same page regarding Sam’s reasons for staying in hunting. You could see Sam’s conflict over sometimes wanting a normal life as being an example of his codependency - while he sometimes wants that, what he wants MOST of all is to be joined at the hip to Dean all the time. His occasional desire for ‘normal’ is overridden by his much greater desire to be with his big brother. As you point out when mentioning Sam’s issues with John - we can even question if Sam even did really and truly *ever* want a normal life in any way, and whether it’s just something he *thought* he wanted, but deep down didn’t? Similar to how Dean thought he wanted (or partially wanted) a safe family life with a partner and offspring, but realises he doesn’t want or enjoy the reality of it that much. There are a number of things about the way Sam was written in Season 8 that are weird and inconsistent, and just plain out of character to me. Up to that point, I can’t remember Sam ever expressing a hope to have a normal life again since late Season 1 (and possibly Season 2.) Any wishes he had for a normal life had - as far as the canon/textual evidence goes - long disappeared by that point. The only reason he tried to get a regular job in early Season Five was because he didn’t trust himself to be able to hunt - not because he actively *wanted* to stop hunting. He was doing it for pragmatic reasons only. So in early Season 8, Sam suddenly talking to Dean about wanting to give up hunting after they find Kevin felt really forced and out of nowhere and just didn’t seem genuine. It could be argued that after Sam got a taste of normal life again with Amelia, that it reignited this long-dead hope/wish, which would make some sense, but if so, I don’t think the writers did a very good job of showing that, overall. I think Dean was hitting the nail on the head when, in Season 8, Episode 3, he replies to Sam saying he’d like to get out of hunting, and Dean says - “I think that’s only how you feel now.” You could say that’s only what Dean *hopes* to be true, but I do think he’s mostly right - that after a year free of the stresses and responsibilities of hunting, there’s this shaky period of readjustment for Sam where he’s getting used to the life and it seems to him like he wants out - but as time goes on and he’s settled back into it, that wish to have a normal life goes away. Partly because, despite all the danger and horror and stress, he does genuinely enjoy it. And also because his main and biggest desire is to be with Dean (because of Sam’s codependency) and so he gets his greatest desire/need fulfilled, anyway. I also wonder if a large part (perhaps by far the main part) of Sam expressing his supposed wish to get away from hunting in Season 8 is due to him psychologically and emotionally not being able to handle Dean’s anger and disappointment in him for giving up. Although things don’t come to a head between them over this until a few episodes in, Sam is aware from, like, five minutes into the first episode that he let Dean down (albeit unintentionally.) Although Dean mostly keep his hurt and bitterness under wraps until Episode 6, I’m sure Sam is aware from the beginning that Dean *is* hurt and angry and disappointed in him. And I really think that Sam just can’t cope with that. I think a strong case could be made that, once Dean returns in Season 8, Sam doesn’t really want to reconstruct a normal life - what he’s trying to do is run and hide from Dean’s disappointment (and his own feelings of guilt.)

Yeah, I see a very large part of the times Sam and Dean have wished for normal to be a kind of 'grass is greener' escapist fantasy? Like, when Dean was picturing a family life with Lisa & Ben? It was when they were eyeballs deep in trying to avert the literal apocalypse. So I don't see it as being about genuinely wanting out of his life hunting with Sam, but more being crushed under the weight of the entire world's fate on his shoulders. With Sam, I think it's not just issues with John and control that sent him away to Stanford, but also his admission about feeling like a freak even before he knew about the demon blood. He put that off on their life, but he admits he still felt like a freak even at Stanford, when he was doing his absolute best to live up to that "normal life" fantasy. It's very easy to imagine that something will be satisfying than what you have now, but that doesn't mean the reality is going to live up to what you picture.

I think that kind of fantasy also plays a part in why he keeps talking up going back to Amelia, even after he was the one who walked away from her. I could definitely see the reason he falls back on needing that idealized fantasy of what their relationship actually was as being trouble coping with Dean's anger and disappointment and his own guilt and fears of making further regrettable choices. I think you could even incorporate the whole idea of Sam having gotten a taste of normal into that? What he comes back to in season 8 is not just typical MotW hunts - but things that are both more personal and more overwhelming. Facing Kevin who he gave up on trying to save from Crowley, and Crowley still being hot after prophets and the God tablets which could potentially cause all kinds of mayhem. Even worse? Having to deal with that without the underlying foundation of a stable relationship with Dean. Who is not just angry at him, but also twitchy, restlessly wanting to jump immediately back in with both feet, and has clearly changed in some unexpected ways giving he's suddenly buddies with a vampire (and Sam starts freaking out about Dean having a hunting buddy he doesn't know before he even hears the vampire part). It's a lot. It's not the first or last time they aren't on the same page, but after a year of being out thinking Dean was safe in heaven rather than the perpetual monster combat afterlife? I can see why fantasizing about something easier than fixing the rift between them could appeal - but when it comes to making a real choice? Yeah, again Sam chooses Dean.

#askboxery #spn discussion

[jinxed-ninjago]

Okay, headcanon/theory/analysis regarding Jay’s mental breakdowns/insanity instances.

The reason the two times Jay has gone insane are so different isn’t necessarily because of the differences in trigger, at least not exclusively or even mostly. It’s because of his environment.

In Hunted he was around Kai, Cole, Wu, and Zane, so it kept him at least somewhat grounded in reality. He had others there to keep him tethered. He hadn’t exactly lost his grip on reality, but the idea that they’d never make it home made him basically go insane to cope with it (which is mentioned by Zane in I think like episode 2 of season 9?). Not once in Hunted does he seem like he went into psychosis. He’d just gone into a state of extreme relaxation that was abnormal for his personality.

In Crystalized, he didn’t have anyone or anything around to keep him grounded in reality, so when he went insane in Crystalized, it also induced a sort of psychosis/detachment from reality (which is something Kai brings up in Farewell the Sea).

I also feel like the emotional triggers might’ve had something to do with it. In Hunted Jay was most likely dealing with extreme anxiety related to the idea of never getting out of the First Realm and getting back to Ninjago, so he went insane to keep himself calm. In Crystalized Jay had been dealing with extreme depression and a traumatic loss, so to deal with the loss — and by extension, the depression — he ended up basically delusional and detached from reality to cope with it.

So here are a few key differences.

In Hunted:

Jay is incredibly calm to the point of freaking Kai out.

He also hasn’t exactly lost his grip on reality — he himself says “I’ve been feeling so much better since I accepted our situation!” which would imply he knows how dire their situation is and he’s not having delusions about it being better than it actually is (which would most likely be the delusions in the context of Hunted). He’s not delusional, he’s not detached from reality — he just went into an extreme state of being calm about the situation that is incredibly out of character.

There’s never once an implication that he’s delusional or detached from reality either. He’s the most anxiety riddled ninja in the group, so of course he’s going to doubt being able to get back to Ninjago. He knows they’re in a dangerous place — he’s 100% ready to die in the Pit fighting Slab, literally telling Kai “If I’m going out, I’m going out with bells on!”

Jay knows what he’s doing the entire time. He knows what’s going on. His insanity manifests in an extremely calm state that isn’t normal for him, not delusions or losing his grip on reality.

Jay doesn’t slowly come out of his insanity. He comes out of it instantaneously because he realizes he almost got himself killed.

In Crystalized:

Jay’s insanity does manifest in a detachment from reality and delusions, both shown in him keeping tap water around the lighthouse because he thinks he’s keeping part of Nya around with him.

Jay literally fights Kai because of the previous point.

Kai says “I think the cheese slid off Jay’s cracker” and he and Cole are quite confused and concerned by his behavior and appearance (Zane’s just there. He didn’t have his emotion meter on I don’t think he was capable of being confused or concerned).

When Jay returns to the monastery with Kai, Cole, and Zane, his insanity — while the psychosis is still there — calms down slightly, something I attribute to having others around to ground him and bring him back to reality, even if just slightly. Yes, Jay is still psychotic when he gets back to the monastery. But it’s definitely not as intense as it was at the lighthouse.

He comes out of the psychosis slower than he came out of the insanity he was experiencing in Hunted.

That’s the other huge difference: Jay never experienced psychosis in Hunted. He was psychotic for the first few episodes of Crystalized.

Both are different responses to different forms of trauma and I feel like the main reason Jay went into full on psychosis in Crystalized is because nobody was around to help him stay grounded in reality, so his tether to reality eventually snapped and he ended up detached from it. Being around Kai, Cole, Zane, Pixal, and Wu most likely helped him regain a bit of that tether, and he only regained all of it once he found out Nya could be saved.

So basically the main differences between Jay’s insanity in Hunted and Crystalized is in Hunted he never actually lost his grip on reality, he just was coping with the situation in a quite out of character way because he was most likely absolutely terrified with their situation, whereas in Crystalized he ended up in a psychotic state of mind (delusional and detached from reality) and emotionally unstable because of grief and depression, and possibly isolating himself and forcing himself to deal with it on his own.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #ninjago jay #jay walker #ninjago hunted #ninjago crystalized #ninjago crystalized spoilers #ninjago season 15 spoilers #character analysis #tw psychosis

[writingcold]

Neapolitan: A Continuance Part 4

Neapolitan: A Continuance

Part Four

A/N:  Shit is hitting the fan.  I’m going to say that this was really hard to write.  Violet, as a character, has been through the mill, and it hurt to return her to a point where there was a lot of pain for her.  There is not a lot of fluff and no smut in this one.  This scene did not call for either.  It would have diminished the story.  That does not mean there are little glimpses, but nothing like the first three parts - so prepare please.

Content Warning: Mentions of sex, alcohol consumption, poor coping skills, physical abuse with massive trauma.  

     Violet felt a stillness drift over her.  The silence of the hotel fed into it.  The empty spot beside her made her feel like she was about to enter a chasm that she may not return from.  Her fingers searched for Jake across the supple sheets and fuzzy blankets of the enormous bed but came up empty.  There was a voice, distant, familiar, that sent shivers through her and threatened to bruise.  Perhaps draw blood.

     Her body felt like stone as she fought to move through whatever the haze was that had become a prison.  The voice, male in presence, was gaining traction.  It moved closer like a snake through the field towards its prey.  Her skin felt cool while her breath was heated.  Inexplicably, she felt fear.  Fear that she had not felt in years.  It tore at her flesh and brain and heart.  

      Freak.  It hit her like a hammer against the inside of her skull.  Each letter spelled out in madness that she never could figure out, looping around her like a lasso and never truly releasing her.  Freak.  The smash of glass.  Freak.  The slap with intent to harm.  Freak.  The closed fist to the ribs.  Freak.  Her back crashing into the door jam.  Freak.  The icy floor beneath her cheek.  Freak.  The dispassionate eye of the nurse as she explained she had fallen on the ice, and the woman believing her since she was in the same profession.  Freak.  The smugness of the man who acted like he was concerned about her drinking, casting blame for the destruction of her body…

      The darkness of the hotel room greeted her when she opened her eyes.  Jake leaned over her, eyes full of concern as he brushed tears from her eyes.  Embarrassment tinged her cheeks and he bent to kiss it away.  He pulled her close, cooing and soothing, smoothing her hair and holding tight.  Violet took in a breath, shaky at first, becoming strong as she brushed past the dream.  She allowed trust to flow through her skin.  Something that her therapist had suggested to return to normal state and had actually worked.  She started to mentally state each thing she trusted in that exact moment, drawing her back from the edge and into her reality.

      Jake was already back to sleep, his fingers at rest against her.  Savannah had been beautiful.  They had chased each other up and down the nearly deserted beach on Tybee Island.  They did the bar crawl and walked in silence through the cemeteries, hand in hand looking at the dates on the headstones.  They ate amazing food.  They talked and smoked and drank for hours on the balcony of their beautiful room.  Violet felt lost in the way he opened himself to her, never once complaining about any question she posed, no matter how sappy, no matter how stupid.  His smile would be slow and his voice honest.

     To have him like that for five days, undiluted, unfiltered, had been healing.  Healing mostly for her, but she could see it in his eyes, as well.  They had missed so much of the dumb stuff that normal people get to experience when first falling in love.  To be able to do so at that point was food for both of their hearts.  They took the time to honestly talk about what they wanted, from each other and for each other.  Violet ached over the level of trust she could place in that man.  It scared her at times.  She could never picture herself with anyone beyond encounters.  Sometimes, she could see friends fine in the long distance, but with a partner was difficult at best.  With Tim, her sight of the future was always framed in the shortest of terms.  Jake was different.  She could see her skin getting older as his hand took hers.  She could see the crinkles deepening at the corners of his eyes.  She could feel their souls dancing together as they laughed over achy knees and stiff fingers, pot bellies and saggy… parts.  He admitted that there had been no one to make him actually understand about taking care of himself first so as to better care for them.  It made her heart sad that he had found her after being so broken.

     Violet placed a kiss against his chest before she roused.  Their flight left at noon to head all the way over to L.A.  The band had a charity event that they had been a part of for years and Jake thought perhaps the smaller venue would be a good ice breaker for her to see a show.  It would be the only event that he had to be for the entirety of December.  Their plans for the holidays were going to be busy, but they would survive it together.  

     She ordered up a pot of coffee and some breakfast before flipping open the bags.  Violet listened to him sleep while she started to fold and pack both of their items.  She was sure he would give her a look, preferring to just throw everything in and go, she took the time to sort and fold.  The smell of him wafted through her nose as she set his coat to the side.  The soft rap on the door brought her out of her focus and moved quickly towards the caffeine that awaited at her door.  

     Pouring out two cups, she peaked back inside the bedroom finding him sitting up against the headboard, the phone’s faint glow on his face.  He smiled at her as she moved towards him.  

     “You didn’t have to do that,”  he rasped, reaching for the outheld cup.

     “Bags are nearly packed, too,”  she sighed as she crawled on her knees into the bed next to him.

      “It was a bad one this morning,”  he whispered.  “You good?”

      She nodded before sipping at her coffee.  He rarely commented on her nightmares. It meant that this one was hard for him to draw her back to him.  They sipped their coffee, talking over the plan for the day: airport, stop in Chicago, and to L.A. about the same time as Josh.  Jess and Sam would be arriving the following day while Danny was already there, relaxing with beers and golf with friends.  The show wouldn’t be for a few days, but there were public events that they needed to attend for the charity.   Jess had already scheduled a spa day for the two of them to fill time, not to mention the shopping.

     “I can’t believe you’ve not been to a show of any kind in ten years.  How is that even possible?”  Jess had asked as they sat side by side in fluffy robes, getting spoiled with a lavish mani/pedi.  

     “In Madison, my schedule was not exactly conducive to concerts, let alone movies, plays.  Hell, I don’t think I did anything but work and sleep for months on end,”  Violet had admitted with a frown.  “And, watching movies on spotty internet?  Yeah, pass.”

     “Well, be prepared.  You’re in for a treat… visually.”  Jess blushed as she bumped her shoulder into Violet.

     She raised an eyebrow.  “Not sure what you’re talking about.  I’ve seen the live footage-”

     “Oh, no, honey.  It’s different in person.”  She pointed at a soft gray polish before smiling back at Violet.  “Trust me.  You’re about to see your man turn into a sex god and hand it out to fans.  It’s something to see.”

     A wall of sound enveloped her.  Violet could not help but put her arms in the air and scream into the flashes of light.  She could hear Jess beside her laughing, caught up in her own excitement.  The concert hall was smaller, according to Jake, holding only about six thousand, but it sounded like more than that were packed into every niche and crack of the space.  Sam had been upset that his wife would choose to be over on Jake’s side of the stage, but she ferociously defended Vi’s need to see her man at least once on his side.  Violet didn't quite get it until that moment, when the lights came up and the guys emerged from the dark wailing and weaving their tapestry of music. 

     She watched as Jake played, strutting around that stage and feeding into the screams and pleas for more.  Violet could not help the flutter, not of jealousy, but of pride.  That was her man.  Her man was literally making those fans beg for him and his attention.  She was able to identify pieces that she had heard the boys working during the summer she had met them.  

     Josh pointed in their direction just as the house lights cut out, leaving a murky dark.  Slowly, like fireflies, people held up phones.  A spotlight just on Jake, sitting on a stool made her heart break.  He had his eyes cast on his acoustic, a pick hanging on his lip to a barrage of “JAAAAAKE” and “DO IT JAKE!”.  He glanced around, his eyes landing on their general area.  For the briefest of moments she felt like she was the only one in the venue.  

     He began to play and Violet closed her eyes.  She immediately knew the notes, she had heard them so often when he would be practicing while they talked on the phone or during their video chats.  There was talk around them that caught her ears.  ‘New?’ and ‘Shit is that something new?’ made her look around.  She wanted to yell out that it most certainly wasn’t new, that she had been hearing it for over a year.  Josh had called it ruminations.  Violet had figured it was just his brain warming up his hands.  Her eyes strayed to Jess who was grinning at her.

      “What the hell are they talking about?”  she asked against her ear.

      “Jake’s never played this,”  Jess answered.  “Not on stage.”

      “He plays it all the time,”  Violet said out loud.  

      Jess pulled her closer.  “It’s yours.”

      Violet’s jaw dropped.  Her eyes squarely on Jake as he played, a huge smile for the crowd.  The solo lasted maybe six minutes total but each note filled her with a different memory of their time together and each time he had played it, worked on it, changed it, polished it.  The light dimmed on him as the stage hands swapped out the acoustic to the electric and took the stool away.  In those few seconds, he walked towards the amps, eyes on her and throwing a near hidden air kiss.  She had the stupidest, cheesiest grin on her face as Jess wrapped an arm around her waist.  It was his public acknowledgement of her without anyone knowing.  It was perfect. 

      The rest of the show was a blur.  Jake flew around the stage; Josh jumped around with the energy of a host of small children and Sam strutted like the princess that he was, with Danny behind all of them, just killing it and knowing he was the daddy of the evening.  They sat down as the crowd went feral as the guys took their bows, tossing out picks and drumsticks and took their bows each in turn.  Jess nodded her head towards the closest exit.

      “We can wait for them in the family room,”  she said as soon as they showed their passes to the backstage area.  

      “And you do this, how many shows in a year?”  Violet asked when she realized her ears were ringing and her voice was probably at a shouting decibel.  

     Jess laughed as they  tucked into the family waiting area. Plied with coffee and snacks, they sat across the couches, silence between them.  Violet closed her eyes as the energy from the night flowed across her skin and through her mind and out her limbs.  She had watched Jake play countless times.  She had listened to him play over video chats.  She had listened to all of the albums.  She had listened to them play together.  The smile that affixed to her mouth was small, but understanding.  Violet had just watched her man spin a web of sex and talent that was spellbinding.

      “I am going to guess Josh doesn’t talk after shows,”  she said as she moved to get another cup of coffee.

     “It’s pretty much vocal rest for him for the next twelve to twenty four hours,”  Jess said with a nod.  

     She kicked her feet up onto the coffee table, closing her eyes.  The sound of the auditorium was loud with the next band hitting the stage.  Violet felt her body hum with the deep bass tones that reverberated through the room.  Balancing the cup on her chest, she felt herself slide a bit.  

      “You okay over there?”  Jess asked from over her phone.

      “Yeah,”  she answered, grinning.  “Overwhelmed.”

      She nodded in understanding.  The door opened to admit Sam, wet hair sticking to his exposed skin on his neck.  His sleepy eyes shone in the low light of the room.

      “Ladies,”  he said with a smirk.  

      He plopped down next to his wife and lay his head down on her shoulder.  She brought her hand up to cradle his face and whispered something that made him smile.  Sleepy eyed, he was the quietest that she had ever seen Sam.  To see them together in such a moment made Violet smile.  

     The door pushed open again and Jake walked through.  Violet felt the breath in her evaporate.  He had never looked so soft in the moment.  He had fed everything to the audience, and saved nothing for himself.  The darkness under his eyes made her want to yank him down and just let him sleep against her for days. She stood just in time for him to loop his arms around her and pull her in for a searing connection that set her whole body on fire.

     “Hey, pretty boy,”  she whispered on his lips.  “Ready to get out of here?”

     He nodded with a grin.  “Did you like it?”

     “What?  Watching you grind on that bitch all night with nothing for me?”  she asked with a chuckle.  

     His eyes closed, revealing the soft crinkles she loved so much as he laughed.  Nose to nose, he held her close for a long moment like he was soaking in the normalcy that they were together.  She hiked up her arms onto his shoulders, sliding her cheek against hers so that she could plant the softest kiss on his ear with a ‘love you’ that was only for him.

     It was raining in Nashville when they reached his home.  The cold rain was not out of the ordinary, but to Violet it felt colder than what it would have been in Michigan.  It was cloying, seeping down into the bones and stabbing each ache and flaw within the body.  She watched as Jake moved around his kitchen, making supper, while an album played and his girl watched on with a smile.  

     Her phone rang in the other room, but she shook her head.  “Not going to answer it tonight,”  she said as she ignored it.

     Ten minutes later, there was a text, followed by a second and a third.  

     “Vi, honestly, just go look,”  Jake said, back to her.  “We know it’s not work.”

     She grumbled.  “I’ll just turn it off.”

     Finding her phone under the book she had been reading, she glanced only to find herself in a pause.  Her eyes passed over Max’s picture.  Opening it up, there were seven texts and four missed calls, with a singular voice message.  The pit of her stomach dropped.  Swallowing, she opened the texts and saw they were all the same - need you to call now.  

     Violet turned her back on the kitchen, fury in her veins.  Before she could stop herself, she had pressed Max’s number and the line connected after a single ring.  “He’s fucking done it, hasn’t he?” 

      “Yes,”  she answered solemnly.  “It’s bad, Violet.”

      She puffed out her cheeks as she heard Jake moving behind her.  “How bad?”  her voice was a mere whisper, but the anger was like ragged glass on her skin.

      “It’s a laundry list of things,”  Max said, utilizing her professional tone.  It made her realize that her friend had to retreat in order to keep herself together.  “But she’s alive.”

      “Fuck,”  Violet ground out as Jake’s hand touched her shoulder.

      “They have him in custody, Violet, so there’s that to be thankful for,”  her friend remarked sourly.  “And it’s in the news this time.  His reputation is going to take a hit.”

      “Are you home?”  she asked, meeting Jake’s gaze.

      “Oh, babe,”  he whispered, wiping at the angry tears that she had shed.

      “Yeah.  I’ve got a shuttle flight to Madison in the morning,”  Max said.  “She’s asked to see us - all of us.  You included.  I know that’s a stretch, but…”

      “I’m in Nashville,”  Violet said quietly.  

      He held up a finger to get her attention.  “Where do I need to get you?”

     “He’s a fucking saint!”  they heard Max yell out on the phone.

     “I’ll text you when I know what I can do, okay?  I…  There’s a lot to process here,”  Violet said quietly.  

     She hung up with a sigh.  Jake tucked little wisps of hair behind her ears.  He did not need to say anything.  His presence was enough to keep her from shattering.  Carefully, he tugged her close, wrapping his arms around her.

     “I can’t go alone,”  she whispered.  “I can’t be in that city alone.”

     He was quiet for a few beats.  “I’ll be right with you, Violet.”

     Max and Ollie met her downstairs in the lobby of Ali’s apartment building.  Jake had stayed back in the hotel with the expressed option that he would come and get her the moment she needed him.  Max’s face began to light at the sight of her, although it was not the fairy twinkle that the woman was typically sending out.  Ollie folded her into a tight embrace.

      “Where’s John?”  Violet asked, looking around.

      “Upstate New York,”  Ollie answered with a head shake.  “He won’t be back until after the holidays.”

      “Teddy and Julie?”  she asked, feeling very removed from her friend group suddenly. 

      “They went out to Washington,”  Max answered, screwing her lips together.  “It’d just be the three of us, Vi.”

      She nodded.  Drawing in a long breath, she chewed her lip in hesitation.  “When was the last time you saw her?  Either of you?”

     “About eight months,”  Max answered quietly.

     “Almost a year,”  Ollie said, eyes cast down.

     “Fuck, what a shit show,”  Violet remarked as she took them by their hands.  “We’re here now.”

     The three friends were hesitant to stray far from each other the closer they got to Alison’s apartment door.  Tapping the door, a care nurse answered with a surprised face.  Max had to take the lead, explaining who they were and that they were expected.  The woman looked back inside like she was unsure.  Obviously, there had been no visitors, making the stabbing sensation in her chest all the more pointed.  

     The apartment had been Alison’s pride.  The view of Capitol Square on one side and Lake Monona on the other put her right in the heart of the city and she loved it.  It was modern and elegant in a way that only she could be - hit you over the head abruptly and be lavish about it at the same time.  Violet’s eyes strayed to the wall of pictures that she had known so well, shocked that none had changed over the course of the nearly two years since she had last been inside the home.

       The care nurse directed them to the bedroom with a friendly nod.  Violet’s stomach tightened as Ollie led the way, stepping inside to find her laid out in a hospital bed.  Her face was broken.  Her right arm was in a cast, along with her right leg.  The rest of the damage was hidden under a mound of blankets.  Max let out a soft cry as Ali’s face turned towards them.

      Violet could not move.  Her friend’s eyes landed on her and stayed.  A shared shame passed between them.  It was black and endless and nothing but misery.  Max and Ollie moved on either side of the bed, each careful in their presence.  Fat tears welled in Ali’s eyes, escaping out the corners to form small streams to her silky blonde hair.  

     “I’m so sorry,”  she whispered.

     The words were not for Max or Ollie.  Maxine looked back at her, the blue of her eyes shimmering.

     “I'm sorry, Violet,”  she said, a little stronger.  “I chose not to believe you.  I chose this.”

     “Fuck, Alison.  No one chooses this,”  Violet said, bile burning in her throat.  

     Ollie pulled in chairs from the dining room for them to sit in.  Despite her injury and circumstance, the four were able to talk quietly, share smiles and memories, while edging around the fact that their friend was in that bed shattered in more ways than one.

Ollie caught them up on his work at the new clinic outside the city, while Max spoke fondly of Grand Rapids.  When it was Violet’s turn, she talked about her year overseas.

     “Are you still with that musician?”  Allie asked with a misplaced grimace.

     “Pain?”  Max asked.

     “Yeah.  Shit only works for so long and I’ve got to wait,”  she said quietly.  “I’ve got a better handle on bedside manner after this shit.”

     Violet stood to take a look at the row of meds on the counter.  Most were standard for the condition that was before her.  There were some pretty heavy pain pills.

     “You didn’t answer, Vi,”  Ali said, trying to shift in the bed.

     “Yes,”  she answered.  A few steps over, and her and Max seemed to have the same thought.  Together, they supported her to a better sitting upright position.  “He’s here, in town.  We’ll be heading to his folks tomorrow for the holidays.”

      “So there is life after this?”  Alison said, her voice thin with weariness.

      “There is life after this,”  Violet answered.

      They were quiet.  The silence was not uncomfortable.  Violet remembered that well.  Her father had come for her that night, refusing to leave her alone in the tide of nothing.  Ali had no one to shelter her.  Her friends had fallen away by her choice - or closer to the truth, by Tim's choice and she most likely thought it was a good idea at the time.  It was the one area that he could not turn Violet from - family and friends.  None of them may have realized it, but they were the anchor to her storm.  She could only imagine what it was like for Aly, totally isolated.  Tim had obviously learned from the experience with Violet, and had sharpened his skills to manipulate such a woman.  

      Violet’s mind swept back to that night, not the event, but the aftermath.  She had crawled from the apartment two floors down to Mr. Johnson’s home to hide.  The man had called the police as she danced in and out of consciousness.  He then called her father.  Charlie had sat with her in the hospital.  Charlie had driven her home in silence.  She cried in the arms of her parents over the disaster that followed.  

      Chewing her upper lip, she suddenly could not sit still.  Violet went to the window, taking in the lake beyond and the afternoon sun sparkling across it.  Madison did not have as much snow as home would, and she looked forward suddenly to seeing Karen and Kelly and the rest of the group.  They would spend two weeks in Frankenmuth.  The plan was to have Christmas Eve with the Kiszkas and then head home to Charlie and Madelynn’s for Christmas night.  

      Guilt brought her back to the room.  Brought her back to the moment.  Ali was still watching her.  It made her uncomfortable knowing that her friend was looking to her for comfort but there was none for Violet to pass along.  It was a road that she was going to have to walk alone to find herself and her own strength once more.  Her friends, even Violet herself, could not return that piece to Alison. 

      The care nurse came in to check fluids and to administer more pain meds.  Ollie stood up, a kind smile on his face.

      “We better get moving along, Alison,”  he said in his soothing, quiet way.  “Let you get some rest.”

     “I hated you, Violet,”  Ali whispered.  “I hated you for lying about Tim.  I hated that you were so wrong about him.”

     Violet’s brows pinched.  She was not going to fight an honest emotion that she had no way of controlling.

     “I hate you now, Violet,”  Ali continued.  “I hate that you were right and I was too stupid to believe you.  I hate that you let him do this to you.  I hate that you allowed him to continue to do it to others.”

     Her tongue passed across her lips.  Her breath came in a burning wave.  “I understand.”

     Max made a sound of protest, but Violet knew it was best to just accept.  She stepped out of the bedroom and headed for the hall, her phone in her hand.  It was not Ali’s fault for the pain that Violet represented at the moment.  The words were not real.  They were a torrent of shame and guilt and pain and vulnerability that a woman like Ali would eventually have to detangle if she was to discover that Tim had not robbed her completely of what made her Alison.  

     She texted Jake as she waited.  I need to get the fuck out of here.

     Max and Ollie caught up with her in the lobby.  The tiny sprite tossed her arms around Violet in a spat of words of comfort.  Ollie rubbed on her back.

     “I get it,”  she said, her voice not full of heat, but of comfort.  “This is Ali.  She needed those words and I’ll let her have them.”

     Ollie looked at his phone.  “How about supper?  I know I could use a drink.”

     Max nodded while Violet let her eyes stray to the door.  “Donovan’s?” she asked, a grin touching her mouth.

     Maxine tossed her arm across her shoulder.  “Fabulous choice, lovely.”

     She laughed at the reminder of Josh.  Her heart ached a bit to see him, knowing it would only be days away.  Her phone chimed with a text from Jake.  

J ~ Getting in a cab

V ~ Redirect to Donovan’s on Capital

J ~ k

     Donovan’s was a classic all wood, all dark, all old bar that they used to haunt after long shifts and holidays when anyone was stuck working.  Violet stood outside with a smoke in hand, letting Max and Ollie talk through their plans for the holidays.  Both orphans were going to be stuck on shift - Max due to low seniority, and Ollie by choice.  

      “Why the hell would you choose to work?”  Max gasped, eyes twinkling in the overhead lights.

      Ollie rolled his eyes.  “Single.  Stupid.  Etcetera.  Come on, Max.”

      Violet grinned, remembering those days after school, before her surgical certification, where she would work doubles just to not be alone.  Her eyes strayed to the curb just as a cab pulled up.  When Jake did not exit, and instead three blondes with large smiles piled out, she found herself huffing in her wait.  Her frustration mounted as she was nearly done with the cigarette and there was a disturbance behind her that she did not have the patience to deal with.

      “Uh, Vi?”  Max asked as she stretched to put out her smoke in the designated tray.  “Jake may be a minute or two longer.”

      Looking around, she discovered he stood with a group of ladies, him in the center, speaking with what she had come to know as his professional smile.  Rolling her eyes just as he saw her, she watched as they fawned over him and he graciously let them take pictures.  

      “You all are so sweet,”  she overheard him with a kind laugh.  “No, no.  I’m actually meeting up with friends.  Thank you though.”

      She felt Max’s laugh before hearing that loud cackle.  Jake opened his arms to her before he even walked away from the fans.  Of course, she zipped right for him, just as any fairy goddess would.  He waved once more before Max dragged him away with a demand that only she could get away with.  Violet thought twice for a moment.  Josh certainly would’ve pulled the same shit.  Why weren’t those two more than a hookup?  She inwardly laughed at how the world would probably implode from that much chaotic energy coming together for longer than a few moments.

       Jake shook hands with Ollie with a warm greeting as Max continued to hang off of him.  He laughed as she kissed his cheek.

      “Josh is only a few hours away,”  he teased, his dark eyes roaming her face.  “He’s going to be mad that I got to see the fairy without him.”

      She cackled again as her cheeks tinged with a blush.  She latched onto Violet’s hand and ran towards the door.  They parted so the ladies could find a table while the guys went to the bar to retrieve drinks.  A wave of nostalgia passed over her as they slid into a corner booth underneath the awning of plants.  The last time they had been to Donovan’s had been right before…

     “I don’t know what you’re feeding him, Vi, but damn,”  Max oozed as they started for the door.  “He’s prettier than I remember.”

     Violet smiled coyly as they settled in.  Max’s face turned serious after she looked back to see how long the line was, as if gauging her time.

     “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Ollie,”  she started, eyes darkening with thought.  “You know, Alison is going to go through with this.  She’s going to see that her case gets pushed through.”

     Violet nodded.  “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

     “She’s going to expect you to step forward,”  Max said quietly.  “She’s going to expect you to bring your-”

     “I know, Max.  But she’s going to be disappointed, isn’t she?”  Violet remarked, not wanting to sound hard, but her words came out that way.

     Max swallowed.  “I just don’t want this to come back and harm you.  Harm what you have, especially since it’s so damn obvious that there is love involved, Vi.” 

     “Yeah,”  she whispered, eyes straying back to where Jake and Ollie were waiting patiently.  “We’ve hit that part.”

     “Aww.  Sam’s wedding?”

     Violet nodded as a smile spread across her mouth.  “In front of his mother, no less.”

     Max fanned her eyes as they laughed hard.  “Oh my god!  I can’t…  It’s too damn sweet.  Like — ouch, baby.  All my teeth just rotted.”

     “I know right?”  

     Max grabbed hold of her hand and squeezed.  “I’m so happy for you, Violet.  I will do everything that I can to protect you from her expectations.  I just can see her going off the damn rails once this goes to the prosecutor.”

     “There is a reason why they wouldn’t touch my case, Max, and you know it,”  she said quietly, stomach growing sour.  “I will not allow myself to be victimized all over again by that man or his fucking lawyers.”

     Max was the only soul who knew her reasons why she would not allow a case to be made against Tim.  Although Wisconsin was a state that could pursue a case without testimony from the victim, knowledge of the victim of course had to be the evidence.  Tim’s lawyers had made a mockery of Violet, framing the abuse as tasks that had been asked for by her sexual practices.  The DA tried to toss that argument, of course, but when the defense actually produced credible witnesses of Violet’s former lovers, it was more difficult to root sympathy from anyone.  It was humiliating.  Worse, it was a career ending for her.  Tim won.  It was easier for her to walk away and hide than it was to fight.  He had made sure of it.

     She decided instead of justice, she needed to heal from within.  Her parents had no idea why she decided not to participate in the court case, nor did they press about it.  Her family had no clue that Violet was being told she had asked for the near death beating because she liked being spanked while being fucked stupid.  Max was the only one she was able to explain the full story and know that there would be no embarrassment or judgment.  Instead, her dear friend exuded understanding and comfort.

     “What do you need me to do if Ali decides to call on you?”  she asked.

     Violet shrugged.  “Honestly, I have no idea.  After the holidays, I’m hoping to actually travel with Jake.  I won’t be heading back overseas until May.  We’ll just have to see what happens and handle it as it comes.”

     “Handle what, gorgeous?”  Jake asked, as he set a glass of red before her.

     “After the holidays,”  Violet said with a grin.  “I was just saying that perhaps we’ll be able to travel.”

     Jake nodded as he moved in next to her, hand landing on her thigh, his thumb brushing against the inside seam of her pants.  Somehow, before their parting, Jake had convinced Max to join them for after Christmas festivities.  Ollie, not to be left out, promised to check his calendar and see if he could slide a few shifts over since it was after the holiday.  He then magically had the pair of them set up for New Years Eve in Nashville.  He had pressed a ‘Merry Christmas’ to her ear as he showed her the rooms he books while they were still in discussions.  

     They parted ways after a light supper and several rounds of drinks.  Jake got an uber back to the hotel.  He was quiet the entire ride back.  He just held her close, his thumb brushing back and forth against the palm of her hand.  Back to the room, and Violet felt herself unravel.  The weight of Alison’s state and what she was facing had been gnawing at her belly, despite the smiles and the laughter between the friends.  She dropped her bag on the counter and ditched her shoes in the middle of the room before landing face first on the bed.

      “Very princess,”  Jake sighed as he slid the shoes to the side with his toe.  

      She rolled onto her back, arms above her head.  He crawled up next to her, coming to rest on his side and taking her hand into his own.  She felt the quiet fill her and his presence comforted her.  He tugged her shoulder until she shifted and rolled to be belly to belly with him.

      He whispered a hello before placing a chaste kiss on her mouth.  “Are you okay?”

     She shook her head.  “It was so bad.  Being in that apartment, seeing everything that was her and everything that she was is just so broke.  She hates me for it.  Right now, she does.”

     “That hardly seems fair,”  he whispered.

     She felt bitterness in her mouth that she remembered well from before; from when she was nursing the first wounds.  Violet remembered the anger and betrayal. She questioned herself for months why any woman would allow Tim to lay hands on her the way he did.  Why had no one come forward?  Why was he allowed to continue his path of harm that led to her?  

     “I know where she is - she’s faulting every moment, every hit, every bit of venom that she suffered through on the woman who loved him before her.”  Violet swallowed the bile that threatened.  “I know I did.  Jake, there are so many others.  I can’t even imagine how many he’s hurt.  What she doesn’t realize is she’s going to be the champion of us all.  She’s going to put that fucker in a deep dark hole that won’t have any forgiveness from anyone, least of all any of us.”

If you would like to join the tag list, you can find it here

@lvnterninthenight @doodle417 @luverleaver @jakesgrapejuice @fictional-duchess @whitesuitjake @milkgemini @positivegvfthings @songbirds-sweet @streamingcolors-gvf @gretavanbitches @maverick-rose @joshkiszkas @gardensgatedaisy

#jake kiszka x oc #jake kiszka fanfic

[silvyslayer42]

I hope you realize that wishing harm on others makes you the shitter

I pray for your lost soul to understand that fiction does not affect reality the way you think it does and for you to find peace

I don’t wish harm on proshippers, in fact I want them to seek help. I just think going online and posting proships is at best an unhealthy form of escapism and at worst is actively promoting r^pe, pedophilia, and other horrible things.

The thing is that a good portion of them are just completely shameless and enjoy posting about p3dophilic or incest ships. They even tend to romanticize it and make it look cute, and while yes I do recognize that this could be a way to cope with trauma, if it’s posted online then anyone can see it and be influenced by it, and if it’s dressed up and treated like every other ship, they might start to think it’s normal.

The idea that fiction can never affect reality does not hold up under any scrutiny. What if another victim saw a post made by someone (even if that someone is a victim themselves) who proships, and was then triggered by it? What if a child who did not know better saw proshipping in online spaces that they’re a part of and thought that those types of relationships were normal or even preferable, and then became more vulnerable to that kind of victimization?

It being a coping mechanism is an explanation but not a reason that someone should do it, or be able to do it for recreation online because there can be bad coping mechanisms and proshipping is one of them.

And I know that being a proshipper online is fun and I know that because I was one. I was that dumb kid who saw people proshipping, believed that since it wasn’t real it was ok, and ended up getting duped into thinking it was normal. And I’ll be the first to say it, it was fun while I was doing it. It felt like I had a community, and it was honestly a great time “pissing off antis”. But as I got older, I guess I just realized that it was wrong, and it only stopped being fun once I admitted that.

Why am I spilling my entire guts to you in the first place? To be completely honest, I don’t always want to be your ‘enemy’ as an anti, especially if you’re legitimately using this stuff to cope with trauma and don’t know what else to do. I want every proshipper to seek out other, better, coping mechanisms. I honestly do think therapy would be beneficial for things like this and I definitely think some of you guys need some serious time offline.

All this to then say I honestly just think it’s kinda funny to bully proshippers. They chose to post this stuff publicly where anyone can see it and if they can’t handle a few insults then they could just, not post on the public platform, and do everything privately.

You don’t have more of a right to an online space just because you’re traumatized and like using a bad coping mech lol. A ton of antis are also victims so I don’t know where some of y’all get the idea that it’s only traumatized people proshipping and only people who have never been a victim or touched a mental illness with a ten foot poll who are antis.

I’m probably rambling a lot but I just have a lot to say on this topic because it’s been a part of my life for so long. But yeah back to the ask I definitely don’t want harm to come to anyone and if you got that impression I would like to dispel that now. I do think proshipping is marginally better than s3lf h^rm so there’s that ig? If you’re going to do something drastic if you can’t proship then do it if only to keep yourself safe, but that doesn’t make it ok and that doesn’t mean you don’t have to better yourself.

#also proshitters are people who think fiction can never affect reality ever so they just proship for fun and not as a coping mechanism #honestly I think the best cure for that is to just go outside #socialize #etc #but also no one should be telling anyone to kts. but it’s not only antis doing that so yk #I’ve seen proshippers bully antis out of spaces and wrongly report them just to get them banned #it is not the one way street you might think it is #but anyways just so we’re crystal clear I think ‘proshitters’ are a subgroup and not everyone is worthy of that insult #god this was a long post holy damn #if you read that entire thing I commend you tbh #don’t harm yourself. seek out professional help. start a journal maybe. etc etc

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Alt Ending, Part 13

First

Previous

@solangelo252 @animegirlweeb @frieddonutsweets

Duke groaned as he stepped out of the Zeta tube that got him to and from Dinah’s place. Technically, they could do Zoom telehealth meetings, but apparently Dinah didn’t trust them not to hack her computer whenever they got a little too close to having an emotional breakthrough.

Probably because Tim had done just that. As had Jason, Cass, Dick, Damian, Bruce, Marinette (honorarily, she couldn’t hack, but she did portal over to smash Dinah’s computer), Duke himself…

She’d had good reason, is all he was saying.

Didn’t mean he liked it. It was always a little draining. Not as much as it had been at the beginning, when Duke had practically thought of therapy as a competition against Dinah that he ‘couldn’t lose at any cost’, but he still came out of it in dire need of a nap. Or, maybe, a chance to smack one of his siblings upside the head to make up for the emotional vulnerability he had just had to partake in.

A voice that sounded remarkably like Dinah’s reminded him that he liked to joke around instead of seriously confronting his emotions, which was a perfectly normal coping mechanism, but he needed to deal with them eventually. He scowled. He hated self-improvement.

At least he didn’t have to go through it alone.

He quite literally tapped in Jason with a hand on his shoulder. “You’re up.”

Jason tipped his head back in a groan, his phone hand falling to his side. “Already?”

“You say that like it wasn’t the longest hour of my life,” Duke said, his nose scrunching with distaste.

“You say that every time,” Bruce pointed out, smiling.

“It could be greeting worse every time. You don’t know.”

“Ah, of course, my mistake.”

“Yeah, that was messed up of you, B,” Duke deadpanned, shaking his head. And then he grabbed Jason by the arm and lugged him to his feet. “Alright, alright, go get ‘em, tiger!”

“I’m killing you when I get back,” Jason promised.

“No, you won’t,” he singsonged.

Jason gave him an expression that said that he disagreed, but his phone chimed, undoubtedly Dinah calling to ask why he and Bruce weren’t there yet, and he was forced to leave the ‘argument’ (if you could really call it that when neither of them cared about its contents in the slightest) there. Duke waved, grinning, as the pair of them prepared themselves, physically and mentally, for their joint therapy session.

It would be easy to think that, with Joker gone, their relationship could finally heal. In reality, it was much more complicated than that. Jason had still died, that hadn’t changed, even if he had been brought back and the murderer had been put down. Joker hadn’t died to Bruce, hadn’t even died for Jason’s sake, but because of something else entirely. Which left them in a bit of an awkward spot, relationship-wise. Jason’s demands that Bruce kill Joker hadn’t been met, and now they never could be. How could Jason ever truly believe the man cared for him if he couldn’t even do the one thing he had ever asked him to do? How could Bruce ever truly get his point across when the example always used was no longer there?

How could Bruce be expected to stop blaming himself over what had happened in that fateful alleyway so many years ago, when he had had to watch yet another family member die in front of him – but, this time, he wasn’t a helpless kid. This time, shouldn’t he have been able to save him?

How could Jason learn to trust again, knowing that his own birth mother had sent for him to be killed? If even the person who had given birth to you couldn’t love you, then how could you expect anyone else to?

Yeah, it was surprising that anyone in his family got as far as they did without therapy, to be honest.

He watched them both shuffle, awkwardly, into the Zeta tube. They knocked shoulders, both of them were so wide, and normally this would elicit a snide comment from Jason… but, this time, Jason held his tongue before he could lash out for no reason, adjusting his color-correcting lenses with a nervous smile. Bruce returned the expression, stepping back to allow his son through before him.

And then they disappeared in a shower of light.

They’d be fine.

Not today, probably not even someday soon, but one day.

Not that this was his problem. Duke pulled his keys from his pocket, twirling them around his finger idly as he made his way up and out of the batcave.

The sound of a video game being played – Mario Kart, judging by the soundtrack – beckoned him into the main living room, where basically everyone had gathered. Tim, Marinette, and Adrien were locked in a battle worthy of the gods, their little guys in go-karts whizzing along the track at speeds that could only be matched by each other.

“Either of you coming home tonight?” Duke asked, leaning in the doorway, wondering if it was worth driving home if he would have to come right back a few minutes after he had sat down because neither Cass nor Marinette could (or should) drive.

“Yes,” said Cass.

Marinette didn’t glance up, not because she was spacing or anything, but because she was busy trying to win.

“She won’t be,” Cass said. And then she pointed at the screen. “Left. Shortcut.”

Marinette’s lips pulled into a wide grin as she immediately turned left. Cass was right, as always.

Adrien made a strangled sound in his throat. “Cass. What the fuck.”

“Different shortcut on the right, Adrikins,” said Chloe.

Adrien fell off the map.

He tossed his controller down onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. This, surely, would not help him in the race. “Everyone hates me.”

“So true,” Tim mumbled. It must be the earlier portion of their hangout session, then. Tim was still annoyed that he had been dragged away from things that, if he were to actually be honest with himself, he probably could have postponed. In an hour or so, he’d finally give in and enjoy himself for real.

Or not. Adrien launched himself at Tim.

The pair of boys laughed as they attempted to wrestle each other into submission.

Cass and Chloe met each other’s eyes, shrugged, and joined the fray. On whose side? Honestly, Duke was pretty sure even they didn’t know.

Marinette remained unharmed. Good for her.

Duke looked over at Dick, who was stretching, at peace despite the physical altercation happening in front of him.

“Aren’t you going to do anything?”

Dick hummed thoughtfully. “Are they trying to kill each other?”

“Not yet,” Duke said.

“Then not yet.”

Duke made a quiet ‘hm’ sound. “Fair enough.”

Marinette won the race while everyone else was distracted. She giggled, watching her friends freeze and look up, either horrified or pleased by this result, depending on who you were talking about.

“Nice one, Mari,” Duke called.

She blew a kiss. “You know I love my fans.”

And then she shrieked as she was dragged into the fight.

He watched the group tussle, feathers flying out of far-too-expensive pillows as they beat each other over the head for having the audacity to take the game just as seriously as they themselves were.

Marinette’s earrings flashed and, suddenly she was being ganged up on for daring to pull on her super suit during a play fight. That was, clearly, against the law, and their job as vigilantes had become taking her to justice.

Tim grinned widely as he tackled Marinette to the ground.

Well, that was one way to distract him from his job.

Duke shut the door behind himself, smiling faintly.

And then, after some thought, he headed up to Damian’s room. He would need to pass some time while he waited for Cass to be ready to go, and he wasn’t going to join THAT particular fight, he was the normal one thank you very much, so…

He knocked once – it wasn’t necessary, there wasn’t a single person in the house that couldn’t tell when their room was being approached, not even Adrien – out of courtesy and then slipped inside.

As usual, Damian was busy with his art. A painting.

It was a recreation of the world outside the window, of the snow blanketing the ground and the icicles hanging from trees, the colors pleasantly dimmed in a sunset that had actually passed hours ago.

Damian had stopped asking for affirmation.

… as often.

It was still nice, sometimes, to be appreciated for your hard work regardless of the fact that you were doing it for yourself.

So, when Damian glanced over, his lips parted in question, Duke wasted no time:

"It looks great, Dames," Duke said, ruffling the boy's hair.

Damian smiled faintly and went back to work with his colored pencils, working to add depth to the picture.

Okay, that was enough affection and genuine connection for one day. He had met his quota, Dinah. Time for him to actually enjoy himself.

By being a menace.

He knelt to pick up the cup of paint water at his brother's feet, and inspected it carefully before looking at him. "What do you think will happen if I chug this?"

"Thomas," Damian groaned.

“I mean, I’m possibly immortal. It’s for science,” he said, but he let Damian snatch it out of his hands regardless. “You’re a killjoy, you know.”

“Better a killjoy than an idiot.”

“Okay, Socrates,” he teased.

Damian stuck his tongue out at him, childish as ever despite his age. Duke simply rolled his eyes, the smile playing across his lips nothing but fond.

And maybe, just maybe, caring for someone wasn’t that bad. Because, yes, they could all disappear at any moment – with their jobs, this fact was even more true for them than for the average person…

But a person being gone didn’t negate the time you had spent with them before they left.

He shoved a hat atop Damian’s head. “C’mon, let’s go get some Jokerized fries. You’re going to go cross-eyed if you don’t take a break.”

Damian gave him a mildly annoyed expression, righting the beanie on his head. “You are the worst, Duke.”

He smiled. “Just doing my job as your older brother.”

And, though Damian protested the cheek-pinching and cooing over how ‘wittle’ he was, he didn’t complain (that much) as he was dragged out.

#alternate ending #alt ending #alternative ending #finally done. thank god #maribat #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #or should i just tag as duke since this is his chap #idk im tired

[golbrocklovely]

I think everyone copes differently. Just because one person took and ended up accepting more easier then someone else doesn’t mean he’s detached from his feelings. Colby knows how loved and supported he is, I may not have reacted to some of my health issues as positivity as he has. I never let it swallow me whole, I was taught and raised to be proactive and do what I need to do. I was also taught it was when my moments came It okay to take a minute and feel what I needed to, it’s apart of how someone copes and experiences grief. EVERYONE does it differently. With death, with sickness, with break ups, every changes of life. 

I’m so happy that he recognizes just how insanely loved he is and the support he gets by not only the people first in his life but the community of fans. Needless to say he’s abundantly blessed in those areas of his life.

i think that can be true. i mean, only colby really knows how he's feeling in reality. but colby in the past has mentioned how emotionally stunted (in more or less words) he is, so i would imagine that something like this would also be affected by that stuntedness. i just wanted to put it out there that i hope he knows that if he did react to this negatively (or what would be negatively in his own words) there's nothing wrong with that. hell, even if he woke up today and felt like shit and felt like a complete 180 comparatively, that would be fine. this is something that i don't think most ppl would be able to handle at this young of an age, and especially out of no where.

i love colby, and him being positive about all of this is fantastic. i'm just stating that if he had been upset about this and cried and wanted to hide away from the world… that is a fine reaction to have. like i said in one of the other asks, i think being both proactive and upset is fine, they aren't mutually exclusive. and in the livestream, colby sorted implied that crying and being upset and maybe feeling frozen would be the negative of the two, and i just don't agree. if anything, that's normal. and being overly positive is… the outlier. but it isn't wrong. just different.

either way, i just wanted him to know that if he had reacted one way or the other, he's justified. but being positive is probably the best for him anyway.

as long as he's happy and comfortable. that's all that matters.

#ask #personal #colby brock