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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 5 months

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Destiny & Deliverance: Chapter 27

Destiny & Deliverance Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo X OFC

Series Summary: Natalia Cohen is experiencing major life changes, beginning with leaving an emotionally abusive husband. She is learning how to navigate life on her own while dealing with high functioning anxiety, depression, and mild PTSD. Everything is looking up for her. She is a highly respected consultant for a major LA firm, has her best friend, Lauren, by her side, and is on her path to healing. Everything changes when she meets a handsome and broken stranger on a work trip. He turns out to be a well-known actor, with a heart-breaking past. They quickly develop a connection that will forever alter their lives.

Warnings: Themes dealing with mental health, emotional trauma, alcohol use, and discussions about suicide. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn type of story. Read at your own risk.

Chapter Warnings: Discussions about intimate partner violence, suicidal ideation, mental health struggles, drug abuse, and alcohol abuse.

Chapter Quote: "I got to snuggle some baby goats."

It took everything in me to hold back the sob that threatened to escape the instant I heard Dieter’s voice. I momentarily placed my hand over my mouth to hold it in and compose myself. I let out a shaky breath as I tried to find my voice.

“Dieter?”

I could hear his stuttered breathing on the other end of the line. He sounded like he was battling with his emotions too.

He cleared his throat, “Yeah… it’s me.”

I sighed loudly into the phone as the tears started to slide down my face. I felt like my brain had completely shut down on me, unsure of what to say but also feeling the urge to say everything all at once. It was so overwhelming but also awkward since we had not talked in so long. There were still so many things up in the air between us.

“How’ve you been?” He asked, sounding unsure of himself. I felt like he didn’t know what to say either.

I sniffed loudly as I wiped at my face, “Umm, I’ve been ok. How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling good. Normal, I think…then again…I’m not sure I really know what normal is,” we both laughed nervously.

“I’m feeling better than I have in a long time. I can confidently say that at least,” he added.

I smiled. It was nice to know that he was feeling better. It helped dampen some of the worry I had been feeling.

“How are things going, otherwise?”

“Well, I got to snuggle some baby goats during group therapy this morning. I kinda want one now.” He sounded unabashed about this revelation.

“Of course you do,” I said in response, shaking my head and chuckling at the thought.

“I gotta new roommate two weeks ago…Gordon is his name. He’s an interesting guy…he uhhh…” he stifled a laugh before continuing. “He said he came here because the wall outlets were talking to him. Like, full conversations. They finally stopped after he got his meds sorted out. Made me feel a little better about my issues.”

I was a little dumbfounded, “Ummm, I’m not sure if I should laugh about that or not…” Dieter snickered, “He jokes about it now, so I think it’s ok.”

It felt good to hear him laughing again. I had missed that sound more than I realized. I really missed his voice in general. He sounded different. Better, lighter almost. It was a sound I wanted to commit to memory.

“Umm…so Gabby said you didn’t take that job offer?” His nervousness had returned with that question.

“No, I turned it down.” I started rubbing at my shoulder with my free hand as I moved to sit down at the kitchen table.

“Why? It sounded like an amazing opportunity”

I sighed, now rubbing at the crease between my brows, “It was, but it’s not where I wanted to be or what I wanted to do. I would’ve had to give up too much and I don’t feel like I’m in the right headspace to do that.”

“I hope it wasn’t because of me…”

“No. I mean, I guess I can’t say no. You’re part of it…but my life is here. I can’t leave Lauren or even Gabby and Alex at this point. We’ve all gotten so close. And like I said, I’m not in the right headspace for that. I would’ve been spending a lotta time alone and I don’t wanna do that right now. It just wasn’t where I felt like I should be. I didn’t feel any kind of excitement over it at all, so I turned it down”

I suddenly felt vulnerable revealing that to him, questioning if I should have. I didn’t want him to worry about me when he needed to be focusing on himself.

“Are you sure you’re doing ok?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me, I promise. I’m just…I-” I huffed, shaking my head. I wasn’t sure if it was ok to finish that thought. I didn’t want to make any assumptions about how he was feeling or make an ass of myself.

I heard him chuckle quietly over my flustered response, “I miss you too.”

I was instantly calmed by his words, my anxiety about where we stood easing some. I let out a shy laugh at his declaration, tears still running down my face as I sniffled out, “You do?”

“Of course, I do, so fucking much… I - I’m sorry I haven't called you. I wanted to make sure I had a clear head when I did, and then I didn’t really know what to say after everything that happened.”

I heard him inhale sharply before he spoke up again, there was a tapping noise, like he was drumming his fingers against something.

“Listen, I’ve only got a few minutes left before they cut me off for today, but the reason I called…”

He paused, clearing his throat nervously, “Umm, so I wanted to see if you would be willing to come here and do a session with my psychiatrist and me…”

“Of course, when?”

“Whenever you can. Just uhh, call my case worker and she’ll get it scheduled.”

I could hear him shuffle around before he started cursing under his breath.

“Well, I was gonna give you the number but now I can’t find it...Gabby should have it.”

I couldn’t help but to snigger at him. He was still a little bit of a hot mess, which I loved about him.

He followed up with an exasperated “sorry” about not being able to find the number before he let out a quiet laugh at himself. It felt like part of it was his nervousness too.

“I’ll text her to get it as soon as we hang up and I’ll call immediately.”

I could hear him sigh in relief before a beeping noise broke into our conversation with an automated message giving a one minute warning.

“I’ll be there tomorrow if they’ll let me…or at least as soon as they’ll let me,” I said in a rush. Suddenly feeling the pressure of our limited time. I still felt like I had so many things to say to him.

“I would like that. I…I really can’t wait to see you…”

His words trailed off, shaking slightly as he was hit with another wave of emotions.

“I can’t wait to see you either,” I replied with a quivering voice.

After a moment of silence, there was a clicking sound as the line disconnected. I held the phone against my forehead, trying to get my breathing back to normal. Once I was able to focus my thoughts, I sent a quick text to Gabby to let her know that Dieter had called and that I needed the number for his case worker. I half expected her to call me, but thankfully she didn’t. She replied back quickly with the number and that she was happy he finally reached out. She followed that message up with another asking me if I was ok and if I needed to talk about it. I appreciated her offer, but I was good for now and let her know as much. Once I finished texting with Gabby, I dialed the number for the case worker, suddenly feeling nervousness forming in the pit of my stomach.

“Sanctuary Hills, this is Sharon,” the polite, yet comforting voice answered.

“Hi Sharon, this is Natalia Cohen…” She cut in before I could continue.

“Oh, Talia, hi. I’ve been expecting your call. Dieter told me he was going to be calling you.”

I let out a nervous laugh, slightly taken aback by the familiarity in which she said my name. It made me wonder how much he had talked about me.

“I assume you’re calling about an appointment for a family session?”

I didn’t know why, but it stirred something in me when she called it a family session. Technically, I wasn’t his family, but they were treating me as if I were. I could feel the tears prickling at my eyes again as I exhaled out a breathy “yes” in response.

“That’s wonderful news, I know he’ll be overjoyed to see you.” I could hear the smile in her voice

“I can’t wait to see him either,” I replied, still trying to keep the emotions out of my words.

“Alright, let me have a look at the schedule. Dr. Rosenberg did ask that you be prepared to be available for at least a week for additional sessions, if possible.”

“Additional sessions?” I was confused. I couldn’t recall if the same thing had been asked of Gabby, which caused my anxiety to flare.

“Don’t worry, it’s perfectly normal for that to happen. It’s mostly educational sessions for family members if they’re willing to participate.”

“Oh, ok. That doesn’t sound so bad.” I laughed nervously.

“When would you like to come in?” she asked with a calming tone.

“As soon as you can get me in is preferable.” I started tapping on the table as I waited for options, listening to the clicking of a keyboard on her end.

“How about 10 AM the day after tomorrow?”

“I’ll take it,” I said a little too eagerly. The anticipation of seeing Dieter again was starting to get to me.

“I have it scheduled. In case you do end up staying for additional sessions, we have apartments on site for patient families. So, you won’t have to worry about lodging. We don’t want you stressing about that while you’re here.”

“Oh, that’s…nice. Thanks for letting me know.”

“When you arrive for your session, come in the north entrance with the blue awning and they'll get you checked in. It’s a different entrance than where you would have come in before.”

I thanked her and our conversation ended soon after that. Afterwards, I sat staring out the kitchen window, feeling the anxiousness settle into my gut. Not knowing what to expect was always the worst for me. It was like that call had started a countdown, to what, I wasn’t sure. I could only hope the end result would be something positive.

The morning of our session, I had a ridiculously early flight so that I could be there in time. I decided to keep things simple with minimal makeup, a messy bun, sunglasses, sneakers, skinny jeans, and one of Dieter’s button up dress shirts with the sleeves rolled up. I had raided his closet while I was at his house cleaning up. It was something small, but being wrapped in his scent or wearing something that belonged to him brought me some comfort during my time without him. His clothing quickly became a staple in my casual attire.

I was so anxious about seeing Dieter again that the flight didn’t faze me like it normally would have. Though it was an hour and a half, it seemed much quicker as the minutes continued to count down and the distance between us shortened. I could feel myself getting more worked up the closer I got. By the time I acquired the rental car and was on the road to the facility, my chest was heavy. Breathing was getting harder with each mile that passed.

When I pulled into the parking lot, I could feel my heart pounding in my ears. I sat gripping the steering wheel tightly in both hands and taking deep breaths. I wasn’t even sure why I was so nervous, it’s not like I knew what Dieter was planning to talk to me about. However, deep down I had a fear, though most likely irrational, that he was going to realize he didn’t really want to be with me after this. I wasn’t sure if I could handle that a second time if it were to happen. Without permission, the tears started to streak down my cheeks, and I felt like I was going to be sick.

After a few more deep breaths, I slammed my fist down on the stop of the steering wheel out of frustration, “Fucking hell, get it together Talia.”

My head dropped back onto the headrest as I squeezed my eyes shut, still taking deep controlled breaths. After several minutes passed, I let out a slow exhale before opening my eyes. Feeling more relaxed, I did a quick check in the mirror to make sure I didn’t look like a complete mess before exiting the vehicle to go inside.

I was starting to have an out of body feeling as I went through the check in process. I couldn’t really remember walking to the building or anything the lady behind the desk had just said to me as I sat down in the lobby to wait. After a few minutes, one of the receptionists called my name and led me through a secure door down a long hallway. We passed several offices that had glass inserts in the doors with shades. Most of the shades were pulled closed, however, I noticed one was open. As I approached, I glanced inside and was met with a familiar figure sitting in a high backed desk chair in the middle of the room with his head leaned back and eyes closed as he spun back and forth, his legs bouncing ever so often. He was sitting on the opposite side of a desk from a woman who was possibly in her fifties, with graying hair and a kind face. Though, she did have a slightly overwhelmed look about her as her eyes met mine through the glass.

I stopped briefly, watching him wave his hands animatedly as he talked incessantly, never raising his head or opening his eyes. I felt a small smirk sneak across my face. He was nervous too. I could tell. My eyes flicked back to the woman, who was watching me watch him with a soft smile on her face.

My attention was pulled away by the receptionist, who was now at my side waiting for me to continue following her.

“He’s been driving us all crazy this morning. I think poor Sharon is getting the worst of it. He’s beyond excited that you’re here today.”

I chuckled at the thought before continuing down the hallway. I was led into a spacious office. It was modern and white with floor to ceiling windows on one side with nothing in sight but nature. All the furnishings were earth tones of brown and deep reds and oranges. I noticed there were a lot of plants filling the space, which added a homey feeling, in a strange sort of way. It also struck me how there were different seating areas on either side of the room. One had a small couch and cushy chair positioned in front of it, while the other had four cushy chairs sitting closely together in a circle. Each of the seats were adorned with soft looking pillows in various shades matching the space. There was a traditional desk setup in the center of the room with two chairs placed in front of it. Each area felt carefully designed to meet specific needs.

Moments after entering the room, I was greeted by Dr. Rosenberg who first shook my hand, then pulled me in for a loose hug.

“Talia, it’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you the last couple of months.”

It took me by surprise, though I felt like it shouldn’t have. There was a certain familiarity and kindness that everyone seemed to have toward me. Everyone had been very warm and welcoming thus far. It was comforting to know this was the type of environment that Dieter had been in.

I gave her a tight lipped smile as she led me over to sit in one of the four chairs in a circle. To my surprise, the chair spun slightly as I sat in it. Dr. Rosenberg turned hers to face me directly, so I did the same with mine. I had managed to stay composed thus far, but my nervousness was starting to show as I reached up and rubbed at my shoulder. The psychiatrist was silent for a moment as she watched my movements. I stopped, sat up straight and placed both hands on top of my crossed legs to keep from fidgeting.

I’m not sure why, but I felt the need to appear like I had my shit together. I took a minute to study her as she gave me a soft smile while she continued to get settled, grabbing a notepad, file folder, pen, and glasses from the small table next to her seat. She was probably in her early fifties, maybe late forties. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and she was dressed in business casual attire. I could tell she wanted to appear professional, but not uninviting. She was also definitely looking at my body language very closely, which was making me feel antsy. My therapist used to do that, and I hated it. I mentally smacked myself over my thoughts. I was already putting up walls and we hadn’t even started talking yet.

“Well, it’s been an exciting morning around here. Dieter is definitely happy you’re here. He was asked to leave his group session this morning because he couldn't focus. He’s been bugging poor Sharon ever since.” She laughed and smiled affectionately at her words.

She was trying to get me to relax. I knew that I looked too tense. I let out a breathy laugh as I sat back further in the seat, trying to appear less uptight, but I didn't think it was working. She gave me a sympathetic look suddenly, “You’re nervous to see him.”

It wasn’t a question. Looking down at my hands, I chuckled to myself briefly before clearing my throat to speak, “Yeah, I guess I am. I just…don’t know what to expect.”

“That’s a perfectly normal feeling. It’s not unusual for family members to worry if their loved one is going to be different after treatment. Is that some of what you’re feeling?”

Her question took me by surprise, “Ummm, maybe. Sort of...maybe not so much about him being different…more about him feeling differently.”

She nodded, “I understand. I can’t say that he won’t be different. His personality may present differently, more calm, less emotional or moody. He will feel differently in that he won’t be cycling from one extreme to the other, emotionally. As far as how he feels ABOUT things, that isn’t going to change just because he’s stabilized. Does that make sense?”

I gave a tight nod, “Yeah, it does.” It didn’t do anything to ease my anxiety though because I still didn’t know how he really felt about us. She eyed me for a second before continuing.

“So, I’ll fill you in on my plan for today. First, you and I are going to chat about Dieter’s diagnosis. Once we’re done, I’m going to bring him in for the session. After that, you and I will have a follow-up meeting to discuss the path forward. Does that sound ok to you?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” I started to chew on my bottom lip while she flipped through the file in her hand.

“Great. Just so you’re aware, Dieter signed release forms for you to have access to his medical and treatment information. Nothing is off the table, so if you have questions, ask. He made it clear to me that he wants you to know everything and wants you involved as much as you want to be.”

I paused briefly, shocked by that information. I exhaled the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, “Ok...I wasn’t expecting that.”

She smiled before continuing, “Alright, let’s get to it then?” She raised her brows at me, asking permission to proceed. I motioned with my hand to continue.

“So, he’s been formally diagnosed with mixed episode Bipolar I Disorder (BD). In simple terms, bipolar disorder is when someone experiences extreme behavioral or mood changes. The extreme highs are called manic episodes, and lows are episodes of depression. Most people with BD go through highs and lows over an extended period of time. Someone with mixed episodes, like Dieter has, tend to experience both highs and lows simultaneously or in a rapid sequence with no recovery time.”

She paused, giving me a minute to digest her words. I couldn’t say I was surprised by the diagnosis, it actually made a lot of his behavior make sense. When I didn’t speak up, she continued.

“I think what happened with Dieter…he was put on a lot of medication. Antidepressants in particular can be very tricky for someone with BD. It can cause an increased risk of mood destabilization when the antidepressants are not taken with a mood stabilizer. He was on pretty much everything but a mood stabilizer. You add that in with not sleeping, not eating, drinking, anxiety, and episode triggers…it’s a recipe for disaster. Sometimes being improperly medicated like that can trigger suicidal ideation and even psychosis. Honestly, he was fighting a losing battle.”

I leaned forward in my seat, placing my elbows on my knees while I rubbed at my face. I felt anger bubbling in my chest.

“Why didn’t his therapists or doctors catch what was happening?”

“One reason…lack of experience. BD is also incredibly hard to diagnose because it shares symptoms with so many other more common disorders like anxiety, depression, PTSD, and ADHD, which is what he was being treated for. That’s not to say he doesn’t have those things as well, but if he does, we need to take a different treatment approach.”

I sighed, shaking my head in disbelief. “Wow, that actually kind of blows my mind.”

“I know… and I’m surprised that no one thought to look into it, given his family history. It can be hereditary, and BD does have a high suicide rate. Given what happened with his mother, it should’ve been considered. Also, the fact that he experienced trauma in dealing with that incident...trauma often causes the onset of symptoms.”

I sighed heavily as the tears started to pool in my eyes, “This actually…kind of pisses me off that he had to go through all of this needlessly. He fucking hated taking that stuff because of the way it made him feel.”

“That brings me to my next topic...It's been hard to get a baseline with him. I feel like a lot of the things he was experiencing were side effects from all the medications he was on. I can’t really rely on his history before he started the medication because he was using recreational and prescription drugs and drinking heavily to self medicate, which could have been making things worse for him during that time as well.” She paused briefly to gauge my reaction, “I assume you knew about his past substance abuse issues?”

“Yeah, he’s mentioned it…What does all that mean?”

“Well, it’s hard to know exactly what his actual symptoms are right now. So, to start, I’m doing the bare minimum. I’ve started him out on a low dose mood stabilizer called divalproex sodium. It’s actually…an anticonvulsant that’s normally used to treat seizures rather than a typical mood stabilizer like lithium.”

I drew my brows down together in confusion, “Why a seizure medication?”

“That medication increases the amount of a chemical called gamma-aminobutyric acid in the brain. It works to block certain transmissions across the nerves in the brain and creates sort of an overall calming effect. That particular medication often works best for patients that have mixed or rapid cycling episodes. Lithium typically doesn’t get the job done in those instances. He seems to be doing well on it so far. We’ll give it a few more months to make sure everything else is out of his system and reevaluate.”

“So, he went from taking half the pharmacy…to one thing?”

“He did. He seems pretty set on limiting the medications as much as possible. He’s been spending a lot of his time doing cognitive behavioral therapy, interpersonal and social rhythm therapy, and psychoeducation to help him manage his symptoms and learn about triggers and that sort of thing. He’s been very invested in it, and it seems to be helping.”

I sighed, starting to feel overwhelmed, “I don’t know what all of that is. I mean, I know cognitive behavioral therapy but…” I shook my head in confusion.

“No worries, if you decide to continue with the family education sessions you’ll learn about that stuff. I know it’s a lot to take in...”

“Yeah, it is, but I’m happy that he’s hopefully on the right track now.” I took a couple of deep breaths to try and relax some as I continued to process things.

“One last thing before I bring Dieter in...I know you two were no longer together before his hospitalization and you haven’t really had a chance to work things out. His preference is to stay with you when he leaves treatment. I do want to be able to manage his expectations if that isn’t going to be the case. I don’t want you to feel like you have to allow that if you aren’t ready to take all this on. I want you to know that you can say no.”

I was taken aback at her directness, but also appreciated it. I actually felt like I was warming up to her some and feeling more comfortable with opening up to her. I didn’t hesitate with my response, if anything, I said it with conviction, looking directly into her eyes as I spoke.

“There’s no question in my mind about him coming home with me so long as he wants to. I’ve known from the start that he was struggling with his mental health, and I promised to support him through it. A new diagnosis doesn’t change anything for me. I’m all in for this.”

Dr. Rosenberg gave me a warm smile, clearly satisfied with my response. “Now I see why he says you can be a force to be reckoned with.”

My eyebrows shot up at her words as she again took me by surprise, “Dieter said that?” I chuckled at the thought as I leaned back in my seat, surprised that was the wording he chose.

“He’s said a lot of things about you, all positive, of course.” She laughed quietly to herself as she set her glasses on the table. As she stood, she announced she was going to go get him for our joint sessions.

After Dr. Rosenberg disappeared out the door, I could feel my anxiety returning. My chest was starting to tighten again as my heart beat a mile a minute. Instinctively, my right hand moved to rub at my shoulder. Was he going to be upset about how easily I gave up on us? I didn’t know how he couldn’t be. It didn’t sound like he was planning to end things for good even though that thought kept crossing my mind. It was clearly my pessimism and self-doubt seeping in. The thought of being completely open and vulnerable in this setting was making things worse too. I wasn’t a fan of having an audience, but I needed to get over that and not build up my walls right now. I propped my arm on the rest of the chair and started to rub at my forehead as my leg began to bounce. I couldn’t make myself stop the fidgeting no matter how hard I tried.

After several minutes passed, Dr. Rosenberg returned with Dieter following behind her. His head was down, clenching and unclenching his hands as he walked. As he approached me, he finally looked my way through his lashes. He gave me a small smile that widened as his eyes dropped down to my shirt, obviously noticing I was wearing one of his. I gave him a shy smile in return. He sat down in the chair directly in front of me as Dr. Rosenberg returned to her earlier spot.

It was clear he was nervous by the way he couldn’t keep his hands still and how the heel of his croc kept bouncing off the tiled floor. He would only occasionally glance in my direction as we waited for Dr. Rosenberg to get settled again. I took the opportunity to study his appearance. He looked so much better compared to the last time I had seen him. His light gray t-shirt was no longer loose looking around his fit torso. His pale skin had been replaced with a golden tan. His hair was longer and as wild as ever, framing his scruffy and patchy beard. His chocolate brown eyes looked clearer than I had ever seen them and were filled with nervousness and anticipation.

Once Dr. Rosenberg was ready to start, she filled Dieter in on what she had discussed with me about his diagnosis. She then encouraged him to take the lead going forward and discuss the things he wanted to speak with me about. He rubbed his hands together nervously, briefly chewing on his bottom lip before he met my gaze to speak.

“So, you’re…ok with that diagnosis?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. I wasn’t sure what he meant and gave him a confused look. “Like, it doesn’t freak you out or anything? I know it’s a lot to deal with.”

“Dieter, the diagnosis doesn’t change anything. You’re still you. Why would it bother me?”

“I dunno, I’m just afraid that at some point you’re gonna realize how big of a mess I am and run away from it all,” he said sheepishly.

I chuckled, leaning forward in the seat with a teasing smile, “I realized how big of a mess you were a long time ago.” He scratched at his chin as a smirk formed on his lips.

“Besides, I’m pretty sure I’ve already seen the worst of it and I’m still here. My feelings for you haven’t changed. You don’t have to worry about that from me.”

His eyes turned glassy at my words as he pinched his brows together, looking downward at his hands in his lap.

“I don’t deserve you, not after the way I treated you…the things I said. I was such an asshole to you.”

I bit at my bottom lip, shaking my head before speaking, “None of that matters to me. I know you weren’t completely yourself when you said those things.”

“No, I wasn’t but I still knew what I was doing and saying. I apparently tend to self-sabotage things. Some of the things I said, using your past against you, I knew it would hurt you. I wanted the words to hurt so you would let me go. I knew you wouldn’t otherwise.”

“Why though? I don’t understand why you felt the need to end things to begin with. Why was I a burden to you?”

His eyes widened at my question, brows shooting upward as he shook his head from side to side, “No, no you weren’t the burden…I was. I’m sorry I made you think that. I know the night I called, I wasn’t making a lot of sense. I…I hadn’t slept in days, and I was such a fucking mess.”

He licked his bottom lip and chewed at it for a second before continuing, “I could see how you were having to completely change everything about your life to accommodate me and my work just for us to be together. I knew it was eventually gonna be a problem and cause you stress because it was affecting your job. I didn’t wanna ruin your life that way. You shouldn’t have to cater your life to mine, it’s not fair. I love you too much to do that to you.”

“Dieter, it wasn’t always gonna be like that. It just happened to be shitty circumstances caused by the remote location. If we hadn't been in the middle of nowhere, I could’ve worked without issue. We just weren’t prepared for the challenges that came up. This is a learning experience for both of us. We’ll know better for next time so I can plan accordingly…and it wasn’t like you weren’t making changes to meet me halfway.”

He couldn’t argue with that. He sighed as he leaned back in his seat, nodding in agreement.

“I know that now, I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly…obviously. It all made sense at the time.” He rolled his eyes, frustrated with his behavior. He took a deep breath before continuing.

“It was more than that though, I knew I was spiraling out of control. I could fucking feel it happening and didn’t know how to make it stop. I didn’t wanna tell you what was going on because I didn’t want you to worry. I knew you would drop everything and fly back to Canada to be with me.”

“You’re damn right I would’ve… and I should’ve done that anyway.” I could feel my emotions catching up to me, my eyes filling with tears as I looked down away from him.

“I fucking knew it…in my gut that something was wrong, and I did nothing. If I had just done it…came up there anyway, this probably would’ve gone differently. I could’ve helped you through it, but no…I was a fucking coward. I gave up because I was selfish and wanted to protect myself. I didn’t even try because I was too afraid that I would end up in a dark place again if you didn’t want me to be there with you.”

The tears were streaking down my cheeks by this point. I couldn’t hold them back anymore. I had so much anger for myself that it was making me feel sick. Dieter stood from his seat, closing the few feet between us, then got down on his knees on the floor in front of me. He moved to grab my hands in my lap, but hesitated. I reached up and grabbed his in response.

“I’m sorry I put you in the position to even have to think that. It should’ve never happened. I should’ve been communicating everything with you instead of pushing you away. This whole fucking mess is my fault…I wanted to reach out so many times after that… to try and fix it, but you seemed like you were doing ok so I didn’t want to upset you again.”

The tears were streaming down his face now as he took a minute to try and compose himself.

“I thought I could move on and just deal with things the way I used to…by numbing the pain. That’s when I started drinking heavily again. Then I saw you at the restaurant, and you looked so fucking amazing…and I was such a dick. I was so angry with myself for that. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I had everything and fucked it up. My behavior after that night was reckless. There are days I can’t even remember because I was drinking so much. I just wanted to not think about it anymore.”

He pulled his hands away, looking down at the floor before wiping at his face. When he raised his head again, the pain in his eyes nearly made my heart stop. I reached out to cup his cheek, but he leaned away, seeming to need space.

“The night that video of you was posted online…several people sent it to me. I didn’t watch it at first because I didn’t think it would mean anything…but when I finally did…”

He put his hand over his mouth, letting out a quiet sob, before continuing.

“I could see how bad you were hurting…how bad I hurt you. What I did to you…I hated myself for it because you didn’t deserve that. It also reminded me of what I was missing out on because of how beautiful you sounded and looked…and that fucking song.”

He paused for a minute, shaking his head. He sniffled and wiped at his face again before continuing.

“I stayed up all night, watching it on a loop on the tv. I almost called you then, but stopped myself. I drank until I had nothing left instead. Then, when I ran into you the next morning, I could see how fucking broken you were. The way you looked at me…it fucking crushed me. I bought more alcohol and went back to the house. I don’t really remember much after that.”

He shook his head for a moment, pausing to take a few deep breaths, wiping at his face again.

“I don’t even remember calling you…and…even after everything I did, you still came to me. You could’ve easily told me to fuck off and I would’ve deserved it, but you didn’t. I know I wouldn’t be here right now if you hadn’t. You saved my life…I feel like you’ve been doing that ever since New York. When I say you’re my light in the darkness, I fucking mean it.”

I started sobbing into my hands. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I felt his fingers wrap around my wrist, pulling my hands around his neck as he moved to hug me. We sat there in an embrace for some time before I started mumbling into his shoulder.

“I was so afraid you were gonna hate me for giving up on you so easily. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder. Just know that it had nothing to do with you…I clearly still need to work on my own shit.”

He hugged me a little tighter as he buried his fingers in the back of my hair, “That thought never crossed my mind. Don’t even worry about it anymore.”

He finally pulled back, wiping the tears away from my cheeks with his thumbs as he did so. We gave each other tight smiles as we locked eyes. He turned away, toward Dr. Rosenberg, who I had completely forgotten was in the room, and asked for some tissues. She picked up the box from her small table and handed it to him as he stood. He handed me several and took some for himself before handing the box back to her. She motioned for him to have a seat. As she turned to set the box back on the table, I noticed she was looking a little glassy eyed too.

We all sat in silence as her eyes shifted between us. Dieter and I glanced at each other, confusion on our faces as we looked back toward her. She chuckled before she spoke.

“I’m not even sure why I’m here. This is literally the first family session ever where I didn’t have to intervene or lead a conversation. You two don’t seem to have any problems communicating, so I’m not sure how you ended up where you were.”

We both smiled widely at her, surprised and appreciative of her honesty. Dieter spoke up with a chuckle.

“I think between my fucked up brain and the distance…it didn’t do us any favors. We’re always at our best when we’re physically together, I think. Everything goes to hell when we aren’t. Clearly that is something I need to work on.”

Dr. Rosenberg nodded in agreement, “Well, I hate to separate you two again, but we are running short on time, and I want to have a chat with Talia about the plans going forward. Dieter, I’m pretty sure you have another group session coming up so you better head that way. You think you can focus enough for this one?”

She raised an eyebrow in his direction as he laughed and nodded. He stood, quickly shuffling over to lean down and give me a hug before exiting the room.

Dr. Rosenberg wasted no time getting back to business, “Talia, part of his treatment is making sure he has the support he needs when he gets home. That’s why we offer support to caretakers as well, because technically, you will be his caretaker as the only other person in the household with him.”

I knitted my brows together, confused about where this conversation was going.

“I’m not going to pretend that I don’t know you have a traumatic history because Dieter has mentioned a few things. I don’t know the details, and I get the sense he doesn’t know it all either. I feel like whatever happened with your ex-husband is still affecting you. Is the dark place you mentioned something that you would be willing to talk to me about? Anything you tell me about yourself is confidential, just so you know.”

I sighed heavily as I ran both hands over my face, “So you picked up on that, huh?” I laughed nervously under her gaze.

“You’re right, I haven’t told him everything. I keep telling myself I’ve moved past it, but after the last few months, I’ve realized that I just locked it away and pretended it didn’t exist. I tend to do that with a lot of things.” She gave me an encouraging smile, clearly picking up on my hesitation as I paused to gather my thoughts.

“So, the last few years of my marriage, I started drinking heavily after finding no way out of the hell I was living in. The constant mental and psychological abuse was wearing me down, especially after I realized what was happening. When I tried to talk to Justin about a divorce, he would just tell me there was no way out because he wasn’t ready to give me up.” I paused briefly… focusing on something outside through the window. “I uhh, came home early from work one day and found him with another woman that he worked with. He of course said it was my fault, because I wasn’t giving him what he needed in the marriage. I knew what he was doing…and I was determined not to let it go because I felt I had a legitimate reason to end things at that point. I TOLD him I was leaving. I was done asking. When I started packing a bag, he hit me. The first time ever. I mean, he had shoved me around some, but never hit me across the face like that. He told me there was no leaving… that he would just find me and bring me home. Said no one would believe me or help because all of OUR friends knew how I was.”

“Talia, what did saying that out loud just now make you feel?”

My eyes drifted over to meet hers, “I don’t really feel anything.”

She arched a brow, “That’s because you're dissociating. I want you to focus on me as you speak and feel what you’re saying.”

Fuck. She wasn’t going to let me cheat my way through this like my therapist did. I pinched my brows together as my eyes teared up again. I had to face this. I closed my eyes briefly, exhaling slowly. When I opened them and met her gaze, she nodded for me to continue.

“He wasn’t wrong. I didn’t really have anyone to turn to. He made sure of that. He left after our argument, said he was going out with the guys. I doubt that’s where he went though. As soon as he left, I started drinking. I remember…feeling lost and pretty fucking hopeless after that. I couldn’t believe he hit me, and I was scared it would happen again. I never saw myself as someone who lets their husband abuse them…I felt disgusted over it. I must have drank a lot…because I can’t remember the rest of that night. I - I woke up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. I guess when he came home, he found me passed out in my own vomit.”

I started tapping on the arm of the chair as the tightness in my chest returned. The tears trickled out again.

“When Justin finally came to see me, I told him that I was done. If he didn’t let me go, I was gonna find a way out…one way or another and I would make sure everyone knew it was his fault. Given that I had just put myself in the hospital, he took me at my word and agreed on a divorce. I guess he was afraid of what I would do.”

“What did you mean by that?”

I gave a half smile, “I honestly don’t know. I wonder that myself…what I was capable of. If I could’ve done anything.”

“What happened after you both agreed to the divorce?”

“Well, when I was still in the hospital, I reached out to one of my best friends that I grew up with, Lauren. We had kept in touch, even though I actively worked to put up a wall between us so she wouldn’t know what was really going on in my life because I was so embarrassed over it. She didn’t hesitate…she was at the hospital within the hour, and I told her everything. I stayed with her for a few weeks until I got my life sorted out. I don’t think I would have been able to do it without her. Of course, Justin continued to torment me by dragging out the divorce for over a year. It got pretty nasty.”

“What effects do you feel like that experience had on you?” She asked quietly.

“Experience.” I chuckled. “I didn’t realize twelve years of hell could be considered an experience.”

She gave me a sympathetic look before I continued, “I mean, I lost myself. I didn’t know who I was. I was who he wanted me to be. After I left him, he was still in my head with everything I did. What I was wearing, how I fixed my hair and makeup, things I said. I couldn’t do some of the simplest things without hearing his voice telling me I was doing something wrong and having a fucking panic attack over it. I couldn’t make decisions…and yes, I would still drink to numb my feelings and calm myself down. Only this time, I knew exactly how much I could drink without taking it too far.”

“Are those things still an issue for you now?”

I shook my head, “No, I mean, I did all the cognitive behavioral therapy and the sessions. I eventually got to a point where the negative thoughts stopped. I think Dieter had a lot to do with that…he kind of helped me see myself in a different light…but I do still have anxiety sometimes and I think I’ve reverted back to ignoring my feelings… compartmentalizing everything and pretending it’s not there. Throwing myself into work and staying busy to keep my mind occupied. I’ve been doing that instead of drinking the feelings away.”

Dr. Rosenberg leaned forward, placing her elbow on her knee with a pensive look on her face.

“Talia…would you be willing to stay for the next three weeks to work through some of this with me? It would be outpatient treatment…a couple hours a day. You can stay in one of our apartments.”

I sucked in a quick breath. I certainly wasn’t expecting this, but at the same time, I almost felt relieved. My gut told me I needed it and I knew I couldn’t go on the way I had been because I was eventually going to self-destruct if I didn’t take better care of myself. I knew I couldn’t fully be there for Dieter if I was still battling with myself. I sat staring at my hands as I thought through the offer. I could still work remotely, so that wouldn’t be an issue. I raised my head to meet her eyes, “Will Dieter know what I’m doing?”

“Only if you want him to.”

“I don’t want to saddle him with my shit right now…I don’t wanna mess him up.”

“Honestly, I think he’s stable at this point. I think he could handle whatever you wanted to share with him. If you wanted, we could even do some more joint sessions, or he can just be there for support if you want him to be. It’s all up to you really.”

“What would you do?” I asked, letting out a stuttered breath with my question. She took a minute to consider her response, biting on the inside of her cheek as she did so.

“I don’t think it would be bad if you shared everything with him. The more open you are with one another, the better. Communication is going to be a huge factor in keeping your relationship healthy and happy. At least if he knows what’s going on he can support you, just like you support him. Also, if he needs help processing through things, we can help him with that while he’s here…but again, it’s your decision.”

“Yeah, I mean he knows most of it anyway…Alright, I’ll do it. I’ll stay and I want him involved.”

She gave me a bright smile, “I’m actually really happy to hear that. I think this will allow you to build a solid foundation going forward. I’m excited for your future together. I can tell that you both care deeply for each other and I really want your time here to be successful.”

I gave her thanks for the opportunity she was giving me. I’ve known for a while that I had things that I needed to work on but didn't really know where to start. The fact that Dieter seemed so at ease with her and was doing so well gave me some comfort and the courage to jump in head first.

The next three weeks were a whirlwind of educational sessions to help me learn about bipolar disorder; the triggers, coping strategies, and lifestyle changes to minimize stress. I even had an opportunity to learn more about Dieter’s medication and possible interactions and side effects so I would be able to spot them. He had asked that I be involved with his Interpersonal and Social Rhythm therapy, which was designed to help him build a daily routine of healthy habits to manage his moods. Given his job, sometimes a routine was almost impossible for him to keep, but we learned strategies to deal with that when confronted with it. It was all very helpful for the both of us.

I had my sessions too of course. He sometimes set in on them if we were doing something particularly hard that day. His presence helped keep me grounded and got me through a lot. He was taking time to learn about ways to help me cope better and we worked together on effective communication skills.

Dr. Rosenberg recommended that I start keeping a journal to help me work through my emotions. I was iffy about it at first, but Dieter was also doing it and he loved it. He was very encouraging about it. It was something that I had come to enjoy doing after a few days. We had even taken to having a shared journal between us to better communicate our feelings, which Dr. Rosenberg loved the idea of and encouraged.

Even though Dieter and I weren’t able to spend a whole lot of time together during those three weeks, I could always feel his presence and support. It’s what kept me going through it all. I don’t think I would have had the strength to do it without him. By the time my last day of treatment came around, he was given the all clear for discharge. It was both nerve wracking and exciting to know that we would be going home…together.

A/N: How excited are we that these two are finally back together? How badly did this chapter hit the feels? Did you cry? If you did, hopefully this will be the last time...unless you are a happy crier. There may be happy tears later. 😉 How are we feeling about Dieter's diagnosis? Does it change how you view some of his past behavior? What about that revelation from Talia? I mean, are we really surprised though; the girl has had a complicated relationship with alcohol throughout the whole story. How do you think things are going to go when they get back home? Do you think they will pick up where they left off or have some growing pains? We will find out in the next chapter. 😁 I am 100% failing at life and did not get the Deconstructing Dieter Bravo post done. I need to do a little fact checking and didn't have the brain power for it. However, once I get that ready, it will be posted HERE. The topic for Deconstructing Dieter Bravo Part 3 will be his diagnosis. I will tag all the usuals in the posts once it is ready. Hopefully you will find it to be educational. 💜 👉 I do want to share some details on upcoming projects that will be released for the holidays. I am participating in the @pedrostories Secret Santa event. I have received my gift prompt, and you may be excited to know that you will be getting a Dieter Bravo one shot from me by Christmas. I already have some ideas swirling around for it and it's not related to any current fics. It should be fun. Be sure to follow the #pedrostoriesgift23 hashtag to check out all the awesome work that will be included for the event. 👉 I will also be participating in the Pickled Peña event for the new year. I am going to try my hand at writing a little Javi P. for you. Follow @pickled-pena for updates and the hashtag #pickledpeña to see all madness (and I'm sure debauchery) that comes from this fun challenge. I also invite you all to join us! There is still time! It's going to be a blast! If you would like to be tagged on either of these one shots, let me know in the comments. 💜 As usual, I have included the chapter mood board below in case you missed it.😘

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scorphargrove · 2 years

Text

Bite Back ~ Billy Hargrove x fem Reader first four chapters now on AO3

Chapter Two here.

Chapter Three here.

“I’m crazy, but you like that, I bite back

daisies on your nightstand, never forget it

I blossom in the moonlight, screw eyes

glacial with the blue ice, I’m terrifying”

this fic was accidentally loosely inspired by the song Daisy by Ashnikko which my sister was playing a lot at the time of me writing. anyway, here’s chapter one!! this is my second full length fic so please be nice. :’) chapters 1-3 already on AO3 tonight. will update daily <3 no photos used are mine, I take no credit for them. thank you for reading.

Summary:

When you were fourteen you lost your mom and found yourself in Hawkins, Indiana with your uncle Jim Hopper. Having always been an outcast, you find a best friend in Steve Harrington, and the two of you are doing your best to cope with everything that’s been left behind from the Upside Down entering your lives. You think that you’re handling it pretty well, all things considered. When Billy Hargrove rolls into town and you notice the same pain in his eyes as yours, he turns your life Upside Down all over again.

Billy Hargrove x reader, best friend Steve Harrington, set during season 2 and on. angst, fluff, smut to come, a bit of a slow burn, friends to lovers, The Party is also hanging around. warnings for references to abuse, minor injuries, violence

Chapter One-

You didn’t know it at the time, wouldn’t really put it together until years later, but the day that your life changed forever was just like any other Tuesday. Now, looking back on it, you should’ve known sooner. Should’ve realized your path had been altered; a shift in your direction, a change that would effect every day that came afterwards. But you didn’t, because it was just a random Tuesday.

The days before the day were mundane, normal even. You’d gone to a party with Steve and Nancy over the weekend, content to be their third wheel once again. Gotten a little drunk, had walked back to his house with him afterwards and crashed into his big guest room bed. You’d slept half the day away on Sunday, finally rising after noon to the smell of bacon and eggs, stuffed your face with greasy hangover food and headed home to finish your chemistry homework before school on Monday.

You heard it just like everyone else had that morning. Rock You Like A Hurricane announcing his arrival, drawing every eye in the parking lot to his Camaro. You’d barely glanced at the car at the time, too engulfed in your conversation to grant the new kid with anything more than that, remembering your first day at Hawkins High three years before. You definitely hadn’t had such a grand entrance. In the back of your mind, you had inwardly hoped for a split second that whoever was inside the car was different than most of the other people here. The boring population of Hawkins with their judgements and their pastels and their fucking pop music. Whoever it was, their music taste was at least alright, maybe they wouldn’t be so bad. Then you’d turned back towards the door and gone about your day, because your life hadn’t changed yet.

---------------

“Hey! Y/N! Breakfast is almost done and you’d better be awake!”

The pounding on the little trapdoor of the attic made you jump; having just opened your eyes when your uncle knocked. You glanced over at the clock and jumped out of bed cursing under your breath, having slept through your alarm. He would be pissed if you were late again .

“I’m up! Almost ready!” You lied, and you knew he was in the living room likely rolling his eyes along with a little girl who was definitely giggling. You threw on the first clothes you could find, slipping into your black bell bottoms and an old Metallica t-shirt that had seen better days. Running into the tiny little bathroom he’d installed in the attic for you, you winced again as you caught a glimpse of your hair in the mirror, a rat’s nest that probably could not be saved. You brushed your teeth quickly, grabbed your backpack and your black denim jacket and threw the trapdoor open, descending the ladder into the living room and racing into the kitchen.

“Good morning! Don’t you look positively well rested.” You could hear the laugh hidden underneath his words and threw him a mock glare, just as a small shadow appeared behind you with a brush and gave you a quick squeeze. You turned to face the little girl with a grateful smile. “What would I do without you, El? Truly. I’d be stuck with this guy.” She giggled, glancing at Hop and sliding into her chair next to yours at the kitchen table. You brushed roughly through your knotted hair as he turned around from where he was standing by the fridge, two plates in hand and a frown that made El’s giggles even louder on his face. “Hey! This guy made you breakfast and got you up before you were late again, so maybe don’t bite the hand that feeds you, smartass.” You laughed and stood from the table (hair as good as it was going to get at this point), smacking a kiss to El’s forehead, grabbing an Eggo from the plate in Hop’s hand and making for the door.

“Yeah, yeah. I love you, you’re my hero!” You said the words with a hint of sarcasm but you knew every word was true, and so did he. The two of you had what maybe seemed like an odd relationship, one built on quips and jokes thrown back and forth, but one you wouldn’t trade for anything.

“Forgetting something?” He yelled just as you reached the door and you squinted at him.

“I’m eating breakfast Hop!” You said the words with your mouth full of Eggo, just to hear El giggle again. You looked over to her and she was smiling in the way that only she can, the smile that looks both innocent and incredibly mischievous.

“What?” You questioned, taking another bite of the Eggo and checking your watch, knowing your ride would already be waiting.

She hid a laugh behind her tiny hands as Hop pointed down at your feet, a shit-eating grin on his face, too. Glancing down at your socks you huffed, shoving your feet into the black Converse by the door and heading out into the cold morning. Just before the door shut behind you, you echoed your statement from earlier, shouting “Okay, fine! What would I do without either of you?” And smiling at the laughs you heard from them both.

You meant it, of course you did. Hop and El had changed your life, in all the best ways. You’d only just turned 14 when your mom had passed and left you on your own. She was an angel of a woman. You’d had no idea at the time what would happen from that point on, had been so lost and confused as you sat in a hospital hallway, trying to figure out your next steps. She had died peacefully, or at least the doctors said so. The cancer had come almost a decade before, and they said your time with her had been a miracle. You’d never looked at it as anything otherwise.

As your tears had fallen, a bone deep exhaustion taking its hold on you, a strong hand had landed on your shoulder. You remember flinching, feeling terrified and vulnerable as you looked up to see Hop’s face for the first time in person. You’d seen it grainy in photos, but your mom’s brother lived across the country in a small town and had suffered his own losses, his own pain that kept him holed away and private. You understood then, something you never could before, how pain could do that to a person. But at your call he had jumped in his truck and made the long drive at lightning speed. Sadly, he hadn’t made it in time to see her, but he had made it in time for you. He’d helped you with funeral arrangements that you didn’t understand, helped you sell what you didn’t need and pack the rest, seemingly in no rush to return to his own life until you were ready, and brought you back here to Hawkins.

He took you in, no questions asked. Every day since then had been spent building trust between the two of you, and having never known your real father (or your sperm donor , as your mom had liked to call him) Hop had quickly filled that role.

You smiled as you sprinted to the car that was waiting for you, hoping he’d turned on the heater when he left his house. Inside the Beemer was none other than Steve Harrington himself, your unlikely best friend.

You knew, just as well as the other people in Hawkins did, that the two of you were nothing if not complete opposites. His polos and crappy music had made you scrunch your nose the first time you’d caught a glimpse of him, new to town and trying to find where you fit in. Definitely not with him , you’d thought at the time, but you’ve come to realize that life in Hawkins is funny in the way that the most unpredictable things usually make the most sense.

It had been purely by chance, a call made to Joyce’s house hoping to catch Hop. Trying to let him know you’d be coming home late, being filled in on an emergency, one you didn’t understand the depth of yet. You’d scanned the parking lot quickly and your eyes had landed on him, bloody and bruised from a fight you didn’t have the time to ask about. You knew he was dating Nancy Wheeler, someone who had been mentioned in the quick, chaotic phone call. So, you’d taken a leap of faith. Walked right up to the King of Hawkins High (gag) and demanded a ride to the Byers.

A baseball bat full of nails, a monster from another dimension, and many late nights spent cowering together after nightmares later, and you two were inseparable.

“What took you so long? Dude, we have fifteen minutes!”

“I might’ve slept through my alarm.” You answered with a sheepish smile as you buckled in and warmed your hands.

“Again? El has superpowers. Can she not like, I don’t know, throw something at you when you’re going to make us late?” You reached over and smacked his arm lightly at this, turning up the radio with your other hand and fixing him with a look of disgust at the Tears for Fears tape that was always in the player.

“Don’t even start with me. You were late, I get to choose the music.”

“Fine, but one of these days I swear I’m going to toss that tape out of the fucking window. Besides, we’re not even going to be late. You’re just dramatic.”

“Me? Dramatic? Should I just sit here as you hurl these disgusting words at me?” He held his hand to his chest in mock disgust with a playful grin on his face, always making jokes about what he called your potty mouth, but in your defense you lived with Jim Hopper. At that moment you noticed the crumpled papers in his lap.

“You finished your essay for your college apps?”

He grimaced and threw you a look out of the corner of his eye, smile quickly fading from his face. “Yeah, I guess. I got Nancy to go over it yesterday. She… I don’t know. She didn’t think it was too good.”

You rolled your eyes skyward. You liked Nancy, really you did. You’d fought for your lives together, had a bond built from necessity and trauma. The two of you tolerate each other, greet one another with quick hellos and coexist just fine. You know she thinks your relationship with Steve is weird, but you truly couldn’t care less. It’s not like there’s any reason for her to worry. You’d never looked at him as anything more than your best friend and never would. He had needed someone after everything who wouldn’t judge him, and so had you.

After Barb had gone missing, Nancy had blamed Steve, and you understood the need to blame someone for all of the bad things that had happened. But you’d be lying if you said you liked the way she treats Steve because of it. Having been their third wheel too many times to count, you also couldn’t count the number of times you’d silently stewed in the backseat, knowing her words were only damaging his self-confidence even further. Wondering why she stayed with him if she seemingly disliked so much about him. Your best friend may not be the smartest person in the world, may not always say the right thing, but he’s kind, and he tries his hardest. You don’t think she recognizes that, don’t think she ever will. It wasn’t Steve’s fault, but as much as he tries to show her he’s changed, you don’t think she’ll ever stop seeing Steve for who he was at that time. A completely different boy than the one he is now, one untouched by evil and monsters. It isn’t fair. He could see it on your face, your eyes darkening, and was quick to change the subject. He droned on about some asshole in his gym class, but your thoughts were far away. You were thinking of Demogorgons, of El and Will and flickering lights, when he shook you out of your horrid daydreams.

“Y/N, hello? Anyone in there?” He tapped on your forehead a few times and your eyes cleared, meeting his from the passenger seat. He had that look on his face, like he already knew where your mind had gone, but he didn’t say anything about it. What is there to say that hasn’t already been said a million times? He just reached over, squeezed your arm lightly, and waited for you to grab your bag. Then the two of you made your way to class, and you weren’t even late ( thank you very much ) - as you slid into your desk you found his eyes across the room and stuck out your tongue. A silent, told you so.

---------------

The day passed slowly after that, a darkness in the back of your mind that you couldn’t quite shake. You often thought that the Upside Down had broken you a little, already cracked and splintered from pain that had come long before. You and Steve, unlike the party, Nancy, Jonathan… you struggled more than the rest, except for Will of course. Not that they didn’t all have their struggles too, you knew that they all had their fair share of nightmares and carried around the same darkness that you did. But it was harder for the two of you to pretend, especially on the long nights spent flinching at every shadow. A comfort next to one another as you rode out the memories, getting high at the quarry and both secretly hoping that nothing would come for you then and there, the ghost of a monster always looming in the trees. Steve had Nancy though, a reason to pretend during the days that he wasn’t drowning in darkness too. That he didn’t lean on your shoulder and hide his tears, and that was fine. You’d happily be his comfort when he needed it. Although lately it seemed she brought him more darkness, and you couldn’t help but notice those nights had been happening less and less, Steve tagging along to see Barb’s parents, even though you knew it made him panic each time he faced them, brought the nightmares back full force. Knew he blamed himself when he sat across from them, listening to them holding on to hope. The absence of him on those nights made the days harder.

You tried not to think about it too much.

On days when the darkness got especially bad though (more and more lately, another thing you tried not to think about) you found it hard to care about your classes. Learning trig felt entirely pointless when you knew what you did, and you’d often slip out during lunch, hide in what you privately considered your spot. A bench out underneath the old bleachers behind the field, right on the edge of the woods, where you knew no one would find you.

A bright side of living with the Chief of Police? No one bothered you, always assuming he had it covered. And he did, he knew the darkness you carry just as well as you do. Knows that sometimes you need to run from that pain just like he used to. Doesn’t fault you for it when you smell like smoke, when you trudge into the house late at night with red rimmed eyes, or when you sheepishly confess to skipping a few classes. As long as you keep your grades up and stay safe, follow a few rules, all of which you do, he lets you cope the only ways you know how.

Which is why by lunch, when everything feels a little too loud, when Steve is sitting across the cafeteria with Nancy beckoning you over, but you can’t stand the thought of it today; of sitting with them while everyone at the table ignores you and you ignore the stares. Eyes looking at your hair, your black clothes. The looks that say you don’t belong with the two of them, the looks that feel like they slice right through you straight to your core and spill you open along with all the trauma you carry on your shoulders; you shake your head at Steve and slip out the side doors. He knows where you’re going, where to find you if he needs to. Knows you need it. Knows that right now, he can’t chase away the darkness.

Sometimes, nothing can.

You find your bench under the bleachers empty just like any other day, long forgotten here after years of no one to use it. A little oasis for you, one that grants you silence other than the sound of the wind in the trees. It brings you peace just as much as it brings you fear, to sit out here all alone scanning the shadows. But sometimes anything is better than the crowds of students who don’t understand.

You pull out your Walkman and kick up your feet, laying down and staring at the sky. Sometimes in these moments you can’t help but wonder if El is watching you. If she knows that you sit alone out here during the day, wonder if you’re causing her stress that she doesn’t need. She’s made so much progress since coming to live with you and Hop.

Last winter had been especially long for the two of you. A winter spent hoping you’d find her, slipping Eggos into Hop’s jacket pocket for him to leave in the woods. Hoping against all odds that she’d come back after saving Will but knowing that she probably wouldn’t.

The day she’d finally shown herself, you’d had an idea. You’d sat alone in your room thinking of her like you always did, but in a fit of desperation you’d called out to her. Said all the things you’d been thinking, out loud. How you’d recognized your own pain in her eyes. How you and Hop were a little broken, but you could help her. You could give her a home and keep her safe . You would do anything to keep her safe.

How you weren’t alone, but you were lonely.

When Hop had come home that day with a tiny shadow, she’d given you a knowing smile and you’d wrapped her in a hug. He never did ask how or why, but you suspect he knows there’s more to the story. The two of you had been attached at the hip ever since. You’d never had a sibling but El was the closest thing to a sister you could ask for.

Just then, as you were lost deep in thought, movement out of the corner of your eye caught your attention. Your senses were instantly on alert. Trained to know when you weren’t alone, when someone or something was nearby. You sat up just as a figure rounded the corner and you flinched, preparing yourself for anything.

Instead, you were met with bright blue eyes, and you saw the moment he clocked the flinch and those eyes narrowed. Inwardly, you sighed at yourself for giving a Hawkins High student yet another reason to make fun of you behind your back, something you didn't necessarily give a shit about, but something that was exhausting nonetheless.

On second glance you realized he wasn’t a student. Or at least, not one that you recognized. The two of you were locked into what seemed like a stare down and you weren’t going to lose regardless of who this stranger was. You reached up and pulled off your bulky earphones, letting them rest around your neck.

“Who’re you?” You questioned the boy, which now that your heartbeat had settled, you realized was… actually, really handsome. You were far from the type to let that simple fact bring your guard down but it was worth noting. He had blonde curls that reached his shoulders, cut into a mullet, clad in all denim, tight denim, and those piercing blue eyes were still locked on you. You felt like he was sizing you up the same way you were doing to him, and you wondered what he was seeing. Most likely guarded eyes, just like the ones looking back at you, ones with pain just under the surface. You wondered what made his blue eyes darken like yours.

He coughed and averted his gaze, effectively ending your odd stare down and saying, with a hard edge, “Sorry. Thought I could get some peace and quiet out here, but I guess that’s impossible in this fucking town.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh you let out at that. Poor guy, if he only knew. His eyes swung to yours, a surprised look on his face before it hardened once again. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, realizing it was empty with a frown as you replied.

“You’d think with such a small ass population there’d be more room to brood in silence, but no dice.” You reached into your backpack and pulled out your own pack as you spoke, tucking one for yourself behind your ear and holding out another to him. He eyed it and then your face with suspicion. You smiled at him with all your teeth, the expression Steve called your scary bitch face on display. The one that was a tad too much to be believable, you knew full well.

“You can take it. I don’t bite. At least, not hard.” You joked, thinking maybe he’d take one look at you like the rest of these hicks and scurry off. You were (kind of pleasantly) surprised at his answering laugh. It was a nice sound, and it looked like it surprised him too. Again, you wondered what had happened to this boy. What darkness he carried on his shoulders because whatever it was, it was as obvious as yours. He reached over and took the cigarette, mumbling a quiet thanks and pulling out a lighter at the same time you did. You moved to the other end of the bench and he eyed you before sitting down, smoking next to you in silence.

His body lost some of its tension, and you settled against the back of the bench as you scanned the trees again. You knew he was glancing out of the corner of his eye at you, maybe judging you, but you weren't bothered. You understood, you didn’t look like the other girls at this school, didn’t dress like them, didn’t care to hold up an appearance of someone you aren’t. Prided yourself on being you instead of being one of them , in fact. In your opinion people could take it or leave it. Most left it, and that was fine with you.

Being you had saved you from a monster from an alternate dimension, after all.

“I’m Billy.” He broke the silence and you glanced at him, but he wasn’t looking at you now. Rather, he was looking out at the trees too, a contemplative look on his face and you took a long drag before replying.

“I’m Y/N.” He smiled at that, an almost imperceptible twitch of his lips, and that was it. He finished his cigarette and stood, walking away without so much as a wave. You shrugged to yourself, content to go back to your silence as you pulled your earphones back to your ears and laid back down on your bench.

As he walked away, Billy couldn’t shake the tiny desire he had to glance back at you. At the girl on the bench, the girl with the pain in her eyes and the Metallica t-shirt. The girl who flinched, who looked scared for two seconds before she’d looked at him like he was a challenge. It was fucking refreshing. That glint in her eyes that said, your move. A look he recognizes in himself, saying, try me, I dare you. The first person in this town who didn’t immediately shy away from his hard edges. When he looked back, you were laying down, head bobbing along to whatever you were listening to, peaceful like his intrusion hadn’t bothered you at all. He shook the thoughts out of his head and marched back into hell. Or, as the locals called it, Hawkins High.

Your life, forever changed. All on a random Tuesday. All because of a guy named Billy, who forgot to buy a new pack of cigarettes. And you, totally unaware of the change, stayed on your bench and scanned the trees, just like any other day.

#Billy Hargrove x Reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove

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memoriesofthecircularroom · 2 years

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Alright. Here’s the essay you wanted. Post explains why I responded to an ask I received that said “I think some Traumagenics are confused Endogenics” with “Same here!”

Let’s start with Context.

That ask was received in a string of anon hate (I deleted the majority, but this one pissed me off more than the rest). It was received due to my stance that we should be acknowledging that some endogenic plurals are traumagenic systems who don’t recall their trauma or are confused. It was received during the time that QueerAutism decided to start spreading more lies about me based on a single screenshot of when I was anti-endo. It was received during the time I was trying to step further away from syscourse, for my health, and focus on being more positive.

It was also the time I was dealing with the hardest part of the year for teachers, running on 2-3 hours of sleep each night. It was the time I was dealing with a death in the family, and a 2 day long memorial for the woman who changed my partner’s life forever, and who gave me a place to stay in her death, which got me out of my parents abusive house. I was also dealing with said abusive parents, and currently trying to work out a week long vacation I’m going on with them, this summer, after I just opened up about being gay and having DID - which went poorly.

Needless to say, I was emotionally drained. I received what was clearly a bait ask. They WANTED me to become a wishy washy asshole, who denied that my stance could go both ways, just so they could hold that up as a shining banner of “proof” that I’m totally an anti-endo guys. I was so royally pissed off when I got that ask. Especially since (as I’ll explain next) I sort of agree with it.

So, rather than respond to a purposeful bait ask with a 20 paragraph response (which you all have now made me do anyways - thanks) I simply replied “same here!” Which, I’ll add, was immensely satisfying. Imagining their face when the “evil sysmed centrist” turned out to be not what they expected? It gave me at least a moment of relief during a remarkably shitty time.

So what did I actually mean?

First off: some Endogenics are Traumagenics. Full stop. There is evidence of people thinking they are endo and it turns out they’re traumagenic. There is precedence. Furthermore, there’s such origins as “dissociagenic” - as in, I formed from dissociation. Which is. A trauma response. Hence, traumagenic. I believe a lot of origin labels inherently are traumagenic, and while I will never call an endogenic plural a traumagenic system against their wishes, I cannot say that I believe you can have trauma responses without trauma.

Let’s read that again. “Endogenics are Traumagenic.” Hey, it’s almost like the labels are fucking stupid. THAT’S where my argument boils down to. I think that there HAVE to be Traumagenics who are actually Endogenic because I think, in some cases, the two are intrinsically tied. Some endogenic plurality is formed through trauma, or formed through trauma responses. If A = B, then logically, B = A.

I also have, and always will, argue for Traumagenic systems to actually look into Endogenic plurality in regards to their own. “But endos hurt me!!!” Bitch, me too, the fuck. But they also helped me, because sometimes, endos aren’t evil!!! Surprise surprise, it’s almost like people are people, and SOME people are assholes. I don’t subscribe to the belief that all endos are assholes. I think analyzing endogenic origins and trying to apply them to yourselves is actually a worthwhile experience. It doesn’t erase what you went through - it just means it’s beneficial to look at things through other perspectives.

Let’s also remark on the fact that endogenic origins account for “alters who formed not due to trauma, but something else.” While I disagree with this in DID/OSDD (alters ALL form from a base trauma, essentially, it’s more nuanced than that but come on, I’m hoping I don’t need to explain every single detail here) I do find it useful for MYSELF to label my alters who didn’t form from a “traumatic event.” I don’t personally call them endogenic, but by endo definitions, they are. By endo definition, some Traumagenics are actually endogenic. And I find looking at my alters who aren’t from a “traumatic event” in my life and delineating that experience has helped me overcome more situations in my life and inform me more about them. Looking at myself through endogenic lenses actually helped me work out a lot of my trauma.

Lastly, on this topic (and here’s the one you’ll actually disagree with): people DO invent trauma for themselves. Reminder: this blog believes in endogenic plurality. I BELIEVE you can have headmates without trauma. And I believe some traumagenic (people who say they have trauma) systems are actually endogenic. I believe some traumagenic systems are not traumagenic, and have instead read into a situation too deeply and it’s not actually trauma. Note: I’m not fakeclaiming anyone here. This is no different than me saying that some endogenic plurals are traumagenic (in denial of trauma), or faking, or experiencing something similar. I believe the same of BOTH sides. I am NEVER going to tell a traumagenic system that they’re faking, or “secretly endo” or that “their trauma wasn’t enough.” All I’m doing is acknowledging that sometimes people are mistaken.

Alright. Now, onto the reason I’m so pissed off.

@oops-all-syscourse. You apparently already had me blocked. But you still saw fit to reblog a bait ask from almost a week ago to let everyone know I was disgusting. Why? Is it because we inherently disagree? Or is it because you believed I was anti-endo when I have been VOCALLY syscourse unaligned? I am vocally a believer in endogenic plurality. I know you disagree. So why did you bother scrolling to find that post? What was the point? Debate??? Or just being a bitch to me?

@ the comments on said post: Based on the speed those came in, you didn’t look any further into the situation than that one post. Did you realize it was a bait ask sent during a string of other anon hate? Did you realize I was at my wits end with syscourse, and was publicly talking about how people need to step away? Did you see my OWN post, explaining that I needed to step back for my own health yesterday? Nope. You just barraged me with comments, DMs, aaand.

@ anon haters. I’m just straight up deleting all of your messages. Fuck you. Since apparently responding to a bait ask at all caused me to get harassed, I’m not responding to you all. Let’s hope NOT responding isn’t going to end up with more harassment, right? Cause that’s what I figured would happen if I didn’t respond to the original bait ask. I figured that anon would go to Rouke and bitch about how I was “clearly dodging the question cause I’m a filthy sysmed.”

I’m tired of people fucking lying about me. I’m tired of getting harassed. I’m tired of trying to go to bed early, only to have a panic attack from spam messages and alerts on my phone because a single person on the internet disagrees with a take that, to me, was VERY OBVIOUSLY not the full story. How about, rather than jump the gun and immediately harass me, you use some critical thinking skills? “Huh. MotCR almost always responds to everything with at least a three paragraph response, unless they’re too drained to respond. Maybe there’s another reason they didn’t respond with a 20 paragraph response to this ask, rather than just them agreeing flat out with it.”

To the long anon I got; I’m not gonna publish everything you said (mostly cause I’m tired and this essay already took a full half hour of my morning, which was NOT time I had available to spend, but was also the only thing that might calm down the anxiety attack that started last night and is still ongoing this morning). I just want to address one concern: I am not going to back down on a stance unless I am given proper evidence/argument for why I should. I haven’t received that in this case, so obviously, I’m not going to roll back my argument here. I used to do that in pro-endo spaces. Nowadays, I’m much more vocal about my beliefs, and I don’t intend to let some asshole anons make me back down.

Lastly: if you don’t agree with this? Then fucking block me, or engage in civil debate. I’m not going to reply to people who just insult me or are pissy about it. I’m not wasting my time anymore.

I’m trying to take care of myself and spend less time in pointless arguments. I suggest everyone else also step back and consider how much time they spend in syscourse. Are YOU taking care of yourselves?

#syscourse #endos #mod curtis #I’m tired and pissed #Had to switch last night just to sleep #woke up pulled back into front with an anxiety heartbeat #Just #I’m so tired of having to explain everything as clearly as possible in an effort to avoid harassment #tw sui bait

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theshelbyclan · 3 years

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Bells and Smoke

Summary: The youngest Shelby has to be send away to a convent, but you have no intention of conforming to their rules, even if you’ll die in the process

(Gif by @harmon-jane-black) A/N: Requested by anon: Could I request a Shelby sister where she is sent off to a boarding school and is getting badly bullied by teachers and pupils for being what they think is Birmingham poor scum. Maybe she comes home or gets visited and is losing her Birmingham accent and is a little thin and tired. V Polly and tommy nun scene vibes. Only if you aren't busy ❣️ x This has gotten really long, but this request gave me SO many ideas! Warning for abuse and neglect though. And I hope you like it!

Words: 6020 *** You couldn’t remember how it had all happened. One minute everything seemed to be fine and the next, life as you knew it had ended. Maybe it was Tommy’s idea, to give you the opportunities the others never had. But he never cared much about his siblings’ education. Maybe it was Arthur’s idea, thinking you’d finally become too wild. But he was too busy fighting his own demons. Maybe it was Aunt Pol’s idea, making a woman of style and class out of you. But she’d never abandon you like this.

All you knew was that one morning you had been in bed. As usual, you’d woken up with the workers as the factory whistles sounded, but there was no need for you to get up at five. So you’d turned around and tried to sleep on. But then Finn had come in and he roughly shook you awake. “Aunt Pol says you have to get up,” he had said, his voice filled with urgency. But you hadn’t been awake fully yet, “What… Why? It’s so early!” “You have to pack.” “For what? Where are we going?” Your brother had refused to meet your eye, “Not me. Just you.” And before you knew it, Aunt Polly had taken you and your small bag into the car and you were speeding out of Birmingham. At least Finn had come along, though Polly had forbidden him to go, but he had been adamant. “Where are we going?” you had whispered to him in the back. He had hardly replied to any of your question, but gave evasive answers like, “Away. Pol says it won’t be forever.” You remembered the all-encompassing feeling of loneliness that had washed over you in that moment. Was it something you had done? Were you being punished? Was the family giving you up? You were only fifteen, you’d never been away from Small Heath without any of your siblings by your side, and the separation had been too abrupt, too cruel. Suddenly, Aunt Polly had swerved to the right and stopped abruptly in front of the train station. “Get you bag,” she’d ordered you. Anger had flared inside of you, “No! You tell me where I’m going first!” “Y/N Shelby, I am your aunt and you will do as I say. Remember who you’re talking to and don’t think for one second that you will win this fight. Grab your bag and get out of the car.” Petrified at your aunt’s tone of voice, you’d gotten out of the car. And like a zombie, you’d walked over to the train. On the side it said Oxford. “Where do I get off?” You’d asked no one in particular. “Oxford,” your brother had never left your side, “Just sit tight until the end.” “You know what’s going on.” “I can’t change it, Y/N,” his eyes had been pleading for your forgiveness in that one moment, “I tried, I swear to God I did, but I can’t change it…” Not really understanding, you had only been able to nod, “Will you explain it to me?” “I’ll write.” Suddenly, tears had begun to fall from your eyes. The great unknown hadn’t even scared you that much, but the sudden realisation that everything had been altered had. “Here,” Finn had nudged you, as you’d hoisted your bag on board, “I nicked this for you,” and he’d handed you a hipflask, “might get you as far as Oxford. After that, you’re on your own.” His words had hit you hard, so there’d been nothing left to do but take a swig from the whiskey he offered. “What did I do wrong?” you’d asked him, uncertain. “Nothing. Don’t let the bastards tell you otherwise. You did nothing.” His voice had been so strong then. “Finn?” “Yeah?” “You can’t fucking write.” He’d burst out laughing and you couldn’t help yourself but join him. Then the train had started to depart and you’d taken one last look at the car with Aunt Pol’s silhouette inside. You’d turned to Finn and it’d been like you would never see him again. “Finn?” “Yeah?” “I bloody love you, you know?” He’d smirked, “I fucking love you too.” Eyes still locked, the train had started to move and just before it was too late, he’d added, “I’ll make sure you’re coming back home.” You’d clung to those words *** At five in the morning, the whistles sounded. Waking up this early was now your habit, as it was the habit of all the girls here. Like robots, you all climbed out of your sober beds, to put on your drab grey dresses and to stand neatly next to year beds. The dormitory looked like a prison cell and the girls’ faces were ashen. Shivering in the cold, you waited for inspection. “Adams!” “Yes, sister.” “Lee!” “Yes, sister.” “Williams!” “Yes, sister.” The first voice rang through the room like the bells of hell and the girls answered in meek tones. This was your morning ritual and there was no comfort to be found in it. Silently, you waited, while a part of you still dreamed of the horses you once loved and rode. Remember the freedom you felt, you told yourself. Remember the wind in your hair? The people who cared? The place called home? Remember Finn running alongside you? “Shelby!” You suddenly looked up, “Yes, sister,” and faced the nun who’d stopped by your bed. “What’s this?” she asked her rhetorical question. “My bed,” you weren’t supposed to answer, but it had escaped you before you could stop yourself. The middle-aged woman crouched down and tore up the neat bedding you’d just finished tucking in perfectly. Locking eyes with you, she gloated, “Look, it isn’t made properly.” “It was,” you replied through gritted teeth, “you just went and fucked it up again.” Without a warning, she struck you across the face hard. Then she flipped over the bed in one smooth motion and said, without any emotion, “Do it again.” Seething with rage, you counted to ten in your head. In your mind, you went back to Small Heath. You could feel the warmth of the fire in your kitchen, hear the men counting the money and could smell Aunt Polly’s cooking. This and only this was how you managed not to explode. “Ankins!” she continued her list. “Yes, sister.” “Elliot!” She was new here and you looked at her without turning your head, a skill you’d mastered in recent weeks. Some of the girls said she’d gotten pregnant, but she’d lost the baby before coming here. No one really knew what had happened to her. You only thought she looked too young, too fragile, like a little bird that could be squashed with a single movement of the hand. “Yes…” she mumbled, practically inaudibly. “Speak up, girl!” She hardly increased her volume, but repeated, “Yes, sister.” Just as you’d promised yourself you’d try to look out for her, evil incarnate turned around to face you again and snapped, “Shelby. You’ll report to my office after you’ve finished making your bed, properlythis time.” Great, you thought. After she’d left, you looked at your hands in resignation. Faint white lines betrayed the cane that had been on them. They’d only just healed. *** A few months earlier, Tommy was meeting a man dressed in black in an alleyway. As the rain was pouring down on Small Heath, they spoke in urgent whispers. “What did she do this time?” the concerned brother said with a slight hint of annoyance in his voice. “Theft, mainly,” the other replied, “And she was seen at the races, leaving the scene of the murder.” Tommy knew his sister hadn’t been responsible for the death that day, but none of it mattered now, “How much do they know?” “Enough.” Tommy took another drag of his cigarette and paused for a second, “Well, what do they want?” “Nothing. Leverage.” “Fuck…” “Thomas,” the informant urged, “Get her out. Out of Small Heath, and do it fast.” “Where the fuck is she supposed to go?” He shrugged, “Don’t you have family some place else?” “Can’t protect our Y/N when she’s away from here,” Tommy said coldly, not betraying the emotions he felt. “Then send her somewhere she will be protected.” Tommy sighed deeply, “I’ll ask Pol, eh? She’ll know what to do.” The man looked at Thomas Shelby: gangster, businessman, brother. His face was impossible to read and his feelings remained hidden. So he said, “Do it tonight, Thomas, if you can. He said she’d hang for it. Get her out.” ***

The first time you had tried to escape you didn’t think about it. You hadn’t even planned it and had just decided to run. With two nuns hot on your heels, you’d raced through the corridors. Pretty soon, you ran into your first locked door. You knew all was lost there and then. “Shelby…” the mother superior had mused as you stood in her office, “I knew it would be you.” “And how the fuck would you know that?” you’d replied quick as a flash. “You watch your tone, filthy rat,” she’d shouted, but added calmly, “We know of your kind, child.” Through gritted teeth, you’d questioned, “And what kind would that be?” “Gypsy scum,” she’d spat, before beating you senseless for the first time. The second time you tried to escape, you’d thought it through more. In the middle of the night, you’d crept out of bed and tiptoed across the dormitory. “Get back in bed!” one of the girls had whispered, “Remember last time?” “Yeah, I fucking remember, that’s why I need to leave!” you’d whispered back, voice filled with urgency.

Two hairpins. The day you’d found those were the day you’d planned your second escape attempt. Because if growing up in Small Heath had taught you one thing, it was how to steal and lie and cheat. And, coincidentally, how to pry open any lock. The first locked door was conquered quickly, but the second one had proven to be more troublesome. The large black doors that were said to protect you from the outside world did their job of keeping you all caged inside. The hairpins were too small to reach all the tumblers. Cursing under your breath, you’d soon realised that you disappearance had been noticed. In a panic, you’d grabbed a chandelier from the chapel and broken a window. Ignoring the shards you’d climbed through, while they tore at your skin and blood stained your nightgown. Once outside, the fresh air had an intoxicating effect on you. But you’d never gotten far. Again, you were brought to the mother superior, who stood waiting eagerly this time, cane in hand. “Go on,” you’d urged, full of defiance, “Beat me and get it over with.” “No…” she’d said suddenly, “you will tell me what your plan was first.” “To fucking get out.” “Why would you want to leave this place?” she’d questioned innocently, “Why would you want to leave the house of the Lord, where we only want to offer you safety and education? Where you can atone for your sins and regain your place in heaven?” “I’m not an animal,” you’d replied, “I need to be free.” And with that, the nun had smirked at you, “Free. You want to be free. Well, maybe this will finally break your spirit.” They’d locked you up in the cellars for three weeks. Darkness had enveloped you, only broken when she came in to beat you or feed you. You could never be sure. After every beating, she’d say, “Now, I’ll pray to God for you and ask him for his forgiveness.” “I’ll do it myself,” came your steady answer each time, “I’ll deal with him on my own.” And in the dark you’d cling onto the black Madonna around your neck, the only mother you still had left in this Godforsaken place. Now, some girls would be broken by now, but not you. If anything, you’d been more determined than ever to get out. But you had to be smart about it. Maybe Aunt Pol wouldn’t take you back and maybe you’d shame Tommy, but Finn would look out for you. Running hadn’t worked so far, so a new plan had started to form in your mind: a new plan that involved the boy that delivered the bread. Because as the days droned on after you were being released, you started paying attention to the delivery boy for the first time. You knew he’d always had a thing for you, but you weren’t interested. As a way out, you were now extremely interested. “Hi,” you greeted when it was your turn to help him unload. He was so startled by your talking all of a sudden, all he could manage was, “Bread…” “Yeah,” you smiled your prettiest smile, “Bread. That’s what you’re here for, right?” “I am.” “Good,” and you continued to unload the crates, sending him a few glances over your shoulder. He was still rooted to the spot, so you decided a bit more effort was required in this case, “You only come here for the bread?” you asked with humour in your voice. “Well, that’s my job…” he almost stuttered, but when you made eye contact, he finally relaxed a little, “What else would I come here for?” “Me?” you asked innocently. You could tell his confidence was growing, “Well, maybe a little. I mean, you are the prettiest girl in the school.” That was easy, you thought. So you flirted on and chatted him up and soon he was all yours, “Your name’s Billy, right?” “Yeah.” “Well, Billy. I need a favour…” This plan was a lot more complicated but it had a higher chance of success. And it would’ve worked too, if it hadn’t been for the younger nun who’d spotted you talking to Billy. Before the third attempt had even taken place, you found yourself back at the office. This time, the mother superior didn’t even speak. As soon as you were marched in, she’d grabbed you by your hair and attacked you with a pair of scissors. “Get off me, you crazy bitch!” you screeched, as strands of your hair fell down left and right of you. But the old nun remained completely calm in her tone, while becoming increasingly vicious in her attack, “Do you know what we do here?” You clenched your jaw for the pain, because this was no longer just about cutting your hair, but also hurting you as much as possible in the process. You had about a thousand replies to her question, but quickly weighed your options and decided not to piss off an angry old nun with a deadly weapon in her hands. So she continued, “We offer you the gift of education. Through hard labour, lots of prayer and penance the girls can find their way back to Jesus Christ. By humbling yourself, denying yourself rest, food and drink even, and working beyond human endurance one may come closer to our Lord. Save yourself from eternal damnation.” “No, thanks,” you replied inaudibly. When your hair had been cut, she crowed, “Your arrogance has been defeated and your vanity has been lifted. You will do well here now.” The fuck you would.

*** “Aunt Pol?” “What?” the woman snapped. He faltered, “Is this a bad time?” “It’s never a good time. Speak up, Finn.” “Fine,” and he took in a deep breath, mentally preparing himself, “When’s Y/N coming home?” Aunt Polly turned around abruptly and said, “For fuck’s sake, Finn.” “It’s been months!” “And we haven’t heard from her,” with a large gesture, Aunt Polly threw some more wood onto the fire, “If something was wrong, she would’ve written.” “Well, no…” her nephew started protesting. “Yes,” his aunt interrupted him, “She’s fine. It’s Y/N. She can take care of herself.” “She can’t now, can she!” Finn suddenly erupted, “Yousend her away and for fucking what?! She didn’t do anythingwrong!” Polly held up a menacing hand, “You mind your fucking tone or I’ll slap you back to where you came from.” “I’m sixteen, Aunt Pol, same age as Y/N. Remember, we’re twins?” He’d only gotten more heated, “Something’s wrong. I can feel it, alright? And she wouldn’t write to you anyways, because you’re the one that send her away! Why would she write to someone who doesn’t even fuckingwant her?” Polly paused for a moment and seemed to calm down, “What do you mean you feel it?” “I just know, Aunt Pol, like when we were little and she fell in the Cut and I couldn’t breathe? It’s like that, only… longer.” She put down her black cigarette, “You’ve been dreaming, haven’t you?” “I dream about her, but I can never see her,” he nodded, “And sometimes…”

“What?” “It’s stupid…” “Finn, you tell me, right now!” everything about her was focused on the urgency of the situation now. But he didn’t understand, “Seagulls, alright? I keep dreaming about seagulls.” “Fuck,” his aunt whispered to herself, “I need to talk to Tommy.”

“Aunt Pol, you’re missing the fucking point!” he was seething again, “I was trying to talk to you about Y/N! I just want to know why you send her away and whenshe’s coming back!” “I didn’t send her away. Tommy said we didn’t have a choice,” she grabbed her coat and continued talking to herself, “I thought she’d be safe there…” “Isn’t she?” Finn asked, panicking as a result of his aunt’s strange behaviour. “Seagulls, Finn, fucking seagulls!” *** You couldn’t understand why they hated you so much. At first it had just been the nuns, and you had a vague notion of them calling you ‘gypsy scum’ had something to do with it. From the start, they’d commented on your accent, reminded you of where you came from and told you that you were nothing compared to the others girls here. And in a way this made sense: on the one hand this school had the outward appearance of being an institution of learning for young ladies, but the reality was very different. Parents who no longer wanted to deal with them or who had ‘shamed’ their families often dumped girls here. Others were orphans. Either way, the nuns collected the large amount of money paid for each girl and treated all of you badly. And you weren’t a complete idiot and you knew you were partially to blame for the situation as it was now. You knew you hadn’t made a great entrance when you walked into the school, but even from the start they had disliked you. But your resistance had made it worse, much worse. All the girls were treated harshly, had to work and were kept in line, but you were being treated like a slave held captive. There was zero intention on your part to come into the school to make friends. From the moment you’d stepped off that train, you’d decided you were done with people. All you wanted was your brother, and the rest of the family if they still wanted you. But after a few weeks, you had started craving some connections and you had tried to make friends with the other girls. But it soon became clear that you had very little in common with them. This however, wasn’t the main problem: they feared you. Your defiance made them anxious to be around you and receive similar punishments to yours. They kept away. “Elliot!” you whispered to the new girl, who was crying in the dark. You rolled onto your other side in bed to face her and tried to ask her gently, “What’s your name, your first name I mean?” After a few residual sobs, she said softly, “Anna.” “I had a cousin called Anna,” you smiled at her, “Why are you crying? Who do you miss?” “It’s not who I miss, it’s about who doesn’t miss me…” “How do you know…” you started, but you were interrupted. “Don’t talk to her!” another girl called out and Anna turned around to look at her. The girl continued, “Yeah, I’m talking to you. Don’t talk to Y/N. She’ll get you in trouble. Just… stay away from her.” Anna looked at you for a few seconds, eyes filled with fear and then she turned onto her other side. You couldn’t even blame her really. She was new. But slowly, it only got worse. All the girls crossed the halls when you passed and not only did they begin to shun you, but they started taking your things, stealing your food at times and made you an outcast in every sense of the word. And you suddenly understood: if they made you stand out even more, all the attention would be drawn to you. The nuns would leave them alone. You were the easy scapegoat, because you’d been the most likely choice from the start. And as the months wore on, you started to wither away. Jealous or full of hatred, you couldn’t tell, but the other girls tried to hurt you as much as the nuns did. You were cold at night because they’d taken your blankets. You didn’t eat because you were being punished. You didn’t sleep because you were locked up downstairs and the beatings kept you awake. And so you fell ill, heavily. After you recovered, you stopped eating, sleeping, fighting. Not because you no longer could, but because the loneliness had finally caught up with you: you no longer wanted to. *** Tommy watched his aunt as she strode over towards him. He’d known the woman for years and usually he would be annoyed by her interrupting his meeting, but by the way she walked, he knew she wouldn’t wait for anyone right now. “Get out,” she told the man Tommy had been talking too. He left at once. “It’s Y/N,” she said as soon as he’d gone, “We need to get her out.” “She’s at the school, the one you recommended, Pol. You told me she’d get a good education there.” “We were wrong, Thomas, wrong to send her away.” “What’s all this, eh?” he frowned, “We had no choice and she alright where she is. We took care of it.” With a wave of her hand, Polly referred to Finn, “He feels she’s in danger.” And Tommy turned to his youngest brother, raising his eyebrows sarcastically, “Is that right?” “I have a bad feeling, Tom…” Finn said uncertainly. “He’s been dreaming of seagulls,” Polly emphasized, locking eyes with her nephew. “Fucking seagulls…” he rubbed his head, “More gypsy witchcraft?” Swiftly, she slapped Tommy across the face, “You’ve forgotten where you’re from.” Quickly, Tommy’s face went through a range of emotions. First there was anger and the urge to strike back. Then there was the reaction of wanting to hide, like he was being chastised just like when he was little. The hurt over her comment came next, swiftly followed by a sense of shame, because she was right. His face settled on worry over his youngest sister. “What do we do?” “What will happen if we get her back to Small Heath?”

Tommy lit a cigarette and thought out loud, “Connor wants her dead. He has high influence in the police and he’s using her as leverage, after having seen her at the races.” “Y/N didn’t kill that soldier!” Finn called out, full of indignation. “Yes, we know…” Tommy said in a low voice, “But that doesn’t fucking matter because no one’s going to believe our word for it against his.” “Who else knows?” Polly continued. “My guess is no one does yet…” “JOHN!” Polly howled suddenly and for a second Tommy could only blink. Then he continued, “If anyone else knew, we’d heard by now. I’m guessing he intends to save the information for when he can use it.” Aunt Polly bend down and started unlacing one of her boots. That’s when John walked in and he immediately paused when he felt the tension hang in the air. “Take this,” she ordered him and handed him the small revolver that she kept hidden in her boots, “Shoot Connor.” “Fucking what?” he nearly spit out his toothpick. John looked at Tommy for an explanation, but it didn’t come. Instead Tommy asked Polly, “Then what?” “We go to Oxford.” Tommy nodded slowly, “John, go on. Shoot the man. Get Arthur out of bed when you’ve done it.” Shrugging like it was just another small task he had to fulfil without much enthusiasm, John walked off with the gun in hand. But Finn said carefully, “What if I was wrong?” “Have you ever been wrong about your sister?” Aunt Polly asked, “Apart from that time you thought she was in love with that Jewish boy…” “No.” “Trust your gut, Finn,” Tommy confirmed, “Pol’s right.” Aunt Polly smiled at him with an almost motherly warmth, “Let’s bring Y/N home.” *** Eventually you were moved to the hospital wing of the school. The neglect and lack of food had caused your body to shut down and you could no longer force yourself to get up each morning. At first, you were branded lazy and got punished for it. Finally, even the nuns acknowledged this was serious and the last thing they needed was another girl dying at their school. You’d lost all feeling for days, drifting in and out of sleep. One nun took care of you and she was different from the others. During your hazy periods, she tried to persuade you to eat, but with the last strength you did have, you refused. If you were to die, it’d be your own choice. “Y/N…” someone whispered to you gently. You tried to open your eyes, but it felt like lifting bricks with muscles you did not have. “Y/N,” the voice said again, and you realised this wasn’t the nun. Slowly you opened your eyes and saw Anna, sitting by the side of your bed. “What do you want?” you croaked. She looked down and said, “I came to see you.” “Why?” “Because I’ve made a mistake.”

You didn’t care for her feelings. You knew she despised you just like the others did and you didn’t need another girl gloating by your bed. So you decided to just wait and not answer her. “The girls told me you were scum,” she continued, “that you didn’t belong here. They said that’s why you always got into trouble, because you’re just Birmingham working-class trash.” Great, you thought, and how is this supposed to help? “When they told me to not talk to you, I listened. I thought it would help, that I would fit in more and the nuns wouldn’t beat me like I saw them do with others. But I was wrong.” “The nuns don’t need a reason,” you replied before you could stop yourself, “Reasons help, but they will find a way to vent their cruelty, no matter what.” “That night,” Anna said, “you talked to me and asked me who I missed. You were the only one that asked me why I was crying.” “I didn’t want you to feel too alone…” Anna nodded, “I know. That’s why I’m here.” But you didn’t understand, “Why are you here?” “Y/N. You’re not alone. Tell me, who do you miss?” Much to your own annoyance, tears welled up in your eyes. For last couple of months you had tried so hard not to think of Finn, Arthur, John and Ada. And you tried to ban Polly and Tommy especially from your mind, always wondering why they didn’t want you. Your heart can be cruel like that: those who don’t want you, you miss the most. Anna took your hand in hers and for the first time you felt another human being without pain. And so you started telling her of your brothers, of your aunt, of the horses and factories and of the streets of Small Heath. Anna didn’t say a word, but she listened intensely. After you’d cried all your tears and there were no more stories left to tell, all she said was, “Please. Eat.” When she offered you soup, you ate. *** It was a sight to behold: Polly Gray walking through the city of academia with four brothers practically having to run after her to keep up. When she arrived at the front doors of the convent, she didn’t ask to come in, but simply walked on into the halls. “Aunt Pol,” John ventured, “What do we do?”

“Keep up,” she said simply. Arthur looked around nervously. He didn’t like nuns and convents. But Tommy and Finn scanned every room and corner for you. Left and right, girls looked up in surprise as the strange family invaded their home. “Who’s that?” they whispered. But the nuns urged them away and said, “No one. Don’t look at them. They don’t belong here.” Tommy frown deepened as he noticed the faces of the girls. These weren’t what he expected. Of course, he wasn’t familiar with schools like this one, but he knew education played a part. These girls all looked tired, downtrodden and most of them were cleaning or scrubbing the floors. He shared a look with Aunt Polly and she nodded in understanding. “How are we going to find her?” Finn asked. “Oi!” Arthur called out to one of the girls, who jumped up at his voice, “Y/N, you know her?” “No, sir…” she shook. “Listen to my voice,” John added, “What about a girl who sounds like me?” And then one other girl stepped forward and she tilted her chin up high as a sign of arrogance, “She’s not here.” “And whyis she not here?” Polly asked pointedly. The girl got nervous, but tried to keep composure, “Because she’s filth and this is a decent school.” Again, Tommy looked around at the skinny girls, all dressed in the same drab depressing dressed, “Decent, eh?” His low menacing voice knocked all the attitude out of her, so she changed her mind, “She was taken to the hospital ward a few weeks ago.” “Where,” Arthur demanded. “North wing,” she gulped.

Aunt Polly marched through the halls like a woman on a mission. Her face bore a gritty look of determination and none of the bells, smoke and threats of a holy place could make her quiver. In fact, God shook as she walked passed.

Still, one nun tried to stop her, but before she could open her mouth in protest, Aunt Polly had pushed her aside and casually commented, “Better get out of the way, sister, you certainly won’t be the first woman of God I’ve knocked down.” When they entered the hospital wing, they walked into another depressing space filled with beds in lines. Most of them were empty, but one nun stood up and walked over to Polly. Her first instinct was to actually knock down this one, but when she saw her soft face, she paused. “Y/N Shelby,” she demanded, “We’ve come to take her home.”

“You’re her aunt?” the nun asked, “She’s asked for you.” “Is she alright?” Finn stepped forward, “What was wrong with her?” “We thought she might not make it. She stopped eating, you see,” the nun explained. John frowned and protested, “That’s not Y/N. She would never refuse food, unless…” Tommy didn’t need to hear the ‘unless’; worry was already eating him alive inside. So he walked around in search for his sister. He found her in a bed, with another girl sitting next to her. His sister was asleep. “Who are you?” Polly demanded harshly. But the brothers couldn’t speak when they saw their sisters. You were too skinny, eyes sunken deep and bruises were still visible on your face. The long black hair was gone. In many ways, it wasn’t their sister anymore, just a shell. The nun answered when the other girl was too afraid to, “This is Y/N’s friend. She came to visit her every day, even though she wasn’t allowed to.” Polly lifted one eyebrow, “Then why did you allow it?” “Anna got Y/N to eat again. She’s the reason she’s alive.”

Anna. Polly walked over to her and carefully took her hand, “You watched over my niece.” “I didn’t want her to feel alone. She felt abandoned, she said…” Anna said in a soft voice. Polly shook her head in an effort to banish the emotions, “Thank you, Anna. You’re a good friend and a guardian angel.” “What did they do to her?” John asked her through gritted teeth. “She was isolated, singled out for being… different.” Anna explained without meeting their eyes, “She tried to fight them from the start, but never won. She kept trying to run away. They beat her, kept her locked up in the cellar, but when the other girls turned on her and she thought she would never leave this place, she just… gave up.” Slowly, Finn had walked over to the other side of the bed. Clumsy but lovingly, he started stroking the hair out of your face. Seagulls, he thought. “Who’s in charge here?” Tommy suddenly spoke. “The mother superior has an office down the hall,” the nun said, “Anna can take you there.” “No,” Anna gasped, “I can’t…” Fear was written all over her face.

“What’s wrong with the office?” Tommy asked her with unusual kindness. “It’s where she…” And in an instant they all understood. So Tommy demanded, “Tell that woman to come here.” “She won’t like it, sir…” “You fuckingtell her to come here,” Tommy spat filled with venom, “Or I will burn this entire place down to the ground, and don’t think for a second I won’t fucking do it.” So the nun with the gentle face nodded and walked off. Somehow, Tommy’s explosion had triggered some old memories in you. Before you were properly awake, you dreamed of being back in your bed in Small Heath. The smell of the factories penetrated your nose and you could hear your family arguing. But when you opened your eyes, they were actually there. You looked at them one by one and stopped at Finn, “You said you’d explain.” “And I will,” he said, “when we get home.” “Am I allowed to go home?” you questioned in disbelieve. Aunt Polly shook her head, “You should’ve never been anywhere else.” “Can’t protect you if you’re not at home…” Tommy added with a slight hint of guilt in his voice. “It’s safe now,” John said, “I’ve dealt with it.” And just the way he said it made you smile a little. “Arthur, John,” Tommy started ordering them in his usual business-like manner, “Take Y/N out of here.” And Arthur lifted you out of the bed into his arms like it was nothing. “Finn, you go with them. Make sure you get her things.” At that, John pulled a gun and Finn nodded solemnly. “What about Anna?” you asked, looking at your friend, “I won’t leave her here.” “Pol and I are going to have a word with the mother superior,” Tommy stated matter-of-factly. You sighed in relief, but Anna still had a look of confusion on her face, “What will that do? She won’t listen to anyone.” “She’ll listen to us, love,” Polly said to her with a reassuring smile that left very little room for arguments, “We’ll make sure of it.” You smiled at Anna too, “This convent will be closed by tomorrow. Trust me.” “We’ll see you at home, Y/N,” Tommy said, “And then we’ll talk.” Just before Arthur walked out of the door with you in your arms, Aunt Polly ran over to you and pressed a kiss on your forehead, “Safe journey, sweetheart.” Then there was just Tommy and Polly left, clearing their faces of all sentiment and hardening their features. Arms crossed, they waited and knew what had to be done, and nothing would stop them from doing it.

“Mr. Shelby, Mrs. Gray?” the hospital nun had reappeared, “The mother superior will see you now.”

***

Masterlist

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inevitably-johnlocked · 2 years

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Hello Steph!! Your blog is INCREDIBLE. I've been addicted to this blog since I started following it. I'm a bit late to the fandom, but still.... And honestly I do think I love the fandom and the fics infinitely more than the entire show. Shout out to all the writers of the fandom.

Anyway I wanted to ask if you would have any Ben and Martin fics?

Hey Lovely!

Thank you so much for your kind words!! I'm so happy you enjoy your time here!!!! This makes my heart so happy!

Ah, I have a few! ONE I have read and bookmarked because it was a gift to me and I love it so, and the rest are MFLs! If anyone wants to add more, please do!!

FREEBATCH FICS

See also: Freebatch (Alexx’s List)

I'll Meet You in Hong Kong by alexxphoenix42 (E, 12,767 w., 5 Ch. || Freebatch RPF || Phone / Shower Sex, Infidelity, Polyamory, Bit of Angst, Cuddles) – Benedict and Martin's busy, busy schedules have them grabbing a few nights together in Hong Kong during Ben's Doctor Strange junket. They both have news to share. While this does pick up after the story "Forever 1895," you don't absolutely have to read that one to dive on in here. Part 2 of Forever Freebatch

MARKED FOR LATER

A Room with a View by SilentAuror (E, 12,099 w., 1 Ch. || Freebatch RPF || Ben POV, Drinking, Dancing Contest, Jimmy Fallon Show, Anal, Blow Jobs, Rimming) – Jimmy Fallon invites Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman onto his show to have a dance-off....

The A.G.R.A. Complex by SilentAuror (E, 19,563 w., 1 Ch. || Freebatch RPF || Brain Injury, Reality/Sherlock Crossover, Altered Perceptions, Angst, Motorcycle Accident, Sherlock is a Coma-Dream, Martin POV) – Martin Freeman wakes from a brief coma during which he dreamed the entire Sherlock series. As he recovers from his brain injuries, he has trouble distinguishing between reality and the Sherlock universe in his dream. This impacts his relationships with both Amanda, whom he cannot stop seeing as A.G.R.A., and his friend and sometime colleague Benedict, who is Sherlock to his John. Part 1 of The A.G.R.A. Complex

In His Image by daasgrrl (E, 26,942 w., 8 Ch. || RPF / Actors Meet Characters AU || Ben/John & Sherlock/Martin, General Absurdity, Meta Fic, Abuse of Canon, Post TRF) – In which a rather different John Watson returns to London, runs into an old friend, and meets someone new. As usual. When the subject of Sherlock comes up, things start getting complicated.

Always Through the Changing by SilentAuror (E, 27,345 w., 1 Ch. || Freebatch RPF || Kids, Open Infidelity, Post Sherlock, POV Martin, Happy Ending) – Set eight years after the events of Having Your Cake, a dramatic change in Benedict's life changes circumstances between himself and Martin in a way that will affect not only their relationship, but the lives of the people around them as well. Part 3 of The A.G.R.A. Complex

Dissecting the Universe by Enterthetadpole (E, 32,990+ w., 26/30 Ch. || WiP || Freebatch || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Conflicted Martin, Patient Ben, Supportive Sophie, Behind the Scenes Filming S5, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut) – Series Four of Sherlock and so much pain has left what Benedict and Martin had in nothing but ruins. However, perhaps things can change if a series of events occur to make everything good, bad and unspoken float back up to the surface.

Having Your Cake by SilentAuror (E, 44,615 w., 1 Ch. || Freebatch RPF || POV Martin, Open Infidelity, HLV/TAB Filming, Jealousy, Angst, Drama, Hotel Sex, Twitter) – Set four years after Martin's temporary brain injury that caused his universe to shift between reality and his coma dream of the Sherlock universe, Martin's history with Benedict comes back to haunt them both as they attempt to make sense of the relationship between their characters during the filming of His Last Vow. They are forced to face the question of whether they're interpreting the scripts objectively or are biased because of their personal history. As Martin deals with the difficulty of separating real life from fiction, he also has to make a decision that will affect the rest of his life as he knows it. Part 2 of The A.G.R.A. Complex

Method Act by splix (E, 136,749 w., 20 Ch. || RPF / Actors Meet Characters AU || Bodyswap, Pseudoscience, Magic, Light BDSM, Assorted Actors / Characters, Non-Con Bondage, Non-Sexual Bondage, Implied Relationships, Stalking, Kidnapping, Implied / Referenced Incest) – Something very strange keeps happening at 7:35 PM.

#steph replies #freebatch fic recs #my fic recs #rpf

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butwhatifidothis · 3 years

Text

So. Took a look into that fic @nilsh13 is going through the comments of. Dunno if I’ll actually go through the entire thing - 300k words is certainly a lot of words to read through, especially with it still updating, but I’ve read through/am reading through longer ones - but I jumped to the latest chapter to get a feel for where the fic’s at now.

I’m not halfway through the chapter and I have Words To Say lmao, under the cut

This is going to be as serious a critique about the sections I’ve selected as possible - I want to be clear why I think what is being written is not of high quality, pointing out specifically what I have wrong with it.

Here are some snippets of the fic (boldened), and following those snippets are my thoughts on them:

“My actions have caused immense turmoil, pitting friend against friend, mother against daughter, and brother against sister*,” muttered Edelgard, desperately trying to drive any hint of self-pity (emphasis mine) from her voice. “My best friend has been disowned by her family, Hubert and Ferdinand’s fathers are dead or imprisoned, and the woman I love is now deemed a heretic by the Church that once offered her shelter. The weight of my decisions seems to pull down all who are caught in the shadow of the Imperial crown.” The Flame Emperor gave Professor Hanneman a wan smile. “Whatever imagined slights you believe you have committed against me, they pale in comparison to the carnage my own words and deeds have unleashed.”

""I made my choice, the only choice I could make, and dragged this continent down to hell with me. It makes me a poor ruler, and an even baser person, but that was the path I knew I must take.""

“"It is funny you use the word ‘choice’, Miss Edelgard. When I resigned my title to study at Garreg Mach, I lost marriage prospects, became penniless outside of a small stipend…I even renounced the opportunity to have a family.” Hanneman smiled, his whole body suffused with melancholy. “Really, how could I dare to dream of bringing a daughter into a world this senseless and cruel, knowing that someday, she too, could be hurt in such a way? I…I would not survive it.” The man’s body shook. “I sacrificed those things, things I desperately wanted, because the chance to allow my sister to rest in peace was more important. And I would make that choice again, despite all that it has cost me. You are much the same.”"

"“But your sacrifices were your own,” protested the Emperor of Adrestia. “Thousands bleed for the choices that I have made, and sacrifice themselves for the cause that I have placed before them. There is a profound difference-“"

"“We are both wise enough to know a painful truth,” said the scholar with a melancholy smile. “No matter how grave the sins, no matter how many innocents suffer…there will be countless individuals who will defend the law not because it is just, or righteous, but because it is the law. They will permit a hundred Abysses, and a thousand women to be raped, and a million dead children, as long as such actions do not disturb their order.” He placed a hand on Edelgard’s shoulder. “To stand against such moral rot, knowing that the world will despise and vilify you for it, is the truest sign of not only a just ruler, but a good woman.”"

"The academic’s words blazed with the passion of both a scholar and a man who had watched his world crumble to ash. A man who had been forced to live in the remnants of a life forever altered by the cruelty of both society and of humanity. And yet he had fought, the only way he could, to make the world better. It gave the Flame Emperor new resolve."

"“I…” He turned and looked away. “I believe in you, Miss Edelgard. When I see you, and your determination, your spirit, your bravery in choosing not what is easy, but what is right…it reminds me of her.” Fingers clenched around his locket. “I will fight for you, in the way I should have fought for my sister, long ago. My strength is meagre, and my courage more meagre still. However, all of it is yours.”"

The author writes Edelgard as one trying to give pity onto herself for her actions, despite how negatively they affect her, due to the immense ramifications those actions have had on those both around her and those under her care. This is the appropriate response to someone who has done as morally dubious an action as starting and spearheading a war that has led to the deaths and suffering of countless innocent people, some of whom were undoubtedly already going through immense suffering without war compounding itself onto their already existing pain. She - rightfully - points as, as a negative towards herself, that she has forced thousands of people to sacrifice their lives, livelihoods, friends, family, homes, etc. in order to continue with her war. Edelgard's canonical self-justification - that she had no other choice to do this - is properly utilized, and further characterization is given to her when she herself recognizes that performing such horrendous actions on the people under her care makes her a poor ruler and terrible person. This is, in truth, a decent set-up for her to go onto a possible path of redemption or self-realization.

However, that progress is forcibly stopped and reverted by Hanneman justifying her actions and recontextualizing them in a morally good light. In fact, the entire story does this, as characters act wildly out of character in order for Edelgard to be seen as good in comparison to them. Focusing on the quoted lines, however, Hanneman relating him giving up nobility and going into momentary poverty - whether true to canon or not - to Edelgard's war actively paints her actions as something that she had a right to be making, which she does not, as they force others to make sacrifices for her cause. When she herself rightfully points this discrepancy out, Hanneman excuses her actions by pointing to another - supposed - source of turmoil and essentially saying "You are more right than x, therefore your y actions are not only better, but objectively good, and make you a good person." He says nothing of the inherent injustice of taking away the choice of the people to live as they want and fight for who they want as well as deliberately taking away any semblance of safety from them, and makes objective statements about Edelgard's moral righteousness despite her taking actions that would, by definition, make her moral righteousness a subjective matter at minimum.

Hanneman is projecting the image of his sister and his own personal sense of justice onto Edelgard, and thus sees her as just as much a victim of the war and society as everyone else. Edelgard is a young woman who has gone through trauma due to Crests, as was his sister, and he himself (in this story, though not within the quoted lines) wanted to beat the man who abused his sister to death, and so he sees Edelgard using violence as a means to achieve justice as not only not questionable, but morally good and brave, as he felt he was not brave enough to enact "justice" onto the man that caused his sister's death. Instead of this being settled, focused on, or even mentioned, despite its obvious nature due to deliberate connections Hanneman himself makes, it is used as a means to showcase that Hanneman is a, for lack of a better term, "expert" on what he is saying when speaking to Edelgard. He knows what it's like to want to force change, he has by-proxy experienced the apparent injustice of the Church - not human society, not his family's decision to allow his sister to be married off, not the man who caused her death's decision to discard her, but strictly the Church and only the Church - and so he can "rightfully" justify and excuse Edelgard's morally questionable actions and paint them in a solely positive light, with no nuance or gray whatsoever.

Edelgard, in the first quote, attempts to say her actions without a tone of self-pity, and yet the narrative itself pities Edelgard. She should be allowed to feel bad about her actions - not because they are causing unfathomable suffering on people who were underserving, but because they’re just hard decisions that she was good and brave to make and maybe she can feel a little bad for herself for making them. She shouldn't feel responsible for choosing to start the war - in fact, did she really have a choice, or did everyone else in society force her to? She shouldn't question whether she's a good person or not, because she simply is - no debate, no question. She is - “justly” - standing up against "moral rot"; that she does so with even more moral rot is irrelevant, because, according to the story, it is not as rotten as that she's up against, therefore it is no longer rotten in the first place. War has been completely justified, as it is now not the last resort of desperation that could only ever be morally grey at its absolute best, but an objectively morally white decision of an objectively morally white person who is facing an objectively morally black opponent.

The actions of other characters attempt to paint Edelgard as someone closer to the former, but I will - maybe - eventually go over how those characters are extremely mischaracterized in order to prop Edelgard as their moral superior.

#anti edelgard #Anti-edelgard #Edelgard critical #o captain my captain #<- borrowing nilsh's tag for this lmao in case I do end up continuing this #but yeah from just the latest chapter there are characters that 100% cheerlead for the pure righteousness that is Edelgard #so yeah that's... gonna be fun lmao

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austarus · 3 years

Text

Harrison Wells (Eobard Thawne) x Reader Ballistic Confrontations (1/3)

**A/N: The picture/edit/gif belongs to me!

Yes, I’m alive.

*TW: mentions of suicide, drowning, and cutting. Along with Eobard being a dramatic bitch*

Word Count: 3184

Part 2 Part 3

Felicity deadpanned with Harry beside her on one of the Cortex monitors. She had glanced to all her friends. “The bottom line is that we have to catch these parallel-earth goose-steppers.” Everyone was well aware of her dislike towards Nazi’s. The things they had done on this earth to her ancestors and to people like her. Utterly Disgusting.

“This might help,” Barry stepped in, holding up a blood-stained arrow.

“Is that a kryptonite arrow?” Kara’s sister, Alex, unfurled her arms as she gently took the lethal arrow away from him.

“Yup,” Barry responded with a sigh, hands at his hips while the others rounded together. He felt exhausted from chasing around Eobard while Kara and Oliver dealt with their doppelgangers. Years later and he still wasn’t fast enough to stop the yellow speedster.

“I know I shouldn't have to ask this question, but I have to ask this question.” Felicity interjected with quick words; worry seeded in her chest. “Oliver didn't shoot Kara, did he?”

“Sort of,” Barry replied, further clarifying with a face. The days just keep getting worse and worse with these parallel-dimension-hoppers. “The other Archer and flying woman are Oliver and Kara of Earth-X.”

“When you said that Earth-X was horrible,” Caitlin glanced back at Harry, who had raised a hand in mock defeat, “you might have undersold it.”

“Wait a minute. How- how could there be another Kara?” Alex was thoroughly confused; she was still new to the concept of parallel earths doppelgangers.

“Well, there are 53 Karas, just like there's 53 Kryptons and 53 Earths.” Harry explained simply.

“And the Thawne from our earth is working with them.” Barry gave a look, clearly annoyed at the fact that Thawne was back. Again. Thawne coming back due to time travel and the Speedforce were already giving him a headache just thinking about it all over again.

Caitlin just gave Barry an incredulous look. “He's an idiot.” Harry plainly stated.

Felicity already was thinking up of ways to track them down. “Ok, if that arrow has not-so-Supergirl's blood on it, we c—"

“We could track it using quantum analysis.” Harry cut her off, but she just nodded at his words.

“We could.”

***___***

“Harry, Cait, Iris,” Barry unfurled his arms and gestured to them with his head for a sidebar. The others were busy with Alex in isolating the city for Kara-X’s radioactive blood signatures. Felicity’s specialty. After all, she was able to track a deranged killer with just his face cream. “Whatever happens, (Y/N) can’t know Thawne’s here.” Both scientists gave odd looks to each other at the speedster’s words.

“Barry she’s going to find out one way or another, she’s part of this team too,” Iris voiced, side-glancing the door as if you’d step in at any moment.

“If he’s working with them, she has the right to know.” Caitlin added. “She should know what to expect.”

“Allen, unless you decide to lock her up in the pipeline until this is all over, she’ll find out.” Harry said. “You can’t possibly hide this from her forever.” The genius scientist hinted at the fact that when Barry had run back in time last year, Thawne had been the one to ‘fix’ things when really, he had altered the timeline. A timeline created to suits him and his plans. Even going as far to tell Barry that this was how the timeline was supposed to be before Thawne had caused the alteration when he had time-traveled back to kill Nora and escalated into what is now Team Flash. Three different timelines had been created, but this one, according to Thawne, is how the original one should have been. Just with a few… absences… Like Eddie and Ronnie. Barry had never mentioned any of this to you or the fact that Thawne had ended up escaping him that night. The scarlet speedster did not want you looking for the man in the yellow suit. But it seems that fate’s not on Barry’s side this time.

“Harry, I can’t have her chasing after him. Not with all this going on,” Barry protested. “One maniacal problem at a time.”

“Whether she does or doesn’t is up to her, Allen. You’re not a god.” Harry pursed his lips before heading to the side lab.

Barry ran his tongue over his lips tightly, frowning deeply at the echoed words. He didn’t need this right now. Those words stung the speedster, mainly with the aftermath of his time remnant – Savitar - claiming god-hood, wanting to alter everything and anything in his way to stay alive. Even to kill the love of his life. Jay Garrick told him that when he ran back to this timeline a year ago. ‘We’re not gods, Barry.’

How did Wells know about that? Maybe he didn’t. But it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that time-traveling powers shouldn’t be abused like that. Yet… Thawne always gets away with it. He gets away with barely a scratch. I can be one step ahead, but he’ll be 15 steps further.

Caitlin gave her friend a sympathetic look, exchanging one with Iris. Alex and Felicity were still present in the room, but too preocuppied with their blood sample. Barry’s intentions made sense, but it was your decision whether to chase after Thawne or not. It’s your choice on whether you’d even side with him for this battle.

***___***

You had stood right outside the Cortex in the corridor, your feet stopped when you heard Barry announce that “Thawne is working with them”. Your heart got caught in your chest. Eobard was here. He was back. But why in the hell would he ever work with Nazis? Nazis? Seriously Eo??? What the absolute fuck? You knew Eobard never had a tolerance for people like that. People like Eiling or Stagg, who would “poke fun” at those with disabilities, even if he had feigned his inability to walk in the end. People who would intentionally use their status to torture others. It just goes to show how people with that kind of caliber would think. So why this sudden change? Not ‘why now’. No, why at all?? How could he have stooped so low? That idiot. Unacceptable.

But what ached the most was Barry’s words. He doesn’t trust me… Even after all these years. Your heart shook and eyes narrowed as your eyes peered at the light being cast from the Cortex. You took in a breath. Taking a quiet step back, your feet carried you to one of the higher levels of STAR Labs- one of the tower levels. Your quiet place of refuge when this had gotten too much, whether it was because the shadows kept you safe from judgment or not, you didn’t know. If he wants to act like that, then two can play this game, Bartholomew Henry Allen. You looked out onto the city, subconscious scanning every light – every street. Lights winked in and out, the night progressing as the city remained unaware of the new monsters it currently hid. But what am I going to do?

***___***

Iris rubbed her eyes before taking a step closer to her almost-husband. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I can’t have (Y/N) fighting with us. Not now. Not in this battle.” Not when he’s lurking around.

“Why?”

“You know why? Thawne’s out there. Running, scheming.”

“So, you don’t trust her.” It was more of a statement rather than a question.

“Iris, she knew what he did to my mom. Lied to us about it for months back then and still chose Thawne when we locked him up. What makes this time different?”

“Barry, while all those sound like good points, first and foremost she’s our friend.” The speedster just shook his head, Iris huffed, “Look, it’s been -what?- 3? 4 years? Since she’d last been with him? Things have changed. You think after everything we’ve been through; she’ll throw that all away?”

“Yes! Old feelings come back; they always do and she’s going to get her revenge.”

“How do you know that? How do you know that she wants revenge?”

“Thawne will coax it out of her. He’s good at manipulating a person’s feelings.”

“And what would she get in the end?”

Barry didn’t answer her, instead he wrung his hands together.

“Barr, if she had wanted revenge, she would have done so already after the incident. But she didn’t. (Y/N) was depressed after Thawne was erased. Vulnerable. The love of her life was gone, just like that. Don’t you remember? How she wanted to end it all, but we stopped her.” Barry’s eyes flickered to the ground, remember the sight he had seen. Drowning. You were purposefully drowning yourself in your tub. The way your looked back at him- lifeless- when he had gotten you back to your senses. The blood the dripped, your cold skin. The monitor beeping every so often in the Cortex. Iris’ own mind shifted to when she had seen the scars littered on your arms when Caitlin had fully examined you. Your dull hair and gaunt face, nothing like the brilliant fire that rang through you months prior to Eobard’s erasure. “We helped her work through it when we found out. Caitlin and I looked after (Y/N) every second of the day until she was ready to get back on her two feet. And then Zoom happened and he was breaking you. Breaking your bones and your spirit- when you broke your back, she was all-hands-on-deck to step in and help in your place while still dealing with her own issues.”

“I know, it’s just- something just tells me otherwise with Thawne here.”

“Barry-”

“-She’s going to choose him, Iris. Nothing will change that. To her, everything we’ve been through until this point won’t mean anything. Not when Thawne’s at the end of the tunnel waiting for her. She’s going to choose him and help him.”

“But what if she doesn’t? What then, Barr?”

Barry just shrugged. “I-I don’t know, but I can’t take any chances. Not this time.” I can’t hesitate with Thawne here. One misstep and that’ll be all he needs to make his move.

Iris reached out to her fiancé, gently caressing his cheek. She knew that he won’t change his mind, no matter the reasons she could come up with. Barry thought in absolutes when it comes to Thawne. And your past emotional ties with the evil speedster only further drove his current mistrust. “Come on, we have to help the others.”

***___***

You threw the ball against the concrete wall opposite to you, all your strength forced into it. The stress ball ricocheted back to where you sat. You caught it with ease, giving it a firm squeeze as your eyes shut.

“How could you betray us? We were your friends, your family!-”

“You are-”

“We stood by you!”

“I just-”

“-Just what!? He took everything from me!”

You cringed at the voice from years past. Breathe in, breathe out.

“You’re just as guilty as him. No wonder, like calls to like.”

“I-”

“I don’t want your excuses.”

Breathe in, breathe out.

“I hope you rot with him.”

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Swallowing harshly, you did your breathing exercises to push Barry’s cold voice away. You had stolen the malleable ball from Harry- or rather, he had allowed you to take it from him. It was an unused gift from the others for Harry to deal with his anger issues. Instead of throwing beakers and graduated cylinders off desks, the Earth-2 scientist can simply channel his anger into this stress ball… Which had been a hard pass for him. Rather he preferred his method of anger outbursts, even if he did end up hurting himself in the process. So you put it to use instead; a tool for simple meditation, as well as the redirecting your certain senses. It’s made of rubber polymer so your electrokinesis didn’t harm your new toy in any way.

Your eyes lingered back onto the city, your arm hanging over your bent leg while your other remained outstretched. No good in hiding up here forever, it’ll make things more suspicious. Not like Barry isn’t suspecting anything anyway. But you had needed time to think, to collect your thoughts and assess what actions you would take. You touched the necklace Eobard had made for you in rich gold- a Columba. It’s a constellation signifying the dove in astrology as he always called you his little birdy. But also, because gave him a sense of peace which the dove has generally symbolized fore. A finger ran over the one of the six diamonds that twinkled for the constellation, connected to each by a trail of gold. Eobard. Licking your lips, you got up, you pocketed your ball and brushed any dust particle from your leggings.

Upon entering the Cortex, a group of heroes left: Oliver, Kara, Barry, Sara, and so on. Barry had shoved past you, your eyes meeting briefly as you raised an eyebrow. His expression was guarded, but you said nothing.

“I’m guessing they’re going on a little midnight excursion?” You turned to Felicity and Iris with a thumb pointing in their direction. Mick was nowhere to be found so you can assume he’s already raided the lounge fridge. Caitlin had already prepped the med bay for incoming injuries, which isn’t an uncommon expectation, but wasn’t in the Cortex.

“Ding ding ding, you’re correct,” Felicity piped up, typing away at her computer screen. She was already hacking into cameras around the warehouse as the inside had ones out of commission. “The remaining Legends are to be on standby, should something happen during the warehouse fight. Per Sara’s orders.” At least Felicity isn’t treating you any differently, especially with how close she is to Barry. He probably told her to.

“And we’re going to be…?” You raised an eyebrow, a bit offended no one decided to volunteer you for the fight. You wanted to kick some Nazi ass too. Fry those fuckers. Guess Barry told them all to not trust me. Great, thanks Barr. Bitterness welled up inside but didn’t show it. Felicity and Iris aren’t the ones to be at odds with. Maybe it’s a good thing if Eo’s there. Barry would have his eyes all over your interaction with him.

“Just doing some monitoring and staying on comms. The usual Overwatch stuff,” Felicity smiled up at you then quickly turned to her tech. You could tell that her mind was wondering. About what? You had no clue and decided it’d be best to not involve yourself should things go sour if you did and Barry would find a reason to blame you.

No, this reunion needed to be on the downlow. One away from prying eyes. Your eyes drifted to Iris’ back in a subtle manner before pulling out your phone to check the time.

“Where’s Harry?” You asked, if anything he was one of the people who hadn’t seen you for just your past. Didn’t care for it as Zoom terror and Jesse’s rescue were more pressing matters. And you had seen him for more than a doppelganger to Eobard, even if their tendencies and bristliness seemed similar. Harry was Harry and Eobard was Eobard. Both were their own men, it wasn’t that hard to see and understand. He had done his own share of horrors and dark deeds for Jesse that Harry was dealing with his own darkness, while your demons haunted you. In an odd way, you both understood one another. Begrudgingly at first, though. Plus, you needed to return the stress ball back to him, thinking he’d need it now with Thawne around. If anything, you found it funny how Harry got mad when people would call Thawne a Wells. The Wells doppelganger would spectacularly blow up, which was always a site to see. Though you were hoping the two would never meet. You chewed on the inside of your cheek on how that interaction could possibly go. Would you-

“He’s probably back in his lab,” Iris spoke up from the other side of the Cortex, padding up to you. You nodded at her, mind drifting once more as you strolling to the Cortex exit. Harry could hold his own, but up against Eo, with all his speed… You’d choose-

“Hey,” Iris stopped you, snapping you out of your thoughts and placing a hand on your arm. You blinked. A small smile was woven on her face, one of those comforting smiles that said that you can come to her for anything… But could you?

“Hey,” you returned it, feigning any indication that you had overheard what Barry had said earlier. Schooling your features, you calmed your nerves. I’ve done this before. Pretended not to know. I can do it again. I can’t trust no one, and it seems like no one can trust me. I’ll be the actress again in this drama, spun by Barry this time.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Sure”

Iris was perceptive, she didn’t miss the slight strain in your voice. The guarded look that the young journalist had become accustomed to receiving when approaching you. There were times where she’d realize you were walking on eggshells with her. Because of Barry. Because of the serrated words he had thrown at you like knives all those times ago. But there were times where all was well with the world, the past forgotten and the strength of your friendship with the team more prominent than ever. Then again, having Nazi’s return and who are hell bent on ruling this Earth by eradicating its heroes then move on to the next Earth in the multiverse does tend to throw tension into the air. Iris bit her lip. Especially if she doesn’t know about Thawne.

“(Y/N), look there’s… there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“…”

“Iris, is something wrong? Are you ok?”

She noted sincerity on your face. “Thawne’s here.”

You pursed your lips, internally confused. “Iris-”

“And he’s fighting with the Earth-Xers.”

“I… what?!” Your rage was not false. Sure you knew about it earlier, but now it was necessary to unleash it. It’d make your surprise all the more legit.

“I needed you to know,” Iris swallowed.

“How?”

“When Barry, Oliver, and Kara intercepted their heist.”

“…” It was your turn to be silent. You knew, but you had to play a little longer until you could leave.

“I trust you, ok?”

“But” You knew there was a ‘but’. There always is one. Iris blinked, opening her mouth a few times then looking away before meeting your gaze once more.

“But I need to know you’re with us on this.”

Your eyes never left hers, your hand was held in both of hers. Before you could even respond an alarm had gone off. Both your necks snapped to Felicity, who snapped up from her sitting position.

“That was the corridor alarm.” Fear crippled its way in the air. “This is a setup.”

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blushing-titan · 3 years

Text

My thoughts on ch. 139

Some of you may be familiar with my previous writings - I usually try to stay as collected as possible, but today's post will be different. Ever since the chapter came out, I've been reblogging a lot of rants and memes about it. Those of you who follow my blog (thank you so much, really happy to have you here! ❤) know that I didn't really enjoy this ending. I want to elaborate more on that in this post - my only advice is to buckle up, because today we may get a bit heated (I apologize in advance for the sassy approach - I usually try to stray away from that, but guess today's post is more of a stream of conciousness/rant) :'D

1. Ymir

Starting up with one of the most controversial things about this chapter. Up to this point, I felt really bad for Ymir. Her life was terrible - she was a young girl, who was enslaved and abused by king Shitz Fritz. After she was forced to run away from his hounds, she acquired the power of titans and used it to help the king's cause. For that, she was awarded with the king's seed (🤢), and eventually became a mother of three girls. Through her entire life, she was treated as a slave and a lesser-being by the king - she also died while protecting him, and her daughters were forced to eat her remains after that (🤢🤢).

It felt so tragic to see her 2000 years later, still walking blindly in the paths. It wasn't enough that she was hurt so badly when she was still alive - she remained enslaved to the abusive king even after she died. I was rooting for her to finally be freed from this nightmare - hence I was so happy when ch. 122 came out and we got this scene:

I was genuinely emotional when I saw her reaction. Finally, someone expressed some authentic care for her and tried to snap her out of this blind state. She would finally think about what she wants and try to free herself from the paths because, as Eren said, she was never a slave or a goddess - just a regular person. It's just like she finally let out all the pain that she's been suppressing for all these years.

Yeah...except, as it turns out, her awakening here changes nothing. She doesn't come to any conclusions, like, perhaps, that she doesn’t want to let herself be hurt and mistreated any longer...or that she should fight for herself, try to change her fate - because, after all, her life belongs to her - not anyone else.

Nothing like this happens. Why? Because, as it turns out, she's in love with king Fritz and needs to be proven by Mikasa that she can break this bond first.

....

💀💀💀💀

Excuse me, but...what?

Okay, first and foremost...am I supposed to believe that, during these 2000 years, no one else has gone against their unhealthy affection to someone toxic and unworthy of their love? No one? 🤡 Come on, we even saw that happen in the manga. What about Historia, who thought that her own mother hitting her was a sign of love? Who wanted to believe that her father was good, despite wanting to turn her into a titan? Where was Ymir when Historia stood up for herself against her father's wishes? Or when she flew up to him and delivered the final blow against him?

On top of that...what a disappointing conclusion to Ymir's story. I hoped that she would take her fate into her own hands, and - for example - be reborn and experience life as a free person, surrounded by people who actually care about her. Free herself from paths and destroy it - not because someone shows her that she can indeed detach herself from it, but simply because she wants to.

Instead, 80% of the world population is gone, because she needed to see that Mikasa is able to "free" herself from Eren in order to do the same.

🤡🤡🤡

2. Abandoned plotlines and plot-holes

Mikasa being a Hizuru princess? Never heard of that. Hallucigenia's fate? Who cares. Eren directing Dina's titan in Carla's direction in order to save Berthold? Nah, who would want any more info on that - guess he just couldn't direct her anywhere else. The Ackerman's headaches? Pfff. The fact that Mikasa shouldn't be affected by the memory altering, but somehow still is in the ending? "I guess she just forgot that she should be immune to this". Why was Historia's pregnancy implied as relevant if it wasn't in the end? So many precious panels wasted on that, when they could be used to help solve some other "unanswered questions" instead. Ehhh...🤷

3. Blatant character assassination

There, I'm saying it once again. I have no idea what happened in this chapter but the characters are off. What about Eren - the one who has always believed that freedom was his birthright, and has been fighting and moving forward for his goals? Yeah, turns out he has no idea why he was doing all of that.

Remember Kenny's quote - everyone is a slave to something? I thought that this implication was pretty poetic in context of Eren's character. Through all his life, he sought freedom, but ironically, he was a slave to that dream...

...turns out it may have been a bit too poetic for this story because Eren is a slave to destiny. Literally - he's going on auto-pilot in order to reach that one moment in which Mikasa beheads him, so Ymir can watch and understand that she can do the same.

Nice joke...except not. Here go our main character's motivations 🗑

He casually commits unjustifiable crimes against humanity - not because he wants to be free or because he found the world beyond the walls disappointing, (...as we were led to believe). He did that because he doesn't know why - and then, he cries that he doesn't want Mikasa to ever find another guy.

:'))

Turns out Eren was somehow always in love with her too...? Yeah, weird way of showing it. Or should I say - not showing it at all.

If you read my previous writings, you know that I'm not very fond of Eremika. The way I interpreted it while reading the story: it was unhealthy, suffocating and one-sided. I hoped for Mikasa to move on and start thinking about herself for once.

Right, what about Mikasa? Has she finally moved on? Is she content with her life? Are her dreams coming true? What's her daily life after all this? Sadly, I don't have the answers. The thing we are shown instead, is how she's sitting next to Eren's grave and, once again, thanking him for wraping the scarf around her. The only thing that implies that she may be somehow still seeing other people is one bubble of text. After all 139 chapters of hoping for her character developement, that's it.

Keep in mind that all other characters are shown together - with their spouses, families and friends - yet Mikasa is still separated and alone. That's right - after she disappears with Eren's head, she's not shown with anyone else until the end of the manga.

While we're on the topic of others, too...do I have to talk about the scenes in which everyone shows some level of gratitude to Eren...for wiping 80% humanity for them? Because I have no words for this.

One last note: I found the humor to be slightly out of place, too. Seriously, after all these terrible events, with so many unanswered questions and character developement of these two...Reiner is still weirdly simping for (now married) Historia and Jean is called a horse face :') Idk, but it feels somehow surreal after everything that's happened.

4. Conclusion

What else can I say...the final chapter disappointed me and I'm pretty sad about it. I'm happy for the people who liked it, but also can't help but feel like it was very far from perfect. I've been following SnK ever since 2013 and it's a bittersweet moment for me. The series had a lot of amazing moments that I'll definitely remember forever. Meanwhile, I would like to read some of the author's thoughts about the way he chose to end the story - perhaps it would clear some confusion (...although I can't help the fact that my first opinion is already formed).

Thank you very much for reading my thoughts - as always, it means a lot to me! ❤ The images used in this post are obviously not mine!

#snk 139 #aot 139 #snk spoilers #snk manga spoilers #snk ending #anti eremika #eren jeager #mikasa ackerman #ymir fritz #historia reiss #snk meta

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mio-parasite · 3 years

Text

Lovely - M!Robot (Zach) X GN!Human Render

Warning: mention of physical and emotional abuse.

I'm sorry for the bad spelling and bad English

◦ ❖ ◦ ❁ ◦ ❖ ◦ ❁ ◦ ❖ ◦ ❁ ◦ ❖ ◦ ◦ ❖ ◦ ❁ ◦ ❖ ◦ ❁ ◦ ❖ ◦ ❁ ◦ ❖ ◦ ◦ ❖ ◦ ❁ ◦ ❖ ◦ ❁ ◦ ❖ ◦ ❁ ◦ ❖ ◦

The great technological breakthrough had brought great things to make people's lives simpler, including a robot known as l1f3 that would allow you to be a beloved of the house flawless. Trouble finding a good babysitter? No problem, l1f3 can take care of your children without worry. Is your husband or wife cheating on you with the housekeeper? Say no more, l1f3 is the perfect machine for making household things. Don't worry about your partner, l1f3 just obeying a single word that you, our great buyer, will have the privilege to program before turning it on. Take it now!! It will change your life forever.

More than 10 years have passed since the day this announcement was published; L1f3 was already in its latest version. It was the most sought-after robot since it went on the market, its main characteristics had evolved to make it a total slave of the human being. On the other hand, you didn't have an l1f3 in your possession, not precisely because you didn't have enough money to buy one, but because you preferred to do things at home the traditional way, with your own hands. Many of your co-workers knew about this and on more than one occasion they came to offer you their l1f3 at a very low price, since several of them were going to buy the new version that would come out.

Come on friends is the best offer nor will black Friday give you an offer as it is. - said his co-worker.

Tom I already told you I like to do things on my own, when I'm an old man of 89 years I'll think about getting one - you answered although deep down it was just a lie - maybe you'll only get some old people's home - well, until tomorrow Tom.

Until tomorrow. - I answer his companion almost reluctantly.

You left your work building to go to the corner parking lot. It was kind of sad that your work building didn't have a parking lot of its own but you couldn't ask much of a building that's more than 70 years old.

When you got to the parking lot you passed by the guard who as always was sleeping, you took a slight sigh to go under the fence and finally get to your car but something caught your attention a young man who was lying on the driver's door of your car.

Hey, are you okay? - you approached quickly, he seemed to be sleeping maybe he jumped glasses and was going to get into his car that was next to yours but his body can't stand the amount of alcohol was a good theory not the first time you run into a drunk in the parking lot - friend wake up I must go home.

When you put your hand on his shoulder, a strange sensation of something wet made you jump out of fright. When you turned on the light you realized that that liquid in your hand was blue but the sensation was not like paint much less it had smell it was strange that thing that was blue in your hand didn't seem you had seen it before.

You pointed your flashlight at the young man who was sitting with his back against the door of your car. Poor robot maybe they assaulted him or he was also one of those extremist groups that are finding that robots are living with humans. Well whatever the case you could not leave it thrown there is also so far do not think that there is a mechanic available also its owner may be looking for it would be good to look for the owner, but one of your friends explained that if you enter the official site of the company l1f3 and put the first four digits of the barcode that is in the back of the neck of the robot you can find its owner with his contact number in case you lost the robot.

That was quite timely but that time with your friend they put Numbers up out of sheer boredom finding the large number of people who owned one in their home even if it was low resources is surprising that much of society is dependent on these robots but there is no more time to digress you have to act the robot is in a bad situation. You approached her slowly to move her neck very carefully but when you gave her a little push to separate her head from the door your wrist was grabbed very tightly.

What do you think you're doing!? - said the robot with anger in his eyes.

"I just want to help," you answer somewhat scared. "it was all so sudden."

Lie - exclaimed the robot- you just want to disarm me and sell my parts as scrap.

It's not true - you answered somewhat altered it seemed that his grip was stronger, it was hurting you. - my pity, let me go. please

The robot gave you a last look at Stan before releasing you definitely, you weighed your wrist and then turned your gaze to the robot that was still sitting seemed so upset but also hurt not only in appearance but also emotionally.

You can really believe me or not but I won't hurt you, I just want to help you - you told the robot as you raised your hands in a signal that you had nothing planned to attack it.

Why? - answered the robot.

What? - you looked at him confused.

Because you want to help me, not since I am just an old-fashioned tin because not selling my parts or sending me to the nearest dump is not easier that I say - I bitterly laugh - there are thousands as I am easy to replace get a new one.

Hey don't say that - the robot looks at you mockingly - I know it sounds stupid but I don't think it's replaceable - sure your owner misses you.

So my owner - he laughed again with bitterness - he was the one who did this to me you know - he said pointing to his wound on his face - he already has two other new models I was only adorning for the bizarre wishes of his eldest daughter where I was his feet, a parparry table and... And... - the robot made a big pause while he clenched his fist - then I got tired of that deal and wanted to run away but my owner wouldn't let me shoot myself so I wouldn't run away but didn't let me not this time so despite that I just ran, ran and ran without looking back until I couldn't stand it anymore I came to hide here after you appeared.

Oh wow - you were really surprised poor robot deserves to be free - thank you for sharing this with me.

Yes - a little laugh of tiredness came out of the lips of that robot - honestly it was rare for me to think that only the information came out. - the robot replied.

Let me take you to my house tomorrow we'll go with a mechanic and you'll go do whatever you want outside - you tell the robot you think it really deserves something better.

Wait what!? - the robot was really surprised by your proposal - because you would do that for me we hardly know each other.

"That's true," you replied, "but it's not good to leave you here either."

I smiled at him, the robot didn't have many options to go with you even if it's quite a lie what you say doesn't matter anymore after all the robot already knows that its fate will be destruction so shit matters.

"Okay, I'll go with you," says the robot as he gets out of the ground.

You couldn't help but give that machine a slight smile.

By the way, what's your name? - you ask him while driving your vehicle.

There was no immediate response just when you left the parking lot to reach a traffic light.

"I have no name," he says as he looks out the window, "it's not something we're made to carry names.

But what do you say!? - surprised - well if you're thinking of leaving your life behind it would be good to give yourself a name.

The robot takes his eyes out of the window to stare with confused faces.

You deserve a name - not just calling yourself for who you are - you are entitled to a name - you answer.

Right you say - the robot seems to look away again at the sale - you're ridiculous you knew.

What about William or jack? , alex is also a good name, there's also brendon, Cody, tayler, josh - you say random name hoping your companion will say something.

Are you serious? - I ask the robot in confusion.

Oh you prefer more foreign names you could be Francisco, akira, Bruno - you keep suggesting names the rest of the way.

Enough is enough... Zacharie - I answer zacharie while you smile.

Zacharie if it suits you I could also tell you zach for short - you answer him with joy.

At last they reach their destination their beautiful home, look at zach a little worried about his condition.

Zach I hope to help you and that you can be free, maybe can not promise me that everything will go well 100% but I will. - zach will just seem more confused but deep down his metallic self wants to have some confidence in you.

#monster lover #monster x reader #robot x reader #robot boyfriend #exophilia #monster fucker #monster boyfriend

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zeppelin-and-unicorns · 3 years

Note

so i’ve been reading a lot of post season 8 JH fics and my heart literally hurts from all the angst. do you have any recommendations for more happy and fluffy multi chapter fics??

PS. I keep rereading TSG for the family cuteness

There's nothing I love more than family cuteness, man. I'm glad you like TSG so much!!

And I get you 😭😭😭 There are some J/H fics where the angst is downright cruel to us.

Whenever the angst gets too much for me, I take a small break and read a fluffy one-shot or a chapter of s8 redo (my comfort fic), and it always makes me feel better!

Anyway, here's a list with all the fluffy multichapter stories that make me swoon:

Catch The Bouquet by heatherlea75 (post s8):

It's a post s8 fic, but I promise you it's fluffy as hell. Trust me.

Fate has been unkind to Jackie Burkhart for too long. She has a plan to change that, and to obtain what is rightfully hers a glorious wedding. Though she doesn’t know it, she needs a little help, and a surprising person is perfectly willing to offer it.

This story is complete, and it has an adorable sequel, called Pop The Question.

6k words, 2 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, background Eric/Donna

Escaping The Friendzone by KayRight (AU canon divergence):

Jackie doesn’t take Kelso back at their prom. Instead, she starts an odd friendship with Hyde. They both want more but the only problem is he thinks she’s on the rebound and she thinks he’s not interested.

This story is complete.

73k words, 23 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Also Available on AO3

Everything Works If You Let It by Ultrawoman (AU canon divergence):

Jackie and Hyde pretty much hated each other from the get go, and yet he still agreed to take her to Prom. Kelso was unable to win Jackie back that night, and everything changed between the rich cheerleader and the Zen Master. S1 rewritten from ‘Prom Night’.

This story is complete and it’s SO CUTE.

60k words, 23 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Focus by Jenny7 (AU):

After a metaphysical awakening, Hyde develops the ability to telepathically connect with a single stranger. What he doesn’t expect is that the girl that he shares the connection with, a rich cheerleader with a complicated past, will forever alter his views on life and love.

SO GOOD. It’s complete and it has a sequel (that’s not complete but still worth the read), called Darlin, Walk Awhile With Me.

2k words, 19 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde.

It Must Be Love by That-Maria-Girl (missing scenes):

What happened after the Valentine’s dance.

4k words, 2 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Mistaken Messages by MistyMountainHop (soulmate AU):

Slightly angsty at first because Jackie and Hyde are dumbasses, but at the same time it's so fluffy, ugh. This is probably my favorite soulmate story ever.

Jackie longs for her soulmate to accept her, and Hyde hopes his will leave him alone because he’s in love with someone else. A stack of mystical index cards lets them communicate with their as-yet unidentified soulmates. But the more their soulmates write, the less control Jackie and Hyde seem to have over their fate.

This story is complete.

23k words, 5 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, background Eric/Donna

Also Available on AO3

New York, New York by Shabbuuu (AU canon divergence):

This one is also on my top favorite stories of all time, do yourself a favor and read this, it’s amazing.

What if Hyde did go to New York City with Chrissy? It’s 1981 and Jackie has just moved to NYC for a job. What happens when she runs into a familiar face at a bar?

This story is complete.

40k words, 38 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Of All Things Creepy and Unnatural by CaedanceLaura (AU canon divergence):

Also on my top favorites, lol. I can’t help myself, I really love AU’s.

What if Donna and Eric hadn’t found out about Hyde and Jackie? Hyde and Jackie manage to keep their relationship a secret for much longer. How will this change the development of their relationship without having their friends lack of support and ridicule in the beginning?

Not complete, but it ends in a nice place. No cliffhangers here.

56k words, 16 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, background Eric/Donna

One Difference: Hyde Goes to Kelso’s Ice Shack by MistyMountainHop (AU canon divergence):

Kelso plans to get Jackie back by taking her to his uncle’s “fabulous” cabin in the woods. He has everything in place—the right lie, the right couple to emulate—but an unexpected variable threatens to dismantle his scheme: Steven Hyde.

This story is complete.

21k words, 5 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

Season 8 redo by tanith75 (s7 fix-it):

This is the most famous story of the fandom for a reason.

The story starts after the s7ep21 episode, so there’s no Chicago problems or people going to Africa over here :) It’s amazingly written, it’s funny as hell, and it honestly feels like I’m watching an episode of the show when I’m reading it. It’s amazing, it’s what should’ve happened in the show.

This story is not complete, but please, don’t let this stop you from reading it.

293k words, 42 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna, Red/Kitty, Fez/Laurie, Kelso/Brooke

Stuck With You by nannygirl (post s8, Christmas fic):

Christmas 1980 with the Formans, just like any other Christmas right? Not exactly. Find out what makes this Christmas so memorable. It’s a story about the whole family!

This story is complete (and it’s one of my favs).

50k words, 21 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna, Kelso/Brooke, Red/Kitty, Fez/?

That 70s show by Zenmaster21 (AU):

What if Jackie had dated Hyde from the beginning instead of Kelso? This is simply a re-write of the episodes had Jackie and Hyde always been together.

One of my favorites stories from the entire fandom.

Not complete, but please read it, it’s worth it.

Trigger warning for child abuse.

152k words, 37 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

The Love I Need by myboygeorge (missing scenes):

Everyone knows when Jackie and Hyde first hooked up. But when did they become lovers? Set as an extension of Season 5’s ‘Over the Hills and Far Away’.

3k words, 3 chapters.

Rated M.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

The One Where Jackie Moves In by Floweerchild96 (AU):

Jackie has been living in New-York with her family but after her father goes to jail and her mother abandons her, she is forced to return to a town she thought she was done with for good. How will Jackie’s reemergence in the basement effect the gangs lives?

A really good story, but unfortunately, it’s not complete. Still worth the read.

103k words, 20 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, background Eric/Donna.

You Can’t Hurry Love by holeygeorge (post s8, Christmas fic):

It’s 1983, the gang is getting ready for Christmas and the New Years.

Not complete, but extremely fluffy.

40k words, 16 chapters.

Rated T.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

I know you asked only for multi chapter fics, but if you're feeling like reading some fluffy one-shots, I highly recommend for you to check out springsteenicous profile on AO3. Their one-shots are so cute that I literally blush when I'm reading them.

#ask #jackie x hyde #jackie and hyde #zenmasters #fanfic recommendations

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mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 6 months

Text

Destiny & Deliverance: Chapter 26

Destiny & Deliverance Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist Dieter Bravo X OFC New as of 11/13/2023

Chapter Quote: "I don't want to do this."

I lost track of how much time passed as I watched Dieter sleep. My mind was racing through so many thoughts that it overwhelmed me, making it impossible to process anything at all. It was hard to pull myself away from him, but I felt like I needed a few minutes to myself to just…feel. I was relieved when the nurse walked in to check on him, feeling like that was my out. I let her know that we would be in the waiting room if he asked for us. When she turned her attention back to her checklist, I excused myself from the room.

As I walked down the hallway, I took a moment to observe my surroundings. Seeing patients through open doors in various states of critical care was making me feel anxious. The sounds of beeping machines dredging up old memories that I thought I had packed away for good. The pungent smells of antiseptic and fragrances of chemical based cleaners caused my stomach to churn. I hated hospitals and I hated that Dieter was having to go through this experience. I truly hoped that it would at least have a positive outcome so that he could finally get the proper help he needed.

I ducked into a single-user bathroom to have a minute to myself, knowing it would be my only opportunity. After locking the door behind me, I walked over to the sink and gave myself a once over in the mirror. I looked like hell. My air-dried curly hair was now a frizzy mess from my fingers incessantly pulling at it. My eyes were circled in darkness from the lack of sleep, red and swollen from crying. The t-shirt I had quickly thrown on before leaving the house was wrinkled and had a stain on it. No wonder the ER doctor didn’t take my word for it when I said I was fine. I wouldn’t have believed me either.

I tried to smooth my hair down but didn’t get anywhere with it. Luckily, I had a hair tie on my wrist so I could pull it back into a messy bun. I took a minute to splash some warm water over my face. My skin felt sensitive and raw from the salty tears that had fallen, no matter how much I willed them not to. I switched over to cold water for a little shock to my system to try and wake up some. After splashing a few handfuls of the cold water, I stood watching it pool in my cupped hands, allowing it to spill over the sides. I could feel myself disassociating, until the flashes of memories started to break through.

Images of Dieter lying on the floor, his eyes opening briefly as I tried to wake him before they rolled back and closed again. The way he looked lifeless in my lap on the drive to the hospital, with a weakened pulse. The sight of him being pulled from my embrace and loaded onto a gurney surrounded by nurses and doctors as they worked to stabilize him. It was too much, and it was all crashing down on me at once. I had almost lost him because I was too fucking selfish to take the risk and reach out to him when I knew in my gut that something was wrong. I completely ignored it all and focused on being angry at him, just to make myself feel better about the whole situation. Now, I only felt anger toward myself.

I snapped back to the present, letting the water spill from my hands before reaching to turn off the faucet. I placed my wet hands on the back of my neck for a moment, allowing the coldness to soothe the heat radiating through my body. I closed my eyes and took a few measured breaths. Then, I reached for paper towels to dry my hands and face before throwing them in the trash. I placed both palms on the sink, leaning against it with my head down. I closed my eyes again, still taking deep breaths to try and center myself.

When I raised my head and opened my eyes, meeting my reflection in the mirror, I hated the person that I saw. My biggest fear had been losing myself again. I had allowed it to happen without even realizing how the darkness was slowly consuming what little was left of me. The harder I worked to keep it away from me the easier it was for the darkness to stealthily pull me into its numbing embrace. The sad part is, I welcomed it with open arms under the guise that I was doing what I needed to do to move forward and be happy.

For the first time since Dieter ended things, I realized I was slowly turning back into the person I was before him. The person I was when I was with Justin. The scared girl who pretended everything was fine and hid her feelings away out of fear that someone would see how bad things were. I had been conditioned to behave this way to protect Justin and all his wrong doings. I had been conditioned to hide my feelings away so that I wouldn’t realize how unhappy I really was. I could feel the walls starting to crumble down again and I found myself craving a drink but knew I couldn’t go down that road. I knew I needed to get back on track and handle things the correct way, for the sake of myself. I wasn’t going to be able to be there for Dieter unless I finally got my shit together. For real this time. I needed to find better ways to cope and actually process my feelings, rather than lock them away. If I didn’t do this, I knew I would be lost to the darkness forever.

I was drawn away from my thoughts by a knock on the door. I took one last deep breath and moved to leave the bathroom. As I continued my trudge down the hallway, I somehow managed to focus my mind back on the current situation that needed attention, trying to think through the next steps. I wasn’t even sure what those needed to be since I had never dealt with anything like this. This was definitely going to be a team effort.

When I entered the waiting room, I was met with more activity than I expected. Everyone was working to check out various inpatient treatment centers for Dieter. Alex was reaching out to his contacts for feedback while Lauren and Gabby did research on their phones. I immediately joined in. We were determined to find something away from LA that wasn’t one of the upscale places celebrities usually went to that catered to them. He needed to be somewhere that would not treat him any differently than other patients and really focus on helping him get better.

We finally settled on a facility in Tucson, Arizona called Sanctuary Hills that appeared to be promising. It was away from paparazzi central, making it less likely that anything would leak about Dieter being there. It also came highly recommended by Dr. Wilson and several other individuals that Alex spoke with. It would be a long drive, but more than worth it if the place was as good as everyone made it out to be. Once the decision was made, Gabby called to get more information and to get the admission process started.

We did not want to give Dieter the opportunity to change his mind, so Gabby and I planned to drive him directly to the facility once he was discharged from the hospital. Sanctuary Hills was kind enough to send us a list of things that Dieter could and could not bring with him, so I offered to go pack a bag for him on my way home to nap and freshen up. Gabby planned to do the same while Lauren and Alex stayed behind to spend some time with Dieter once he woke up.

When the Uber driver pulled into the driveway of Dieter’s house, I could feel my chest tighten as anxiety set in. Being there after what had happened the previous evening felt odd, almost sort of eerie. It seemed like there was bad energy emitting from the once happy place that I had considered my second home.

As I used Gabby’s key to unlock the front door, I suddenly felt a wave of emotion sweep over me. I could already feel a lump forming in my throat. When I stepped inside and really took in the space for the first time, I realized how much of a mess it was. I had noticed it the night before but didn’t register the severity because I had been focused on helping him. Dieter’s comforter and a pillow, my pillow, were haphazardly laying on the couch. There were old takeout containers randomly sitting around the living room and kitchen, some still containing food that looked like it had hardly been touched. I assumed that was the cause of the questionable smell permeating throughout the house. The TV was laying on its back on the floor with a busted screen. There were empty and broken liquor bottles of all shapes and sizes laying everywhere. Most of the broken bottles were concentrated on the floor under the painting I had left for him, like they had been thrown at the wall. The painting appeared to be untouched, which was oddly comforting to see.

It was difficult to see the physical evidence of how bad he had been hurting. There was no way that I could look at the sight before me and not feel anything. I simply could not pack this away somewhere in my mind and not deal with it. It was too much, but I needed the raw emotional confrontation. This is what finally caused my walls to crumble down, forcing me to feel everything at once. The sadness, betrayal, hurt, pain, anger…all of it. I couldn’t hold back the flood of tears any longer. My vision blurred momentarily before the tears started to fall incessantly. I didn’t even bother to wipe them away as I made my way toward Dieter’s bedroom to start packing a bag for him.

If I thought the living room and kitchen were bad, his bedroom was even worse. The bed was completely torn apart, and the frame broken. The nightstands were turned on their sides and the lamps that once set atop them laid in pieces on the floor. The mirror on the dresser was shattered and the drawers and clothes were thrown across the room. There was a hole in the drywall where the headboard used to be and another beside the bathroom door. It felt like I was having an out of body experience, the scene around me looking like it had been pulled straight from a movie.

I stood there for a time; both of my hands placed over my mouth in shock as I looked around the room. I had a hard time reconciling the thoughts of Dieter causing such destruction. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t a violent person. This was the culmination of his pain finally breaking him. My legs suddenly felt weak at that realization. I sank to the floor, continuing to take it all in as the tears fell freely down my cheeks. It was hard to see a space that held so many wonderful memories of us reduced to a pile of rubble. Maybe it had been even harder for him to be reminded of those memories while it was still intact, a caricature of how things used to be.

I don’t know how much time passed before I finally pulled myself up off the floor. I needed to take a breather. I walked back to the living room, where I noticed Dieter's phone still laying on the floor from where he had dropped it. My car keys were on the floor nearby, where I had apparently dropped them in the midst of my rush to get to him. I leaned down to pick up the keys and phone. I figured Gabby may need some of the contact information from his phone to deal with his work stuff, so I didn’t want to forget it. I walked over and plopped down on the couch before setting the two items down on the coffee table next to one another.

The lock screen of the phone lit up, catching my attention. I picked it up for a closer look, realizing the wallpaper was the infamous picture of us that he had posted on Instagram. Except this was the unedited original. It was in color, uncropped, and not blurred with filters. I had never seen this version of it. It almost broke me to see how happy and content we both looked. Even though Dieter’s head was turned slightly, I could still see the rare spark of happiness in his eyes. The crease that he often had between his brows was smooth. It was hard to remember that for a short time we had been blissfully happy. It seemed so long ago now. I realized that I would give anything to go back to that. We both needed the good times, to experience those rare moments of joy, when things didn’t feel like an uphill battle.

I grabbed the comforter that was halfway hanging onto the floor and wrapped it around me as I laid down onto the couch, phone still clutched in my hand. The scent of Dieter’s cologne surrounded me in a comforting embrace as I continued to examine the picture. A low battery alert appeared on screen. I chuckled to myself, thinking how my battery felt low too. I eventually set his phone back down on the table and drifted off to sleep.

I was jolted awake by my cell phone ringing in my back pocket. When I sat up, I realized it was now dark outside. I had been asleep for longer than I had planned to be. It took me a few seconds to work out where I was as I wiped the sleep from my eyes. I quickly stood and fished the phone out of my pocket to see that it was Gabby calling me. She wanted to check in and see how I was doing and if I needed help with any of Dieter’s things. I didn’t, of course. That was something I wanted to deal with on my own, but I appreciated her offer, nevertheless. It felt good to know that I was not alone in all of this, that this time around there were other people close to Dieter and me who understood what was going on.

Gabby went on to share that Alex had called to say the hospital would be releasing Dieter the following morning. She was planning for us to make the seven-and-a-half-hour drive immediately after picking him up. Then she and I would take a flight back to Los Angeles. It was going to be a long day, but it was worth it if it meant he was going to get the help he needed. We made plans for her to pick me up in a rental car and be ready to go first thing in the morning.

Once Gabby and I hung up, I realized I had a text from Aubrey. I had only just realized that I never called into work that today, so I was surprised I had not heard from her sooner.

Aubrey: Lauren called me last night to let me know what was going on. I hope everything is ok. Please take all the time you need, for the both of you. Keep me updated and let me know if you need anything.

I sighed heavily. I seriously did not deserve her or Lauren. They gave me more grace than I deserved sometimes. I fired off a quick update to Aubrey to let her know that both Dieter and I were doing ok and that I would need a couple of days off. She responded immediately to let me know that would be fine.

Since that was off the “to do” list, I decided to pack Dieter’s bag. I pulled up the list that Gabby had sent to me. He was basically limited to three days’ worth of comfortable clothes and nothing else until they considered him to be fully stable. He couldn’t even have his glasses or contacts, something he was definitely not going to be happy about.

I sent a quick text to Gabby reminding her that Dieter would need a phone list since he couldn’t have his phone. I figured she might have a better idea of who needed to be listed on that and that she would probably have most of their numbers. Then, I made my way to his closet, ignoring the mess in the bedroom as best I could. I found that his closet was completely untouched and still somewhat organized. I noticed that half of it was now empty, which reminded me of the conversation we had about making space to keep some of my things there. He had clearly held up to his word on that and never bothered to change it back. I could feel the lump forming in my throat with that thought. I shook my head, dismissing the memory so I could focus on the task at hand.

I quickly grabbed a pair of his gray workout shorts and two pairs of striped pajama pants (that did not have drawstrings) and three plain t-shirts from the shelves. I found his bright green robe and removed the waist belt before adding it to my stack. I had to dig around to find slip on closed toe shoes that didn’t have any metal or laces on them. At the bottom of his shoe pile, I found a pair of black croc clogs that I had never seen him wear, but it’s what he was getting because it was the only pair I could find that met the requirements. After grabbing some of his boxers and socks, I started looking around for a bag. I eventually came across an extra-large tote bag that could barely hold everything. He wasn’t allowed to bring his own toiletries, so I didn’t have to worry about any of that. I quickly ran through the list again making sure I didn’t miss anything. I made a mental note to double check on the phone list with Gabby and get his medications back from the hospital. Other than that, he couldn’t have anything else.

Before I left Dieter’s house, I collected all the food containers and took out the trash. That was something that needed immediate attention due to the smell alone. The rest would have to wait until I had more time. I wanted to make sure to get everything cleaned up before he came home, whenever that would be. The mess was the last thing he needed to deal with, and he most definitely did not need any reminders of what happened to him.

I collected the tote bag, my phone and Dieter’s, and my car keys before walking out to my car and heading back to my house. After I got home, I gathered a few things I would need for our quick trip, set my alarm, then immediately went to bed. Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for sleep to take me. I was physically and mentally exhausted and I could feel every bit of it.

The morning alarm came quickly. I felt like I had only just dozed off as I sat up in bed, stretching. My head was throbbing, and I could feel that my eyes were still swollen and stinging from all the crying I had done the past two days. I hoped a hot shower would help alleviate the tightness I could feel from the inflammation and ease my aching body. I drug myself up out of bed and took a very long shower. I mostly stood under the hot spray, unmoving, as I stared at the floor. I felt like I needed to mentally prepare myself for whatever the day would bring. I didn’t know what to expect, which left me anticipating all possible outcomes, including the worst-case scenarios. My only hope was that Dieter stayed calm throughout the trip and didn’t change his mind about accepting help before we got him there.

I spent longer than I should have in the shower, causing me to rush around to get ready. Not that I had planned to put a lot of effort into it anyway because it was definitely a messy bun and sunglasses kind of day. I was glad that I had gotten things ready the night before or else I know that I would have ended up forgetting something. Before I knew it, Gabby was pulling into my driveway. When I got into the car, she handed Dieter’s phone list over to me so she would not forget about it. I added it to his bag before I handed over his cell phone to her.

I could tell she was just as anxious as I was from her tight grip on the steering wheel and tense posture. We hardly said a word to each other during the drive to the hospital. Both of us were clearly deep in thought. The way I felt was almost indescribable. I was anxious and my chest felt tight, but in a different way than before. My head was buzzing as the thoughts raced uncontrollably. I felt hopeful, sad, and angry all at the same time. I was having a hard time wrapping my head around how it had actually come to this. It almost didn’t seem real. I was starting to feel disconnected, like I was watching everything from the outside. I knew that probably wasn’t a good thing, but also felt like it might be the only way I could get through today. I would just have to deal with the consequences of it later.

When we arrived at the hospital, we found that Alex was already pushing the discharge process along as best he could. He had spent the night with Dieter so he wouldn’t have to be alone. Alex had to be exhausted since he had been at the hospital the entire time. He had the least amount of sleep out of all of us in the past forty-eight hours, so I knew he was ready to crash. Lauren arrived soon after Gabby and me so that she could take Alex home. She had stopped to get us all coffee and breakfast too, which was very much appreciated by all.

Dr. Wilson briefly met with Gabby and I to give us Dieter’s bag full of medication and to go over paperwork. He gave us copies of everything that Sanctuary Hills would need but indicated they had sent electronic copies as well. He let us know that they gave Dieter a sedative thirty-minutes prior because he was still being uncooperative with staff and exhibiting high levels of anxiety. He noted that it should last about eight hours but included another dose with Dieter’s medication in case it was needed. That was not the news that Gabby and I wanted to hear, but we were appreciative that Dieter was given something to calm him down during the trip. We were hopeful that being with us would help him relax some too.

When we were finally able to make our way to Dieter’s room, we found him sitting on the bed picking at the food Lauren had brought for him. It didn’t look like he had eaten much of it. He seemed a little dazed as he sat in silence staring around the room at nothing. Lauren and Alex gave Gabby and I an apprehensive look as our eyes darted between them and Dieter. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting but I don’t think this was it. I assumed his behavior was like this because the sedative was kicking in, making him feel out of it while dulling the anxiety.

I walked over to stand next to the bed, reaching out to push Dieter’s hair back out of his eyes, which caused him to focus his attention on me for the first time. He knitted his brows together as he stared at me in silence for a moment. Then he reached up to lightly tug on my shirt, pulling me to sit down beside him. I wrapped my right arm around him as I moved to sit closer to him, then reached up to rub the curls at the nap of his neck. He immediately melted into my side and laid his head on my shoulder, his arms tightening around me. I took a stuttered breath as I fought back the tears that were threatening to fall. He was so fucking pitiful, and it was breaking my heart to see him like that.

After several minutes passed and when I eventually felt like I had my emotions under control, I asked Dieter if he wanted to change clothes and get ready to leave. He nodded slowly against my shoulder. Gabby handed him a set of clothes and the crocs I had gotten from his house as he got up to go toward the bathroom. While we waited for him, a nurse came in with the last bit of paperwork for Gabby to sign off on. By the time he came back out, we were ready to go. Gabby went out ahead of us to get the rental SUV and pull it up to the door. The rest of us made our way downstairs, accompanied by two patient care assistants. They kept a close eye on Dieter the whole way, which made me question what he had been doing to the staff that was so “uncooperative”. I felt like they were expecting him to run off or something.

Once Gabby pulled up, we gave Alex and Dieter some space to say their goodbyes. Alex had placed one of his hands around the back of Dieter’s neck, pulling their foreheads close together as he talked quietly to his older brother. Something about the sight caused Gabby, Lauren, and I to immediately tear up. The intense emotional look that passed between the two of them said so much. Dieter tightly nodded along to whatever his brother was saying before they pulled each other into a warm embrace. After a quick hug from Lauren, Dieter crawled into the back seat of the SUV. He stared at me wide-eyed and unblinking with his sad puppy dog eyes, seeming to be asking a question without words. I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile before climbing in to sit next to him as he scooted to the other side.

Dieter sat wringing his hands and staring down at the floor as we waited for Gabby to finish filling Alex in on our plans for the day. I reached over to grab his left hand and he visibly relaxed some. He glanced over at me with a tight smile before turning to stare out the window. He still looked paler than normal. Seeing him in his own clothes made it more apparent that he had lost some weight, which added to his frail appearance. I knew the current sight of him would haunt my dreams for weeks to come.

Soon after we got on the road, I noticed Dieter was having a hard time keeping his eyes open as he leaned his head against the window.

I gave his hand a small squeeze as I eyed him, “You ok?”

“Those fucking drugs they gave me are making it hard to stay awake,” he said flatly without looking my way.

I started rubbing small circles on his hand with my thumb, “Do you wanna lay down?”

His eyes locked with mine in an intense stare, like he was surprised at my words. I moved to grab a small blanket and pillow from behind the seat that Gabby had brought for him. I handed him the blanket and placed the pillow in my lap as he watched me intently. I don’t know why, but I suddenly felt like I was dealing with a scared feral animal from the look he was giving me. I didn’t want to spook him, but I also wanted to make sure I was there for him in the ways he needed. I reached toward him and motioned with my hand for him to lay down. He moved to get comfortable the best he could in the small space, folding his body to fit and putting his head in my lap. He sighed deeply, eyes closing as he tried to make himself comfortable. Once he was situated, I started running my fingers through his hair and lightly scratching at his scalp. It wasn’t long before his breathing changed to deep steady breaths as he fell asleep.

The drive was long and quiet. I could occasionally feel Gabby’s eyes on me in the rearview mirror as I watched Dieter sleep. My thoughts were still quickly cycling through every second of our time together, trying to figure out when things started to get so bad. I had a feeling Gabby could see everything I was feeling written on my face during that drive. She never questioned it though. There were times that I glanced her way and she seemed to be just as deep in thought as I was.

About four hours into the trip, Gabby asked if we should stop for food. Since Dieter was still sleeping, we decided to push through the drive without stopping. I got the feeling that she wanted to get this whole process over with as soon as possible, leaving little room for interruptions or complications. I couldn’t blame her since I was feeling the same way, along with the nagging feeling that the worst part was still to come.

It turns out, I was right. By the time we reached Sanctuary Hills, the sedative was wearing off. Dieter had woken up about twenty minutes before we got to the facility, and I could tell his anxiety was ramping up. It started with his fingers twitching, and the restless moving of his legs, until he eventually sat up in his seat. His eyes began to drift across everything he could see in the car. Eventually the outside caught his attention as he started to fidget more and wring his hands together again. He refused to take the other pill that Dr. Wilson had sent with us because he was tired of sleeping and how the drug was making him feel.

As we pulled into the parking lot, Dieter’s eyes fixated on the building while he roughly scratched at his chin. I grabbed his hand to make him stop in hopes it would calm him down some. Gabby and I exchanged worried glances in the rearview mirror as she unbuckled her seatbelt. Gabby and I got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side. Gabby pulled Dieter’s door open. He sat staring at me, wide-eyed. He looked terrified. I gave him a tight smile as I reached out my hand for his. He finally relented and took it as he got out. He shuffled slowly behind me as we walked toward the entrance. Gabby grabbed his bag out of the back and quickly caught up to us.

Once we entered the facility, Dieter stood closely at my side with a tight grip on my left hand as he chewed on the thumbnail of his free hand. His head was down, but his eyes were scanning over everything in sight. I tried my best to sooth him and keep him calm while Gabby worked to complete the check in process, occasionally asking him questions for the paperwork she was filling out. He answered quietly, in a barely audible voice, never removing his thumb from his mouth to speak.

One of the ladies helping with the check in process started to go through Dieter’s bag to check for “contraband” and ensure all of the items were in compliance with the regulations. As she was checking everything, she asked him if he had any jewelry or a cell phone that he needed to turn over to us before Gabby and I left. I felt Dieter tense beside me as his energy changed, from anxious to almost hostile. When I turned to look at him, I could see the panic and anger flashing in his eyes. The inevitable meltdown was finally happening.

“My phone? You mean I don’t get to keep my fucking phone? No. I didn’t agree to that.”

He started shaking his head frantically from side to side as he backed away from me. I calmly walked over to him and placed both of my hands on his face, softly stroking his patchy beard, in an attempt to calm him as he continued to ramble on.

“How am I supposed to call you without my phone? What if I need you? This place is like a fucking prison. I don’t want to do this.”

“Dieter, listen to me.”

He finally paused his movements as he stared directly into my eyes. What I saw there made me feel like someone was carving my heart out of my chest with a rusted spoon. I have no idea how I managed to hold it together, but I did.

“You can’t have your phone, but you can use theirs. You have a set phone time to call us. They want you to focus on getting better, so you can’t keep it with you.”

“A set phone time? I only have your number memorized. Not the others.”

I was momentarily taken off guard by his admission, feeling more emotional than I already had been if that were possible. He obviously wasn’t thinking rationally right now. This wouldn’t be an issue for most people, but Dieter was used to always having his phone to stay connected with those he cared about. It was understandable the absence of that connection would upset him.

“Gabby made you a list of phone numbers so you can call us. It’s in your bag.”

This answer didn’t seem to dampen his anxiety in the slightest, “But I can only call during certain times? What if you don’t answer and I can’t call back?”

“I’ll answer. I promise… and if you need anything between calls, your case worker can call for you if it isn’t something that can wait.”

I could see the tears brimming in his eyes as he continued to stare at me, a pleading expression on his face - either about the phone, his stay, or something else entirely. I was not sure. I tried to keep my face neutral for his sake, but I knew I was failing. My brows drew down together without my permission as my vision blurred slightly from my own tears. He lowered his head and turned away from me, his shoulders shaking slightly from his shallow breathing. He started to clench and unclench his hands at his sides as he moved further away. I quickly wiped at my eyes and glanced over at Gabby and the ladies behind the front desk. They were all staring at the two of us with worry and concern in their eyes. I took a deep breath before walking over to Dieter, pulling him away from the onlookers and enveloping him into a tight hug. I could feel his fingers knotting in the back of my shirt as he spoke through his tears into my neck. “I’m so fucking terrified to do this and I don’t want you to leave me.” I could feel his grip tighten further as he quietly added, “We didn’t get any time to fix things.”

I gently ran my fingers through the back of his hair, “Don’t worry about that, I’ll be right here when you’re done. We can talk about it later. I want you to focus on yourself right now. When you’re better, you’re coming home to me, ok? I’m not going anywhere.”

He slowly pulled back to meet my eyes. He seemed determined now as he searched my face.

“I don’t want to spend another night away from you after this.”

I gave him a genuine smile before leaning my forehead against his and closing my eyes to savor the feeling of him, trying to memorize every little bit of him that I could. I felt a tentative hand cupping my cheek as I opened my eyes to look up at him again. I leaned into his gentle touch, for the first time in months. I had missed it so much more than I realized. I couldn’t help myself. I reached up and entwined my fingers with his hand on my cheek before pulling them to rest between us. I used my other hand to pull him toward me and gently placed a kiss on his lips.

The way his face lit up as a few more tears slid down his cheeks made my heart clench. He didn’t hesitate to reach up with both hands and pull me in for a second and third kiss before briefly resting his forehead against mine, the physical intimacy that we had to do without for months seeming to ground him a little. He took a deep steady breath as he backed away. “Alright, let’s get this shit over with.”

Dieter’s mood shift was surprising and also a relief. He seemed to be having a moment of clarity, which I took full advantage of as I pulled him over toward Gabby so that he could help her finish with his paperwork. Things went much faster after that than I expected. Before we knew it, we were saying our goodbyes. He didn’t let go of my hand until he absolutely had to. He still looked sad, but seemed in better spirits than he was when he arrived. I was thankful for that since it made it more bearable for everyone involved.

Gabby and I had to hurry to catch our flight. We had just enough time to turn in the rental and grab a small snack as we rushed through the airport. We didn’t talk much on our way home. The topic of her brother seemed to be off limits for the both of us, as an unspoken agreement. We were both so drained from the events of the last few days that we needed a break from it. I could tell she was appreciative of having me there though. It was obvious in the small smiles and gentle hand squeeze she would randomly give me during our journey.

By the time I finally made it back to my house, I was running on empty. It was late and all I wanted to do was crawl into bed, but I somehow mustered up the energy to take a quick shower to wash the day of travel away. After that, it didn’t take long before I was out.

In the days that followed, I spent my time cleaning up the disaster that was Dieter’s house. I ended up having his bedroom furniture hauled off since several pieces were broken. It wasn’t worth the effort to try and fix them. Once that project was done, I didn’t have much else to do besides work and I did that from home. I did make an effort to spend time with Gabby and Lauren when I felt up to it. I felt it was important to work on my relationship with them since I had been so absent recently, and I didn’t want to risk isolating myself again as I was trying to cope with things.

After a week had passed, nothing could take my mind off the fact that Dieter hadn’t called me. I was worried that he was starting to realize how badly I had handled this whole situation on my end. He was the one that ended things, but I had made zero effort to fight for us. I had let him go like it was nothing. I would expect him to be hurt by that. Gabby assured me that he hadn’t called because he was having a hard time coming off of his medication and wasn’t feeling up to much phone time. What little he had called to speak with her was to get things sorted out for work and those conversations only lasted a few minutes. She said it was obvious by the way he sounded that he wasn’t feeling well. The case worker told Gabby that he was having some withdrawal symptoms after the first few days of decreasing his medication dosages and he was having a hard time with it. I knew that was most likely the case, but that still didn’t keep the doubts from creeping in, imagining worst case scenarios.

It was nearly two weeks after we had dropped Dieter off at Sanctuary Hills when I got a surprise visit from Alex. He awkwardly greeted me as he walked through the doorway carrying a very large parcel wrapped in brown paper. I eyed it quizzically as he maneuvered it into the living room.

“What is this?”

“Dieter asked me to bring this to you that night I stayed with him at the hospital. I’m sorry, I’m just now getting around to it. He sent a not so polite reminder through Gabby about it yesterday.”

“I take it you haven’t talked to him either then?”

Alex sighed as he shook his head, “No, not yet. Gab said he’s still kind of a mess right now because of the medication changes. She mostly talks to his case worker, I think.”

I nodded in understanding. Knowing that he hadn’t reached out to Alex either did offer some reassurances that it wasn’t just me. It hurt me beyond words to know that he was having such a hard time with the medication changes. I hoped, for his sake, that it did not last much longer.

Alex moved to hand me the large parcel he was holding. I took it as I gave him a questioning look. I noticed his eyes lit up slightly before he gave me a smirk.

“It’s the painting from the art fundraiser.”

I knitted my brows together as I took it from him, ripping the front of the paper to reveal the painting that had turned me into an emotional mess that night. Once I had it completely unwrapped, I set it against the wall and stepped back to look at it. I realized there was something very familiar about the two figures.

More after the image

I turned to Alex, who still had the same smirk on his face, “I don’t understand. How did he know about the painting?”

His smirk slowly turned into a wide smile, “He painted it. He wanted to surprise you with it that night, but obviously that didn’t work out…”

I put my hand to my mouth, gasping audibly. Now I understood the reason I felt drawn to it that night. The two figures were us. I could feel the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, threatening to make their escape.

“I don’t understand, when did he have time to do this? We were together constantly before he left for Canada.”

Alex moved to stand next to me, “He started it right after he got back from New York. He took a break when he went to film that movie in Mallorca but picked it up again when he got back…before he found you again.”

I chuckled in disbelief, “Well this certainly adds a whole other layer of feelings that I wasn’t expecting.”

“I know he did a lot of it at night, when he couldn’t sleep. He told me he couldn’t get you out of his head. I’m pretty sure he fell in love with you that first night you spilled your drink all over him. He wouldn’t stop talking about you, so I encouraged him to look you up. I don’t think I’ve ever in my life seen him so nervous to do something,” Alex let out a small laugh at the memory.

I didn’t even try to hold the tears back after that. How could I? It said so much about Dieter’s feelings. Alex glanced over at me, realizing my emotional state. He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in for a gentle side hug.

“This is the first painting he’s done in years…just so you know. You definitely woke up something inside of him. We could all see it. I really hope you two can make it work once he gets out of that place. I think you’re good for each other.”

I was taken aback by Alex’s candor regarding his brother. His words were so unexpected given how quiet and shy he always was around me. I appreciated the fact that he felt comfortable enough to open up to me some.

“I’m not sure how much I’m supposed to tell you, but fuck it, you should know. The nickname he gave you, and that phrase… la estrella del norte, la luz en la oscuridad…that’s something our mother used to say to our father. So, to me and Gabby, it’s a big deal that he used that. We’ve never heard him say it to anyone before.”

I couldn’t help the way my face scrunched up at his words. I was one hundred percent about to ugly cry. I put my hand over my eyes to hide it as Alex pulled me in for a tight hug.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said into the top of my hair.

“No, I’m not upset. This is a happy cry. It’s just…touching, I guess. I didn’t know that. This is a lot of information to take in and process. Thank you for telling me. I really needed this right now.”

Alex backed away and gave both of my shoulders a gentle squeeze and offered a small smile.

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer. Let Lauren know when you're free and feeling up to it and we can grab some dinner, yeah?”

I nodded and gave him a small smile as I walked him to the door.

After Alex left, I sat down on the floor in front of the painting, taking in every paint stroke. To the casual observer, it was probably just a nice painting of a couple in an embrace under the night sky. I, however, understood the subtle symbolism of the fog and darkness that surrounded the man, but not the woman and the bright star placed just above the woman in the background. The fact that something so simple could say so much was amazing to me. It had me feeling every emotion all at once.

I could not believe the origin of the nickname he had given me, or that he had started working on the painting well before he found me again. I always felt like there was more to the name, but I was not expecting that. He obviously had strong feelings toward me from the start. Looking back, I could no longer justify my reasoning for not being with him from the beginning. I hated that we had missed out on all of that time together.

I had a lot of thoughts swirling through my head that evening. I spent more time than I probably should have staring at that painting, but it was forcing me to process things that I had been avoiding. By the time I finally pulled myself up from the floor, I was mentally and physically exhausted. I went to bed after that and suffered through a night of restless sleep.

Sixty days after Dieter entered Sanctuary Hills, Gabby received a call from him, after mostly only communicating with his case worker over the past two months. He asked her to attend an in-person family counseling session there at the facility. She immediately agreed and got it scheduled. The day it happened; I was an anxious mess while I awaited news about the visit. He still hadn’t called me, or anyone else for that matter. We didn’t really understand why, but his case worker assured us that he was making progress and doing well. He was trying hard to focus on getting better and working through things a little at a time. He was very focused on his healing journey and doing everything that was asked of him. It was hard for me to understand it, being so far away and consumed by worries, but I was proud of him just the same. I was excited to know he was finally requesting to see his family and was hopeful that was a positive sign.

As it got later into the evening, I was beginning to get concerned since I hadn’t heard from Gabby yet. She had promised to call when she left Sanctuary Hills. I sent her a few texts but did not get a response. I was about to try giving her a call when I heard a knock at the door. I was surprised to see that it was Gabby. The look on her face made my stomach drop. The fact that she hadn’t called and was now showing up with this look on her face couldn’t be a good sign. There was no greeting. She jumped right to the point, “Talia, I’m sorry to just show up, but can we talk? I don’t know who else to talk about this with and I need to talk about it.”

“Yeah, come in.”

We both walked over and sat on the couch. My hands were already fidgeting as the nerves and anticipation quickly built up. Every scenario running through my mind was scary and I wasn’t sure I could handle whatever it was she was about to say. Gabby immediately burst out into sobs. I pulled her into a hug as I tried to suppress my own panic.

“Gabby, I need for you to tell me what’s going on before I have a fucking stroke over here,” I said into her hair. She sighed heavily before pulling away to look at me.

“Dieter told me what happened that night, with mom. I wasn’t prepared for it. I can’t believe he kept that to himself all these years and it fucking kills me that I didn’t do more to support him in dealing with it. I didn’t know he was the one who found her. I always thought it was one of the workers.”

Her sobs continued as I digested her words. I felt instant relief that it wasn’t something worse, something I didn’t know of yet, but at the same time my heart broke for her. I know it had to be hard for her to hear. Hell, it was hard for me to hear.

“I’m sorry, no one else knows about it. I didn’t know who else I could talk to about it. He told me that you knew… I just needed a minute to fall apart and process it before I go home.”

“Hey, take all the time you need. I know it’s a lot to digest,” I said as I rubbed gentle circles on her back.

“I just wished he would have opened up sooner and shared that burden with me. Maybe he wouldn’t have gotten so bad if he had. I should have tried harder to make him talk to me about it.”

“Gabby, I don’t think it would have mattered what you said to him. He wasn’t gonna talk until he was ready.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I just feel terrible that I didn’t know. I don’t think anyone did. I bet dad didn’t even know.”

After a few minutes of silence, she seemed to pull herself together. She reached over to grab my free hand and gave it a gentle squeeze as she smiled up at me.

“He looks so good though…healthy and alert. I really think the treatment is helping. He’s expressing his feelings so well…I - I’m honestly not sure I’ve ever heard him talk that much about how he feels.”

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face as happy tears slid down my cheeks.

“He said he’s gonna call you soon. He’s nervous to talk to you for some reason and embarrassed about this whole thing. I told him he didn’t need to be, but you know how he is. He misses you though, I could tell. I lost track of how many times he asked about you.”

I reached up with both hands to wipe the tears from my face. It was comforting to know that he was thinking about me. I knew it was selfish of me to think that way because he should be focusing on himself, but I would be lying if I said it didn’t make me feel better about things.

Gabby didn’t share much more of what they had talked about. Some of it was things he wanted to talk to me about himself, so I didn’t want to push for more details. Once she finally felt composed, she left for home. She had had a long day of travel and was exhausted.

She and I had gotten so close in the last two months. We had been spending a lot of our free time together, along with Lauren and Alex. It truly felt like I was part of a family with them. I loved that she was now comfortable enough with me to share her feelings openly. It was something we had all been doing since Dieter had been away. Even Alex had opened up more. Even though what had happened to Dieter was devastating, there was a silver lining in it. It had brought us all closer together. We were stronger for it and ready to welcome him home to all the support he could possibly need.

The next morning, I had just finished making a quick breakfast when my cell phone started ringing. When I glanced over at the illuminated screen, I saw it was a Tucson, Arizona number. I had waited two months to see this number appear on the screen. My breath immediately caught in my throat as my eyes teared up. I briefly hesitated to answer as the nerves took hold. After a deep breath I hit the answer button and raised the phone to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Talia?”

A/N: Y'all still with me? How are you feeling after that one? Progress? Maybe? As I have said before, digital art is not one of my strengths, but hopefully what I attempted to do gives you an idea of what I see in my head for Dieter's painting. Again, this one looks better in my head too. LOL! Wasn't that a sweet moment between Talia and Alex though? Also, that moment between Dieter and Alex hit me in the feels too. Then of course, the whole of the Dieter and Talia interactions in this chapter. Poor Gabby... now she knows everything. So many feels in this one! Aaaahhh!😭 Next chapter our dear Dieter and Talia will be reunited in a controlled setting to work through their issues together. It will probably be another rough one. We will get Dieter's official diagnosis and with that you will get a Deconstructing Dieter Bravo post. We will get some details on Talia's past which will also include a Today's Musings post for supplemental reading. So, you will get all sorts of goodies with the next chapter. 😉 In case you missed it, I have included the mood board for this chapter below. Last but not least, a huge thank you to my wonderful beta, @for-a-longlongtime. Seriously, it wouldn't be as good without her feedback. As always, please share your thoughts and theories. You know I'm a sucker for them. 💜

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dreamofmysoul-tsc · 3 years

Text

Elias Carstairs, Matthew Fairchild, and the Disease of Alcoholism

I’m very nervous about posting this but I think it’s important.

Now before you guys scroll past this post, I’m gonna ask that whoever may read this take some time to hear from my perspective. I would like to preface this by saying that I do not know, nor am I claiming to know, what it’s like to face racism and prejudice everyday, nor do I know what it was like to be queer in a time that was less than accepting and terribly cruel to LGBTQIA+ folks. I will not be speaking about either of those things here, as it is not my place to. However, I do know what it’s like to live with an alcoholic. I do know what it’s like to have an alcoholic parent and I have seen what addiction does to a person and their family firsthand.

Final disclaimer, I am in no way trying to attack or target anybody. All I am doing is providing my own perspective when it comes to the discourse surrounding Elias Carstairs and the differing opinions I have seen in regards to Matthew. I would also like to state that my experiences are my own, and are in no way reflective of every addicts’ experience or the experiences of their children/loved ones. Addiction affects everybody differently.

I am also not a psychologist or a doctor; everything stated below are my personal experiences as a child of an alcoholic.

Now let’s get started.

CW for alcoholism, substance abuse, abuse in general, and death

Elias

When I first started Chain of Gold I didn’t anticipate how much I was going to relate to Alastair. Honestly, I didn’t have strong opinions about him either way; I didn’t hate him, but I didn’t love him either. That was until it was revealed why Elias was sick all the time, and what really happened during his mission. I have never seen alcoholism portrayed in a novel ever. I’m sure there are novels which talk about it out there, but I have never come across one. And for the first time in my life, I felt like somebody understood. There are countless characters in The Shadowhunter Chronicles who have touched my heart, but I will forever be grateful to Alastair and Cassandra Clare for making me feel like I didn’t have to hide anymore, that I was allowed to talk about my father’s alcoholism. Because for 18 years, it had been my secret. For my mother, it had been even longer.

My father has been an alcoholic for my entire life. I’m sure this is common sense for most people, but an alcoholic cannot be a 100% good and supportive parent. Those two things do not mix. Most alcoholics are alcoholics because of shame, pain, or other mental health problems that they have not sought therapy for. I would also like to say that alcoholism is a disease. It physically alters the brain to make the addict believe that they need to drink just as much as they need to eat or sleep. When you are constantly drunk, it can increase stress or anxiety in everyday life and leaves the addict at risk of developing depression if it was not already there. Many alcoholics suffer with depression, general low self esteem, or various other mental health problems before abusing alcohol; these problems are then exacerbated with daily alcohol consumption.

My father never abused us, mentally, physically, etc, and he never has. He carries a lot of mental pain and shame with him, which he has continually refused to seek help for. He drinks because he does not like himself; he feels that he isn’t deserving of help. He feels like he messes everything up. And as a child, I used to make excuses for him. “Well, he never hurts us, so what’s the problem?” “It doesn’t affect his work, so what’s the problem?” I was naive then. No matter how “functioning” they may seem, an alcoholic cannot live a completely healthy, happy, and fulfilling life if they drink everyday, even if it seemingly doesn’t affect their work lives. Alcoholics are very good at hiding their addiction. I cried when Cordelia described finding bottles in odd places, or when Alastair described how he tried everything in his power to hide it from his sister and their community. I used to find beer cans stashed under the kitchen sink. Sometimes I’d find them in the spice cabinet. I don’t like inviting friends to my house because I can never be sure if my dad will be 100% sober. I didn’t want people to see him that way. I don’t want to see him that way.

I have seen a decent amount of posts on various platforms of people wishing Elias dead or wanting him to be completely x-ed out of Alastair and Cordelia’s lives. And while I totally understand the protectiveness many people feel toward Alastair and Cordelia whenever their father is involved (I love them to pieces, too), as somebody who is a child of an alcoholic, I do not and would never wish my father dead. The thought of it makes me sick. Thus far, we know very little about Elias and his personality. We don’t know if he has ever physically harmed Alastair or Sona. This is not to invalidate mental or emotional abuse either, which are just as terrible. And while he does seem to be biased towards Cordelia, which in and of itself isn’t fair, there has been little evidence to show that Elias is violent or abusive. Of course Chain of Iron could prove me wrong, but as of now, I don’t want to immediately assume that Elias is abusive. Alcoholism does not equal abuse, although alcohol can be an expedient to violence. I do not want to invalidate the Carstairs’ experience if that is the case, but I do not want to jump to conclusions either. Of course you can call me lucky because my father has never harmed us in any way. But personally, I find that insulting. When a parent is an addict, regardless of whether or not they harm their children or how involved they are in their child’s life, they will end up leaving their child with mental scars whether it was intentional or not. My father’s addiction and the addictions of countless others cannot be measured on a scale. Addiction hurts everybody it touches, no matter how normal the addict may seem to the rest of the world.

I know this Elias section is already so long, but I have a bit more to say before I move on to Matthew. Alcoholics make choices, many of them poor choices. They decide whether or not to seek help. They decide to drink another beer. They decide to drive drunk, even if their child is in the car with them. It is a disease which completely takes over every single part of their life. And while it negatively affects their lives and the lives of their loved ones, that does not mean that they are undeserving of help. Any addict, whether they’re addicted to alcohol or heroin or cigarettes, anything at all, needs help. And they most definitely should not be mocked or attacked for their addiction or their attempts to get help for it. Regardless of whether or not they are in recovery or in the thick of their addiction, there is absolutely no reason to mock them. There is no reason to tell them to “just quit drinking.” There is no reason to call them a “junkie” or a “drunk,” no matter what stage of their addiction or recovery process they are in.

I am in no way excusing Elias’ behavior just as I in no way excuse my father’s behavior. He [Elias] needs to be punished for showing up to a mission drunk and consequently being unable to keep those four Shadowhunters from dying. He needs to apologize to his children. He needs to apologize to his wife. And he needs to recover. Addiction is an ugly, ugly thing. It never just affects the addict. It leaves their loved ones with scars, whether they’re mental of physical. Personally, I can’t stand the sound of metal beer or soda cans being cracked open anymore. I’m terrified of getting married. I can never feel 100% comfortable or safe around drunk people. I refuse to drink. I don’t like thinking about how the only time my dad has been 100% sober was when we visited my grandparents for a week and he had no opportunity to slip away to buy alcohol. I don’t like thinking about how my mother has had to deal with this for decades. I want my mother to be happier. But I also want my dad to recover. Living with an alcoholic isn’t black and white; I don’t hate my dad. I hate his addiction. I love him. He’s my dad. I don’t like seeing him that way. I know Alastair doesn’t like seeing his father that way either. But no matter how much you scream or cry or fight with somebody, people will not change unless they themselves want to.

Matthew

This section will be much more brief because many of my thoughts surrounding Matthew are similar to my thoughts surrounding Elias. I would like to touch on two things, however.

I have seen people talking about Matthew, or more specifically Matthew’s friends, saying that they don’t understand why they [The Merry Thieves and Co] seem to be ignoring Matthew’s alcoholism or aren’t doing anything about it even if they do realize he has problems with alcohol. Part of it is because of historical context; alcoholism wasn’t considered a disease until very recently, and the beliefs that alcoholics can either a) stop drinking whenever they want or b) are abusive, useless members of society still persist to this day. But the other, bigger part of it is relatively simple: people won’t change unless they believe they can change. Addicts need to want to change in order to begin the recovery process. You can’t force them to. If their heart isn’t in it, they’ll attend therapy or AA meetings a couple times to appease you, and then they will start drinking/using again. Or they’ll lie to you even more, telling you that they did attend a meeting or a therapy session when in reality they bought another pack of beer. Matthew will not seek help unless he believes wholeheartedly that he can change. He needs to believe that he is worthy of change and he needs to truly want to get better in order to begin to make significant improvements in his life. Of course relapses will happen, but the point is that he wants to improve his life. He wants to recover. No matter how much James or Thomas or Cordelia or Lucie tell him to change, no matter how much they want him to get better, he simply will not unless he wants to. It hurts. It really does. I’m not going to sugarcoat it. You can love somebody so, so much, but your love is not going to make them better. Your love will not magically make their addiction go away. To reiterate what I said about Elias earlier, you can scream and cry and fight and give them all of the love until you’re blue in the face, but if they don’t want help, they will not seek it out. Matthew needs help, but more importantly, he needs to come to the realization that he is deserving of that help. He is deserving of a successful recovery. Every addict is.

Lastly, there is something about Matthew and Cordelia’s relationship that has never sat right with me. Children of alcoholics are statistically more likely to get into a relationship or marry an alcoholic because it’s what feels “normal” to us. And while I have always wanted Matthew and Cordelia to become friends, part of this is the reason why I don’t want them to have a romantic relationship. I don’t want Cordelia to have to continue that cycle, never able to escape the effects of addiction. I want Matthew to focus on himself. I want him to recover. I want his friends to support him. I want both Matthew and Elias to have a successful recovery, because the amount of addicts who die from their disease every year is staggering and upsetting. Of course Matthew is deserving of love, but he needs to focus on recovering, both from his addiction and his trauma, before he puts all of his energy into a romantic relationship.

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Overall, I want Alastair to have time to be himself, to not have to carry the weight of his father’s addiction on his shoulders. I want Elias to recover and to apologize for how he has hurt his family, whether it was intentional or not. I want Matthew to forgive himself and to realize that he deserves to take up space in this world just as we all do. And I ask that you, whoever may be reading this, to try to feel a little more compassion for these characters and addicts you may know or meet in your life. Or to put yourself in their shoes and the shoes of their loved ones. We should not be mocking them, or hurting them, and we certainly should not be wishing death upon them. There are far, far too many addicts who have died because of their disease and their mental pain. When dealing with addicts or the loved ones of addicts, I ask that you try to support them and encourage them to seek help, whether it’s therapy or AA or any number of support groups. The effects of alcoholism and drug addiction will stick with the addict in recovery and their loved ones for the rest of their lives. Some days will be harder than others. But the important part is that, when those hard days come, they have a support system of therapists, family, friends, even people online to remind them why they are in recovery and to encourage them and their progress, no matter how small. An addict in recovery, no matter how slow or fast their progress may seem, is better than an addict who has died because they never sought out the help they desperately needed.

If you read through this entire thing, thank you! I really appreciate you taking the time to read through my personal experience. This topic is very important to me, and while I’m relatively new to tumblr, I still felt the need and the obligation to share my perspective. I’m not trying to sway your opinion of Matthew or Elias, just to maybe make some people think about this complex issue. If you aren’t a fan of either of them, that’s totally fine. If anything, what I would like you to take away from this is to be more aware of alcoholism and its effects. If something doesn’t seem right, speak up. I will be providing resources below if you or a loved one needs addiction counseling or help, or if you simply would like to learn more about this. If you have anything to add to this, would like to share your opinion, or have a question for me, feel free to reblog or message me in my ask box. Please be respectful, y’all! This is a sensitive topic and it affects everybody differently; I want this to be a civil discussion, not a witch hunt.

Thank you very much for reading and considering my point of view.

Resources:

What is Alcohol Use Disorder?

SAMHSA (a helpline)

Alcohol Rehab Guide (this website also includes educational resources and a helpline)

Substance Abuse Helplines and Treatment Programs

How Parental Alcoholism Affects Children

#tsc #tlh #matthew fairchild #elias carstairs #personal #just wanted to get my opinion out there #this has been nagging at me for a while #thanks for reading #this is as personal as im ever gonna get with yall i promise

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headcans-oneshots-and-stuff · 4 years

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A thing of honour

Warning: This one got super angsty super fast and I had no idea how it happened but here we are Word count: ~3k (sis snapped) Summary: Keeping your alter ego a secret from Damian was all fun and games, especially since he seemed to hate your superhero persona while loving your "normal" you, but what happenes when he finds out about the whole thing in the worst way possible...

This was a request by a wonderous Anon: Hiii, i’d like to request a damian x reader, where the reader also fights alongside damian and jon as their alter ego. Damian and the reader don’t get along as superheroes, but as their normal selves they do. The only one who doesn’t know of the other person’s identity is Damian, which makes it all even more amusing for jon and the reader. But when the reader is brought back to the batcave after being injured, he finds out. Ty 💕

You hadn't meant for it to go this far. Really, you didn't. You had wanted to tell him as soon as possible, but then Jon had told you about how he talked about you-well, about your alter-ego- behind your back. But to be fair, it didn't keep on being behind your back for long, even though Damian didn't know that. "Tt, she'd do us all a favour if she'd stay at home," Damian grumbled when the muted Tv in the corner of the small coffee shop that he, Jon and you visited frequently, showed a picture of Ace, or rather you in your vigilante outfit (kindly donated by your god-aunt Diana who supported you with everything you did and was the reason you were now best friends with Jon and Damian's girlfriend). You couldn't help but roll your eyes. "What's your problem with her anyways? Shouldn't you be thankful that she helped you?" you sighed while picking at your piece of pie with the fork. You could feel Jon's knowing look on you, but you paid it no mind. "I could have very well handled it without her, she was just a bother anyways," he huffed and you couldn't help but chuckle a bit. He'd eat his words sooner or later. "I was on a case with her earlier that month and I really thought she was great. She has fighting skills on the same level as Diana, don't you think so too Y/N?" Jon sent you a bright, great smile and you could've sworn he winked at you. "I'm not sure I'd go that far," you answered with a small smirk and shrugged your shoulders, "It's not like I've seen her in action yet anyways, only know her on Tv and from what you guys tell me." Damian looked between the two of you slightly confused and highly annoyed, but you were sure that he wouldn't be able to put two and two together. For him, you were his sweet, but otherwise defenceless girlfriend that couldn't knock a two-year-old out and, to be fair, for the first years of your relationship that was exactly what you were. A normal girl in love with the great detective's son and best friend with Superman's. But then Diana (after years upon years of begging) took you with her to Themyscira and there something changed. Obviously you wouldn't be able to learn to fight in the two weeks you'd stay there, but somehow, after watching Diana train with the other Amazons, you felt like your muscles were burning with energy and every fibre of your being was urging to fight. Diana almost lost her mind when you stormed onto the training field, afraid that you'd get hurt on her watch, but she froze in her tracks when she saw you defeating one of the amazons as if you've been fighting for all your life. That's how you found out that somehow you had the power to copy the fighting style of anyone you watched. When you came back from your trip you spend a good three months watching every piece of realistic fighting that you could get your hand on and soon you were, in terms of fighting without powers, even besting Diana. Even though you knew you would never seriously be able to defeat her it was still a good feeling to know you were pretty good. So you became Ace. At first, it was great and you liked being a hero more than you ever thought you did, but soon you started feeling bad for keeping such a big secret from your best friends, especially knowing that they had told you about their secret as soon as they completely trusted you. So you had been planning to tell them when Jon called you to whine about Damian annoying him about some new vigilante who he had seen fighting in "his area" earlier that week. The look on your face when you realized that it had to be you. That was when a wicked thought planted itself in your head. Not soon after you had told Jon- and Jon being Jon, soon his family new about you and your plan too and that somehow ended in Damian's family knowing about both too. That's how you ended up being in the situation you were right now. Jon sitting there, having to hold back laughter and Damian being as clueless as ever. Did you feel bad about basically lying to him? Yes, somewhat you did. Was it really funny? Yes, yes it really really was. "But anyways," you restarted the conversation, finally taking a bite out of your abused cake, "I read somewhere recently that she was working with Batman against the Riddler two weeks ago." You smiled at the memory of how petrified you had been when your boyfriend father caught you running through Gotham, hunting after the Riddler, and how amazing it was to fight alongside him after he told you that he trusted Diana's judgement and would welcome you to become an ally to his team(/family), especially considering your relationship to Damian, but he also respected your "prank" and that you'd keep your distance until you'd finally tell him. "Tt, he wouldn't have needed her anyways. Especially not if I'd been there, but just because I lightly stab Jason once, I have to stay at home for patrol," he pouted and, even though you couldn't help smiling at his cluelessness, you also couldn't help yourself from giving him a small peck on the corner of his still pouting lip, making a small blush crawl onto his face at your PDA. "Uhm," Jon, who was still always extremely awkward at seeing the two of you kiss or- god forbid- actually make out, even though he himself called himself your biggest shipper, stammered, "H-hey Damian if your father works with her, why don't you ask him who she is?" His eyes widened as soon as the words left his mouth and he had to actively look away from you because he thought that he'd maybe start to cry if he'd saw the fury filled glare you sent his way. "Don't you think I did?" Damian huffed but didn't notice your angry eyes. "A-and what'd he say?" "He said it wasn't 'his secret to share,'" he scoffed, underlining how ridiculous he thought it was by making air-quotes. "But anyway, what did you guys plan on doing this weekend? I've heard there a really cool new movie in theatres right now. Damian's treat?"

It was two weeks after the conversation in the coffee shop when your guilt about keeping such a big secret from your boyfriend slowly started eating you up from inside. The fact that the movie's side story was about the main character and his love interest almost losing each other forever because of a secret that stood between that didn't really help much, did it now? So you've been planning how to do it for hours when your phone vibrated and twitter notification showed you that Robin was seen on his way through Gotham, most likely on patrol. It was really a short circuit reaction to get into your suit and jump out your window into the direction of where you thought the picture might have been taken. You were almost put off by how quickly you found him. Maybe it was because of how well you knew him, but it still surprised you to no end. "I heard you had something you have a bone to pick with me," you said, having no real plan on how to handle this. Damian span around at an unbelievable pace and you would have certainly been cut by the Batarang that was thrown your way, had it not been Diana's extra training in the area of "people will definitely throw sharp objects your way when you least expect it". For a second your eyes stayed on the Batarang that you held in your hand until they wandered back up at your unknowing boyfriend who looked at you like you were evil as a person. "Listen, I don't want to fight you, we're on the same team, remember?" you tried to somewhat clear the water. "Tt, you're nowhere near my team. You're just a little girl who thinks she can play superhero." "Okay, isn't that a little sexist?" you couldn't help the snarky comment, "And nevertheless, I've defeated real criminals, I've helped the city. What's your damn problem with me anyway. What have I ever done to upset you?" Your voice was raising and you were slightly afraid that he could recognize your voice, now not being too sure if you actually wanted him to know who you were anymore. "You're just an imposter. Don't you think I've noticed that your fighting style, as multifaceted as it may be, is just an exact copy of other peoples, mainly Wonder Women? Does she know that she has a seemingly shameless copycat running around?" You took a small step back out of surprise. He had never talked with your persona before and he still figured you out like an open book. You were fascinated and at the same time extremely annoyed and angry at his lack of empathy and him not even trying to find out who you were. "So what? Do I have to have my own style just to fight crime? Is it wrong of me to try and help people?" "It's a thing of hono-" "Oh shut the hell up and get that giant stick out of your ass," you huffed and made a sweeping gesture, "This city needs all the help it can get. Hell, this world needs all the help it can get! So excuse me for trying to be part of this help." You saw that he wanted to say something, but you didn't let him. "And if you are so invested in my honour, I have you know that Wonder Women is well aware of my fighting style! She was the one who thought it too me after all." With that, you turned around and jumped off of the building onto the balcony below it, keeping on climbing down the building until you were on the ground. All the frustration inside you made you feel your bone ache with the tears that you held in, while you stormed through the allies of Gotham, only stopping when you stood in front of an abandoned warehouse that was a hotspot for crime, that you'd usually keep away from, but right now you needed a ventile to get the anger out of you. When you entered, it was completely empty. "Well, so much for that," you muttered to yourself. You turned around, ready to leave and look somewhere else when you felt something pierce simultaneously through your back and your stomach. Your breath hitched in pain and shock when you looked down to see the tip of a short sword or a long knife standing out of your abdomen. "What a shame, I had planned for that to enter someone else's body. Too bad," a male voice echoed through the large empty hall, followed by the sound of a closing door. For a moment you thought about trying to follow him, but when you slightly turned around and the pain shot through you, you decided against it. You had to get medical attention. And that as soon as possible.

You had no idea how, but somehow, as unlikely as it seemed, you had managed to end up at the manor, your suit drenched with your own blood and every step painfully. The world was spinning around you and there were more black points in your sight than the actual world. With the last energy you could manage to gather, you pushed the doorbell and managed to stand straight while waiting for it to open. "Miss Y/L/N, what a surprise to see you here, especially in this attire. It is not wise to come in this way when you're wearing this," he welcomed you with a scolding look, not noticing the silver blade that was still stuck in your stomach, in his eyes, your mask seemingly covering how pale, tired and lifeless you already looked. Even if you were still awake enough to think straight, you wouldn't exactly have been surprised by him knowing who you were. He was still looking at you expectedly when you suddenly dropped forward against Alfred, managing with the last of your lifeforce to keep your stomach back a bit as to not to stab him with the tip of the long knife. The Butler tried to steady you by draping his arm around you when he suddenly took in a sharp breath as he felt the warm liquid that was your blood cover his hand and forearm, and his hand touching the handle of the weapon that might cause your ultimate demise. As quick as possible he picked you up, careful to keep your stomach as straight as possible so that the knife wouldn't cause more damage than necessary, and brought you down into the Batcave, not paying any mind to Damian who was sitting in the seat in front of the Batcomputer, sharpening his Katanas. Alfred carefully laid you down onto one of the medical beds on your side, quickly pulled up your medical file and sorted through one of their emergency 'blood-banks' to give you a transfusion. By the time he had you connected to all the medical machines- he was extremely quick after years of training, Damian came rushing to his side. He had a worried look on his face until he caught sight of your suit. "What is she-" "We have no time for that. Call Dr. Thompkins! Now!" Damian didn't dare to oppose Alfred's command and quickly did as he told before he came back to Alfred who did his best to keep you alive, your heartbeat way too slow. "She's on her way, I told her it was urgent," Damian grumbled. He was, of course, somewhat worried about you- well, about Ace- but seeing his object of daily annoyment laying there in front of him, basically dead, he couldn't help but feel validated in his hate towards her. That was until Alfred took your mask off to check your reaction towards light to see if you were still responsive. Damian could hear his heart break and stop when he saw who he felt was maybe the love of his life lay there, hair dull and dishevelled around your head, skin almost wide and your face so lifeless. His brain couldn't comprehend what was going on and it was like time froze. He only started to realize anything was happening again when he felt his father's arm pull him away from where Dr. Thompkins, who he hadn't even notice coming in, and Alfred closed the makeshift medical curtain to start operating you. Damian looked up at Bruce, his tearstained cheeks still wet, no sign of his eyes stopping to cry anytime soon, and saw the look in his eyes. That look of sorriness. That look of hopelessness. That look like he was sure, that you wouldn't make it out of the cave alive.

The tension in the cave was so explosive that no one dared to say a word. Besides the members of the Batfamily that were gathered there, Diana was pacing through the room and Jon and Clark were silent beside their best friends- Clark with a hand on Bruce's shoulder and Jon holding Damian's hand, another thing no one dared to speak about, not budging at the strength of his grin that would break a normal humans hand. It was nothing against what he had to endure when he had first entered the cave. A completely livid and messy, tired-looking Damian came at him, pushing his chest while screaming at him, asking him if he knew. When Jon didn't answer, just a look of extreme guilt in his eyes, Damian snapped. It took Clark and Bruce together too rip him off of his best friend who just stood there and silently took every blow. When Damian had finally calmed down, his eyes slowly watering again, Jon dared too move closer to him, his worry over his best friend greater than the shame he felt for being- in his eyes- partly responsible for your state. Damian, who deep inside knew that it wasn't Jon's fault- that it wasn't anyone's fault but the persons who had thrown that knife- clutched onto his best friend and cried onto his shoulder, which was all it took for Jon to break and the tears to roll down his cheeks too. When it felt like they were both dry of tears they sat down, hand in hand. With Diana, it wasn't too different, just less violent. She came rushing in and demanded to see you. When Bruce made it clear that you were still operated on, she wanted to storm out of the cave and comb through the city for the person who was responsible for that. Bruce somehow managed to talk her out of it, but he knew that she wouldn't be the only one who'd started wreaking havoc when Dr. Thompkins came out of the medical area with the bad news he already expected. He just hoped he would manage to be a good father for Damian when it'd count most. Almost nine hours of nearly complete silence had passed before Alfred came to them, still in his scrubs. Everyone stopped what they were doing and you could've heard a pin drop. "She's through and will make it. No permanent damage, but she won't be able to do any physical straining activities for the next few months. It was a very close shot." A collective breath of relief went through the room and a lot of tense shoulders relaxed. "Can I- Can we see her?" Damian's voice, that was so much timider than anyone was used to, asked and Alfred could see the desperation on his face. "Yes, but she probably won't wake up very soon. Her body is thoroughly and utterly exhausted." Damian didn't care. He sat beside your bed for the next two days. The others would come in for a while, either to make sure Damian isn't completely alone or to be with you but left after a few hours, not being able to abandon their lives forever. It was around midnight, Jon and Clark had just left to get back to Smallville for a change of clothes and a goodnight sleep in their own beds a few hours ago when Damian shot up from being half-asleep at the sound of a groan echoing through the empty room. His eyes looked around frantically, searching for any sort of danger when a small cough turned his attention to you. Your eyes were still closed but your face was pinched together in pain. "Hey," Damian whispered and took hold of your hand, his demeanour easing a bit when you pressed it. "Dami?" you whispered back with a coarse voice and slowly your eyes fluttered open. When you saw into his face, worry and sorrow marked onto it, you couldn't help the tears from welling up, everything that had happened and the realization of almost losing everything came crashing down onto you. "Shhhh, it's okay, everything okay," Damian mumbled soothingly and quickly sat onto the side of your bed to take you into his arms. For the last 48 hours, he had imagined every sort of conversation about why you didn't tell him about your alter ego, about how you could've been so careless, about why you even became a vigilante when you knew how dangerous it was, but at that moment he realized that all that was unimportant. Of course, he'd have to talk about it with you sooner or later, but after almost losing you, the fact that you were still there in his arms was the most he could want.

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scarsmood · 3 years

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Mental Health and Otherkinity

This is my panel I did today! enjoy! it’s the script

My name is scar im apart of a system of 4, I am mightyenakin from pokemon. Trans ftm and very queer. We have a lot to go over so lets jump in.

Today I want to talk about my experience with being psychological kin. Talk about how this has shaped me as a person. How the community handles psychological kin as well as the greater outside world. So lets get into it. Otherkinity has been in my life ever since I can remember. From the age of 3 I can remember feeling non human and having alters that were also non human. I’ve also found for my life and my experience my mental health and my otherkinity are two things that have wound themselves together. I can never look at one without the other are both play a critical role in my identity.

I can say as psychological otherkin right now I stand at an interesting intersection of my life where I have the most freedom I have ever had and dealing with the worst trauma I’ve had to face. I recently got out of a bad long term relationship of something I had been in for 7 years. I can say the events I’ve lived did and still do directly impact my identity and change how I see myself.

for me I cannot explore my otherkinity without exploring my trauma and mental health

these two parts of myself are closely woven together. DID is a product of trauma and it’s something that rules over my life daily.

It is something I don’t just accommodate it is a way of life for me.

For the past 3 years I’ve been in intensive therapy going at least once every two weeks. At one point going twice a week, completed an inpatient and outpatient program. Needless to say I have been fortunate enough to not be in a lot of debt. However I would like to think that these things have helped me immensely. With the background talk out of the way lets get into how these things have shaped my identity.

A little bit about me. I am diagnosed with DID or dissociative identity disorder. This means my identity is split apart between alters or alternate personalities. If your unfamiliar with plurality I can say with confidence that can be its own talk but heres what you need to know.

• My alters are distinct each having their own morals, ideals, life perspective, lived experiences and memories separate from my own.

• We all share one body like roommates share an apartment space

• My alters are a result of trauma I experienced during my life. Each of us hold our share of trauma so imaging trauma is sandbags instead of 1 person holding 100 pounds of sand we have given 25 pounds of sand to 4 alters. Which is much more manageable.

• My alters including me were shaped from the environment they came from

· Alters also share an inner world where they can interact with one another. This also a place where I can easily my identity and how I view myself internally.

Some others fun things about me is I have some mild psychotic symptoms. Since I’m in my early 20’s they’re pretty manageable at the moment I am always keeping an eye out for them worsening though. These things include hallucinations visual, auditory, touch, smell, taste. I also have a weird mix of beliefs that can mix into delusion territory but aren’t damaging to my life and therefore cant really place a good label on them. So I consider them delusional like but not the same experience as a true delusion I believe I could very much be wrong.

my first identity shift was when I was a child about 3 years old was the first time me as an alter became prominently separate from our host. It was apparently at that time I was non human and a hyena. I looked like a hyena from lion king roughly no character in particular and acted as a companion/ friend.

When I got a bit older at 4-5 my identity shifted once I moved and left behind some family. I changed from a hyena to a pokemon. If I could guess I would say due to a pokemons inherent loyalty. My identity became a mightyena a wolfish hyena basically and the codependency that pokemon carry also carried over.

I was depended on to be support for our host and to take care of them as a friend and caretaker. We experienced neglect at the time and this was reflected with my identity. I was a creature that was supposed to stay with someone forever basically giving a comfort we were missing to our host so they could continue functioning. I would say my identity changes based on my environment and is sensitive to my environment all the time

depending on what I experience I see myself change and adapt because of how sensitive we are as a system trying to adapt in the world around us. I often think if my identity isn’t shifting a little it might be a sign of trouble and us shutting down being unable to adapt and change.

When I was 5-6 it changed to its own species a threatening wolf. Which it stayed until a few months ago. My identity as a threatening wolf changed a lot I had spikes then got a sword tail then was able to breathe fire, my size would shift and change, my tail length and ability to move it would change. Teeth, eye color, would all change depending on my environment. For example when I was deep in abuse with my ex I gained the ability to breathe fire suddenly as a needed adaption to scare them away. My eyes turned red to look scarier. I got bigger. This all happened internally as my ex was able to interact within our system in our inner world. Which is a terrible idea by the way don’t be an idiot like me. Which was why I needed to look scarier as a way of protection

Lately I have been healing from trauma and now that my ex is gone so is a lot of pressure to defend myself so I turned back into a mightyena which is much more defenseless but much truer to how I see myself in a safe space. Im sure if trauma happened again I would shift back to a threatening wolf as a means for protection. When it comes to plurality labels I fall under protector and host we are pretty integrated though so we have grown out of most typical labels due to how functional each of us are now.

This concept of a changing identity is taboo in otherkin communities

usually we are lead to believe when we were kids we have always been one strict animal for our whole lives and just now learning about it. this animal never changes it is static unchanging and we simply learn about it as we grow up. My experience has been wholly different. My animal and my identity changes based on my environment it can be subtle or drastic. I never evoke or ask for the changes they simply happen and I have to adapt to the new way I see myself. Trying to apply my identity to the common otherkin rhetoric gave me a lot of grief as a teenager

when I was about 13 because I would discover something about myself say breathing fire or growing in size and be ashamed because I knew these changes were not “typical”

as an aside I think this notion that my experience is atypical is also false. I think this is fairly common but a lot of otherkin just handle it in a way that flows with the static concept where we learn we have a new kin type but still also have the old one, we learn something about our kin type that totally shifts it but connect it back to our old kin type, we find new features, personality traits or experiences that now define our kintype that were never there before and newly discovered

Otherkinity is about self discovery and how it’s essentially chasing a dragon. Literally. We will never fully know our internal identity no matter how closely we look into it. there is so much that we learn and how to weave into our identity otherkintiy is as much of an art as it is a science when it comes to self reflection. It’s just like any other aspect of ourselves we can create labels for our sexuality and they work but they don’t capture 100% of what you experience theyre a short hand for others. I find that otherkinity is this concept on steroids. I find my identity to be a much larger part as it impacts everything including my sexuality it is more prominent for me so trying to put it under labels becomes increasingly difficult.

How are we supposed to create a short hand for who we are? All of those moving pieces inside of us that shape our perspective, experiences, how we interact with people, how we love people, how we go through day to day life, and we are supposed to just say something like “bear therian” what if it changes? What if we have quirks that our outside of this label? When I first joined the otherkin community it was pretty frowned upon to change your identity. You had to be a wolf therian, you had to be a dragonkin. Once you picked a label that was it. your locking into your identity if you didn’t you weren’t taken seriously.

Ableism in the otherkin community

I question as well if this correlation between identity stability and maturity/credibility is ableism. Usually I noticed when I first join the therian and otherkin community there was a push for “not looking crazy” so as to not get bullied further for identities. I’m sure anyone in the LGBT community knows trying to please people making fun of you really doesn’t work. There is a prominent fear of seeming to outsiders as if were roleplaying or kinning for fun which seems to be a whole other topic in and of itself. My personal experience has lead me to the conclusion that these people are going to come at you regardless of how often you shift your identity, how seriously or goofy you take it, how analytical you are with your identity whether you write essays or one sentence it does not change the views of outsiders.

Endels, clinical lycanthropes, and other nonhumans who have mental illness-based identities face a similar ableism. It wasn’t until earlier this year, 2021, when the connection between mental illness and nonhumanity was finally accepted by the greater community. But even still, Endelic communities are more often treated as a novelty; not something to be taken seriously as an identity, just something “interesting.” Mental illness, especially psychotic disorders, aren’t pretty or tame, and the greater nonhuman community appears to subtly enforce this stigma. Werewolves are monsters, and the greater community spares no feelings in reminding us of this, with such unwelcome words my friend babydog’s met as and I paraphrase a quote here from my friend baby dog “you’re welcome here, but you should expect people to uncomfortable about your identity as an endel or question your endelity. I dont personally believe people like you should be part of alterhuman communities.” End quote Many of those who are part of the greater alterhuman community are still concerned about respectability politics, how we appear to outsiders, rather than being concerned about how inner-community members are finding their welcome. Arguments like “But, clinical lycanthropy was previously used as ammunition against all Otherkin! We’re playing into anti-kin’s stereotypes!” isn’t an excuse anymore, because throwing your own community under the bus isn’t acceptable anymore. We want a higher standard in this community than being driven by shame that makes us hide members of our own community. It’s much better to stand with them.

Lets also take a moment to acknowledge these actions stemmed from an act of seeming more credible and not “crazy”. I’d like to say also that the stereotype of crazy doesn’t exist when we think of crazy we think of someone whose mentally Ill and struggling to function. In reality these people have an untreated mental illness or going through an episode that’s only one aspect of a person. They do other things with their life including myself. I write poems and go out with friends but if someone only judged me at my worst and lowest I would fit into this “crazy” stereotype. Its not fair for us to judge people based on actions they cant control. Based on trauma or brain chemistry people are more than that I think can agree.

we should be understanding with these people treating them as whole people not just one descriptor. crazy is really just a derogatory name for someone with a mental illness. So to avoid being crazy means to avoid any signs of neurodiversity people view as abnormal. Or signs of nonconformity with nuerotypicals

-endels still face ableism typically in the form of being treated like a novelty and not really being taken seriously. Endels are still getting called interesting a lot) and it makes them feel like a specimen within their own community. I’m sure those who suffer from mental illness understand how degrading it is to be looked at as some sort of test subject or lab rat. I think as a community we can do better and be more accepting and open to all forms of otherkinity. Shutting down this kinda of language would be great for endel otherkin.

-endels are still having to deal with other community members who use psychotic/delusional/etc as insults or jokey words. These words are derogatory and insulting they shouldn’t be said as insults or jokes there are plenty of other words that could be used and it pushes endels and otherkin with psychotic symptoms away from the larger community. Using this language shows an ignorance to the ableism still alive and active towards endels.

-none of this helps internalized ableism!! All the actions described above only reinforce internalized ablism. This creates a combative and toxic environment for endels and otherkin with psychotic symptoms. It would be in our best interest as a community to help bring down ableism and be more aware of what were saying and to who.

Some things to keep in mind

-treating psychotics like they cant make their own choices is not ok/ thinking for them

-insults and jokes using derogatory language is triggering and alienating

-treating psychotics as lab rats or something to gauk at as “interesting” is demoralizing and takes away someones individual power as a person. Its hard to have an identity and a voice if everyone is busy staring at you like a lab rat.

What about the internal side of the otherkin community? I found when I was apart of the therian community this was a more prominent problem and still is in some corners I wander into. Otherkinity also holds some ableist views but from what I’ve seen not to the same intensity as therian communities. This I would say is a cultural difference from a new age of therians that took over the internet, p-shifting cults, wolf packs, and some forums for therians were intense I know previously therians and otherkin identities didn’t have to much of a difference besides animalistic tendencies or a way to further define an identity. Once this shift happened it became more so about earthly creatures or animals based on earth. earth mythics, animals that exist present day and extinct, and plants as well. I’m not an expert of the history of otherkin and therians so I would direct you to house of chimeras and who is page for more information over it gladly. If im wrong please correct me. That’s my understanding. This shift to earthly animals also carried a sentiment or notion of being more “real” than otherkin that I often experienced in the wolf packs and forums. Since they’re identities were based on “real” animals it made them more valid otherkin. An easy question I asked often or others would ask was a simple “why?” and the response I experienced a lot was “so were more credible/ don’t seem crazy” this was 8-9 years ago which was at the time the height of otherkin hate. It came across as a borderline phobia to be seen as an antikin steriotypes which were ableist stereotypes to begin with. some of these communities in reaction created ridged and strict cultures of how to be therian. This would leave an imprint on many people including myself.

so that was 8-9 years ago why do I bring it up? Because I still see this sentiment present just subtle.

Some things I feel were carried over is: Overly present and specific about kin types, an obsession with details and intricacies to a degree where its no longer beneficial to learn, embarrassed or shamed for certain kin types, a focal point on kin type tendencies and ignoring or pushing aside human experiences to further pronounce a kin type. A fixation on the past and not taking into account of the present, always centering around the past. I would say these behaviors in the community were influenced from the wolf pack cultural shift.

These are a remanent set of reactions from a more intense time of grilling, questioning and if validity was questioned your title could be easily taken away in close knit communities. I think the otherkin community still has some skeletons in the closet so to speak of a more intense time that a lot of members endured and witnessed. We passed on this culture, myself included as we grew up cause its how we learned to present our otherkinity. We can unlearn though and I think it’s time to push for more freedom and new ways to take on otherkinity. a larger problem I see is a fixation with the past which once it gets to a certain point I don’t think can be constructive or healthy. Exploring your past is good, gaining context for your actions and your background is good, but living in the past is not healthy. Reshaping how you live in the present by escaping to the past isn’t really healthy. I find it worrying how common it is for otherkin to not tie their humanity and the present to their identity. It hurts to say, it can be uncomfortable but being human is apart of our experience. Now my therapists always say “never damn a coping skill” if looking to the past and living in the past finds you comfort and it keeps you stable that’s ultimately a good thing your staying stable and keeps you functioning. I urge though for people to start to take the time to explore humanity with our otherkin identities and living more in the present. How your identity effects you right now. How people interact with you and what you can do to tie your otherkinity to the physical world to the present. I think it’s a balancing act ultimately trying to find a sweet spot between the past and the present. Not completely ignoring your past and only staying in the present or only living in the past and neglecting the present. Its not easy and something im actively working on myself.

I want to highlight the present cultural imprint the wolf pack phase in present day otherkin communties and how new otherkin members seeing and reacting to it. we as older members may not realize how impactful our words are and may not notice us carrying an imprint of the past with us. Here some quotes I picked up. I asked a few friends their experiences who had come as otherkin in the past 6 months. I was also able to get 1 anecdote anon from my tumblr after sending out a request earlier today they are also pretty recent. Here what they had to say. These are all anonymous.

“(tumblr)My experience was pretty good! The community is super open and friendly, or at least the side of it I'm on (idk about the fictionkin side of it which might be more controversial/full of discourse).

It was easy to get into which is good because I was super scared about it 😅” “(friend) the whole community is

scary, for me at least, mostly because some of the older grey muzzles seem really intimidating and cliquey

the discord group im in seems like really cool to me, they are all super nice and helpful but the rest of the community is super scary for me”

“(friend) [when asked about getting into the community] it's weird to me, it really is.

I've spent a good chunk of time just like

wondering what it could possibly mean to be "valid" otherkin

like, who's judgement is that? mine?”

My Take on otherkinity

Im telling my story because my mental illness causes me to fall into an undesired or taboo identity categories or stereotypes of otherkin often. I find instability, identities that are less material or easily relatable, signs of mental illness with otherkinity. Are swept under the rug. I’d like to change that and show that instability, less relatable, highly specific or vague identities are just as valid. My experiences can be something of an uncomfortable truth for some that otherkin can be cringy or be easier to target from outsiders. I ask to everyone that has some reservations about accepting more diverse identities to consider how beneficial these new perspectives bring to our community. These identities give a perspective and voice we are missing and is needed. It’s beneficial for our community to be heard fully so we can support and help everyone. Endels may have a perspective other therians/otherkin may not have considered before. the wider range of experiences about our community that we share the better. It gives us the tools to make the community even stronger.

I would say overall psychological kin are extremely diverse and no experience is going to be the same. Its difficult at best to say anything that all psychological kin experience because the definition is so broad. We all have unique and diverse stories and I’d like to encourage everyone to share them even if they show mental illness. Things like Delusions, trauma responses, trauma sourced, episodes and regression. I would love to see more inclusivity for the messier and less understood part of psychological kin.

So lets get into some of my specific experiences. my identity is messy at the moment as my brain seems to have an interesting understanding of what a mightyena is. It has 2 images instead of one

These two images are houndoom and mightyena. Both of them I see myself as but are the same entity. My brain cant see the difference between the two as an identity at the moment. So theyre both “mightyena” its quirks like this that I think should be seen as more acceptable in the community because its messy at best. It has made me on several occasions go “that makes 0 sense” but from a trauma stand point it doesn’t surprise me

my brain has trouble picking only one. If my 5 year old or 3 year old brain attached itself to both images and called them the same then well that’s it im both of them at once. Brains don’t tend to work very logically and while it sounds confusing I would say it probably feels similar to having 2 kin types active at once. The two identities don’t blend (ie mightyena wolf hyena doesn’t breathe fire while houndoom does. ) I experience a range of both identities at once. They’re both mightyena it just so happens that image that’s associated with houndoom is present when something happens that only that pokemon could do or associated feelings or states. I would say theyre 2 different kin types except if I say I have a houndoom kin type I don’t think of anything and don’t feel anything. When I say I have a mightyena kin type I have images and feelings from both. They also cant seem to be separated both images and associations need the other. Its interesting. Its very funky. The wonderful world of trauma. Could probably make anew label for that but that’s alright im not one for labels.

I experience something I call m-shifting which is really animal regression. It’s called m shifting because I was previously in an p-shifting cult where it developed it. it’s uncontrollable but I can start it or trigger it if I want to. When I go into an m-shift I cant understand English, read English, walk on two legs well, speak, or know basic things most people would know. My brain goes into instincts and impulses. I don’t think critically or contemplate much. My thoughts are in images and feelings. Its fun. But its difficult to control, I find it’s a way for me to relieve stress in excess when I cant seem to find a good outlet for it. this is part of my identity is what makes me relate to the werewolf community so much since its involuntary and frowned upon generally to greater society .(aka internalized ableism) One of my biggest fears is shifting in public or with friends. It’s hard on me for sure.

Another thing that effects me is coping linking as someone who deals with trauma I have found lately I’m starting to create involuntary coping links. I had a brief coping link as a sled dog its purpose was the personality of a sled dog was something I needed to be at the moment to stay functional and coherent once I learned to do that without my coping link it went away. I notice myself having brief coping links on and off each of them usually teach me something or a skill I couldn’t fully understand yet.

I experience false memories. My memories change depending on my identity. I don’t force or make them change they simply do.

they hold the same narrative throughout all the changes though. The narrative from what I understand seems to be a re telling of my trauma. My false memories don’t seem to be a major part of my identity and I think I may have them simply because of p-shifting cult trauma and the pressure to have a past life or noemata. I think my false memories are a way to retell my trauma in a form that gives me validation as an animal. I do know seeing myself as human in memories is inherently triggering for me as I cant recognize myself so a set of false memories that lets me see myself in those situations as an animal is comforting and validating. It helps me evaluate my trauma better and understand why I feel the way I do about trauma. A dog that looses its molars would be distraught while a human doesn’t really care if they get wisdom teeth removed. Evaluating trauma through an animalstic lens has helped me immensely. I’ve noticed the more I evaluate and see my trauma through an animal lens the weaker my false memories become and I think that’s neat.

My perspective of the world also changes as my identity shifts

I see the world differently as a mightyena than I do as a threatening wolf. Objects, people, environments and habitats have different meanings to me and associations according to shifts and how my identity changes. These associations and meanings are ones that either I had when I was a child, or ones I repressed due to being childish or something I didn’t see as acceptable at the time. So my identity now has a wider range of perspective. My threatening wolf perspective toned down a lot and let the repressed associations and meanings take a more dominant role.

Another thing that effects my otherkinity is when it comes to species dysphoria I would say it’s a large factor in how I experience otherkinity. I would say my otherkintiy is something very based in the present. I don’t think about my kintypes past, I don’t think about its future or let my mind wander off a lot about whats going on with it. I am usually observing it in the present moment. A big part of that is my species dysphoria which tells me a lot about what I am. I’m trans female to male though that’s debatable as im considering a gender to my kintype. Human gender dysphoria is something that bothers me a decent amount. What has sent me to therapy though is species dysphoria. It is unbearable for me. I have fangs, a tail, a collar, wolfsbane pendant for mythology about werewolves, pointed nails, short hair thicker hair to resemble my kin type. I had to learn how to make animal vocalizations like growling, snarling, whimpering because I felt incredibly stressed being unable to emote properly. I learned to walk on all fours and run as well. I learned to play and move like an animal mostly from m shifting but it helps immensely. Getting on T has helped a lot as I got furrier, deeper voice, thicker hair, generally able to gain muscle better. Overall has helped my species dysphoria. Its something I’ve always had that brings me immense discomfort. I’m planning to make a prosthetic muzzle to wear and possibly some ears.

This dysphoria is apparent when you see me on the street cause im wearing a collar, tail everything I can’t hide my otherkinity because it triggers my species dysphoria to much to hide it so I just have to roll with it. the census? Its really not that bad being out or showing im otherkin. It’s a good conversation starter and most people are friendly about it here which has been nice. I do get asked if im a furry I usually say yes just cause I don’t feel like explaining otherkinity. If someone asks why I usually just say I see myself as an animal. Responses are mixed but people are polite about it. wearing gear makes me feel much more grounded in where I stand with my identity. I noticed a feel much more confident about myself when I am being myself unabashedly. Who knew. Also planning to get some combat boots and add some spikes to them to imitate claws. Should be fun.

Heading back to my weird quirks and otherkinity experience Phantom shifts are something I experience all the time 24/7. In part due to p-shifting cult and also a way to manage my species dysphoria. It’s pretty intense for me and its something I find comfort in and encourage. It’s a way for me to find the world more relatable. Often these shifts calm me down and make it easier for me to navigate the world. I would say my phantom shifts only effects parts of my body im aware of not my entire body all the time. Rather whatever body parts im using. It also does its best to not have any “clipping” through objects and my shift may phase out if there may be clipping to a body part im aware of.

Lastly My gender and sexuality I would say tie to my kintype as well. Im attracted to otherkin moreso than humans. I really like animalistic aspects to people and traits I see in my kintype in other people. I find I get along best with canine kintypes. My gender im realizing is more so tied heavily to my kintype I want to be a male mightyena whatever that entails and it plays closely with my species dysphoria. I find when I relieve my species dysphoria I tend to also relieve a bit of my gender dysphoria to. I say im ftm as a short hand because that’s what my kintypes gender seems to line up with the most. Though I think that will be less and less the case as I start wearing things like a prosthetic muzzle which is pretty animal gender to me.

Therapy and Otherkinity

On this topic I would like to talk about how therapy and otherkinity interact cause that’s something central to this panel. For me I always noticed that when I am given analogies in therapy they are always about an inner child, how I was as a human kid, how I am as an adult. These things are good but they lack the context of me as a whole. I am not just a human I am an animal in a human body which changes a lot in how I’ve had to take care of myself and apply advice given to me by professionals. For one I always have to tell professionals im otherkin and what that entails. That it isn’t a hobby or one aspect of me but something that impacts my entire perspective. Methods of self soothing just wont work for me if I don’t change some wording around. There is no inner child for me personally theres a puppy and a puppy seeks out an entirely different sets of behaviors, emotions, and emotes/ way of communication than an inner child would. You would be able to talk to an inner child hug them and act as a type of parent to them. With a puppy I tend to act more as an owner or an animal parent depending on whats needed.as an owner i have to bridge the communication gap with things like chew toys, petting, dark cozy places, brushing or grooming, non verbal communication

which plays a much larger part in my healing process than what I read or what methods im taught. As an owner to myself I have to learn to take care of my inner puppy the way I needed which can be difficult when no one you know has to follow that method. As an animal parent I also have to act as I am, an animal to my inner puppy that’s what we both understand the common language we speak is non human and is critical to my healing. I find protecting my inner puppy as an animal parent gives me a larger sense of catharsis it feels like something I can finally understand however the methods don’t translate well to the real world. I cant just snarl at people I have to talk to them in a disagreement. I cant go hunting I have to go shopping. Which is why having both an owner and an animal parent.

Both are important because both aspects cant be ignored and need to be used in tandem.

Healing for me when it comes to trauma involves a lot of balancing between my human life and my animalistic needs which is something I have had to do and explain to therapists the difficulties of doing so. I notice most therapists I have met cant seem to grasp this and see otherkinity as more of a metaphor than an identity. I noticed a lot of my therapists would just change metaphors to talk to me instead of reshaping a technique for healing which has caused a lot of problems. An example I can think off the top of my head is instead of “a family sticks together” may be “a wolf pack sticks together” which is helpful sometimes but if it’s the only change it becomes detrimental to me. Often because while not intentional I think a lot of therapies are human-centric. There is an assumption you are human in order to apply the coping techniques or healing strategies. This lead to me unintentionally repressing a larger chunk of my otherkinity just because I was applying these skills without changing anything. Sometimes present day I still fall into this and notice it triggers my species dysphoria to worsen. It can be difficult to spot for me as well because otherkinity is so uncommon no one else is having the same issue in my real life friend groups. So I assume whatever im doing must be ok cause it seems to work ok for everyone else. Which ends up not being the case.

A solution I’ve found to help with this is for one explaining as I go with a therapist what is and is not working. I have to be an advocate for myself and teach them as well what I like and what works and what doesn’t. I try my best to let them know when something they do is detrimental. I also try to explain what brings me comfort and what doesn’t. a nice talk isn’t going to help my puppy self but a hug would. Things like that. When it comes to internal imagery some therapists use I know stating to them youd like them to consider your kintype as yourself has helped me by them not seeing me as a fully human being or just my irl body. overall I hope this talk has helped some people. Given some new perspectives. And I am happy or reiterate some topics I went over. Thanks for coming to my ted talk.

#long post #it was 11 pages #im so sorry #otherkin #therian #fictionkin #psychologicalkin

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monsoonblooms12 · 3 years

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Detectives By Chance: Chapter 7- Hide & Seek

Summary of the Series: It was supposed to be a usual weekend for the four. Coffee, fun, friends and love. But an unexpected case changed their lives in a way they had never imagined. A mystery - a murder - many secrets… Will Ethan, Pooja, Alexandra and Mark, be able to survive? Or will the circumstances twist and break their lives forever?

A/N: Okay, let me get this straight. This is ALL Action and Miles being evil. The most happening chapter of the series, and my favourite chapter because it brings out that fighter inside Pooja. Also, a lil bittersweet moment because only 2 chapters are left, and then we are done. (And I am using my Wattpad cover for this chapter because A. I like it! and B. It gives me the dark feels that embody this chapter) Anyway, hope you enjoy it as much as I did when I wrote it!💛

If you enjoy the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going💕

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Dr Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: about 4.3K

Rating: Teen

Triggers: Curse Words, Mentions of blood, murder Gun Violence

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters. I only own the OCs and my MC.

Prompt:- @choicesaprilchallenge2021 Day 14: Now or Never

CATCH UP HERE: Previous Chapter I Complete Series

It took all of her self-control as she prevented herself from throwing away her phone and breaking it into a thousand pieces.

Only the thought, the hope of a chance to save her Ethan, to save Mark and Alex, who were like family to her kept her going.

It was A Now or Never Moment for her.

Seconds later, Pooja's phone tinged. The screen lit up. She unlocked it to see the address that glared from her screen towards her. The address that hid all secrets and all proofs. The address which held the love of her life in who knows what condition.

She got into the car, entered the address on GPS and drove as fast as her driving skills allowed. Her mouth turned dry, face pale, beads of sweat on her forehead, her mind whirling through numerous unpleasant thoughts and a lingering doubt,

Will she be able to save them?

After what felt like a lifetime to her, Pooja arrived at her destination. A mid-sized mansion stood tall amid a deserted locality. The place was so muted, that the silence seemed to make voices. The winds gushed, chilling her bones. She stood in front of the black wood door. The silver handle's shine was unsolicited for her eyes. She took a deep breath.

Do this, for them. They are your family.

The thought repeated in her mind like verses of an orison. She let the ire, the woe to flood her soul and with fortitude and balance, she pushed the door.

He had kept it open.

The door clicked in place as she entered the devil's edifice. The interior was tenebrous, the conspiracy of silence etched deep in every wood and every wall.

"You are here"

The sudden sound caused Pooja to quail. The words resounded throughout the mansion, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. The sweat on her body contrasted with the rigour of the air.

There was no doubt in her mind. Her caller was here.

Miles Danvers was here.

But... She Looked Around. Where is He? She looked around, maybe it was a mirage. She looked everywhere but there was no sign of him.

"Don't try, You won't be able to see me." The ominous voice struck again.

Another chill ran down her spine. The thought of Ethan being unaccompanied in the devil's edifice with the devil himself was unbearable.

Will I be able to do this?

"Awww, Tsk, Tsk, is little blossom scared? Did I give her a heart attack?" Miles spoke mockingly.

That was the last straw. She would never give him the satisfaction of having scared her. With as much courage she could muster she yelled,

"AHHHH! You ruthless, sinister, cruel, heartless, disgusting monster. What the freaking hell do you want? Why the hell are you doing this? You are a goddamn monster, you are a freaking BASTARD."

She stopped for a breath.

"Not only that, you are a coward. You are a goddamn fucking coward. You don't dare to face the consequences of your actions. Hell, you don't even dare to come out and face me. If you had the courage, you wouldn't do what you have done. Now come out, you ruthless bastard. Get the hell out and come and face me." Pooja screamed hysterically.

"What will you get by yelling at me, hmm? Will Mark and Alexandra be out of jail? Or will you find Ramsey? Which one, huh?"

"You're the one who is responsible for all of this. You disg-"

"Do you want to save them?"

She felt as if her heart had stopped. Her mind pondering with hundreds of thoughts, doubts, yet she waited with batted breath for him to continue.

"Le silence signifie le consentement."

"J'accepte" Pooja muttered. Bloody Show Off

"Hmm. Three Clues, Three tips, Three keys. Three is your lucky number, isn't it? So let's put your luck to test and see if your lucky number is lucky enough to save your dear ones" Miles challenged her with a mock that boiled her blood. Seeing her helpless was utter humour for his soul and he was cackling in joy.

She shouted, hurled abuses, banged her fists, but there was no answer, no reply other than "You are running out of time... Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha...."

Her legs were giving out, she felt herself losing her balance, her steadiness. A chance, wasn't that all you needed? She heard her alter ego questioned her.

So good friends, like family, huh? Is this what you do for family, fall and bow to danger without putting up a fight? Is this what you did, when you fought for your mother, give up just like that?

Her sane mind was questioning her. No. She didn't give up then, She will not give up now. Maybe she will never make it out of here, maybe nor will they. But it was better to die fighting for them, than dying without even trying, striving for them.

"Miles", her steady voice, with power and courage, surprised him for a moment, but he wasn't shocked. This was Pooja Sharma after all. One who always stood for the right, even if it would make her lose her dreams.

"I am ready. And I hope you are too."

"Are you sure? This game can take that breath from you."

"Until it does, I will fight. For them"

A part of his mind already knew that she would win. But for his ego, accepting defeat was never an option.

"Fight all you want to. But winning is not an option for you."

"Time shall tell the answer"

"Alright, Two rooms to the left, and your search beginsss."

She ran. The worn-out door refused to give way to her. She pushed, but her strength was not enough. If only you had drunk that milk your mom gave you. Her mind swirled to the thoughts of her mother and she had to give a jerk to come back to the present.

"Seven minutes up already, and you're still stuck at the door. How sad!"

Cursing him under her breath, she upped her power and got ready to give a push just as,

Her fingertips felt a carving on the door. She had been praised for her impeccable sense of touch, but she never knew that it would come in handy in a dire situation one day.

Her mind, her heart, indicated that this was the clue, and she slowly, gently, moved her palm on the door. She got a slight trail of the carving and followed it further a few times. It took her about a minute to comprehend what it was.

A word. TIME. She was looking for something to do with time. But what? The place was so quiet that one would hear the ticking. But she didn't. Although auditory skills were never her strong point after she had a blockage in her left ear and had to go through five doctor visits to clear it, she was sure that there was no analogue clock around her. Her brain cells were running haywire when her shoes rubbed the floor. Sand had been spread around. Consciously.

Because on her trail from the main entrance to the door she was standing in front of right now, she was sure she hadn't felt sand anywhere other than this specific space. This was an indication, It had to be.

Time and Sand, Time and Sand, where do we find time and sand together. Time and sand... Her mind rushed frantically through a dozen options, none fitting the criteria, while Miles smirked at her foolishness.

And then, Oh shit, HOURGLASS! She practically jumped and nearly fell, as she comprehended the answer. With the newfound energy, she pushed the door, and it opened with a BANG! Her hand went to her pocket and she almost shrieked as she felt her phone, about which she had completely forgotten the moment she set her step in here. Taking it out and switching on the flashlight, she trailed into the room. Looking around and tripping on a dozen articles, she finally located the semi-broken hourglass. She held it under the flashlight and the words, upstairs, three rooms right, written in red, came to sight.

She glanced around the room once more, to make sure that there was nothing she was leaving out.

Her eyes stopped their search as her eyes fell on the five drawers of the broken cupboard on which the hourglass was kept. Only one of the drawers was in place, and that made it seem out of place in midst of all the chaos. She pulled at it, Once, Twice, Thrice, before it gave way. A blue file lay inside it. She picked it up, hoping to find some useful information and rushed on to the next step of her search.

On the other side, a corner of Miles's mind was terrified and nagged him to do something before it was too late, and he became the loser of his own game. But he just sat there, not moving an inch, as he watched Pooja running towards her next destination.

The next door, to her surprise, was pretty sturdy and opened easily. No catch this time? Unbelievable. As far as she had come to know Miles Danvers, setting up clues right in front of her eye was a far-fetched possibility.

She double-checked the exterior. Nah, nothing here, she was sure of it. Her silent steps fell on the hardwood floor as she looked around in the room for the clue. Her mind got distracted and worry came flooding back. Will she be able to save them? Was she even going to make out of her alive?

Suddenly, her foot struck something and,

"Twoooo Roooomsss Toooo Theee Rightttt..."

The Echo and her Shriek came almost simultaneously. And with the two sounds, mixed the third one of a cackle, from Miles.

The sudden rush of Adrenaline left her panting.

After a few minutes wasted in overcoming it, she kicked the weird machine once more. The Echo came again, this time clearer than the first one. But since, she didn't trust her ears, or maybe it was just her anger speaking, she kicked it once more.

Two rooms to the right was her next destination. She moved towards the exit, having checked the surroundings already and no clue found.

A few footsteps outside the room later, a thought struck her. She rushed back to the previous room, and using her flashlight, picked up the echo machine and checked it thoroughly.

And right her intuition was! A piece of paper stuck between the lined back. She took it out and unfolded it. It was a code.

M14-6D9

She looked around. There had to be something that opened with the code.

Wow! Such thorough checking! She rolled her eyes, berating her self.

And as she did so, her mind went back to every time Lex had called her the living image of the 🙄 emoji.

A light, sorrowful chuckle escaped her, along with a lone tear.

She let it drop and moved on to complete the mission she had partaken in.

She searched, and Nah, Nothing at all. Pooja doubtfully looked around. Was she missing out on something, or was it just another one of Miles' Red Herrings to mislead her?

Five seconds and temporarily deciding on the second option, she went out to the next room and thought of coming back to this later.

Pooja went to grab the surprisingly well-kept handle, and in a reflex pulled it back. The handle was abnormally hot. It felt out of nowhere. No fire, no nothing, how the hell was the door handle so freaking hot?!

Of Course, she couldn't twist and turn a burning hot doorknob and harm her chances of success. So, she decided on other ways of opening the door. She kicked, pushed, forced it with the tad bit of strength left in her, but the door didn't even budge a single inch.

Her ankle sprained with the forceful kicking, she sat down. Tears rolled down her eyes, but she couldn't decide why.

The pain in her ankle, the fear of failing or a mix of both?

But obviously, No pain greater than letting down those whom you love.

She couldn't comprehend the time she was losing as she sat there, crying silently. She slowly started to rise, but couldn't bother to wipe her tears. Wasn't this what Miles Danvers wanted to see? She let him enjoy his short-lived victory.

Forgetting that the doorknob was hot as hell, she held it, and before she could withdraw her hand, her eyes fell on a cuboidal machine stuck just below the spherical structure.

This time, she did wipe the water from her glassy eyes, to get a better look.

Pooja switched on the flashlight and looked closely at it. So this was the mini devil burning her palm. After a few minutes of scrutinizing the black box closely, her eyes caught a red button on the downside of it. She went on to switch it off, and as soon as she did, the faint, almost inaudible buzz coming from it stopped.

The devil had been silenced.

But she knew that it would take time for the knob to cool down. She searched her jean pockets, and luckily her baby blue handkerchief with a neat P Alekhya has sewn on it was there to save the day.

She folded the kerchief in half and with it tried twisting the knob. A Few failed attempts later, she slowly opened the door.

But as soon as the light fell inside the room, her phone and kerchief, both fell on the floor.

The floor swayed under her feet. In front of her on a one-arm broken couch, lay Ethan.

Her Ethan.

The only light-emitting source of the room now lay covered on the floor, preventing her from taking a better look. And she was shaken to the core by the way events unfolded, layer by layer, that there was nothing to say at all.

Her brain froze, all ideas drowning down the drain, her confidence uprooted by the pain she felt seeing her love like that. A Thousand thoughts spiralling in her mind, but she pushed them aside. Her knee bruised by the fall, her feet wobbled as she tried to get up. Garnering strength on an empty stomach & little sleep was becoming increasingly difficult for her, but she needed to go on.

Giving up was never an option

She got up and decided to look around for a way out of the musty building with Ethan, all while hiding from Miles' eyes. Because he had been keeping an eye on her.

Picking up her phone, she directed the light around the room. Raggedy and Unclean, her fingers clenched around her phone as she felt fury fill in her veins. If she didn't have morals, she would have killed Miles herself at that very instant.

There were no cupboards or drawers anywhere around the room. She strolled around with careful steps and heard dry leaves and glass crunching underneath her foot. Pooja looked at the floor, and seeing its condition, didn't hope to find anything helpful.

That's when her eyes fell on a piece of paper. She picked the dust-coated sheet which had become brown from its originally white colour. She tried opening it up using a single hand but ended up tearing it a bit. Pocketing her phone, she opened the sheet up gently and then took the phone out again. Flashing the light, she slowly went through the contents.

It was a map of the building, and she had never felt as grateful as she did at the moment.

She studied it closely, carefully and located a narrow stairway at the corner of the first floor, i.e. the floor she was on, that would lead her out of the building without having to use the main entrance.

She needed to take E out of here, at any cost. But how in God's name was she going to carry her Dr Giraffe alone, all while making sure Miles didn't have suspicions?

She made his unconscious body sit upright as the couch creaked. This broken shit isn't going to last much longer, she thought to herself. She couldn't take any chances of getting caught. Whatever you have to do, do it quick.

She bent and locked his arms around her neck. Then, she stood up slowly and an Uff! escaped her mouth. Wish I had paid attention to the weight lifting lessons.

Pooja lifted him off the sofa and enclosed his long, really long legs, around her waist. And as she started to walk, she stumbled back and forth, and almost fell, as she gained a stable posture. She slowly got out, making sure her shoes don't prompt the creaky floorboards to begin a musical. She scooted to the farthest edge of the floor and walked quickly to reach the darkest corner.

A walk of a lifetime and approaching the darkness, her eyes struggled to make out the door for the staircase. She trusted her intuition and slowly, very carefully, placed a foot in front of the other, as she made her way down. She worried that E might get hurt, and she would hate herself for the rest of her years if that happened.

The grey light at the end of the staircase was a ray of hope for her. She thanked her past self for parking the car closer to this side of the building as she hurried to place Ethan there. She felt her pockets and found the key faster than her expectation. She opened the passenger seat and placed E down on the floor because as much as she hated it, she couldn't take chances with Miles locating him in the car in case he came for a lookout.

Phew! She was relieved that whether or not she makes it out of the mess she had got tangled in, her love will be safe. Locking him safely in, she rushed back to the mansion.

On her way back, she rushed a bit too much, all while forgetting to switch on her flashlight. She tripped badly on the stairs and fell facedown. When she got up, the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. She felt a blank space in her mouth. She had lost a tooth.

She made her way back and expressed her gratitude to God for letting her make this trip safely. She remembered to shut the door behind as she left and made her quickly to the room where Ethan was held captive. A mistake she had noticed the time she looked at the map was that she had entered the wrong room.

And it was a four-leafed clover for her.

She closed the door of the forbidden room just as her ears pricked up. Tips & Taps of someone's footsteps made her heartbeat rush as she quickly moved to the actual room she was supposed to be searching.

"Hmmm" Miles arrived behind her, hands in pocket. The room in front of her didn't have a door.

"So are you planning to spend the rest of your life chillin' here? That'll be a wonderful plan!" He mocked her and the list of the number of times Poo had wanted to punch him had just become longer.

"What the fuck do you want?" She hissed.

A lopsided grin told her that he was having the best time of his life tormenting her.

"No, I just wanted to check if you will ever make out of here or not."

"And what conclusion did you arrive at?" She mocked curiosity.

"I think- No, scratch that. I am sure, that this" He gestured around him, "is your Final Destination"

His grim laughter filled the place as he went around, checking his surroundings, especially the forbidden room.

Poo had smartly switched on the Make-Hot machine to avoid any suspicions. Seeing, rather, feeling that the door handle was perfectly hot as hell, he returned, and she let out the sigh of utmost relief.

Her heart was filled with gratitude as she thanked God, over and over again, as things turned out in her favour in a place where she had no resource & no help. Although she still felt as if she had been left on the battlefield without preparation or weapons, she used her skills to pave her way safely.

The last room, surprisingly well-kept, lay open before her. Please let me pass this last one, she let out a silent prayer and went in.

Flashlight on, she looked around. This time it was only evidence and no clues and keeping that in mind she carried on her search. A bed lay at the centre of the room. All around were shelves and cupboards which had been kept to mislead her and make her waste her time. A 40% charge in her phone and the clock telling her that she had only 20 minutes left to get out safely, she hurried away.

Quickly opening one drawer and then the other, disappointment flooded her as she failed to locate any file, folder, hell, even a piece of paper.

At last, all drawers, cupboards done and nothing there at all. She felt let down, her heart palpitated. She sat down on the bed and as she placed her hand, heard the very soft scrunch of paper. The stillness of the surroundings was the reason why she could hear it.

She quickened her actions and lifted all the goddamn blankets, to reveal a bunch of paper, half folded, half-torn. She gathered them all. Suddenly she felt something stuck behind one of the sheets. Turning it revealed a USB drive.

Fuck, this was her gold!

She rushed out, picking the papers and the blue file she had collected from the first room. She remembered to check back the second one and the M something code. When she tried to reopen the door, however, she failed. All her trials went in vain. Unlike last time, the door didn't even budge this time.

And then, the entire manor shook as the roar of a bullet echoed all around her. It had been shot just next to her foot, and she stood frozen at her place. She slowly turned around, and saw Miles, with the evil expression on his face appearing to shine in dim light, standing there with a gun.

Slowly, Stuttering, Pooja asked, "What, what, t-the h, hell do you think you are, are doing?"

"I said I will give you the clues, I never said I will let you get away with them. Why would I invite my danger, when putting you to the deathbed would be much, much, easier?" Miles Danvers hissed.

"You want to do a second murder, lose the chance to save your brother forever?"

At the mention of Mark, Miles did fall a little weak, but that passed in a heartbeat.

"Girl, if I really cared about him, I would have never plotted against him in the first place. Bringing you here, was just a ploy, a mask, so that I can finish all four of you and live my life in peace."

He moved forward, one step and the next, as Pooja tried to run. He held her hand with a bone-crushing grip and twisted her hand to her back and held the gun to her cheek. She tried to free herself as she cried out in pain. Her eyes widened as the cold metal touched her skin.

She had really walked into hell at her own will.

Pooja knew her twisting and turning will not be able to help her a bit. So she tried to remember the self-defence techniques she had learnt in her teens and using her foot, kicked him hard in the groin.

He groaned in pain and his attention shifted. Pooja taking the chance, ran swiftly down the stairs, only to slip down the stairs and land on the ground floor. She incurred painful injuries and couldn't move for a good minute.

Even as she mustered the courage to sit up, her body ached in extreme pain. She must've sprained something real bad. Miles was still withering in pain, and she took the chance to get up and slowly move towards the exit.

She dragged her foot and muttered to herself,

Just one more step, just one more.

This rhyme gave her the strength as she almost made it to the door and then

AAH!

Blood splattered on the ground as the bullet pierced through her left hand, and she held the door to support herself. Tears rushed out of her eyes as Pooja screamed in pain.

At least it was her hand and not her mind that had been hurt. Even in pain, she acted smart. Throwing away the files that she held in her right hand outside, she took out the pepper spray that she always had in her pocket and sprayed a good bit of it at the approaching Miles.

It was her black, powdered dynamite, her most powerful weapon.

Coughing, Sneezing, Stumbling, Miles let out cries of help and the gun was very soon forgotten.

Smirking through her tears, Pooja chanted, It's the end Miles, It's the end.

Getting out of there, She shut off the main entrance door on his face and collected all the papers with her non-injured hand. Dragging her foot slowly, she escaped, pride and contentment filled in her heart.

Whatever she did, whatever pain she received, all paled as she bathed in the joy of the possibility of finally being able to rescue her people, her persons.

She did it, for her family...

You never know how strong you are, until being strong is your only choice.

PS: I would have killed Miles myself if given the chance😡 Also sorry for this dark, twisty tale after my birthday. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this mess and here's to hoping that you have a wonderful day ahead🧡! Love You!

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