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rosedominatesyou · 9 months

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Bedtime Stories w/ Rose

ੈ✩‧˚ In The Clouds ‧˚ੈ✩

(Bedtime Story #4)

Hello again my little pups. Mommy is here with another tale to help ease you to sleep. It isn’t as exciting as the last ones but maybe that’ll help make your eyes heavy anyway. Keep this in your likes until you’re cozy and ready for bed. 💗

Before reading: Although I wish I could tell you all the names of the beautiful places I went to in this story, I’ve withheld certain details out of respect for my own privacy.

Everyone in my life knows how much I love birds. That’s sorta my main personality trait. Their imagery is everywhere, and you’ll start to understand why when you look a little deeper. Here’s what’s been captivating my thoughts lately, besides all of you. I hope you enjoy.

~'*•.¸♡¸.•*'.・。゜✭・.・✫・。.'*•.¸♡¸.•*'~

Please make a queue of the following 2 songs: “Fill Into Me” by Anju, and “Slow Dancing - Hazel Remix” by Aly & Aj.

Both therapists I’ve ever had at some point said to me, “It sounds like you know what all your problems are.”

As the person experiencing them/inflicting them upon myself, yeah, I knew exactly what was happening to me, but isn’t the point of sharing your feelings and negative actions with someone else supposed to make you want to be a better person? To let you hear those things out loud so that you’d want to change?

I didn’t think I was going to, and after talking to professional help, even they seemed conflicted if maybe I was just making it all up for the drama. Maybe I really was the cause of my own misery.

I was tired of it all, even if at the time I couldn’t stop myself. There was a person in my life that I’m not ready to talk about that really fucked me over and changed the way I think. It was 2020, and with everything going on in the world, all I wanted was to hang on to a friend. They left. And they were the only friend I had.

It was late into the evening at my current job, but back then I used to work nights. I was walking through the part of the warehouse that has all of our truck receiving docks when I heard a familiar sound, the little chirps of baby birds.

They had built the nest years ago inside one of the truck docks, and year after year they came back and rebuild it in the same spot. If you roll up the doors to let a truck driver in, the birds would get scared and fly deep into the warehouse, typically not finding their way out.

I stood there, alone late one night, staring up at the little nest that was caked to the side of the cement wall. I have no idea what kind of bird that is, I remember thinking to myself. I knew what a dove was, they used to nest every year at my childhood home, but these little birds were something totally different. I realized at that moment that I didn’t know jack-shit about birds, and they are everywhere. It sorta hit me harder than I thought it was going to.

If you can’t tell by my lead-up to this story, I was looking for something to captivate my thoughts - something to make me stop thinking about that friend that left me hurt and used.

Asking myself about the little birds that evening made me go to a book store on my next day off and buy a pocket field guide to the birds in my area. I read the whole thing cover to cover. I hadn’t absorbed a book like that in a long time. So many amazing variations with such unique range maps, plumage, and living habits.

If you were curious (and my hint about the description of their nest didn’t give it away), the birds that I see at my work are Barn Swallows.

I was hooked. I purchased some more detailed field guides and started joining groups online that were into birdwatching. “Birders” as they call themselves, people in my own town were posting the most beautiful pictures I’d ever seen, with captions that described the exact species down to the Latin name and seasonal variety.

I wasn’t even planning on going out the day that I did. I wanted to try to take some pictures like I had been seeing in my group. I had a camera, but nothing like what some of the people were sporting. I also had no clue where to go; sure you can just go walk around anywhere, but where was I likely to see the most? Basically at random with no input from my group, I picked a local reservoir to drive out to.

I was shaking as I got out of the car at the first ever ‘birding’ location i’d go to, feeling nauseous as I set up my camera. “This is stupid this is stupid you look like a creep this is so stupid,” I couldn’t help repeating to myself out loud as I began down the first walking path I saw.

My own words work, making me turn around suddenly and go back to the car. There’s barely anyone around but the 2 or 3 people who glance across to me is too much to bear. My hands could hardly put the lens cap back on because of how much I was trembling.

You drove all the way here, I try to encourage myself as I conceal my body behind the open trunk, other people do it. Just go walk around.

I stop putting everything away and just stand there for a second, breathing and feeling.

You wanted this.

I get my dslr back out, the lens attached to it being the biggest one I owned: 200mm. I had gotten it as a present many years ago, and loved taking pictures around my house, but had never taken my camera with me out in public. Something about walking around with it in my hands made me feel so out of place, but I tried to just push past that and start walking again.

Unknown to me back then, the location and time of year I picked were both rather dismal. The lake was desolate of animal life. If there aren’t any fish, rodents, or trees to perch on, birds won’t be attracted. It was also summer, and though that may seem like a good time of year for a person, the best time to witness a large variety of birds is during their two migrations each year: spring and fall. Most birds, besides natives that stay year round, have already settled into their northern territories for the Summer. I live in California, and while we are blessed with an insane number of species, we are also basically just a giant highway for birds traveling between their summer territories in Canada/Alaska, and their wintering nesting sites in Mexico/South America.

When I got home from my first outing and took a look at my pictures, I was very disappointed. Most were too dark, too far away, or way too blurry to make anything out. The only birds I managed a decent photo of were a Western Bluebird pair, but even then I was not happy with what I had taken. I was being too hard on myself, expecting a lot out of a person who was just starting out something new.

Two days later I went to a local camera store and bought a 300mm lens. Not a huge difference, but my confidence became more noticeable in the shots I took the next few outings.

The songs I had you add to a queue are just a couple that I would listen to when out birding. Calming, peaceful songs, i naturally always hear birds chirping and grasses swaying in the wind overlapping with the music while I listen now.

The feeling of discovering birds was overwhelming. I’d see something new and my heart would race so fast. It felt like falling in love. My feet would start to run without looking down as my eyes remained glued on the bird in my vision.

One time my partner Jamie and I were out at a wildlife reserve when we saw what we thought was a Golden Eagle. The massive raptor was dark overall and was calling loudly as it soared above us. We ran down the winding paths, loosing sight of it and only being able to follow the bird by the shrill call it made overhead.

Finally we found it again, perched on a tree that hung sideways over a cliff. The sun was shinning right on its face and I started snapping away, taking shot after shot of the magnificent bird. It didn’t like how long we were watching it, and took off while I continued to take pictures.

Ecstatic with what we had seen, I quickly uploaded the photos to the group I’m in asking if I was correct with what I thought.

Many people chimed in right away to let me know that, even though they were great pictures, the bird in the photos was actually just a Red-Tailed Hawk.

RTH’s, as their name is abbreviated, are the most abundant hawks in North America, and are also the most easily mistaken for another raptor. The specific bird I had seen was a large, dark-morph female, meaning her plumage was a much darker brown than most buteo’s.

The thrill of going out birding was something my heart craved so heavily the more and more I did it. I’d get so excited to come home and look through my pictures, trying to see if I caught any new species and if I could figure out what its name was. It felt a lot like Pokémon and filling up my Pokédex. ☺️

The field guides weren’t enough, I wanted to know more. I now had a better understanding of the seasons, and knew I had to wait out the summer until I’d see the next migration. I bought two books off of Amazon: a cute little yellow book called “Birdpedia” that has hundreds of quick facts about all things avian lore, and a novel/memoir called “H is for Hawk” by Helen Macdonald.

Helen’s book would launch me into a reading craze like I’ve never felt before, buying bird book after bird book, reading them within a few weeks and moving on to another. I had never been one to read very much (not unless you count manga), so to feel myself still craving more words was a very new feeling. Here’s a list of a few more books I’d recommend if you’re interested, they’re my favorites:

‘Bird Brother’ by Rodney Stotts. Very relatable slice of life from a person who never thought he’d write a book, or own raptors.

‘The Falcon Thief’ by Joshua Hammer. True crime novel meets bird study in this gripping story about a detective who’s after a man wanted for stealing endangered eggs.

‘Red-Tails in Love’ by Marie Winn. You gotta really like birds and reading to get through this one; a woman’s true account of her observations in New York’s Central Park, along with the other birders who accompany her.

Including all of my field guides (mostly local but I have one about Japan!), I’ve read 16 books that have something to do with falconry. My brain is truly stuffed with bird lore. Upon making the poll about this bedtime story, two of you asked me to tell you a bird fact. 🤭 Here’s what I told them, my go-to bird fact:

All avian species had many goals during their evolutionary periods, but nothing like their need to be more aerodynamic. Their quest to be lighter led them to lose a few organs over time that mammals couldn’t imagine living without, including the bladder! That is why it seems like birds poop completely at random, it is truly because they have no way to hold it.

Second special fun fact, people always ask me, “What’s your favorite kind of bird?!” and that’s a hard one because I love all of them so much, but I like to say it’s the Blue-Gray Gnatcatcher since I can almost perfectly mimic their mating call. 😋

Over several months, I added more equipment to my build. I got a Sigma AF 600mm lens, as well as a teleconverter, a small attachment that goes between the camera and the lens to double the distance of whatever you’re shooting. Now I was able shoot 1200mm! I could see the blood on the beak of a hawk from half a mile away.

Birding trips would take me and Jamie all across California, going to every state park and wildlife reserve we could to see what kinds of birds were there. We’d bring picnic lunches and listen to music before starting our hikes. Eventually I bought a second Nikon off of some lady that I met up with in a Five Bellow parking lot, wanting to have a second camera for landscape shots.

I still love going out and taking pictures, though the newbie excitement I used to feel has since died down. The joy of closing your eyes and taking a deep breath of fresh air as you listen to all the birds around you is a peace I would want anyone to feel. It’s my favorite way to exist.

I know this one was a bit of a boring read this time, so as a reward for getting through it, here’s some of the pictures that I’m most proud of 🥰 Please note, they all have been cropped to remove my artist’s signature:

The photo of the Western Bluebird pair from my first ever outing.

2. Red-winged Blackbird. Proof that the 200mm lens can absolutely get you a good shot if the subject is close enough. This guy landed on a branch less than 10 feet away from me.

3. Cedar Waxwings. If you’re familiar with these regal-looking birds, then you can probably hear how loud this photo is 🤭

4. White-faced Ibis. One of the first shots I had taken with my 300mm lens.

5. Red-shouldered Hawk. A sub-species of the RTH, this RSH is seen covered in dew on a cold, early January morning. 600mm.

6. And finally, my favorite picture that I’ve ever taken, this is a first summer Pygmy Nuthatch, seen here with a beak full of grubs that it was bringing back to it’s siblings in the nest. 1200mm.

That’s the end of our story. Thank you so much for reading ❤️ Please let Momma about what you think of the story and the pictures. 🤭

Sweet dreams 💋 xoxo

~'*•.¸♡¸.•*'.・。゜✭・.・✫・。.'*•.¸♡¸.•*'~

#rosebtstory #enjoy my puppies 💋

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luaspersona · 1 year

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hey y’all, how have you been?

i know it’s been a while, and i know i promised a fic that was supposed to be posted earlier this month and that it’s been some time since i dropped a review. but a lot of stuff happened and i realized that i needed some time off. during that time, i reflected a lot and considered not returning, maybe only posting the seoul town road story and going offline for good. eventually tho, i understood how much i missed reading and how much i couldn’t really stop coming up with ideas and outlining some stories — i like this and for the most part, it makes me really happy.

but i wanted to talk a bit about the stuff that made me second-thought coming back. i wanted to be open about stuff that’s depressing and demotivating in this community, especially because i’ll change a lot of things about how i interact here.

this will be a long text, but it’s really important if you follow me. i wanna make it clear tho, before anything, that i’m speaking for myself here, and myself only.

⇢ the first thing i wanna say is that i’ll be generally less active. i used to think that in order to become a popular blog or whatever i had to be chronically online, posting all the time and all. after giving it some thought, i can't really tell if that's true or not, but the thing is: i don’t have the mental health for it. so i won't push myself. but also, if you write something and want me to read it, please send it to me! shamelessly and guiltlessly promote your work! i probably won’t see it on the feed, but i’m always open for recommendations, i just don't have the time to look for it anymore.

⇢ i’ll also go through my followers and block anyone who doesn’t have their age displayed or looks like a bot. no questions asked. this isn’t a blog for minors, and i wanna protect myself. understand how tumblr works if y’all wanna be here.

⇢ i will finish and post seoul town road soon. please be patient.

⇢ lately, i’ve seen a lot of wonderful writers deactivate due to lack of interaction and support. i understand we’re here working, writing and sharing for free because we *chose to*, but it's hard to speak to the void. so please, don’t let this become a place where authors are talking to themselves while feeling unsafe due to plagiarism or hate. i understand the reasons why someone might be a silent reader, but... just don't make the authors you like feel alone, y'all (i can write some tips and general guides for reviewing and interacting with writing blogs if y’all are interested).

⇢ ok, so… i thought a lot about whether or not to talk about it. it was already super messy, even if i wasn’t online at the time and didn’t see it happening (i'm sorry if this is just repetition, and i bet y'all are sick of it). but ultimately, the main reason why i hesitated to come back was because of what happened to M, so i kinda need to vent about that.

M was one of the oldest blogs here, always open to chat and interact and doing god's work for our horny and sentimental souls (shape of your body is actually one of my favorite stories ever and made me realize a bunch of stuff about myself to the point where i quoted some of it to my therapist at the time), and y’all came for them in such a nasty, violent way, misgendering and attacking a person that, upon first being called out for writing something insensitive, was immediately open to discussion and hearing what y’all had to say (regardless if it really was insensitive or not, the discussion was more than welcomed by them).

what shocks me the most, is that y’all are supposedly from a fandom of a bunch of dudes who once wrote problematic stuff, but educated themselves after accepting criticism and changed. if y’all understand that our oppressions are systematic, y’all have to understand that everyone has stuff to learn and stuff to let go. i say that as a black woman, who once used to perpetrate racist shit because that was how i was raised and taught. i say that as a bi woman, who once used to perpetrate biphobic and queerphobic rhetoric because that was how i was raised and taught. i say that as a human being, who once used (and probably still do to some capacity) to perpetrate prejudice and problematic behavior because that was how i was raised and taught.

this is not to say we should forgive and forget whenever someone says stuff that’s wrong or suspicious, but sometimes people really don’t understand that what they’ve said is offensive or from a place of unfamiliarity (not sure if that's a real word), and if we gave the boys the benefit of the doubt and still supported them (and are now being rewarded with their care and attention) why can’t we do the same for ourselves? not to mention how transphobic most of y’all were, all while calling someone out for doing something you deemed problematic, like ??? fuck y’all tbh. seeing how they were treated, and learning about the tea blog made me physically sick. someone who has always been such a light in this community being dragged from one (debatable) mistake — which they acknowledged and apologized for — made me depressed af.

it all made this look like stan twitter, where every interaction feels like an attempt to expose someone and draw hate towards them. this makes me feel unsafe as hell. and i don’t know… this whole environment is not as it used to be. there were a bunch of nice projects i wanted to share, i was working on jade’s profile for a nice little thing i wanted to do to support the writing community, i was working on monthly recs, but… idk. i’m not saying i won’t do them, just saying it might take longer for me to feel comfortable here again.

⇢ i know i'm no one. i'm a little blog from the corner of our community, and i barely have enough followers for all of this to mean anything. but this is still my blog, and it's still a place that was supposed to feel good. and i want to have some control over it, even if no one cares necessarily.

anyway. i’m depressed, and i’m saying stuff i might regret, but. yeah. that’s it ig. i'll return slowly and i missed y'all, especially on discord, and i'm sorry for vanishing. i'll also be rb this for the next days to make sure that i reaches everyone i want it to reach.

#psa #long text #luathots

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nymph-ette111 · 18 days

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I’m happy to know you enjoy our interactions too and that you liked my little tangent there. I’m glad that you searched for accounts from actual people who have the disorder rather than pseudo-psychologists, because they are often the harshest without a shred of accuracy (just the way they talk about the narcissist’s eyes turning a demonic black is enough to make me exit the article).

To be fair, Quora is one of the worst places when it comes to accepting people with npd. So I’m glad you managed to find something that didn’t conclude in a pro-eugenics rant lead by a divorced dad who is certain his ex wife is a narcissist because she took the kids. And since I chose my first paper this school year to be about npd and gender (we could write about anything, it was to test our abilities in general), I had to go through a ton of those. They ranged from absolutely hilarious to restraining order worthy. Thankfully Google Scholar saved me from that (though I would never suggest reading studies upon studies on a topic for x reader headcanons, I’m only saying this to sort of validate where my understanding of it came from). Since, yk, it’s a relatively fresh thing (recognised since the 80s I believe) and the fact that I had a therapist who diagnosed me correctly and knew how to approach it is pure luck

Also just any dog metaphor is delightful but it fits so well with Toby too?? Like, it just feels so right when people do that. And I can genuinely see Jeff having some npd traits, good call^^

Ben is just so!!! He’s awful in the best way. I want to kiss him and also put him in a blender for fun :3 i want to drive him insane. And also hold hands maybe. Like, yeah, realistically I would lose my sanity if he liked me but he’s so fun

Also yeah, that’s why I like your blog so much. You don’t shy away from making them hard to be around, hurt, mean. All kinds of messed up but also fun to read about. That’s why I also said that they would probably have an easy time with hurting me mentally, bc if they were aware of just how paranoid I am they would absolutely do what I did in that friend example, only 10 times worse (like, specifically saying stuff they know gets a reaction out of me to force me to stay or do whatever). In all honesty, this might be just why I like creepypasta characters (especially this specific portrayal of them). I mean, it does fit into that type of ‚pleople may be nice but they are out to get you at all times so you need to act to survive’. It’s kind of a safe way to experience something that is both natural to me and also absolutely unsafe irl. Like, yeah, I would have to walk on eggshells to be with Toby but also that is the way I see any sort of relationship either way. Sometimes, I’m more uncomfortable with the pure fluff bc that feels fake and unnatural. On that note, Toby to me is so untreated-bpd coded

-⭐︎

Agreed Ben is so fucking stupid I want to gnaw on him and push him down the stairs, what a silly fella. You don't know how happy it made me when you said you liked my blog :') when I shared my first post I thought it wouldn't get any attention, and I would just end up deleting the blog all together so hearing someone actually enjoys these little headcanons I make about fictional serial killers is so nice <3

you said everything so perfectly I have nothing to add, and yes toby is fucking miserable any disorder he has is 100% untreated and yes I love him and yes I want him and—

#♡⁠˖⁠꒰nymphette talks #divider by pommecita #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanon #headcanon #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby #ben drowned x reader #ben drowned creepypasta #jeff the killer #x reader

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bottombatch · 2 months

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WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @optiwashere !

First off, putting this post together had the unintended side effect of forcing me to edit the sections I wanted to share so that they would be their best. Kind of rude of you! /s

Secondly, most of these WIPs are a good bit away from being ready, or have been sitting in a WIPs pile forever. Unfortunately I write at a snail's pace because my brain craves instant dopamine...

Unfortunately most everyone I would tag here got tagged by opti, so I'm reaching a little outside my usual circle of mutuals for these tags. Feel free to ignore if you just don't feel like it!

@capriclonus, @shallitickleyournerdbutton, and @collegeoflore

Anyway, without further ado... here are 4 snippets of 4 WIPs!

Act 1 Rewrite

Laz has changed SO much from when I first started writing them, I felt a rewrite of Nothing Special was in order... then that snowballed into a multi-chap outline. It'll probably take a while before this ever gets finished enough for me to post, its a project I'm chipping away at slowly.

Anyway; here's a snippet of Laz, Shadowheart, and Lae'zel stumbling upon the chapel with a little bit of inner conflict for flavor.

“You can’t seriously be considering this.” Shadowheart whispered, confusion furrowing her brow. “I agree with the elf.” Lae’zel muttered. “We will be transformed within the hour. We must leave with haste.” For a moment, Laz considered it. But the thought settled a chill over Laz, the ever present flame inside of them flickering down to candlelight. A tenet of their oath stretched tenous and thin at the forefront of their mind; You will conquer those beneath you and not tolerate dissent. How quick they were to forget their own oath... they could practically hear the illharess clicking her tongue in their ear. Laz’s lip curled distastefully, a biting retort to put the two in their place on their lips. But they stilled as they realized that, in the middle of their own argument, the chapel behind them had gone silent. Laz held a single finger up to their lips, eyes narrowing. Lae’zel and Shadowheart both went silent as they caught on. A stray brick was crunched underfoot and Lae’zel’s eyes darted behind Laz’s shoulder. Quickly, Laz shoved Shadowheart to the ground, draping themself over her just as the arrow aimed at her instead pinged off of the shield on Laz’s back. It ricocheted into the dirt several feet away.

Lae'Zel Minthara Coffee Thing??

This has been a WIP for so, so long. I was planning to have it ready for valentines day (LOL), but I didn't like it at that point. It's a thinly veiled excuse to write these two fucking in a coffee au; think porn with a porn-level plot. It was inspired by a post about Lae'zel being the best barista in the store despite not making your drink correctly, though I don't have that post readily on hand.

My opinion on whether this is the best or worst smut I've ever written changes hourly, so eventually I'll just post it so it at least isn't clogging my WIPs anymore... but here's a snippet of the setup.

Lae’zel glanced at the next cup order, scowling as she began to make it. Minthara watched, half interested at best, until Lae’zel pumped something into it. It didn’t really matter to her what it was; it clearly wasn’t what she ordered. Minthara inwardly groaned to herself, dragging a hand down her face. She truly didn’t have enough energy to scold every incompetent employee she came across. Her therapist had been telling her to practice empathy. She could… try that. She tried to imagine her therapist’s infuriatingly calm, rational voice. It could have been a mistake, she would have reasoned. A pretty stupid, infuriating mistake, Minthara would correct. But a mistake all the same, her therapist would say, smiling behind her spectacles. Minthara would just ask her to remake it. It was not a big deal. She wasn’t even here for the coffee, after all. Then Lae’zel pumped something else into the cup, and then another. That was when all rational and empathic thoughts evaporated in a cold fury. Before Lae’zel could even read out the name on the cup, Minthara was storming towards the counter and snatching it out of her hand. “Are you hard of hearing or just daft? This is not my order.” Minthara spoke vehemently. She turned the label to read it aloud, “Venti, drip, dark roast. Is that a difficult order for you? It is baffling how you managed to botch such simple directions—” “Are you lactose intolerant?” Lae’zel said, raising an eyebrow imperiously. Minthara stared back, suddenly caught flat footed. “No?” “Then I see no issue.”

That Band AU I Probably Won't Finish

I've posted wips from this au before; in fact I might have already shared this snippet in the past. But some of the writing in this AU feels too good not to share! Hopefully one day I return to this and flesh it out more because there are some really good moments in this.

"Oh my god, you're adorable." Karlach said with a laugh, setting the glass down. "You sew these patches yourself?" Mattis looked down at his denim jacket. It had various patches and fabrics stitched on messily. "Some are my mom but the newer ones are all me." He admitted. "And it's cool! Not cute." "Right, right. Cool. Super hardcore." Karlach nodded, giving him some finger guns. If it was anyone else, it would've come off sarcastically, but Karlach managed to make it seem genuine. "Anyway," Mattis interrupted, coiffing his hair. "You single?" Karlach's grin only grew as she fought to suppress another laugh, coughing into her fist instead. "Well she's definitely single, my friend." Astarion said, looking at Karlach with mirth. "Frankly, she desperately needs to get laid alr-" Karlach reached over, grabbing Astarion by his collar and yanked him backwards off his stool. He tumbling backwards, landing with a thud, followed by a wheezing gasp. "I appreciate it, kid, but I'm too old for you." Karlach said gently, pointedly ignoring Astarion's previous comment. "Don't worry, I wasn't asking for me." Mattis said, wiggling his eyebrows. He practically skipped away, jumping carefully over the writhing elf on the ground. Karlach, curious, looked where Mattis was headed. Shadowheart, mortified, could only wearily make eye contact, watching Karlach dragging her eyes up and down. Shadowheart burned up under the gaze. Then Karlach gave a soft, easy smile and a wink before turning back to the bar. "Yeah, she's single." Mattis said innocently when he reached Shadowheart. She shoved him into the wall for his efforts.

Warrior's Hearth

This is another one I desperately hope I come back to and polish off because I absolutely adore this ship and there is not enough fics for it. I got deep into my feels when I was thinking about how Minthara and Lae'zel might settle down after the war.

After this and how I wrote old Karlach, I think I have a thing for writing these battle hardened characters soften and become invested in the mundane.

Really wanted to capture how they might adapt to living a calmer life, specifically through raising the gith egg. And, perhaps, that would get Minthara thinking about expanding her legacy... which would then lead to smut, because I am who I am :P.

Regardless, here's the opening few paragraphs because I think it really sets the mood for this idea.

Minthara's work was already gently fading to the background of her mind as she turned the corner to see Lae’zel. Schemes, plans, and manipulations filed themselves away before the gith. Lae’zel’s hair was slightly damp from a bath, skin still flush with the heat of it. She had not lost any of her beauty and strength, despite what would have been devastating injuries for anyone else. If anything, Minthara found herself staring in admiration at the pale scar down and across Lae’zel’s right eye, framing the magical stone embedded there. Minthara had spent many quiet moments tracing over the nicks on cuts in Lae’zel’s ears, admiring how her left one ended abruptly at it’s widest junction. Even the prosthetic joined at her knee had a beauty to it, the craftsmanship unique and unparalleled on this plane or any other. In Minthara’s mind, it was all proof that Lae’zel remained undefeated, whether on the battle or in life. Even busy with raising their child, she trained as if still amidst a war. She grew stronger by the day, recovering at an unreal pace. It was, perhaps, what Minthara found so enrapturing about the gith. Her utter refusal to settle for anything in life. She was an ever flowing fount of power and will. Just being near her filled Minthara with it as well. Lae’zel glanced at the doorway as Minthara entered. She was in the middle of slicing strips off of a hunk of seasoned meat, knife in one hand. At her hip, the plump shape of their recently hatched baby gnawed ferociously at a piece of it. A warmth was in Lae’zel’s eyes as they met Minthara’s, a subtle uptick of her mouth settling on her features. That softness was happening more often. Just a year ago, Minthara would have seen it as a sign of weakness. She knew better now.

#bg3 #wip wednesday #fic things #my writing

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mysteriawrites · 1 year

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Helloooo, I’d like to request a demon slayer and BNHA matchup please (if it to much you can just do one). If you don’t want to you can just ignore this.

I really suck at writing about myself so sorry if this sucks. I am very introverted and have both anxiety and depression. I try not to bother people with my problems by bottling them up along with my emotions (king behaviour). I try to stay happy and positive for my friends and will support them with anything. My love language is words of affirmation and acts of service. I am the eldest sister so I know how to take the lead even if I don’t want to. I love writing creatively and psychology, I actually want to be a therapist when I’m older. My family says I’m “a sloth with a side of T-Rex”. I like to play video games in my down time and use daydreaming as a sort of coping mechanism. I’d like to think I’m pretty but I’ve only ever been complemented on my eyes, dimples, and thick long eyelashes. I take pride in helping people. I HATE loud sounds, yelling, and overly agressive people, im okay with teasing (that’s what I do with friends) but there is a line you should not cross. Apparently im smart? According to my friends at least.

Thank you so much and hope your having a great day!! 💙💙💙

Hello, thank you for your request. I'm willing to do two matchups for you but I'd prefer if you sent another ask for the second one so that this post won't be super long. This one will be your BHNA matchup so without further ado DRUMROLL PLEASE!!!

🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

MIRIO TOGATA!!!

(Sorry for the highlighter yellow color it just suits him imo)

Now I know you two may seem like polar opposite but hear me out I think you two would make a great couple.

I actually think you and Mirio are really similar: you both like helping people, your supportive natures lift people up, and you do whatever it takes to help those around you. Although he is a lot louder and outgoing than you are, you bond over your shared aspiration to save people, you in your therapist office and him on the city streets.

Due to his whole life of hero training (and being friends with Tamaki) Mirio was able to pick up early on the mask you wear around others to keep them from worrying about you. As much as he wants to just wrap you in his arms and tell you everything is ok and he'll help you carry your burdens, he wants to give you the time to tell you your feelings when you're ready to talk about it and not force you.

However, he does have subtle ways of letting you know he's there for you. Regularly complimenting you to help you have a more positive view of yourself, keep his voice quieter because he noticed how loud sounds bother you without you even telling him, making sure you get out of the house regularly and have some fun, so you don't get consumed by your at home responsibilities, talking for you in public to ease any social anxiety, and much more.

After getting close to you though he does come out and directly tells you that no matter how bad your depression may get or how heavily your life may weigh upon you he will always be there for you whether it's helping you out of a situation or just simply giving you a hug when you need one.

Speaking of hugs Mirio REEEEEAAAAAALLLLLLYYYYY loves to hug you. He knows you don't like attention on you so he won't hug you as much or as long in public, but in private oh boy this man will not let you go. He essentially becomes a big cuddly ol golden retriever who just wants to smother you in love.

Mirio may love people, but he definitely savors at home dates with you either play video games (more like losing to you constantly), watching a movie, or making dinner. Life as a hero is so hectic, he's glad he can just spend some intimate one on one quiet time at home with you where no one can bother him.

As much as a big ball of sunshine he is, Mirio has his dark moments. When he lost his powers, he question his self-worth and purpose, he thought he wouldn't be able to help people as well anymore and it put him in a dark place. You were what was able to get him back on his feet after the incident. With your kind words and emotionally support Mirio was able to get out of his slump and get back out there. Because you reminded him that even without his powers, he is still a hero.

You and Mirio have a bit of a cat and dog relationship, but you balance each other out while loving and supporting each other. You'll pursue your dreams together side by side and make the world a better place. Also, because Mirio has such a way with kids I see him as a family man so be ready to have lots of kids.

Sorry, this took so long I was contemplating how I was gonna do your requests before I ultimately decided to do them separately, I also wasn't sure if you cared about what gender your match was, so I hope you like it. (p.s also I think we may be twins I read your ask and had an identity crisis and was like "wait this is literally me-" lol I'm even an older sister too...I think we both need therapy)

Runners Up: Midorya Izuku, Iida Tenya, Todoroki Shoto, Jiro Kyoka, Yaoyarozu Momo

#multi fandom blog #multifandom #multifandom account #multi fandoms posts #multifandom fanfiction #multifandom writer #matchups #mirio togata #mirio x reader #mha

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goremet-chef · 11 months

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i wish i existed for like. me? i think thats not coming across how i want but what im saying is right (ramble/rant)

im mentally ill like most people are hello mento illness community but ? ive spent a lot of time reflecting and adapting and ITS KINDA SAD ive just learned to co-exist with this shit even when there is technically some kind of cure somewhere. i remember my therapist told me i find too much comfort in my sadness and thats still true, but like. IDK im living still which is good

cuz ive spent so much time with self reflection i just get it bro 😭😭 i know how to handle other people with bpd pretty well, like. ill do things specifically NO MATTER WHO IT IS whether they have bpd or not i wanna make sure i dont accidentally give anyone RSD if i can help it yknow? pick my words carefully and i try my best to speak in a way that lets people know i want to include them cuz i feel excluded a lot

same with depression, obviously i dont have pretty tiktok depression ive got sleep for 12 hours dont take care of my body rot in my room type but i see it so???? ITS LIKE THAT ONE POST LIKE " 'people get so depressed they dont brush their teeth??? 😰' people get so depressed they kill themselves" LIKE.. ITS CRAZY SKJFSF its just the sad reality with all mental illness, if its not aesthetic and if yr displaying negative symptoms, people arent activists anymore, they dont really care. theyll degrade and dehumanize you just like everyone else

SO i do my best to make sure ? idk i GET IT, so i want to make sure if anyone feels that way, they know i wont degrade them either, that i wont feel disgusted with them or what have you

I JUST WISH THAT LIKE. lord knows i dont want to be friends with myself ew that guy sucks but sometimes i wish the people around me felt more like i do. my family does just think im disgusting even when i explain i dont have the energy to even move sometimes, im constantly suppressing my sadness, rage, even my joy. constantly holding my mouth shut whenever something upsets me and makes me feel rejected cuz i know no one is gonna understand unless they go through what i go through

cuz i know how tiring it is, idk i just want other people to know that i see you and yr not awful for being mentally ill. really tired of all the stigma surrounding various mental disorders cuz it like. it seems like it never goes away???? no matter how much systems scream about DID rep in media it never gets any better (the best example i can think of in recent is moon knight and that still has its flaws), no matter how many bpd support groups there are people still think yr an abuser the second they hear you have it, same with npd and honestly all the cluster b disorders. the seriousness of depression and anxiety is often overlooked, autism and adhd are either glamorized like hell or completely looked down upon, its so. dumb

the problem is, once they learn you are mentally ill in some way, you no longer have a voice. because yr crazy and why should they listen to you? thats how they feel basically. they see us as like. subhuman?? not well enough to make our own decisions apparently, which is so sad and so fucked up. instead of helping you cope with these problems, they just strip away yr humanity. so if they wont make us feel welcome, i can at least do my part to make other people feel welcome, yknow?

i just wish that people would do that for me 😔 no one ever disputes that im disgusting or lazy, they always shit on me for being so anxious and paranoid, like my entire existence is a burden on the people i know. the only way to not feel like that is if i never share my mental issues to begin with, which has its own problems. i do have some people who treat me well despite my flaws, but a majority dont. guess thats just reality for people like me

#mental illness #mental health #tw ableism

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traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors · 1 year

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advice hopefully or support is fine

name ~ elaine

age ~ 20

TW# heavy eating disorder talk, body image talk, body dysmorphia, ed thoughts !!!!!!

When I was younger around maybe 16 to 19 I had very heavy eating disorder tendencies/ I would restrict, only have healthy foods since I had turned vegan when I was 14 and it didnt cause suspicion, I use to log my calories and do all the tricks and everything. But, for parts of 19 and now, I've been recovered. I enjoy cooking again. I live to bake, and I've been okay with my body for the past year but I can feel myself sort of wanting to go back. I really want to go back to ED tumblr, to get back to how things were and maybe now that I'm older the weight will shed off more than it use to. I want to make friends in that community and to be able to openly tell them about everything because they get it! I want to talk about all the shows that have been claimed by ED media and just I dont know. I want to be sick again. But in a good way. I'm a normal healthy weight for my height and age, but I've always wanted smaller. I sort of know what caused my relapse but I honestly think getting back into this is better than whatever else. I feel for one, embarrased that this is something I've even considered, and ashamed because I know proana or eating disorder accounts are looked down upon and I agree I dont think you should monetize or like praise your disorders but I cant help it, I miss being in a regime and being able to talk about it without freaking out my friends. I miss the control and the logging because it was all so organized and I've already been becoming comfortable. When I had my routine things were so simple, I miss that. I just want to go back. Just by admitting/sharing this ask I know someone is gonna get mad at me for it or judge my thinking but please can I just have some advice or support please.

Hi Elaine,

First of all I want to say I'm so proud of you for working towards recovery. I know it's especially challenging to work towards recovery with something like an eating disorder.

On one hand, there is a sense of solidarity and family in having a network of people who are going through the same thing and are there for each other. Also, it can sometimes be more comforting to cave into your ED than actively battle it.

On the other hand, It's definitely a slippery slope, especially considering the blogs that masquerade as "not pro" but then post "pro" content. The content that other ED blogs share, pro or not, may trigger your eating disorder, and slow down your recovery journey. I think it's also risky to be in contact with people in the ED community here because of the presence of "coaches". Ultimately, for the sake of your health, it's worth deeply considering what you'd like to do.

You shouldn't have to suffer in silence, though. There are ways to achieve that sense of community without potentially putting yourself in a situation that might end up triggering your ED. My thought is, while it may not be centered around EDs, you could look into the overall trauma or mental illness communities here, as well as Discord (I'm in a number of support servers). That way it may be a healthier environment to give your ED a space, as well as hearing from others.

I don't know if you're in therapy or could access or afford it, but I strongly recommend looking into a therapist with specialization in eating disorders. I know that BetterHelp's plan, at cheapest, is ~30/week which is one of the cheapest ways to access therapy from licensed professionals.

I hope I could help. Please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

#mod bun #trauma talks #tw sh #tw self harm #elaine

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acrylicat · 2 years

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i dont know what my word limit is on this. maybe their isint one. who knows. who cares. i dont know why i started this. i just want to blog. i want to share my thoughts on the internet anonymously. i dont actually think this will be anonymous. the chances of anybody i know some how stumbling upon this specific page on tumblr is pretty slim. its a chance im willing to take. who knows how often i will post and how long i will keep this up. maybe this will be my new outlet since my therapist keeps cancelling on me. in years from now when i am famous people can look back on this and giggle. hello my fans from the future. if youre wondering how i knew i was going to be famous, my psychic rachel told me. she also told me a lot i didnt want to hear. like i guess at the end of the day i knew most of that stuff. i just didnt want it to be acknowledged by someone else. im not sure why i am writing about this now considering its a months past. i am missing homecoming because my parents had to pick this weekend to go visit my brother in college. im typing this as if i care. im rather glad i have an excuse not to go stand in a gym on a saturday night wearing a short skin tight over priced dress surrounded by everyone i see monday-friday from 8-1. today in the car i drew my silly little drawings for my schools newspaper, west side story. my amphetamines were still going strong so i whipped out two essays in an hour. im sure if i read through them now i would realize just how out of my mind i am. i send my friend caroline emails everyday at school. each day they get longer. every thought in my head returns into those emails. i will start using my energy towards that to here. except these will be written at night. every day i go through a cycle where i wake up feeling like jesse j in the bang bang music video and i go to bed feeling violently depressed. wake up with a god complex in the morning. this cycle happens every day. so sorry you see the side of me that would cry over any stuffed animal if i saw one right now. i am getting sad over paddington bear right now. i actually have no memory of his movie. i just feel like it would be really sad. anyways i am about to fall asleep so i will leave you with this.

-ac

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divinefireangel · 3 years

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They Just Don't Know You

Soft Yandere! Seo Moon-Jo x F! Reader

Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. If this piece of fan fiction is offensive to any celebrity, fandom or culture please let me know so I can take it down. Also note that this is my version of a character or celeb, which will vary from person to person.

Author's Note: A 2nd longer fic for our lovely cannibalistic psychopath. I hate that I'm attracted to him. Someone please be my therapist. Or psychiatrist. Honestly doesn't matter. My brain is fucked anyway.

Copyright: Please note that this is my work and if you want to publish this on any other platform, take my permission before doing so. Taking an author's work and posting it somewhere else without any intimation is just disrespectful. I readily welcome suggestions and criticisms. That being said, Happy reading! 🤍

Warnings: 16+ and written for female reader, but all can read. (nothing specified with respect to appearance, etc of reader). Except that I've mentioned reader is short, cuz LDW is tall 🥰. There is a brief mention of sex, but no actual smut. Reader kinda highkey hates on her parents and younger sister. Read it to know. Age gap between reader and Moon-Jo. Slight obsessive thoughts. Manipulative words. I tried to put plot twist in the end, probably you won't notice it 💀. Please please tell me if I need to add more warnings. Do not read if you start to feel uncomfortable. I apologize in advance 🥺

❗❗PLEASE READ WARNINGS ❗❗

Pre-Requisite / Summary: Just a fic based on the song They Just Don't Know You by Little Mix. After watching Strangers from hell I related this song to him for some reason. Reader and Moon-Jo are in an established relationship. And reader's loved ones don't approve.

2.3k ish words My longest fic till date 🥳

" You know that he's too old for you. You can settle for younger, much younger guys for your age sweetheart. If you can't find anyone eligible enough, we will find one for you. And you don't even know if he has intentions of marrying you. What if all he wants is just a fling or some time pass relationship. Hmm? What are you going to do then? "

Sipping her tea silently, Y/N sat next to her dad on the porch swing, listening to all the criticisms he had about Moon-Jo. All his words did was boil her blood. But what could she do when they don't walk in her shoes? They don't know how safe and content she feels when he kisses her like she's the only girl for him in the entire universe. And no point in explaining that to her father anyway. She's tried. And failed. Multiple times.

"Are you done with your tea?" She asks her dad, in desperate attempt to try and get away from him and his words because she knows, and even he knows that it's going to end up in a fight if they continue to speak on the same topic.

Humming yes, he hands her his tea cup which she takes to the kitchen so she can help her mom with dinner. Placing them in the sink upon entering the kitchen, Y/N drags her palms down her face in frustration.

" I could hear what he said you know. Your dad. He's not wrong. Seo Moon-Jo seems like he'll break your heart in three. And we're only looking out for you Y/N. You don't have to go through heartbreak when you can very well avoid it." Her mom finished slowly.

" Why. Why is it so difficult for you to accept the fact that I'm actually in a happy relationship for once in my life. So what if he's much older than I am? He's a dentist. A doctor. A very good profession and he's known and well respected in his neighbourhood too. " Y/N said loud enough for her dad also to hear.

Huffing in annoyance she left the kitchen to go upstairs to her room. Or rather the room she shares with her sister. Of course the door is wide open. The younger rascal is always here for the drama.

Ever since Y/N came out to her family about her relationship with Moon-Jo, her sister has become the favourite child, for obvious reasons. And now eavesdropping with the door wide open? That's a new low. But what else can Y/N expect from such a low life who is literally thriving off her own sister's pain and suffering.

When entering the room, Y/N realizes how big a mistake it was to visit her family. And she did not need such snark from a younger, less experienced child.

"Are you that blinded by " Love " that you don't even see how weird his hair is? A man who isn't an idol or actor doesn't need such long hair. He's clearly a fuckboy. Or man whore. Whichever is right. " She said with disgust.

'She's just jealous. She's just a jealous bitch. They all are.' Y/N thinks to herself.

" At least one of us gets laid regularly. And just so you know, it's absolutely heavenly when he makes me cum over and over on his fingers and his dick-" Y/N said as her tone slowly got lower and darker and her emotion angrier.

Screaming and covering her ears, the younger girl ran downstairs to her mother, no doubt to tattle on her older sister. Rolling her eyes, Y/N started packing her things, all of them, in a bag she took down from the top shelf of the wardrobe.

It's really difficult to leave one's family, but it is clearly getting more and more tiresome to love them nowadays. If it's so wrong to date him, why does Y/N herself not see it? She's a logical and smart young lady. Does her family hate that man so much that they don't even want her to be happy? No matter who she's with. And is it so bad to date a man who's older? Richer? And cares more about her than all of her family members combined?

Wiping the fallen tear stains from her cheek, she just thinks to herself ' They just don't know him. They just don't know him like I do. '

Sending a text to her lover, saying that she misses him and that she's coming back home sooner than planned, Y/N carries her bag through the front door, her parents and sister ignoring her as she leaves and walks out that door one final time.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once reaching their shared apartment, Y/N collapsed into her lover's arms the moment he opens the door, crying her eyes out. Seeing his lover in turmoil, shedding a tear or two of his own, Moon-Jo carries her to the living room couch to cradle her like a child who needs attention.

" They- They said -"

" Shh my darling. I know. " Moon-Jo said, shushing his girlfriend and giving her a shoulder to cry on. Once she's calmed a little, her sobs turning to sniffs, she lifts her head to meet his gaze.

Seeing her sad, tear stained eyes always upset him. More than anything in the world. Running his long slender fingers across her cheeks and jaw, he removes her hair from her ponytail with his free hand and rests it on her thigh.

" Tell me. Please tell me that you won't break my heart like them. That you won't try to tear my world apart like them. " Y/N looked desperately at him, wanting so badly to know that he's not just using her.

Those words, that slipped out her mouth, shocked Moon-Jo, to say the least. What did he do wrong? What did her family fill her head with?

Tilting his head to a little, he looks into her red eyes, trying to read her mind for a moment, all the while she just looked at him with the same desperate expression.

"Please tell me that you will be there when I need you the most. " Y/N whispered so softly, she herself barely heard it. But the end of the sentence, she started crying all over again.

Taking her head to his neck, he stroked her hair and her sides, trying to calm her down.

" Darling. I promise with my everything, that I will never leave you, I will never ever let you go. That I will do anything, anything necessary to prove my love to you. "

"No, oh dear no. That's not, you don't have- have to do anything at all to make me believe you love me. I'm sorry I asked such a stupid question. " She sobbed out.

Shushing her softly again, he rocks their bodies back and forth, till she's calmed and fallen asleep there, in his arms. Knowing that his arms are her only safe place for her from now on, he takes her delicate figure to the bedroom.

Placing her on her side of the bed, he lays down on his. Staring at her stunning face, he feather touches her face with his fingertips, memorizing every curve, every little detail on her, like a sculptor admiring his work and giving it the finishing touches.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

" So, I did a little digging on your sugar daddy. "

" Why?! And he's not my sugar daddy. " Y/N said in disbelief. No. Not her dear best friend too.

" I know you said not to and I'm sorry. But I am worried about you. He made you leave your family Y/N. " They stated with worry and sympathy.

" No. He didn't make me leave them. I left them by choice. They don't see him like I do. And clearly, they hate that I'm happy with him. " Y/N finished as they sat down at the lunch table.

" Y/N..... "

" What? Even you don't want me to be happy? " She questioned her friend in disbelief. Laughing sarcastically Y/N shook her head.

" I've heard rumours! Okay? He was in the orphanage that had that severe fire explosion. And most of the culprits from that incident are MIA. What if he's one of the people who caused it?! " They said in a whisper, worried that the neighbouring people can hear their conversation.

" Do you really think that? All of that is just a rumour. And he's told me about it. He's told me everything. Unlike my parents who so desperately tried to tie me down to an arranged marriage. "

" He's not good for you. I know you deserve better. Okay he may make happy and all but what if he leaves? What if he just uses you and drops you like you were nothing? We're just trying to make sure you don't get hurt Y/N. Physically and emotionally. " They finished.

" This, all what you said, is cheap talk. But it'll eventually wear down because when we get married and have kids and all that in the future, you're all going to look like fools. And I will proudly say ' I told you so '. "

" If that's the case then I am the happiest person for you. Hopefully I won't have to be the one to say ' I told you so'. "

" Wow. I, just- hah. Wow. Just wow. " She paused.

" You know, I really hoped you would be more supportive or at least tolerant enough to have patience and support me with my decision for my love. " Y/N said loud enough for eavesdroppers to hear audibly.

Of all the people she would have to drop, never even in her nightmares had she fathomed that her best friend would be one.

Getting up from the table, she picks up her bag and leaves without another word, and goes to the only place that has love for her and that accepts her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Reaching home, Y/N notices the place empty. Maybe he's at the clinic?

Shrugging off her bag and jacket she sits on the couch for a moment, before her restlessness takes over and she begins pacing in the living room.

Why are people being like this? Do they hate her so much? They barely know him. Why are they treating and accusing him to be such a criminal! He's not. He takes care of Y/N so much. He loves her so much. He provides for her. He's affectionate with her, more than he's told he thought capable. He's become her ride or die. And she, his.

They don't know him like I do. They will never love me like he does.

They don't know about the love they have. The just see what they want to see. Bloody society dictating whom to love and whom to not. Is it so hard to see the love they have for each other? Can't they just let it be. They don't know the turmoil she's gone through recently; they don't know how well he's taken care of her, kept her happy and same enough to not let her intrusive thoughts get the best of her.

Her thoughts interrupted by the door clicking open. Smiling, Moon-Jo enters with a box, surely containing sweets from her favourite bakery. How can you not love someone so considerate, who does things for you without even having to ask.

Seeing the sad look upon his lover's face, Moon-Jo's smile fades into a frown.

" What's wrong my dear? "

Smiling sadly Y/N just shakes her head, conveying that she doesn't want to talk about it.

Placing the box of sweets on the coffee table, the two hug each other, feeling of comfort taking over them both. She can just stay here, forever, in his arms till the world ends.

" Babe. What's wrong? You can tell me anything. Anything at all. I'll take care of the problem. " Delicately Moon-Jo cradles Y/N's head in his palms, making her face up to him, their height difference evident.

Sighing, she moves to sit on the couch, motioning him to do the same. " It's just people. And what they say. My family was one thing, but my best friend, the person I chose as my family " Pausing Y/N breathers the tears back in, " They were doubtful of you today. How can I live knowing that no one will approve of us? " Y/N questioned looking at him.

" Does their opinion really matter that much? So much so that you are skeptical of my affection to you? " Coldly, he moved back from his seat on the couch.

" No! No. Gosh that is not what I mean. Not at all. I love you and I know that you love me. So much. So much so I would die for you. But there are other people whom I care about. Who's opinions matter to me. And I don't want to let them go. As happy as I am with you, I need them too. They give me joy in a different way, that is important. "

" Do I not make you happy? Are you not content with the love I give you? Is it not enough? " He asks carefully.

" That's not what I meant! You love me more than anyone I've known. "

"Then what's the problem? You don't need those people who don't love you. You have me. You will have me forever and ever. I will never leave you. And you will never leave me either. We'll be with each other till the end of the world darling. "

Nodding with a small smile you looked down at your feet.

Unhappy with your action, Moon-Jo pulls your face up by your chin to look at him with such force, it scared you a little, making your heart skip a beat in fear.

" Do you not love me, babe? " He asked tilting his head to a side, his expression mildly offended.

" I do! I love you. So much. " You finished with a soft tone, cupping his face with your hands.

Grinning like a Cheshire Cat, Moon-Jo leaned down to capture your lips with his. Reacting immediately, you kissed him with as much energy and sincerity you could muster, as you head filled with thoughts of doubt.

Had your parents been right? Had for friend been right? Had they all been right all along and you too blind to see?

No. It can't be. He loves you. He's said that so many times. And you love him.

You love him.

You.

Love.

Him.

...

Do you love him, or have you been illusioned into loving him?

#lee dong wook #lee dong wook imagine #lee dong wook x reader #ldw #strangers from hell #strangers from hell x reader #hell is other people #seo moon jo #seo moon jo x reader #seo moon jo imagine #seo moon jo x f!reader #yandere seo moon jo

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prettyiwa · 3 years

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AO3 | SFT | 🎵 (Listen)

Relationship: Iwaizumi Hajime x F!Reader Rating: General Audiences Content Warnings: Manga Spoilers, Post-Time Skip, Angst, Iwaizumi POV, Brief Oikawa POV, Iwa Calls Reader "Doll," Heavy Angst, Semi-Non-Linear Timeline, Flashbacks, Hurt/NO Comfort, Alzheimer's Disease, Descriptions of Depression, Dissociation, and Grief, Did I Mention Angst? Cause Holy Shit So Much Angst, Technically SFW But Not Safe For Your Heart, Deliberate Formatting (despite Tumblr's best wishes) Summary: He never expected to fall in love with a linguistic major during his time at UC Irvine, just as you never expected to be diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer's by 29. Word Count: 5,000

A/N: Reposting my submission for @/rintarhoes But My Feelings Collab so that it's on this blog. This was an early submission (rare for me to submit something on time much less early, I know!) because once I had decided on the plot, it hurt my heart to sit on it. When receiving feedback on the preliminary plot, I was called "a writer of depths of disparity and misery like none other have ever known." They no longer talk with me about my projects and I can't fault them.

Autumn 2032

Tucked inside of this neat little envelope provided by the hospital staff is the last letter you will write him. It sits heavy in his palm with the shaky lettering of his name in your first language, the permanent reminder that you are disappearing, that you are nearly gone.

Even if you are physically safe in the building behind him, still breathing, still there, you’re slipping from him, just as the doctor said you would nine years ago.

It’s not long after you’re gone that he'll find the strength to read it.

Five Months Later

The letter, still unopened and unread, stays with him wherever he goes. It’s a constant reminder of what’s happened, a constant piece of you that he can keep close. Everyone knows better than to bring you up, save for Oikawa and the therapist you two used to share.

“Couples in trouble aren’t the only ones who should see a therapist. We have a good thing and we want it to keep going, right? It’s never a bad idea to strengthen our communication!” “Of course you would say that, Dr. Iwaizumi. You’re fluent in five languages and are learning another. Your life revolves around communication.” “Tsk. You just like hearing your name attached to my title. Anyway, think of it as maintenance. You don’t wanna wait until there’s a breakdown, right? It’s better to take care of it like you’re supposed to.” “Okay, okay. Go ahead and make the appointment. But you’re damn right, I like hearing my name with your title. It’s your name now, too.”

He alone carries these memories, the memories of you and him, of the life you had together. He alone carries the weight of your love, of his love for you.

Just like your letter, it stays with him wherever he goes.

It was a hot summer day, just before the start of his first term at UC Irvine.

You were on the phone just outside of the cafe, speaking animatedly to the person on the other end of the line, talking about something or other—he can’t remember because he wasn’t paying attention back then. Not really. It wasn’t until you started listing languages you were fluent in and which you still wanted to learn that he had started listening. You caught him staring and offered a wide smile as though you two were the best of friends.

While he went inside to get a drink, he hoped you wouldn’t be there upon his return, that you would’ve left, that you would've afforded him the opportunity to quietly contemplate the cute girl who had caught his eye, the same one who had said that she’s fluent in Japanese.

Of course, that didn’t happen. Off your phone, you were reclining in your chair, looking as though you were waiting for him. As soon as your eyes landed on Iwaizumi, your smile turned breathtaking and you invited him over.

And just like that, you had entered his life, changing it permanently.

A Ph.D. Applied Linguistics candidate in your second year of post-grad. You were fluent in English, obviously, Japanese, and Castilian Spanish, and were in the process of learning Arabic. It was easy spending time with you, something he attributed to your Japanese, though he now understands it was a part of your charm.

Exceptionally skilled at reading people, you knew just what to say and how to act to make others comfortable, though you never had to do so with Iwaizumi, never even tried. Being in your company was comfort enough, providing a sense of peace he never thought he’d need.

Two years. It took him two years for him to fall in love—well, a better way to describe it would be to say that it took two years for him to realize he was in love with you.

Looking back on it, he can’t be upset that it took him so long to figure it out. It was still time spent with you, spent enjoying you and making you smile. It was still time spent loving you and being loved by you.

Upon graduation, he returned to Japan, having received an offer to train with the national team thanks to recommendations made by Ushijima and Utsui. The two of you maintained contact, communicating over the phone, over handwritten letters, over video calls. All the same, there was only so much communication that can be done with more than 8,000 kilometers and a sixteen-hour time difference separating you two.

Looking back on it, he regrets the time spent away from you. It was only eighteen months, not that much time in the grand scheme of things—as he justified to himself back in 2020—but too much time considering the amount of time he would actually get with you.

This is something he still struggles with reconciling now that he returns to an empty bed at the end of each day.

Early Summer 2033

The facility always smells like various cleaners, always a shock to the senses despite coming each day. Better this than a virus that could run rampant among immune-compromised patients, as witnessed during the pandemic.

The doctors glance his way and busy themselves, answering the question he’s yet to ask. But he asks nonetheless.

“How’s she doing?”

The answer they give him is one they must be familiar with giving, but one that’s undoubtedly difficult to answer each time.

Iwaizumi knows the answer before the words tumble from their lips.

It’s written across their faces. It’s heavy in his coat pocket, heavy in his heart at the memory of your first night here months ago, of the day that came before.

The one where you didn’t recognize him, where you didn’t recognize your home, where you couldn’t communicate what you needed or what you wanted. The one where there was nothing he could do to comfort you.

He still visits each day, still talks to you about his day, about Oikawa and his reluctance to retire from volleyball despite the fact that his ligaments are beat to shit, about how veterans of his first Team Japan still ask about you.

He continues to read to you from your favorite—er, what were your favorite poetry books, though he’s certain he’s butchering the translated poems in their original languages. He changes your flowers once a week, making certain to care for them as you had shown him before the first overseas trip you had to make years prior.

Some days he’s able to spark your memory, even if but for a moment. You make it abundantly clear how much you miss him, how sorry you are that you can’t fulfill your promises to him. It comes in the form of correcting his pronunciation or humming the Godzilla theme with him. Those are the days he looks forward to, the ones where he can see you. Those are the days that break his heart, when the love in your eyes is replaced with fear and confusion, when he loses you yet again.

He knows the day is coming when you’ll be far past recognition, when he’ll no longer see your smile, no longer see the affection that you once held. He knows that day is coming when this will be another memory that belongs to Iwaizumi and Iwaizumi alone.

Some days, he wonders whether there’ll come a point where it’s too much, where his heart can’t take it anymore, where he’ll listen to those who dare tell him that you’re already gone, that visiting doesn’t make a difference anymore. Some days he believes that his limit is coming sooner rather than later.

But the truth is that he still won’t abandon you. The truth is that the sliver of hope that resides in his heart is enough to keep him going, even when all of him knows there is no saving you.

Five Months Later

The day he married you, the sakura had started to fall. It marks change, marks the ending and a new beginning simultaneously. He had believed the hanafubuki to be a sign of hope, of the beginning of his life with you, the promise of always having you by his side. After your diagnosis, he would look back on that moment and wonder whether it was an omen, a foretelling of the ending to come.

It had started slow, almost insignificant, coinciding with an intense set of expectations and responsibilities, traveling for work while you were in the process of being published in two separate journals.

You both had chalked it up to stress.

Blanking on a word that was clearly on the tip of your tongue. Forgetting where you had placed an item that you had just put down. Forgetting names when you always had an exceptional ability to remember the name of someone you had interacted with only once. Losing track of the conversation mid-thought.

The therapist attributed it to stress, just as you did, just as he did. They recommended little reminders—alarms, post-it notes, vibrant ribbons to grab your attention, multiple planners and calendars placed around the home. Iwaizumi took it upon himself to create reminders in his phone so that he could remind you himself.

Two months had passed and it only got worse. No longer had you the additional stress from the journals, yet the lapses became more frequent, ultimately culminating in an accident that prompted a series of scans and that diagnosis.

Neither of you were alone that day, having the 2021 Team Japan there to offer support because it was you.

Undeniably charming, impossible not to love. You brightened each room you entered, reminded everyone of the little blessings to be found each day, leaving everyone with a smile on their face.

And still, that night you both felt incredibly alone and incredibly scared.

That first night was hell—not that any of the subsequent ones were any better. It was spent desperately trying to absorb the information thrown at you, ending with you curled against his chest while soft sobs punctuated the silence that threatened to consume you both.

You started writing letters again, despite the fact that he wasn’t leaving you, that he refused to leave you. Once a week for nine years until you couldn’t anymore.

“Entrusting him with your heart,” you would say, but you both knew that it was your way of giving him as much as you could before… Well.

This.

A phone call as he travels to visit with you again. The morning sun blinds him momentarily as he answers via Bluetooth.

He should stop driving. He should pull off to the side of the road. He should—

“Iwaizumi-san? I’m sorry to report that your wife—”

He should do something because the world is slipping away from him as his vision is clouded by tears and feels himself being hollowed out.

It’s a miracle that he made it. They find him on his knees in your now empty room, still decorated with the flowers from yesterday, with the books he made certain they had, with his letter to you firmly placed on the nightstand. There’s a vibrating in his pocket but he can’t seem to make it stop.

“Hajime?” “Hm?” “Can I rave about these so-called ‘untranslatable words’ with you? It’ll be but a moment of your time.” “You never take a moment when talking language. But go ahead. Tell me all about them.” “It’s kinda a point of contention among linguists—” “What is?” “The existence of ‘untranslatable phrases’ in the English language. The idea that there are words that exist, beyond our ability to translate. It’s false, obviously, as they can be translated, even if it takes a more detailed translation. Just because a word in one language has no counterpart in another, specifically English, we dare call it untranslatable.” “Okay. I’m following. How does this tie in with what you wanted to tell me?” “Let me get there! You know that I like providing context. Anyway, what’s so interesting about these words is that they describe sensations and experiences nearly universal with varying degrees of importance depending on the culture. Eh. It’s more like—what a given culture has paid more attention to, for one reason or another.” “You’re starting to lose me, doll.”

“Iwaizumi? Bud?”

He recognizes the voice, but can’t quite place it. Everything is engulfed by a fog that numbs him, that separates him from his senses, keeping him in a prolonged state of limbo, a state of reality wherein he doesn’t exist.

“How long has he been like this?”

“Since he arrived an hour and a half ago. When I made the call on her behalf, I expected someone else.”

“Yeah. The person you called—”

“Oikawa-san?”

“Yeah. Him. He’s working on flying in from Argentina, so he called us.”

Nothing makes sense right now. Not the voice he’s known for the last twenty-three years, the one he hasn’t heard in a couple of months, nor the soft voice of someone he only ever sees in passing, only ever here. He’s astonishingly, astoundingly, devastatingly

e m p t y .

Everything feels weighted, sluggish, like his nerves are taking their sweet time relaying input to his brain and he can’t find it in him to care. He understands what you meant, what that phrase had signified.

It was a lie that he didn’t realize he told (or was it?), not like it matters. Any misconception is left by the wayside as he feels that pain you had once described firsthand.

“It’s how we have so many words related to sakura here. Or how there’s specific words to describe each phase of snow in Inuktitut. These words exist in these languages because it’s something we experience often, something that has significance to our cultures.” “Okay, that makes more sense. But is that what you wanted to share with me?” “Not quite. What I find to be particularly enchanting are all the phrases dedicated to describing various points in love. Can I share some with you?” “Go for it, doll.” “Fuck, I love you, Hajime," you had murmured in your native tongue. “Is that one of them?” “Hajime!” “Sorry. Go ahead.” “Thank you. Going back to Inuktitut, there’s ‘iktsuarpok,’ which describes that feeling you get when you’re waiting for someone to arrive. More than anticipation, enough that you find yourself looking out of the window or popping your head out of the front door to check if they’re nearby.” “I think that’s what it felt like while I waited for you to come into my life. I was waiting for something and it was only appeased once you asked me to join you.” “Who knew that Iwaizumi Hajime was so cheesy when in love?” “You, for one. What’s the next one?” “Norway has ‘forelsket.’ It’s that giddiness that you feel when you start to fall in love, when you think about them or when you get to spend time with them. And there’s ‘onsra,’ which is almost like the Boro contrast to koi no yokan. Instead of an inevitability before you walk into love, it’s the inevitability that a love won’t last.” “Huh. I wonder if that’s what Kusokawa meant when he was talking about his last relationship. Okay, then. What’s the one that strikes you the most?” “‘Ya’aburnee.’ It’s Arabic, something I had come across a couple of years ago but never really looked into. Its literal translation is ‘you bury me.’” “That’s morbid, don’t you think?” “I guess? It’s that pain, that feeling you get, deep in your being when you consider living without your love. It’s the wish that you die before them to spare yourself the pain of living without them because it’s certain to be unbearable. It’s typically incomplete in that form, but I digress. I… I feel it, in my soul. The possibility that I’ll outlive you? It terrifies me.” “I think I get what you mean. I wouldn’t want to live without you either, but I’d rather spare you that pain than to go first.”

The acrid smell of Matsukawa’s shitty cigarettes brings him to the brink of consciousness, pulling him away from the memory of you. He hates this—hates that his escape is the burden of these memories while you left without any.

To hear you speak, he has to dive into the depths of his memory, has to see the life you two had together, the life cut short. Not even forty and he’s achingly, staggeringly alone.

“Oikawa’s flight just took off. He should be getting in sometime tomorrow.”

“That’s good,” Hanamaki sighs. “Where do you think we should go? I’m not sure that taking him home’s such a good idea.”

“I don’t know. I can’t think right now with how hungry I am. Hey—Iwaizumi. You there?”

One of them nudges him, tries to get him to speak, but he can’t find his voice. Lifting his eyes in acknowledgment, he can nearly feel the relief that flows from them both.

“That’s progress,” Matsukawa says with just a hint of disbelief. “It’s been a while since you’ve had anything to eat, right?”

The words won’t come and his voice is lost, left somewhere that only you would know.

“Shit. Alright. Going off the assumption that you haven’t eaten since six this morning, it’s safe to say that you need food just as much as we do. Makki—there’s a little ramen place not too far from here. Think you could get us there?”

“I know just the one you’re thinking of,” Hanamaki sighs. It falls silent before he hears Hanamaki say, “Hang in there, Iwaizumi.”

Late Spring 2034

Things are… better. Depending on how you choose to look at it. For Hanamaki and Matsukawa, Iwaizumi is doing better. For Oikawa, he’s not. Then again, Oikawa’s been around long enough to know better.

While you had been writing letters for him, you had also written letters for each of your friends, each of his friends. You even wrote one for whichever nurse would be on duty when you passed. They served as goodbyes, dedicated with love as could be expected from you. But they also included instructions. Specifically, instructions on how to help Iwaizumi, to make certain that he’s not alone, that he knows he’s loved.

They serve as a testament to how well you knew him—predicting how he’d react, when he would want to be left alone, when he shouldn’t be left alone. His friends help keep the memory of you alive simply by honoring your wishes as diligently as they are. But it’s not you.

It doesn’t lessen the pain, doesn’t lessen the yearning.

The only way he can get Oikawa to leave him alone—by which he means staying on the opposite side of the house—is by telling him that he’s going to read the letter. The one he’s been intentionally neglecting.

The edges of the envelope are soft, worn down from constantly being on his person. Barely sealed, he’s able to delicately open it, maintaining its condition as best as possible. The contents are short, succinct if only because you were struggling with writing it in the first place, both emotionally and physically. It doesn’t fail to tear into that gaping wound, doesn’t fail to leave him open and bleeding out.

And Oikawa’s there for him when he needs it the most, whether by his own instinct or by your guidance, he doesn't know.

This pain is cataclysmic, but he would still rather deal with it himself than have you live through a second of this.

One Year After Your Death

Oikawa watches as Iwa-chan works up the nerve to enter what used to be your office. He’s only entered it once after your passing, not that Oikawa can particularly blame him. Of any other room in your shared dwelling, this one is nothing but you.

But almost everything else is packed, save for some essentials, the big pieces of furniture, and your office. It’s time.

As soon as the door is pushed open, the thick musk of dust that’s built up over the years engulfs them both, even as Oikawa waits in the hallway. As the dust settles, the subtle notes of jasmine reach his nose, reminding him of the pressed flowers you liked to keep. Iwa-chan stiffens as he enters the room and Oikawa knows it’s because he smells it, too.

What little traces of you that remain exist wholly untouched in this room. He feels for his best friend, he does. Bad enough to imagine what it would be like were Oikawa in his shoes, if he had lost his partner as Iwa-chan lost you.

That word you had mentioned in your letter—what was it?

It takes quite a while before either of them can start. Oikawa takes up gingerly packing your items as Iwa-chan goes through them, cherishing each piece. He’s not certain whether Iwa-chan will ever truly recover from this, though there has been some progress made, a semblance of returning to normal.

The thing is—normal for Iwa-chan has included you for nearly half of his life. Oikawa will sometimes find him preparing to visit you, either having forgotten what’s happened or too emotionally spent to realize that it’s not a part of his routine anymore. Sometimes he’ll pick up the phone and dial the facility, hanging up once they answer.

But the spark that used to be in Iwa-chan’s eyes is slowly coming back, though it’s muted, nothing he’s ever seen in all the years that they’ve known each other. It doesn’t surprise him, not when he considers the relationship you two had.

When Iwaizumi had first brought you to meet Oikawa, he was surprised. Sure, Iwa-chan had introduced other love interests to Oikawa before, but never had he flown them across the world to meet him. Never before had one of his partners looked at him the way you did—as though you had found the most beautiful creation in all the cosmos.

Hours pass like this—reminiscing over random memories associated with almost any item, some happy, some sad, while Oikawa packs up box after box. It’s when he gets to your desk that confusion dances across Iwa-chan’s face.

“Iwa-chan?”

He turns in the direction of Oikawa’s voice, but his eyes are focused on the drawer he just opened. There’s the soft shuffling of papers shifting against one another as he pulls out an envelope, pristine, looking as though it were placed there earlier today.

On the face of the envelope is addressed to Iwa-chan in precise kanji that he knows to be yours. This is a letter that you had written him from quite a few years ago—the one Oikawa had received but three years prior had started in hiragana, but was forfeited after several basic mistakes, transitioning to English. But the letter that is being unfolded by Iwa-chan right now is a gift from the linguist that he had fallen in love with from either before or shortly after your diagnosis.

“Do you want a moment?” The question drips from him, a worrisome mixture of hesitance and anxiety, and a silence quickly builds, one that starts to border deafening. Iwa-chan is looking at the letter, not quite reading, not quite seeing anything past your careful script. It lasts a moment longer before—

“I, uh—yeah. Yeah, that’d be… good.”

With a small nod, he turns on his heel and leaves your study. Once in the hallway, he leans against the wall adjacent the door and slides down, feeling the residual grief that has seeped into the bones of this house that’s no longer a home. He waits for the sound—any sound, really—of his friend needing him, waits for a break from the stifling quiet, the one that has him praying to whoever will listen that he never experience this kind of pain.

My dearest Hajime,

It’s been three weeks since my diagnosis and I am writing this because we both know what it means.

I’m scared, Hajime. I’m terrified of losing my memories—the important ones. I couldn’t care less about misplacing my keys or my books. I couldn’t care less about getting lost in the city that I’ve called home for the last two years. I couldn’t care less about any of the minuscule symptoms of the early stages.

I’m scared—absolutely petrified, my love—of losing the important memories. That night we were both studying, bickering over which version of Blade Runner was best (we both know I won that argument, thank you!). When we went stargazing and you told me all about Tōru’s theories surrounding aliens and his fascination with the cosmos. That one guy from my department who kept asking me out, making you get all defensive and anxious until you got fed up and asked me out yourself. The way your lips felt the first time we kissed and the way my hand fits perfectly in yours. The moment I asked you to marry me and I got to watch as Iwaizumi.exe stopped working (only for you to pull out a ring from your pocket).

I don’t want to lose these memories, so precious and dear to me. I don’t want to lose you.

Calling you over to join me on 13 September 2016 was the best decision I have ever made—and you and I both know, I’ve made some pretty amazing decisions over the years. Nothing compares to the moment you stepped into my life and changed everything. It was as though I had been living in a world without color or music or literature, something I wasn’t even aware I was missing out on. And you came onto the scene and everything became so vibrant. Music became complex and intricate, utterly enchanting. Poetry had never sounded better, had never carried such evocative emotions.

You are the best thing to have ever happened to me. There is so much love in your heart—even if you show it through aggression—that pushes you forward. You have drive and compassion that continually inspires me and motivates me to be a better person, if only for you. There isn’t a single part of you that I’m not desperately, hopelessly in love with—even the things I “hate” about you are things I adore, though you will still never catch me waking up with you at five in the morning to go on a run. I’m sorry, Hajime. That’s just the way it is.

You’re probably wondering why I didn’t give you this letter sooner. Shit. I’m wondering why I’m not going to give this to you sooner. I think it’s because I know that at one point, my letters and my communication are going to become less coherent as I start to lose cognizance. Knowing me, I’ll keep this up as long as I can—you know how much of a fan I am for the written word—and that at some point, I’m going to give you the last letter I can ever write.

I can’t speak to its eloquence or its contents, but I know that I want my last words to be ones that I am cognizant of. I want to choose my last words just as much as I have chosen every single aspect of my life, and I’m confident in choosing to keep the letter in my desk drawer because I know you.

I know that you are adamant that I need my space. I know that you respect my space. I also know that you vividly remember the morning after you had tried to help me by organizing my office—the very office that had my research carefully organized and spread out in my mess. I don’t think I’ve seen you that scared since. You won’t come in here until you have to. So this piece of me will be waiting here for you when it seems as though I have nothing left to say.

We both know that’s not true.

There is not a single regret that I hold throughout the entirety of my life—not the excruciatingly embarrassing childhood memories that almost seem like bad dreams; not the pains of adolescence that we shall not name; not the trips, stumbles, and falls that riddled my life. I regret none of it because it led me to you. It made me who I am today and granted me the opportunity to be a partner to the most fantastic, awe-inspiring, beautiful person this planet has to offer.

I have and will continue to cherish each and every moment I spend in your presence, each and every moment that you choose me to be your partner. Each day I wake, I look forward to choosing you again and again. I love you, thoroughly, unconditionally, and completely. My love for you will outlive the both of us. This, I know with absolute certainty. As sure as the sun will rise and the sakura will arrive, my love for you will outlive us.

It was shortly after we married, I think, that I went on that tangent about untranslatable phrases. Do you remember? I shared the one that one phrase that had struck a chord with me. Ya’aburnee. It’s a beautiful word for a beautiful language, one that weighs heavily on me now. Back then I had said that I never wanted to know what it was like to live without you. Now that wish is likely going to be a reality, I want to take it back. I would rather save you from that pain than to save myself.

I cannot spare you that pain, but I can wish. For you, Hajime, love of my life, I wish for your health and safety. I want for your happiness, for the world to be brightened by your smile. I want for there to come a day—sooner, rather than later—when the sun will be high in the sky and a pleasant breeze will blow past you, and you’ll feel peace and love. Know that when that day comes, I am with you.

Until I see you again.

A/N: This was written both with research conducted on Alzheimer's and "untranslatable words" and personal experience with either. I apologize if I misrepresent either and I encourage you to reach out and help me learn better 💜

Additionally, I'd like to extend a very, very special thank you to @caxsthetic for letting me talk angst with you. I don't know how you keep doing this, but I'm grateful to have you to talk to~ 💙😘

#haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #hq x reader #iwaizumi angst #haikyuu angst #hq angst #jfc the angst #fuck it. go for broke right?#🏐.haikyuu!!#✒.ix writes #✒.you bury me #tw. you bury me #i fucking hate tumblr's editor. editing this made me almost quit using tumblr ngl

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bookwrm99 · 3 years

Text

Sweet Dreams pt. 1

So, I've had to switch my medication recently for my anxiety, and it's been a bit rough. I normally have a bit of a problem with nightmares because of stress, but since starting Effexor it's been like... on steroids. One of my ways of coping with my mental health is writing, so I've started working on an Obey Me! series of short fics with each of the brothers comforting an MC who's been suffering from long-term night terrors as a medication side-effect. I debated about whether to post them or not, but ultimately I feel like if they can be comforting reads to someone else in a similar situation to mine, of course I'd want to share them! So, here's part one with Lucifer. Please know this is based on my own personal experiences with my anxiety and medications- mental health isn't one-size-fits-all, and everybody experiences it differently on all fronts. Not everybody will experience anxiety the way MC does in these fics, and that's okay! MC is not meant to be representative of everyone everywhere who has ever dealt with having an anxiety disorder- I personally think such a thing is impossible anyway. That being said, please practice good reader discretion if mental health is a hard topic for you- the last thing I want to do is harm someone else's mental health with my writing. I'll post specific trigger warnings just above the cut, so you'll know exactly what you're getting yourself into before you continue!

Now that the long disclaimer is out of the way... I hope that you enjoy this small fic series, reader! It was cathartic for me to write, and I hope they can bring comfort to others too.

Genre: Comfort with Lucifer x gn!reader (if you squint)

Word Count: 2.2k

TW: Mentions of anxiety and treatments, depictions of anxiety and nightmare aftermath, descriptions of nightmares

Lucifer was worried.

Not that he would admit to it. He was the Avatar of Pride, and as such he had an image to maintain. After all, just because someone fails to reply to text messages and calls- or does something out of their norm, like skipping breakfast- it doesn't necessarily mean there's something dire afoot.

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Lucifer tried to school his facial features into something close to neutral as his brothers fretted and discussed (Y/N)'s radio silence, and now their absence at breakfast. Mammon was the first to make a commotion about it, of course, causing the other brothers to slowly voice their own concerns about the resident human exchange student.

"I'm tellin' ya, it's just not like them! We ough'ta check on them. What if they caught some kind of weird human disease and died in their sleep?!" Mammon boomed out, fists clenched and resting on the table as he leaned forward over his plate.

"I highly doubt that, Mammon. I don't know of any human disease with such a quick onset and short incubation period before death. Still, it is a bit worrying. Should we make sure they're alright?" Satan, ever the voice of reason, spoke calmly, looking to the eldest to gauge his reaction to his question.

"Maybe they had a late start? I did suggest a new morning skincare regimen for them; maybe they've taken my advice?" Asmo practically crooned, no doubt preening at the thought of a small success with the exchange student- and probably thinking other impure thoughts related to them getting ready for the day.

"They need to make sure they eat. It's no good trying to learn on an empty stomach," Beel interjected, shaking his head and settling a hand on his stomach, clearly appalled at the thought of enduring that kind of experience.

Lucifer kneaded the small ache that had started to form between his eyes from his brothers' bickering and rapid-fire speculations. A sharp pain lanced through his skull from said place when Mammon brought his closed fists down on the table forcefully, rattling the dishes and forcefully pushing himself and his chair back.

"That's it, I'm checkin' on 'em! If all you guys are gonna do is sit around-"

"Enough, Mammon," Lucifer spoke, commanding the attention of all his brothers. A pregnant silence fell over the room as the Morningstar sighed, casually tossing his linen napkin onto the table beside his empty plate as he calmly pushed his chair back to stand. "I will check on them myself. The rest of you are to go about your days as normal unless you hear otherwise."

A couple of the brothers muttered angrily under their breath, but most seemed satisfied with the decision. Without another word, Lucifer strode from the room, leaving his brothers to clean up and be on their way to RAD.

When Lucifer reached (Y/N)'s room, his superhuman hearing picked up soft sniffles from within, heightening his concern about the human. He rapped his knuckles against the solid wood of the door, calling out their name gently but at a volume where he knew he would be heard. When he didn't hear them stir, and nobody came to the door, he resolved himself to intruding upon a potentially sensitive situation. "(Y/N), I'm coming in."

When he opened the door and took a couple steps across the threshold, he panicked a bit at first, not seeing any sign of (Y/N) in the room. Another small sniff allayed those fears, though, and he closed the door softly behind him, making his way into the space as he looked for the human. He finally found them curled up into a small ball on the floor in a corner of the room, out of sight of the door, their face pressed into their knees as they trembled.

The sight in front of him broke Lucifer's heart. (Y/N) had brought such brightness to his and his brothers' lives, showing them the utmost care and showering them with love they hadn't realized they were starved for. To see them like this- shaking with pent-up sobs and white knuckles as they squeezed their hands into fists- was a blow directly to the eldest's normally ice-cold heart.

"(Y/N)," he breathed, slowly approaching as if he was walking towards a frightened, injured fawn. His entire presence softened as he got down on one knee beside the upset exchange student, fighting the overwhelming urge to gently turn their face to his or pull them into his arms. "What's happened?"

(Y/N) shook their head, their arms tightening around their knees. "It's stupid. I'll be fine. Please don't worry about me- I'll be down for breakfast soon."

Lucifer's face pulled down into an even deeper frown at their words, bothered that they were so quick to invalidate themself and push comfort away. "Well- that's why I'm here. Breakfast was over an hour ago, and my brothers are worried about you."

(Y/N)'s head shot up at that, and for the first time Lucifer got a good look at their flushed, tear-stained face. "God- I'm so, so sorry, I didn't mean to worry anybody- I'm such a burden-"

Lucifer made hushing noises, and unable to restrain himself anymore he sat fully on the ground, pulling the human into his arms as they hiccupped and began to sob. When they didn't push him away and began leaning into him, he tightened his hold, rubbing small circles into their lower back as their tears soaked his left shoulder, all the while murmuring soothing words in their ear. After what seemed like a small slice of eternity, but what in reality may have only been fifteen minutes or half of an hour, the exchange student's tears slowed, then stopped altogether, though silent sobs continued to wrack their smaller frame.

Lucifer lifted his head from where he had rested it on top of theirs, leaning back slightly to see their face as he gently tilted it towards him. Red eyes looked back at him, glazed with exhaustion and something else he couldn't quite pinpoint. Reaching up with a gloved hand, he gently cupped their face in the palm of his hand, wiping away the tears he could reach with his thumb.

"You aren't a burden, (Y/N). You go out of your way for myself and my brothers, doing things nobody asked of you to lift us up and make our lives easier. We've needed somebody like you for a long time now, and if anything we are a burden on you. We worry about you because we care." Lucifer broke the silence, his voice gentle but leaving no room for argument. "I won't push you into telling me what's wrong... but if you would like to talk about it, I promise I will do everything in my power to make things right."

Their eyes wavered, then shifted to the side, a frown continuing to mar their beautiful face. "Lu, I... it means a lot to me for you to say something like that. I just... I don't think there is anything you can do, or anybody for that matter, and not for lack of wanting to."

(Y/N) paused for breath, and Lucifer waited, sensing their internal debate about disclosing their struggle to him. Finally, they sighed, sagging against him as if all the strength had just left their body. "You saw my file," they said flatly, their head against his chest. Lucifer tightened his hold around them once again, pressing his face to the crown of their head and making a small sound of affirmation.

"Did it say anything about my anxiety disorder?"

Lucifer paused. Yes, he had noted that there was a mental health condition in their profile- generalized anxiety, with therapist notes stating it had a strong social skew- but it had never come up in conversation with (Y/N) before, and with how bright and happy they usually were, he thought they might be in remission- either that, or managing it extremely well.

(Y/N) continued on before he could answer them. "Barbatos has been making sure I have my medication- which is great, since of all the SSRIs I've tried it's the only one that seems to help level me out. But, the bad thing is... my doctor didn't tell me that a lot of people experience nightmares while on it, and ever since I've started it, it seems like I'm having them almost every single night." They paused for breath, their entire body tensing up, and Lucifer began to soothingly stroke their bicep with his thumb, where his hand had settled after they shifted. "Most of the time they're really vivid and... weird? Like, I had a nightmare a few nights ago that I was leading an expedition into the far North back in the human realm, and just as we were about to reach an Inuit settlement I got lured over the side of the boat by sea monsters and drowned... which has absolutely no relevance to my life experience. Obviously. But in the moment they're so scary-" They shuddered, then continued, almost as if they couldn't stop themself now that they had started speaking. "And then other times they're those really vague ones- like, running away from something through a deep forest at night, and suddenly you're falling off a cliff. But then there's, like, maybe 25% of them that actually are relevant to me- some of the worst periods and moments of my life- and those-" They almost choked on their words at the end, and Lucifer squeezed gently, worried they might start crying again.

When they stayed silent, Lucifer spoke. "How long has this been going on?"

There was a pause before the human answered, as if they knew he wouldn't be happy. "Since before I was brought here."

Lucifer was shocked. The exchange student had been here for several months already, and he was only just now hearing about this? Another pang lanced through his heart, wondering how many other mornings they had spent like this, and he deeply regretted the thought of them spending so many nights tortured by their own mind, all alone.

"You should have come to me sooner, (Y/N). You didn't have to suffer in silence." Lucifer's tone softened the words, and he again leaned back to get a look at the expression on the exchange student's face.

"I didn't want to be- troublesome. All your brothers have their own commitments and things they do, and you especially have so much on your plate. I didn't want to disrespect anybody's time."

Just when Lucifer thought things couldn't get worse, they did. He could hear their fear of being a burden, even with their carefully chosen words. The exchange student had put themself through months of agony, all because they hadn't wanted to trouble him. The revelation deeply disturbed him. A handful of months was nothing in a demon's life, just a blip, but for a human? That was a very long time.

"You are incredibly important, to all of us. Your struggles are never a waste of our time, even if you feel they're insignificant." Lucifer spoke firmly, trying to put every ounce of the conviction he felt into his voice. He reached up again to gently turn the human's face towards him, meeting their eyes with his own crimson ones. "Please, don't put yourself through something like this again. If I can bring even a small amount of the comfort you've brought me back to you, I would move the heavens to do it. Promise me."

Their eyes glimmered, and their bottom lip trembled. "I promise," they almost whispered, their voice choked up.

Lucifer impulsively brought his face closer to theirs, softly placing a chaste kiss on their forehead. The exchange student sniffled, bringing their hands up to wipe at their face.

"I will talk to Solomon and Satan about any potions they might know of to combat your nightmares. In the meantime, please come find me in the event that they wake you up in the middle of the night. I'm no stranger to night terrors."

When they acquiesced, he smiled, satisfied. "Now, get dressed. I'm informing Lord Diavolo that we're taking a personal day off- no buts." He spoke, already seeing the protest in their eyes and on their lips, which had parted on the start of a word. "We'll do whatever you want. My treat."

Their brows furrowed. "Won't you get in trouble?"

Lucifer stood, bringing (Y/N) up with him. "Not if I'm doing it for the exchange student's benefit. I'll give you ten minutes while I make the call." The softness the Morningstar had displayed was now gone, replaced with his usual composure as he began walking towards the door, fishing his D.D.D. out of his pocket as he moved.

"Lu?"

He paused at the door, turning back to look at the human. Their eyes were glimmering in the dim light of the room, arms wrapped around their waist. Lucifer thought they were about to cry again until he recognized the sheer gratitude in their expression.

"Thank you, for this- and for everything."

Lucifer showed a soft smile, just for them. "Anything for you, (Y/N)."

#obey me swd #swd obey me #obey me #obey me!#obey me! lucifer #soft lucifer #comfort #lucifer x gn!reader

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mcheang · 4 years

Note

Lila doesn't know that Marinette's parents own the bakery and thinks that she's just an employee. So, she tries getting Mari fired by acting like a Karen, complaining about the service, etc. Or, she just tells the Tom and Sabine about how Mari is a bully at school and other lies. Unbeknownst to Lila, one of her classmates or someone from school overhears and records what Lila said. Tom and Sabine either reveal that they're Mari's parents or she learns at school.

Nickname

I’m not gonna use the phrase “Karen”. It’s kind of sad that this name can also be an insult. I always liked the name ever since watching Mermaid Melody.

Everyone knows Chloé refers to Marinette as “Dupain-Cheng”. But how does Lila learn about it?

One morning, Lila saw Chloé lounging at her desk when Marinette rushed in, surprisingly on time for once.

Chloé held out her hand imperiously. “Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette huffed. “I have a name you know.” And she handed over a T&S box of macarons.

Chloé: your point?

Lila turned to Nathaniel. “Does Marinette work at a bakery or something?”

Nathaniel: You’ve never been to Tom and Sabine’s patisserie before? You’ve gotta go today. They are the best patisserie in Paris!

Lila raised a brow. “Wow, Marinette must be quite the baker to have gotten hired.”

Nathaniel shrugged. “Well, she’s still learning but Marinette comes from a long line of bakers. She’ll probably be a professional by the time we graduate.”

Lila hid her scowl. She had not forgotten her promise of war to Marinette. And what better way to start then by sabotaging her job? After all, Lila had only just returned and while the class was under her spell, they won’t be so easy to turn on their old friend just yet. A professional bakery on the other hand...

Lila visited the bakery after school, when she was certain no one from class would be visiting it.

Down there, Lila wasn’t that impressed by the space, though the decor was colourful and elegant.

She ordered a macaron. After having a nibble of the admittedly scrumptious macaron, Lila made a face.

Tom: oh, is something wrong?

Lila: oh, it’s just that this is my first time in Paris and I was looking forward to trying the pastries here. I’m a popular food blogger you see. I travel overseas for holidays and recommend what to try and what to avoid on my blog. My fans were so excited to see my food recommendations, one of which was the macarons. But after this, I’m disappointed.

A waiting customer in line heard what Lila said and started filming her. Lila didn’t mind.

Tom was worried. “I’m sorry to hear that. Normally our customers love our macarons. Perhaps it’s because you are not used to french cuisine?”

Lila but back a retort, and instead sighed. “I gave this place a try after Marinette recommended it.”

Tom: our Marinette?

Lila: yes, she kept pushing me to come visit your patisserie. Even after I said yes, she kept badgering me and even the teacher reprimanded us!

Tom raised a brow. “That doesn’t sound like Marinette.”

Lila: she also promised me a free box of macarons if I visited. But now I’m not so sure. I’m afraid this is a definite place-to-avoid for my blog.

Tom was now suspicious of this girl. Marinette never pushed for reviewers to visit their place. She never needed to. Their bakery was doing splendidly. And it’s not like Marinette to just surprise them with a strange blogger without leaving a warning message.

Lila was hoping her representation of Marinette would paint her as a horrible employee. And she wanted some free macarons too from a boss hoping to salvage his company’s reputation.

But Tom just crossed his arms and gave a cold smile. “I’m sorry you didn’t like our macarons. But you still have to pay for the macaron you just ate.”

Lila frowned at the man. “So rude. I should at least have gotten a refund for the horrid taste.”

Tom’s face turned stern. “If you refuse to pay, I will call the police.”

Lila rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a drama queen.” She handed over a bill. “Here.”

Lila stormed out, too upset to even enjoy the macaron in her hand.

When Marinette and Alya came inside, Tom called them over. “Marinette, is there a food blogger in your school.”

Marinette blinked. “Not that I know of. Alya?”

Alya shrugged, “Sorry. I don’t watch those.”

Tom: a girl came by today saying you had offered her a free box of macarons in exchange for her visiting. She also claimed to be a food blogger.

Alya: must have been a scammer.

Marinette: but how did she know my name? From the sound of it, she probably never came here before.

Tom: she had brown hair.

Alya: that’s it?

Tom scratched his head. “I’m not good at remembering people. But that’s the beauty of security cameras!”

Tom led them to the back where he showed the girls the Lila drama.

Marinette growled. “Lila!”

Alya: what the hell? You never go near her if you can help it, always claiming she’s a ...liar...oh.

Marinette: yeah.

Alya: well, I can see why you hate her so much now if this is her true personality. What a snob. Even Chloé doesn’t act like that.

Tom: so you do know her.

Marinette: Lila’s a new girl who likes to make up grand stories about herself and has somehow convinced our friends to buy her lunch.

Alya counted off her fingers. “Forgotten wallet, sprained wrist, allergic to the cheap menu items, donated all her allowance to charity...”

Marinette: which one did you pay for?

Alya: when she told me she was robbed. Ugh. That liar is going down!

Marinette: but Adrien thinks we should take the high road.

Alya: Adrien’s rich. We’re not! I’m busting her right now! Mr Dupain, may I film this scene?

Tom: sure. I have to get back to the counter to help Sabine.

But as Alya spread the footage to the class, another clip was being shared rapidly among Parisians.

The girls opened their messages to see a video link.

WHO IS THIS GIRL TO CRITICISE OUR BELOVED PATISSERIE?

It was the same scene, but shot from another angle.

The waiting customer was a fan of the patisserie and a regular customer. She was not pleased at hearing a supposedly famous blogger giving the shop a bad review from just one nibble. and Marinette was such a sweetheart, the customer didn’t believe the drivel that came out of Lila’s mouth. And so she posted this clip, calling Lila out on her rude behavior, and asking if anyone knows this so-called famous food blogger.

Alya eagerly replied.

This clip became so widely spread that it even made the evening news, told by Nadja Chmack, who had even interviewed Mrs Rossi and told her what Alya and other commenters have said.

Mrs Rossi was too stunned to give a comment and had retreated to her office.

Ironic that the diplomat had such a mob-rousing daughter.

Mrs Rossi’s public humiliation was perfect for akuma bait. She basically spent her time looking for Lila to confront her but was defeated before Lila even knew what was going on.

Mrs Rossi apologized to the heroes for doubting their ability.

When Lila came home, she was surprised to see her mother waiting for her. Were they actually having dinner together?

Not exactly. Mrs Rossi tore into Lila for her horrendous behavior and outrageous lies.

And because Mrs Rossi was in the spotlight for negligent parenting, she went for extreme measures. From now on, Mrs Rossi would call the school every day, once in the morning to see if Lila had arrived, and every evening to see her progress report. Lila’s allowance would be cut off since she had been cheating her classmates for lunch money. Lila would also be seeing a professional therapist regarding her behavior.

Lila was shocked and furious she had been exposed to Paris as a fraud. She was hoping for an akuma, but Mrs Rossi had realized her lecture would cause upset emotion so she had asked the heroes to keep an eye out while she lectured her daughter. Ladybug caught the approaching akuma quite easily. Chat Noir’s night vision helped.

Lila tries to claim she felt lonely but Mrs Rossi retorted that was no excuse for her behavior. Then Lila tried to blame her mother for neglecting her and forcing her to keep leaving behind any new friends she makes just because of her diplomat job.

Mrs Rossi paused at that. It was true.

“Fine. I’ll concede on that point.”

Lila brightened up until her mother continued. “You’ll be finishing one last semester here before I send you home to live with my parents. They’ll give you undivided attention (monitoring) and you’ll have friends for the long-run (which means if Lila gets caught for lying, she will face the consequences instead of moving away)”

Lila: you’re abandoning me again?!

Mrs Rossi: I’m going to leave you in capable hands. And it’s not like I don’t want to spend time with you, Lila. But someone has to keep a roof over our heads and pay the bills.

When Lila returned to school the next day, she scowled right back at the glares that came her way. Upon entering class, Chloé called out, “Look, it’s the famous blogger. Oh, wait, no, never mind. It’s just some bragging nobody.”

Adrien stayed silent. Alya had chewed him out for his advice and warned him he was on shaky ground. Yeah, Nino wasn’t happy with him either but defended his bro was unaware of the cafeteria activity since he was always at home for lunch.

When Lila sat down, Nathaniel drawled next to her. “Oh, did I mention Lie-la, that the patisserie you asked about is Marinette’s family business?”

Lila’s fingernails had splinters under them.

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #Lila salt #ml salt fic #lila busted #lila fails #lila gets exposed #lila is exposed #lila karma

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nincompoopydoo · 3 years

Text

PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— HYMN OF THE LOVESICK ; PART 5 / ?

( gif from this beautiful gifset by @knightwayne )

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 2k

SUMMARY: Alfred definitely knows something about Bruce that you’re not willing to think about and Bruce has an epiphany that changes the way he sees you.

A/N: Guess who forgot which day pbr is usually posted? This idiot here. God, I’m sorry and this chapter can be boring. Next chapter will have a lot more going on, I promise. Also, this might end in the next chapter or two. Enjoy, folks.

WARNINGS: Kinda dramatic because I’m dramatic.

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Driving through the Wayne estate gives you a sense of much-needed peace. The never-ending tunnel with walls of identical colossal pine trees as you faintly hum to Aretha Franklin over the low whirring of the running engine. It’s a quarter to noon, and the sun doesn’t seem to shine in the city of Gotham—clouds of grey constantly shield its optimum shine, only to ever allow rays to seep through the gaps in the moving Autumn wind. You don’t mind it and you never did, growing up in the city left clouds unnoticed to you unless it signified the arrival of a thunderstorm. Weather and nature are the least of your concerns but you would appreciate it now and then.

The tunnel of trees comes to an end as a clearing of extensive fields emerges into view. What is left of the Wayne Manor still stands with ostentation, despite its skeleton along with its dignity rotting away to be eventually consumed by mother nature herself. There’s a sense of eeriness to it; you find it odd how a building could seem so alive at times, like it's watching you, despite its apparent decay.

You turn your head away and focus on the road.

A glance at your hand on the wheel, you’re reminded of last night, when his hands held yours—it burns at the mere thought of his gentle touch. And the drive home, silent with the occasional glances and small smiles. You recall how the passing streetlights cascade hues of orange on his wearied expression and how his eyes were bright when they flit to your figure in the passenger seat for just a moment. Something must have changed between the two of you, but you can’t quite tell what. Maybe it’s your undying love for Bruce. Maybe he feels the same way. You snort to yourself, alone in your car, one can only dream but it doesn’t mean they all come true. Bruce may love but he doesn’t commit. You can’t commit too. Now, you’re starting to believe you’ve been lying to yourself.

The glasshouse comes into view as you steer around the bending road and into the driveway. It contradicts everything the manor was but only shared its sense of glory. You like the glasshouse, less deafening and structured with the purpose of bareness and vulnerability but its dark furnishings keep it grounded and secure. Its sense of balance tricks your mind into thinking you’re stable. His car is still around, parked by the porch but you don’t see him, ambling around the household.

Switching off the ignition, you snatch the paper bag from the passenger seat and clamber out of the car. Darker clouds begin rolling from afar, your hair flying in the strong wind. A storm is coming, you’re sure of it. One of the rare times it rains during the season. You dread the thought of having to drive back into the city and across Westward Bridge. Driving over bridges built over the water in the rain scares the heck out of you.

As you swing the car door to a close, you hear the shuffling of feet amongst leaves behind you. Alfred, with a barrel of chopped wood—stocking up for the winter. There’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes albeit startled by your sudden presence. He mentions your name with endearment; you greet him with a small smile. You always liked Alfred. You enjoyed his company.

“What a pleasant surprise seeing you here,” he says, pushing the barrel aside as he nears you. “I’m afraid you just missed Bruce. He left for Metropolis an hour ago—duty calls.”

You nod, ignoring the clench in your heart. He hadn’t told you anything but frankly, you weren’t expecting him to anyway.

“Well, I just came by to drop off this,” You lift the paper bag, swaying it a little within your grasp. “As a thank you gift, you know.” Alfred smiles at this, gestures towards the house in a beckoning manner. “Come on in, I’ll make you some tea.” Before you could even protest, he’s gently guiding you to the door by the shoulder. It’s hard to say no to Alfred, especially when he offers tea.

Your mind wonders as you watch the drizzle of rain form ripples in the lake. You sit on a chair with a contemporary structure to it; it digs into your lower back, due to your bad posture. Uncomfortable but nice-looking and great armrests. Contradicts everything a chair should be. Alfred emerges from the kitchen with a black ceramic mug in hand, steam from the brewed tea lingering above it. He holds an identical mug, for himself. With two hands, you clasp onto the mug with acceptance, a radiant appreciative smile upon your lips. “Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.” Alfred shoots you a look of disdain, “I’ve told you many times, Alfred is fine.” Taking a sip, you shake your head, a smile still lingering. “No way. I have too much respect for you to call you by your first name.” Alfred mirrors you, settling for the chair to your right, swiftly sliding the scatter of papers to the corner of the table. You find it easy to fall into a natural conversation with the older man—the two of you are mutuals after all of a certain billionaire. Yet, Alfred is more of a father figure, having practically raised Bruce and you, well, it’s complicated. It always is. You don’t know where you stand in his life, and you're not sure if you want to know.

“Anyway, where have you been? I haven’t seen you in weeks.” It’s true. The usual sight of the butler sauntering around the glasshouse or somewhere in the Wayne Estate was absent during the last two weeks. Alfred is always around, his disappearance was glaring, impossible to go unnoticed.

He shifts in his seat, placing his mug on the table, teaspoon moving with a soft clang. “I was visiting family back in England. I appreciate that you have noticed my absence,” An eyebrow raises, your laugh comes out more like a huff. “Always, Mr. Pennyworth.”

Family. Mother. Dinner—you remember the dinner with your mother on Sunday night, and you’re the host. The host hasn't decided on the menu for tomorrow’s meal. Oh God, it’s tomorrow. Procrastination is your friend but your family’s expectations for you aren't. If you pop enough wine bottles, maybe she'll be too drunk to be disappointed by the end of the night.

And the wedding. The mere thought makes you sick. You don’t want to bring a date, but you don’t want to be alone. Weddings, love, couples—it makes you tick. It’s a glaring reminder of how your love life is an absolute disaster and your inability to maintain relationships. It’s hopeless, you’ll die a spinster and everyone lives happily ever after.

“Are you alright?”

It’s funny how those three words have been the most frequent words you would hear from those around you. You appreciate the concern, really, but you can’t help but feel there’s a stronger and deeper meaning to those words. It’s a question of assurance, a reality check, and a realization that you might be broken. Everyone is broken—in their own ways.

Although you seem reserved to some people, your tendency to open up about your issues to those close to you contradicts that though you instantly regret it. Especially when people tell you to change. You hate change. It’s terrifying.

You pause, suddenly feeling...fidgety. Yet, in the words of Bruce: In Alfred, you trust.

Remember, keep it light. You don’t want to haul all this luggage of yours onto an aging man. He’s already got Bruce’s luggage.

“My cousin’s getting married in two weeks and,” you sigh, he listens intently. “And as pathetic as this sounds, I really don’t want to go to it alone.”

Your words are direct, straightforward and you sound like a whiny teenager or the main character in a Wattpad story but truth be told, there’s an underlying meaning to it and you know, Alfred knows it. You just don’t want to admit it.

He takes a beat, assessing your sentence like he’s a therapist, wanting to select his words carefully. “Well, I don’t think you’re pathetic. It’s...understandable,” he flashes you a pointed look and you find yourself straightening your back. “Why don’t you ask Bruce?”

Your brain must have short-circuited at that moment.

Oh, hell no. Not in a million years.

You’re shaking your head, laughing nervously. “No, no. No. Never. I couldn’t possibly ask him to do that. He’s already done so much for me—”

“You’ve done a lot for him too.”

A pause, words stuck in your throat. You just look at Alfred through confused eyes. You’re not sure what that means. He’s staring at you with a knowing look. You sigh, shaking your head in denial once more. “No, that’s...that’s not true.”

It’s almost infuriating how stubborn you can be sometimes that it’s even irritating yourself. You’re staring at your fingers, playing with the tag attached to the teabag by a thread. As far as you’re concerned, Bruce is...the greatest friend you’ve ever had. Through thick and thin, he’s been there for you. He’s always there. It’s partly the reason why you have fallen for him in the first place. Hard. He’s easy to love when he wears his heart on his sleeve. It’s rare but it’s beautiful. You almost feel ashamed to be allowed to see him in that light.

“Bruce will do just about anything for you,” Alfred says calmly as he watches you avoid eye contact. “And I know, you’ll do the same for him.” You throw your eyes at the older man as he cops you a look. Your heart is beating so fast, so thunderous, you hear it in your ears. He’s right and you know it. That accidental kiss to your forehead on the night you asked him to come for the play comes back to mind in a flash. It feels like a mark on your forehead, it feels like it’s burning.

“Would you like a scone with that?” He’s pointing to your tea and with that, he’s off to the kitchen once more, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

It’s late—a quarter to four in the morning. He spends most of his nights in the Batcave, hidden away from all the sounds and tumult of the world, shrouded in the darkness as the light of the computer screen cascades on his tired eyes. He ambles through the glasshouse, weary feet against hardwood floors, body begging to lay on grey sheets though he dreads a vacant bed.

He strains his eyes peering into the gloom when he perceives a paper bag, sitting idly on the table by the window. Nearing it, there’s a yellow post-it note stuck onto the bag and under the gentle light from the moon that reflects against the lake, he can make out words written on it.

It’s from you.

Thanks for coming to the play. I would have bought you something else, but I’m really broke. Sorry. I owe you one.

A drawn heart follows it. It’s tiny. His chest feels warm.

He should have recognized the paper bag because inside, there are four bagels. Four Asiago bagels. He laughs, it comes out more like a puff of hot air, feeling the warmth that resides in his chest spreading throughout his body.

Then, it hits him like a bullet to the heart. The impact is strong, powerful. Your impact on him is strong, powerful. There’s no mystery to his feelings for you but at this moment, he’s completely certain. For the first time in life.

He loves you.

Bruce staggers into the chair, hand carding back the strands of his hair. He can’t keep doing this to you. Whatever the hell is going on. Your friendship, the...stupid agreement. He wants none of it because it feels like he’s constantly going around in circles.

But what do you really want, Bruce?

TAGLIST

@raineeace

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman #batman x reader #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #bruce wayne x you #batman x you #alfred pennyworth #justice league

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feralphoenix · 3 years

Text

NO ONE IS HAPPY WITH THIS: Leitmotif & Sound Palette In “Sealed Vessel”

whats UP hk fandom i am back with—“more picante takes?” WOW YES HOW DID YOU KNOW!!!

CONTENT WARNING FOR TONIGHTS PROGRAM: today we are discussing the hollow knight boss fight, and all that entails for all the characters involved. relatedly this post does not have anything nice to say about the pale king, so if you’re very protective of his character, you may want to skip it.

FURTHERMORE, i would like to iterate that this essay is working from a place of compassion for ghost, hollow, radiance, AND hornet, because every single one of them is miserable at this point in the game and doesn’t want the events of this boss fight to be happening at all. this post is not an appropriate place to dunk on ANY of them. if you want to do that, please do it elsewhere.

thanks for your understanding.

ALSO, AS USUAL: if youre from a christian cultural upbringing (whether currently practicing, agnostic/secular, or atheist now), understand that some of what i’m discussing here may challenge you. if thinking thru the implications of radiance and the moth tribe’s backstory is distressing for you, PLEASE only approach this essay when youre in a safe mindset & open to listening, and ask the help of a therapist or anti-racism teacher/mentor to help you process your thoughts & feelings. just like keep in mind that youre listening to an ethnoreligiously marginalized person and please be respectful here or wherever else youre discussing this dang essay, ty

NO ONE IS HAPPY WITH THIS: Leitmotif & Sound Palette In “Sealed Vessel”

A while back @grimmradiance made a lovely essay about comparing and contrasting Hollow’s moveset in their Hollow Knight and Pure Vessel boss fights and using what can be gleaned from the differences to speculate about their psychology. (This essay is currently their pinned, but I’ll attach a link in a reblog.) It is extremely good, and it made me want to look at the Hollow Knight boss fight my own self through one of my own areas of expertise, meaning music!

As we are all well aware, Christopher Larkin's soundtrack to Hollow Knight rules ass. There are two specific ways in which it rules ass that are relevant to this essay: Leitmotif, and sound palette.

Quick rundown for folks who aren’t familiar with these terms: A leitmotif is a melody associated with a character or event or mood that's incorporated into songs in different ways based on what's happening in the story. Undertale is an example of a game with an incredibly strong use of leitmotif that’s really only possible because Toby Fox is both the composer and the game creator, so he can synchronize the subtleties of the writing with music and scene scripting too.

The phrase “sound palette” can have a lot of meanings, but in this case I’m using it to refer to specific instruments or groups of instruments that are associated with certain characters. If you’ve watched Steven Universe and seen interviews/production commentary by its composer team Aivi & Surasshu, you’ll hear them talking about part of their approach to scoring episodes being how each main character is represented by certain instruments: Steven with the triangle wave, Pearl with jazz piano, and so on.

Hollow Knight is a small team project rather than a one-person show, so Christopher Larkin can’t go quite AS over-the-top with leitmotif integration as Toby Fox can on simple virtue of Team Cherry having to communicate what they want to him. But Larkin is Hollow Knight's sound designer as well as its composer, so he folds leitmotif and character sound palette together with striking use of stems to create a very immersive and cinematic musical experience that enhances HK’s story and gameplay.

This brings us back to the track Sealed Vessel, which has EXTREMELY tight and cinematic sound design and uses leitmotif and sound palette to not just sock players in the feelings during a charged and dramatic boss fight, but also tell us a lot about what Hollow and Radiance are experiencing emotionally, especially with the gameplay in mind.

So, let’s play the soundtrack version of Sealed Vessel (and some other stuff) and talk about what’s going on in the game during it!

You may want to get out your copy of the OST or visit Christopher Larkin’s Bandcamp page so that you can listen along.

LEITMOTIF & SOUND PALETTE

Before we actually get into analyzing Sealed Vessel, let’s talk about the involved characters’ leitmotifs/sound palettes so we know what we’re listening for.

Both of these things are easiest to identify when characters have a distinct theme song. Ghost does not. However, the main theme of Hollow Knight (see: the title track, Hollow Knight) is used as a leitmotif for the vessels as a whole. Most pieces involved with a vessel character include this leitmotif somewhere. For instance, you can find this leitmotif and variations on it in Broken Vessel’s boss theme. The Vessel leitmotif is led by a cello solo here, so we can identify that the cello is the central part of Broken Vessel’s personal sound palette.

When the Vessel theme is associated with Ghost in specific, it tends to be performed by viola and/or piano, as it is on the title track and in other places like the opening cinematic.

Moving on to Hollow, their specific sound palette is established not in Sealed Vessel but in Pure Vessel, their pantheon boss theme. (Sealed Vessel was composed first, since the Godmaster DLC didn’t drop until over a year after HK’s initial release, meaning Pure Vessel was reverse-engineered/extrapolated from relevant parts of Sealed Vessel. But we’ll get into that later!)

The major instrumental fixtures in Pure Vessel are choir and tubular bells (i.e., those dramatic vertical fellas that sound like church bells or a carillon), with some soft background instrumentation: bass drum, woodwinds (appropriately led by flute in the main melody’s “falling motion” - flute is the centerpiece of TPK’s sound palette), strings, and high/mid brass. Hollow’s overall sound palette has a very Christian choir-esque sound (in the Pure Vessel theme this is very idealized and saintly: soft and slow and tragic) and the beginning of their leitmotif has a very distinctive climbing melody that mirrors their ascent from the Abyss. The Unbearable Vesselness Of Being leitmotif is absent from the Pure Vessel track.

Meanwhile, Radiance’s boss theme is a very fun expression of her character upon which Larkin evidently went ham. Her sound palette is expressed through full orchestra (plus choir and pipe organ) that has a special emphasis on the bass part of the brass section, which does not see much use in the HK soundtrack. Her leitmotif has also got cute and distinctive touches: It’s full of triplets to match her tiara-looking antennae, and also has a repeated “fluttery” pattern of background sixteenth notes as countermelody, often spiraling downwards.

The majority of the piece is loud and bombastic and in a minor key to play up the “resplendent and terrible” wrathful aspect of herself Radi is pushing during this section of gameplay, a very quintessentially moth intimidation tactic: Try to look as scary as possible to keep your enemies from messing with you, since you’re not built for fighting. These blasts of intensity from the brass section match Radiance’s strategy of Overwhelm You With Bullet Hell Spam To Make Up For Lack Of Battle Experience/Poor Aim. But in between said intensity spikes you can hear traces of softer instrumentation and major key, little glimpses of a gentle warmth we can otherwise only infer from her backstory and the implications of Moth Tribe lore.

0:00 - 0:41 - OPENING AMBIANCE

The Sealed Vessel track begins with the ambiance of the Black Egg Temple’s interior: The faint tones of the glowing seals we hear when we pass by them, the only light in a pitch-black world besides the floor lighting up under Ghost’s feet.

Then a slow string tremolo fades in, slowly growing louder. In the track new notes join the tremolo progressively, while in-game a violin joins the anticipatory chord every time you snap one of Hollow’s chains. Which, may I say: A+++++++ sound design!!!!!! Rules ass!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The tremolo reaches a peak in dynamics - all three characters present are extremely tense - and then cuts off to allow for Hollow’s boss battle opening, i.e. Radiance screaming. Team Cherry kindly demarcates each phase of the battle with a Radi yell.

0:43 - 1:39 - PHASE 1: HOLLOW ON AUTOPILOT

Phase 1 opens immediately with Hollow’s leitmotif in bells, but with brass, piano, and percussion backing them up; grand and tragic. In the background the bass section of the orchestra's strings flutter in a repetitive pattern of 16th notes, i.e. Panicky Radi Noises. The violins harmonize with Hollow's leitmotif as it climbs, but then join the rest of the string section in fluttering 16th notes, transmuting what in Pure Vessel is the flute leading Hollow back down (8th notes) to a slightly louder “a” from the backseat.

In actual gameplay, the only attacks Hollow uses are their basic nail skills. Building on grimmradiance’s analysis of the window their attacks provide to their psychology, and pairing that with the Pure Vessel leitmotif booming over the metaphorical loudspeakers, we can tell that this is Hollow reacting automatically to a threat the way that their father trained them to. Their conscious mind might still be making dialup noises at Ghost’s sudden reappearance jumpscaring them with murky childhood guilt and trauma, but that’s only let muscle memory take over. Slash, parry, charge and thrust. Their time spent at bee bootcamp (which we can assume because Hornet was trained at the Hive and Hollow’s form while nail fighting is identical to hers on their shared moves) has served them well.

Radiance, meanwhile, has frozen completely for this combat phase, and contributes nothing here except the anxiety of the string section.

As the strings continue to go “a” the piano (Ghost) and woodwinds harmonize on something between Hollow’s personal leitmotif and the Vessel leitmotif in the backdrop.

However at around 1:29ish, the key changes, building into an overall color change for the Sealed Vessel piece.

1:39 - 2:15 - PHASE 2: SHE’S AS SCARED OF YOU AS YOU ARE OF HER

In actual gameplay, the part of Sealed Vessel used for phases 1 and 2 of the Hollow Knight fight is the Entirety of 0:43 - 2:15, possibly because there’s no easy transition spot like there is between phase 2 and phase 3. But the changes to Hollow’s moveset are clearly tied to this specific part of the piece.

Phase 2 is where Radiance pushes herself past her freeze response and starts trying to hit Ghost. Hollow gains two attacks here, which we can tell are Radi because they’re often accompanied by her crying (a softer and more abbreviated sound than her full scream): These two attacks are the Infection blob blast and the Light/Void pillar attack that hits for a full 2 masks damage (which appear to be Radi’s take on Hollow’s Pure Vessel-exclusive moves, their grabby tentacles & silver knife pillars respectively).

In the Sealed Vessel track, this part of the piece is almost entirely Radiance’s fluttering. The strings start by following the descending motion of Hollow’s leitmotif but in 16th notes, then ratchet up to start spiraling down again while straying further from Hollow’s leitmotif. This section ends in a back and forth between hard blasts in a one-two-(rest)-one-two-three pattern and gasps of fluttering between, with piano and low brass building behind it. Eventually the nervous fluttering of the strings becomes less frequent between the blasts: Radiance is inexperienced with fighting and very very afraid, but she’s also FUCKING PISSED and prepared to defend herself.

The OST version of the piece punctuates the break between the first half of the piece and the second with Radiance’s scream.

2:16 - 4:04 - PHASE 3: “I’M HELPING! :)” SAID HOLLOW; “HOLY SHIT PLEASE DON’T,” SAID LITERALLY EVERYONE

Phase 3 opens with Hollow stabbing themself repeatedly, a movement pattern they repeat throughout the phase. It is shocking the first time you see it, and never stops being horrible and sad no matter how many times you do this part of the fight.

Here, Hollow’s mind has finally come back online after their own freeze response, and they choose to destroy themself and bequeath the duty of sealing Radiance to Ghost. Even if they can’t be the one to make their father proud, they can still make sure their directive gets carried out.

Radiance knows exactly what they’re up to and why, and she reacts to this by completely losing her head and mashing buttons in a panic. This is something we see out of her at the ends of her boss fights too, where she’s feeling too threatened and afraid to do anything but spam optic blasts. In the Hollow Knight boss fight this manifests in two horrifying-looking but easy-to-avoid new attacks: The Infection blob sprinkler and the ragdoll.

Ghost does not react visibly because we're in gameplay, but their horror and grief at their sibling’s choice is echoed in the BGM. The Sealed Vessel piece goes soft and sad, with Ghost’s associated viola leading the bass strings in the Unbearable Vesselness of Being leitmotif. At 2:51 the violin comes in with Hollow’s leitmotif, and gradually the choir appears in the backdrop. The ensemble’s overall dynamics build in a slow crescendo, and at the very end of this segment the other instruments begin to join in.

This segment of the piece is also used in phase 4, which occurs if you don't have Hornet’s help or miss your cue to Dream Nail Hollow. Phase 3 ends when Hollow reaches 0 HP; in phase 4 they are for all purposes already dead. But Radiance manifests an extra 250 HP out of terrified, unadulterated FUCK YOU FUCK THIS!!! even though all she can do is get Hollow to fall on their face trying to slash and ragdoll them around. The BGM continues to play as Ghost absorbs Radiance from Hollow and Hollow’s body loses its shape and dissolves into liquid Void.

And there’s one other place in gameplay Sealed Vessel (Unbearable Vesselness of Being) is used: The Path of Pain, the completely evil kaizo-level obstacle course which presumably featured in Hollow’s childhood training, and behind which the Pale King has hidden his last and most terrible secret—that he had realized on some level that Hollow was a kid with feelings who loved him and wanted to make him proud, and condemned them to death despite it all by using them to imprison and torture Radiance as he’d always planned.

The OST version of Sealed Vessel includes the music for both normal ending cinematics, so we’ll be looking at them too.

4:05 - 4:35: ENDINGS 1/2: NO ONE IS HAPPY WITH THIS

In the BGM for The Hollow Knight and Sealed Siblings endings, the Vessel leitmotif is played by violin, viola, and choir while the cellos and contrabasses—and then the brass bass section too—play a slower version of Radiance’s downward spiral. But once Ghost is pierced by the Black Egg’s chains and Radiance’s struggle to free herself ends in failure, the soprano and bass sections harmonize. The animation zooms out of the temple and the seal reforms. They are stuck together now until the end of Ghost’s life. Hooray.

The OST version of the track immediately segues into the BGM for Dream No More.

4:36 - 5:45: ENDING 3: THANKS, I HATE IT

Here, Hornet’s associated instrument, the violin, plays one long sustained note with a few notes of Ghost’s piano alongside as she wakes up.

TPK’s goddamn flute comes in at 5:00 with his leitmotif overpowering the backdrop Vessel leitmotif on piano while Hornet surveys the carnage: The temple has been destroyed, Radiance is dead, and what’s left of Ghost’s corpse is smeared across the floor. The Void may have taken umbrage with his horseshit and unceremoniously vored him, but the motherfucker still got what he wanted in the end; the Pale King has ended the Infection by completing his genocide of the moths, using the children he abused and abandoned as his proxies, and wasting two of their lives. Can I get a hearty THIS SUCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! in the chat.

Given that Hornet herself is canonically unsure if bringing the fight to Radiance is really a just course of action, one can only imagine how she must feel when she sees the cost of that decision.

Our only real moment of catharsis is in this shit situation comes in at 5:13, where the flute gives way to a solo from Ghost’s associated viola, playing the Vessel leitmotif as the Siblings curl up and sink back into the mountain of their corpses. Goodnight, kiddos. You deserved better, and so did literally everyone involved in this whole stupid boss fight.

This is where the OST version of Sealed Vessel ends. Even without the gameplay and story context it slaps, but now that we’ve taken a look at how this 5:45 piece is wall to wall misery and fear on the part of literally every involved character, hopefully it will have even more impact!

#hollow knight #sealed vessel #the hollow knight #the radiance #hk radiance #ghost hollow knight #hk ghost #hornet hollow knight #hk hornet #essay #hollow knight meta

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monkeyspawnskydiamond · 3 years

Text

To The Woman Who Slept With My Husband

Anonymous·January 26, 2016·5 min readJanuary 26, 2016

Editor’s Note: This piece is written by Marc Gafni’s third ex-wife who was married to him from 1998 to 2004. She wrote about her experience in a recent post for the Times of Israel

hevria.com/anonymous/woman-slept-husband/

I will never forget your apology to me. Tearful, remorseful, awful.

You kept it a secret. You held it in for well over a decade. Embroidered it into your skin…Sequestered from sight and air and left it rotting there inside of you.

Sometimes I imagine all the sick little secrets he ever spawned…all drawn upon the skin of the women who entrusted their silence, their innocence, their sense of shame, to him.

I remember how broken you were. How over-spilled with shame. Begging my forgiveness.

And all I could think was, no I don’t forgive you. I don’t.

Because I don’t blame you. I don’t have a drop of blame to add to this flask of self-guilt you continue to sip.

You tell yourself that you were consensual. An adult. A willing participant. But I don’t buy it. Not in my book you’re not. In my book, you’re a victim…just like me.

If I had my way, every morsel of guilt that rests on your shoulders would be hoisted squarely upon his sorry neck til it breaks. Your sweet beguiled remorse only belongs atop the heaping scale of his guilt.

Please hear me — It is HIS fault that it happened. It is HIS fault that you kept his dirty secret for over a decade.

He was your Rabbi – a spiritual authority figure some 15 years your senior. You were his student.

Did you know that educate and seduce have the same Latin root? He had a sacred duty to educate you, and instead he seduced you.

He convinced you – the very same way he did with everyone else – that you were to blame. That you were a consenting adult. That you asked for it, wanted it, were complicit.

And so you stand before me feeling guilty. – Can’t you see? Remorse is the very emotion that he is utterly incapable of feeling and yet so masterful at using against you.

So, yes, I admit it. I am angry at you.

But not because you agreed to his copious gropes. No, it’s because you blame yourself. I am furious at you for this.

Because when you blame yourself he wins again. And I’m done losing to him. I’m done with it.

When you blame yourself you send the story line reeling in the wrong direction.

When you blame yourself you obscure the truth. Again. And this truth has been so rampantly mangled, so treacherously obscured and robbed of its say so many times and in so many way that it makes me frickin’ sick with fury and I’m done with it…

So please indulge me as I lay the truth out as I know it. In the starkest possible terms. Give me one more chance to rant against this monstrosity of a man and all that he did to me and my precious, G-d fearing & decent friends.

We were innocent young women flat-out finagled by a world-class con-artist. Lassoed in by a sociopath marauding as a spiritual guide. He took our innocence, our best intentions, our deepest yearnings – and twisted it against us. For his own sick purposes.

And he did it to the not-so-young-and-innocent as well.

And it is nothing short of criminal. There should be laws against this in every court of man.

Unfortunately there aren’t – yet.

But there is this… THIS moment. This ‘hearing’.

This jury box set up in the international courthouse known as The Internet.

I beg the very ears of heaven to bend down low to grok all that I am saying here.

We have been wronged by this fiend. Flocks of us. Students, funders, colleagues. And so many of us to this day heap the shame upon ourselves. So many of us keep stitching the secret back into our skin til it snakes like poison-ivy across our psyches.

Until we spell out his manipulations in all their stark reality then the world won’t see it either and his defenders will persist. His abuses will continue – with impudence – as they have for decades.

Aren’t we ready to be done with this?

I say this to All Victims Everywhere…

This is sooo much bigger than Gafni.

This message is for everyone out there who is right now sitting speechless on a stash of secrets.

Know this: your self-blame and secret-keeping are just one more way that your smiling abuser continues to victimize you. Your secret-guarding is his/her best defense and shining license to attack again.

Your remorse, your shame and your shut mouths are but weapons in abusive hands.

I know, you might be embarrassed about what you did. But this is precisely where the murkiness sets in. The darkness feasts on murkiness. It is the grey matter that feeds a thousand fiends.

So let us make it perfectly clear. Our secret-keeping is another form of abuse. It keeps our abusers safe and enabled to continue their diabolic games.

I know. I protected my abuser too. Because I believed in ‘the mission’. Because I felt shame. Because I didn’t want to talk bad or air dirty laundry. Good Lord, I still refuse to share my name.

But I am determined to do it differently now. We can do it different now. And we can set new precedents for the future. The internet has gifted us with voice, with systems of support beyond our wildest dreams.

We can do it for every victim out there who might right now be reading this and reconsidering their own pacts of silence signed with shame.

We can show them what it looks like to tell our stories as loud and angry as we can muster.

This might be the only hearing against these slippery criminals that we are going to get my friends.

So please. If you are keeping secrets for someone, anyone…a partner…a parent… teacher…a friend. Speak it. Share it.

Secret-keeping is your first indicator that there is foul play.

Even if you fear you were consensual. Even if you enjoyed it at some point. Even if you fear ‘betraying him’ as if it were the plague.

Just share with one other person. Find a therapist, a computer screen, a confidant. Tell someone. Do it anonymously. Do it imperfectly. But do it.

And for the sake of all is good and holy… forgive yourself.

Believe me – it’s not too late.

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